Great Novelist

My body leaves, and then I hear footsteps. The sights and sounds that follow are one step behind. The only thing next to each other was a scrapbook. There's a laughing.It won't fall off that easily.

I feel a little short of breath. I still have more stamina than before. The building approaches. The door is visible. He thought at the same time. Whoever passes through that door first wins. You move the heavier leg faster as you climb up the ramp. It was the same with the Bible.

“Here we go!”

The chalkboard shouts. The door is closing. He smiled and said.

“I can't do that. ”

One step forward.

He grabs his side and lowers his waist. Running immediately after eating is harmful to your health. I smiled as I held my roughened breath.

“Haha.”

“Ow!”

Victory.

A scroll that mournfully sighs. He also had a rough breath. The ascent is full of strength. Plus, there were a lot of streets, so I spent a lot of strength. Still.

“Twenty-nine to 15, 14 defeats. ”

I felt good. I often competed with the bibliography like this. The result was 14 wins and 14 losses 28 years ago. I didn't feel bad about adding one more victory.

“I could have set the stage for reverse! ”

“Too bad. ”

When he relaxed, he clenched his fist with an angry face. And it was the other participants who were staring at those two people. The atmosphere of tension was dismantled by the two people who jumped into the president.

He did not care about the surroundings and looked inside the building. First floor hall. It was a place to write today. I asked the college student to leave the scrabble and guide me.

“It's not too late, is it? ”

“Oh, yes. There's plenty of time."

After checking the time, Ahjussi told the scroll.

“You can grieve all you want. There's plenty of time."

“Next time, that's it. ”

The bible stood up and said, He was sweeping his side down with his hands. It's also bad to run straight after eating.

The two of them valiantly entered the room with a lot of gaze.

“Lots of desks. ”

The scroll revealed the first time it entered the venue. There were many desks, as he said. A long desk filled with auditoriums for about four people to sit at a time.

I saw an unusual vacancy. The scroll went forward one space, seated at the desk at the far back. You turn your head diagonally to the right and you see him. In front of the auditorium, there was a screen, and the text was written in the textbook "The Gallery of Youth." Start and end times are presented; 2 hours. It was enough.

“What is the theme? ”

You're not gonna let me finish all of a sudden like Mr. Moon. You, tell me the word that comes to mind right now. The nominated child has been in a state of panic. I was thinking about it and someone stood up to me. He described himself as a professor and creator of literacy.

He told me about the schedule of the pertussis, and that there would be an introduction to the university and a talk from the writer who was invited to be on the jury.

Then it became popular at the back door. Bend at the waist and come in. The professor did not send the late student out. A little tardiness was an atmosphere of implicit forgiveness.

It was not a very strict competition.

“So I'm going to announce a topic. ”

Everyone was waiting for me. The topic of the pertussis. Announces the beginning of the pertussis.

The Grand Chamberlain hangs out. There's a strange tension. The professor took out a small piece of paper and opened his mouth.

“Winter. The beach. Two days. Choose one and write. ”

After the professor's speech, the word came to mind on the screen. Winter, beach, two days. After handing out the manuscript, there were children holding the pen immediately, and there were children who thought long and hard. None of the topics I anticipated on the subway came out. Of course you are.

“Hmm."

I don't know what to choose. The first thing I feel is two days and a beach. Two days, twice a day. Time exists with space. Two days of spending somewhere.

As he came, he recalled the conversation he had with the scroll. Subway, convenience stores.

“The beach is more attractive than the beach. ”

I've written about subway backgrounds.

He imagined the beach. The beach weather is volatile. The waves.It rains even when it's clear. The sky is cloudy. After a peaceful time, there must be a hurricane.

“Typhoon.”

He closed his eyes on the manuscript.

I imagined a hurricane. A hurricane that would come after a peaceful time. I know a girl who lives on the beach. The sky changes. The clouds change. The air changes, the temperature changes. Everything will be different from the time of peace. A gust of dust fills the air. Dust builds up in people's hearts, creating anxiety and anxiety.

He picked up a pen.

“Ah.”

My arm grazed me.

The child sits next to you, looking at his arm for a moment and turning his head. Four people sharing a desk.

I looked down. Paper and stationery. That alone filled my desk. I moved my eyes along the long desk. Paper, sharps, hands. Paper, sharps, hands.

Cock-a-doodle-doo. Chicken's crying in my head.

