Great Novelist

You wrote it.

He smiled at the sound of a good batsman coming from the front.

On the screen, there was a blank sheet of paper. He is no different from the other children. When you scroll through the filled page, a new page will appear. Filling it with letters reveals another blank sheet.

If you repeat it, a book is completed.

If you repeat it, you become a writer.

Time passes and ages while repeating it. Time builds up. Wrinkles may appear around the eyes and wrinkles on the lower back. He looked back at the half-filled paper. He sincerely hoped that he would be able to write more relaxed when that time comes. Every time I move my hand, a cheerful sound spreads. I also hear other children's voices in front of me.

It sounded better to hear than to be alone.

“Lara, Lara. ”

Oh, man.

He opened his eyes when he was closing his eyes because of the boredom. What I saw was a man singing a song without lyrics on the back of the elderly in the village.

When I closed my eyes and heard it, it was a more ordinary song. I think I've heard this song somewhere. I think there are similar songs everywhere.

But the reason I came here and listened to her song was in her voice. It's not because of the unusual tone. Her voice is one. So if you want to hear her voice, you have to come here.

She starts the next song. It was not that different from the song I just sang.

Clumsy grabs the cord and bounces the rope. Hearing that gap of songs, he recalled his finished article. A story filled with sand.

It's a story about things that don't change. When I thought about the content, I naturally came up with some questions. Wouldn't her voice change as she gets older?

He saw her. She once said she would sing until she died. He wanted to hear her song for a long time. I liked the idea that it wouldn't change any more than I thought it would.

He decided to believe so.

Her song, which was few songs, did not last long.

After her performance, the audience came to see her performance and left one or two seats.

He and she still don't know each other's names. I will in the future. It has already established an implicit rule between the two of you. It was a rule that they both agreed on.

He gives her a small greeting and turns back.

“Wait a minute.”

She calls to herself. He turned his back.

“Me?”

“Yes, you. ”

On her call, he approached. She said.

“I won't be able to come here anymore. ”

He was unable to say anything for a moment. It's only been a few minutes since I believed it wouldn't change.

“Where are you going? ”

“I got a job.”

“Wow, congratulations. ”

I did. I forgot for a moment, but she was a jobless student. Nobody wanted her, so she said she was singing.

“Is this about the song? ”

“No, it's a small company. A part-time intern.”

Suddenly, it feels real. My mouth is burning.

“Is today your last performance? ”

In Lord's question, she didn't answer kindly. I just tilt my head to the side.

“I'm going to sing till I die. ”

“Yes, that's what I said. ”

“I just can't come here. ”

He nods.

“I know, but it's a bit of a waste. In fact, a little while ago, I thought I could hear your music forever. It was my choice.”

“So did I. ”

Until a notice of acceptance is received. She says, "Farewell, unfortunately, but it's good for her." He laughed.

The silence passes. She slowly begins to clean up. I placed the guitar in a black cloth case and placed the choke in the small pocket in front of it. It seemed to be in a hurry, but it was slow motion.

“Hello.”

“Goodbye. ”

When she's done, she gives you a bold goodbye. He stayed and looked on her way. She steps forward, stops, and looks back. My eyes met.

“Did you leave anything behind? ”

“Will you keep coming? ”

“What?”

“If I hadn't told you the last thing today, would you still come to see me? ”

She asked. He said, "Well, I don't know." A little while later, he smiled and replied.

“Maybe. I'm a big fan of yours. ”

“Yes."

Not even a sure answer, but she looks happy.

“Maybe he'll come back. ”

“Why? Because I'm on a part-time job? ”

“I haven't put up the lyrics yet. ”

She said she had something to say. Then I always sing a song without lyrics. He glanced at her face and said.

“I write. ”

“Writing?”

“I completed one fragment this time. I'm working on a title. ”

“What kind of writing? ”

“Sandy writing, with beach backdrops. ”

She wondered and asked.

“What would be a good title? ”

“Can I ask someone I've never read? ”

“Whatever. It's the writer's mind who decides the title. ”

“· · · · · · Don't expect too much from someone who can't even put lyrics to their own songs. ”

She considers for a moment. And he said,

“Sand egg.”

A grain of sand contained within an abundance of sand. A member of the sand. It's so small that no one will notice. It was simple but clear.

“That's good. Easy to know.I 'll take it as a parting gift. ”

She laughed at the word "gift."

“I go empty-handed. ”

“I don't have anything for you, so I'll take it from here. ”

“What?”

“Read a book if you miss me. ”

“What book? ”

He smiled and said.

“Coincidental book. ”

Her eyes widen a bit. I opened my mouth a little. In between, the white teeth peered slightly. I understood what he said.

