Great Novelist

Teacher Moon came in and the children focused on writing. It was fast progress compared to other children.

“Let's get started, then. ”

I raised the manuscript. The thin thickness was wrapped around my hands. If you want to write this manuscript, you can come back from the celebration and write it right away. That meant there was a lot of retreat.

He looks down at his fingernails, holding the pen. A plain, reddish nail. Unlike this, I remember my fancy nails. Fancy nails holding a pay phone. I could clearly see it from afar. He talked to her at the convenience store across the street.

C. At the time of the call, he told her a little lie. I also felt that the long, sharp shape was somewhat threatening. I imagined her fingernails digging into her neck. It was then that I wanted to use my nails as an ingredient in a novel.

I read the sentence. The speaker woke up. The speaker greets an ordinary morning. It's a boring morning that repeats every day for nothing special. I feel tired even when I wake up, and the speaker prepares to go to the company. The monologue continues. No one speaks while he prepares.

The speaker used the subway. Similar outfits are transported in close proximity to one another. The handle was shaken in front of the speaker. It was five nails that stopped it. It was long and pointy. It was chaotic. The speaker felt reluctant. Those aren't fingernails. Totally.

It didn't seem to play my role. I feel like I'm seeing a beast in agony on my neck. Talkers don't like duplicated transfers, lions trapped in zoos, or watermelons without seeds. I don't like the artificial colors and strange parts on the nail surface. The speaker had red fingernails.

I looked at it. It was thick and long. The angle changed with each slight movement, reflecting the light. Reminds me that shiny surfaces are not natural nails. Poor old nails down there. The emotion was more like rage.

The speaker arrived at the company in an unpleasant mood. There was a bigger barrier waiting for the company. The new boss grabbed hold of the speaker's fingernails. There's nothing wrong with my nails. Did not interfere with work However, the boss commands. Make it shorter. Get a closer look. To the end.

No more fingernails than flesh when you touch them. That was an undeniable order. Other subordinates blamed their boss for not understanding, but ran straight to the convenience store to get a nail clipper. I have to carve my own precious shield. The speaker couldn't do that. I felt reluctant, a little

Fear followed.

This is where the background changes. Following the speaker's horror, time went back in time. The speaker now goes to school, not to work, and wears a uniform, not a suit. I go to school on a bicycle, not on the subway. However, the morning he met did not change the future.

There is a new family teacher in school. The family teacher said. Do a nail exam before you start the lesson. Don't let your fingernails come out more than your flesh when you touch the ends. The student who was caught had to cut his nails with a nail clipper that I brought along with the scoring. That was an undeniable order. Speaker

He looks down at his hand. You can see the crescent-shaped white fingernails smiling slightly at the tip of the red finger. It was a cut.

“We don't have a nail exam, do we? ”

He asked the children, first, second and third graders nodded in turn.

“But I was in middle school. ”

“That's right. It was very annoying back then. I don't get it. ”

“That's my nail. ”

Spring and Shenzhen complained a lot about how their memories came back. Seogwang said he had been publicly humiliated in class when he had a lot of time under his fingernails. He listens and bows his head.

The speaker was eventually caught by the teacher. The speaker was left with a nail clipper in front of more than forty children. The family teacher said. Stand there until you cut your nails. We're not going to class until you cut your nails. Everyone looked at the speaker. Everyone's angry.

Forced him to cut his nails.

As I read, I marked the parts of my hand. There was a stretched paragraph. There was an unnecessary sentence. There was a repetitive vocabulary. I changed the sequence of events in my mind or inserted scenes that were a little more specific. The story was ripped apart and ready to be chosen. I put a number in my mind.

Number one, put in the scene where the teacher forcefully cuts her nails.

This time, increase the number of people in half to 50.

Three. Even the company gives the boss a nail clipper.

Number four. Put in the scene where the speaker grips the nail clipper overnight and struggles.

Five times. Let the flow of time cruise.

Six. A hysterical speaker strangles his boss.

Number seven. Strangle the family teacher.

It was a growing choice when I think about it. He chose the best story out of the many choices he made. Standards were simple: what more empowers your voice? Fits with the topic.

I've made up my mind. Nails are a shield. A barrier that protects itself. Gratitude, but the world commands you to cut it down. I forgot the minor protection and focused on my appearance. The speaker was reluctant.