Chickens in a farm live on scenery like this. I felt like I was trapped in a factory to produce writing.

“This is a bit. ”

It's frustrating.

He put down his pen. I've checked out the venue. A lot of hands are busy moving. The professor had been away for a long time. There were some people who appeared to be involved in the competition.

You turn your head diagonally. The scroll was seriously writing with a serious expression. His thick eyebrows are slightly frowned. Evidence of concentration.

“You're using it well. ”

The scroll was also just about to touch the child next to it.

“Narrow.”

This narrow space was frustrating. He finally got up from his seat. You need to breathe. I was allowed to go to the bathroom holding anyone standing there. He kindly showed me the way.

“Phew.”

I went to the other side of the bathroom, not the bathroom he gave me, and I opened a glass back door. Air comes in from the outside. It wasn't a very cool wind. I leaned against the door and breathed. The building can't be seen far from the front. He looked up to heaven. Somehow the sky looks low.

“Isn't it because you can't write? ”

When I thought about going back into that space and writing, I was choked. Typhoon. I wish there was a typhoon at the convention hall. It'll cool you off a little bit.

“Haha.”

That can't be right.

“Student, what are you doing there? ”

He looks back at the sudden sound of his voice. There was a man who appeared to be in his mid-30s with a good impression. Let's get into position, and the man asked again.

“Is something wrong? ”

He spoke kindly. He knew him.

“Bonjour. ”

“Oh, I know. ”

“You're famous.”

“If that's the case. ”

He said with a soft smile. That was never the meaning of humility. Only then did he realize that it was not his current work. The writer Bonjoong. Now his name is not yet known. He opened his mouth to fix it.

“I'm a fan. I always enjoy reading. ”

“Thank you. I didn't know any of the students knew me. ”

He had excellent sentences, but they were not popular. The lack of popularity was fatal in terms of its livelihood. But he didn't try to change his writing.

and became famous.

I stared at his face. I heard you worked as an instructor before becoming a full-time writer. There was a speech after the competition. Is this guy going up the ladder?

He opened his mouth to the thought of his first question.

“I'm out for a little breather. ”

“You're a student in a pertussis, right? I saw him inside. He was holding his head up. ”

Did you find out what else you were doing? He smiled awkwardly. Junsu waved his hands and said.

“No offense. You know how to look around. ”

“Yes, thank you. ”

Junsu nodded with a smile. It was a simple smile. I didn't expect to see him here.

“Are you on the jury? ”

“Yes, I'm ashamed. ”

Shame on you. He was cautious about evaluating others' posts. He's convinced. The Sewers don't know the Master, but the Master knows the Sewers at a glance. The same is true of the tensile strength. I can feel it even if I read a little.

I never thought I'd meet a giant like this in a lightly participating pertussis. He was embarrassed.

“Then you'll see my writing as well. ”

“Of course.”

He smiles and says. He thought, "What kind of assessment would he make of his writing?" No, I don't think I can write before that. I'm worried.

Wing.

That's when Junsu's phone rings. He checked and said.

“You're a teacher. You know who my fans are, right? ”

“You're a white book writer? ”

Junsu smiled brightly in her name. It was a simple smile.

“You must be a big fan of mine. Thank you.Write well. Make yourself comfortable."

“Yes.”

He goes out through the door that he was leaning on. His teacher. It's a white book writer. He is a person who devotes his strength to his subordinates at over fifty years of age. There were quite a few famous writers from the study group.

“Im Hyun is also a friend of the writer. ”

She announced her last requirement at the age of eighty. In her essay, she recalled her husband, Im Hyun, the writer, and her youth.

“What are you doing?"

He was the one who showed me the way to the bathroom. He called out to him, saying:

“We don't have much time. ”

“Here we go.”

He hastened his steps.

He went back inside and sat down. Being away for a while does not expand the narrow space.

I looked at both sides, and there were participants who were busy making fun of their hands. Each person writes his own story with a serious face. How many children write in this room will become writers in the future? How many children fulfill their childhood dreams?

“Almost failed. ”

Probably would There is no guarantee that it will happen. And they know that they include themselves.

Effort, talent, and failure are always at hand. The one who is afraid of it.Nevertheless, the one who moves forward, calculates the future carefully. There are many positions to deal with it. There was nothing wrong with one answer. But people fail.

“Well, he'll succeed. ”