We decided to supplement the rationale for why our supervisor thinks nails should grow longer. Home teachers also decided to put in place their own philosophy on why they should do nail exams. It was about cleanliness and determination.

Added a sentence. The story became clear. The sentence has been deleted. The appetizer has become clearer. The shape of the drawing in my head appeared in reality. Maybe we should ring it. I thought of the speaker who shed tears for a moment. A speaker who cries at his fingernails. I tried that scene.

C. I felt it in writing. Talkers don't cry. I don't cry when my nails are cut off.

There are so many things lacking in writing. I kept thinking, is this okay? Do you think fear is enough? Is the level of empathy that the speaker's feelings can relate to. Do you have a set of nails so you can guess what they mean? Only necessary scenes exist.

Erase the sentence with your own hands. Fix who you think you are. Change what you set. Suffering that suffering does not necessarily result in a good result. Rather, there are times when they go too far and make the wrong decision. If that's the case, you have to fix it again.

C. This is a repetition of retreat. While the red nail that choked my boss, I still remember the hand that cut my nails beside the table. Scattered blood and falling nail fragments face each other.

Cut your nails. Fix the sentence. The two behaviors were similar. I felt a sharpening. Pieces roll the floor. I looked underneath my feet. It was rolling around in the dirt. It must be scattered pieces of invisible sentence. What happens when that piles up? A little more mature.

Can I lose? Can we write a better story? You move your hand slowly. I wrote until all the shouts that came from the surroundings landed beneath those feet.

“Mr. Moon. ”

He went to the office and summoned him. He sits back and turns his head. There were a lot of vacancies in the office, but most teachers are probably supervising their wealth. On one side, I saw the math teacher leaning against the chair and closing his eyes. It looked like anyone was asleep.

“Why are you here? ”

“I'd like to submit an exhibition manuscript. ”

A few words of pride and anxiety arose from all of the finished writers. Mr. Moon quickly received the manuscript. And then I started reading. Whether he could go or should wait, he finally stood up and looked at the school room landscape.

In the teachers' positions, there was a unique object that was easy to guess. Textbooks, enzymes, attendance books, transcripts, test papers, pressure slippers, pencils all over the world, marriage, compasses, jumping ropes, various games and cosmetics that show what you confiscated from your students. New Teacher

And the teachers' positions in front of retirement were quite different.

“Well written. ”

A short word came out of Mr. Moon's mouth.

“Can't you fix it somewhere? ”

“Sounds good to me. You've already quit many times. ”

“Just in case. ”

After reading the failed work I wrote last time, I remembered the face of Mr. Moon who was frowning in sadness. It's been a long time since I've seen such a face since I've rarely messed up the finish these days.

“Good thing I didn't take this off. ”

He points to the front of the manuscript. The speaker opened his eyes early in the morning. In a failed article, the speaker arrives from that part of the world. He liked the monologue that led the speaker to open his eyes and move his body.

“You were groaning a lot. You said you didn't want to throw away this good introduction. ”

“Too bad. Your heavy body glows in unrealistic scenes. ”

Moon stared at the manuscript a little more and said.

“I was worried it might shake after receiving the award, but this is fine. ”

A light of relief passed through his face.

“Did you think I was going to write? ”

“At least I thought you'd feel burdened. ”

“It's a little overwhelming. ”

“I don't want it to be spotless. ”

He left a note and took the manuscript. That manuscript will now become a book and be displayed at school. It was a novel that was named after the Honorary Honor. I came out as I was. It was odd.

*

“Ha.”

There is a man sighing alone in a room with no one. He picks up the book with a serious look. The cover of the book, which was placed on a surrounding manuscript full of English, had Korean inscriptions on it. Sublimating. The black cover of the book feels ominous. He darkened the cover with his dark eyes.

I swiped it and sighed again.

“That's the most difficult book I've translated in 30 years. ”

He opened the book thinking about the language of God that he had just translated. The bookmark fell down. He took the writing seriously instead of picking it up. He then raises his own translated manuscript. I took it aside and read it one sentence at a time. His faded green eyes.

The self was busy rolling over the letters.

“Is this enough? ”

The question came out of my mouth. It is the first book to be published in the United States by a coincidental writer to record Asia's first and youngest awards. Fernand decided without hesitation. And I let him in. Tailor Sanders, a translator who has been proven skilled in many works.

"Hmm."

He slowly closes the book. Composed an email, sent to the editor in charge of the coincidence.

Fancy Makeup (3) End

lim Han-baek