“You.”

I muttered.

“Yes.”

He replied.

This time, he said goodbye first.

“See you later. ”

“See you later. ”

She said that and walked out of the ballroom a little excitedly.

And as a part-time intern for a small company, she went back to the concert in less than a month.

“You said it was done.”

Seogwang asked. I was on my way up to the computer room.

“Yes.”

The line next to me and spring were surprised and asked.

Already?

“I started early. ”

“But it's fast. ”

They were just finishing the beginning of the story, so it seemed like Australia finished the script too quickly. It was not slow to actually write, so he did not try to deny it.

“I write faster. ”

He stopped the line from saying something.

“Fragmented. ”

For this reason, I keep my mouth shut. Spring next to me asked.

“What's the title? ”

He looked at the screen for a moment. Sand. It says so at the top.

“Sand egg.”

“Sand?”

“Yes.”

“Why did you build it? ”

“Because there's so much sand in the book? ”

What the heck, said Seon Hwa.

“You'll know it when you read it. ”

“I wonder why you say that. ”

Seongwang grumbles. Maybe what he said to Seonhwa got to him. Well, I wonder where the reading folk are going.

He said lightly like a pill.

“Finish it quickly and you'll see. ”

“Son of a bitch, is it as easy as you say? I liked reading it. I want to read it. Creation doesn't work. ”

I made a sad face and a cry. It was a big mix-up. The children arrived in the computer room and sat down. He also said, looking for his seat.

“You've worked very hard on that one. ”

“That's why it tastes even worse. It's hard, but I'm gonna keep writing. What is this?”

“I'm in love. ”

“Is this the kind of love I've heard so much about? ”

He blames himself for his bowl being too small. I asked as if I was reminded of Seon Hwa who was watching that ridiculous look.

“Speaking of which, who are we gonna show when we're done? ”

A moment of silence followed by a question of good fortune. I didn't hear any explanation from Moon's teacher about that. I am now curious because my children are distracted from using it.

What happens after you complete this?

“What are we doing at the festival? Is that what this is?”

“Who reads at festivals? That's also amateur writing. ”

Seogwang's opinions were cold. I read, and he made a shy protest.

“Don't you just write it down? ”

“Then it's useless. ”

The children were lost in thought. Seogwang raised his hand and said.

“So they're loading it into the door? ”

“Oh, that makes sense. ”

“That's what it was. I really forgot because Mr. Moon told me to forget. ”

There is a doorway. The word that he had pushed out of his mind for a moment also rises above the surface. The year will change when the doorman finishes his/her writing.

Then the door will be published.

“But is that the end? Then it won't be any different than now. ”

I said in a sad voice, no matter how spring came to be. He asked.

“Did you want to show it to others? ”

“Writing is for reading, so I don't feel like it, but I'm not so confident, I'm writing for the first time, and I have to say I feel overwhelmed when I think about it, but · · · · · · · · I still write as much · · · · · Well, I don't know. ”

Spring said in a panic. It was a complicated heart I wanted to show, but didn't want to show.

“But we have to show them. ”

“Yes?”

Spring turns its head. There was a teacher at the door. He says as he comes through the open door.

“I was going to tell you anyway. ”

When the article is finished.

And then he brought up the story. The teacher who was looking around at the children who were scattered in the large classroom opened his mouth.

“Your story will be displayed in the library once you have completed it safely. ”

It's an exhibition in the library. If he's talking about the library, he's talking about the school library that Mr. Han bought and is working at.

He was surprised at the unexpected appearance of the library.

“Our writing is on display? ”

“Is that a library, too? ”

“Since when?”

The children asked questions. Mr. Moon raised his hands and stopped the children.

“I'm done talking whenever you're done. ”

“Other people read my work? ”

He said in a trembling voice. This crappy article is read to others.

“Wouldn't that be a joke? ”

I'm sure you will. Shenzhen had a past experience. Moon nodded.

“Maybe. Because you have a reader. ”

“I don't like that. ”

“Then you don't have to. ”

“· · · · · · · Yes? ”

He simply accepted her objection to the disdain of goodwill.

Mr. Moon solved the story he was going to tell next.

“You guys are always in a hurry. We're not done here. ”

“What is it?”

Spring was carefully rushed.

“I'm not asking you to have an exhibition. Look at your writing and judge for yourself. Is it a story I can tell the world, or is it something I have to see alone? You guys own the writing. I can't force you. You don't have to put on a show if it's going to be a taunt. Give it to me if you're confident. ”

The atmosphere is getting heavier. The decision is difficult.

“Well, let's not get too serious already. Exhibitions aren't that big. You know better than anyone that there's no one in the school library. I can only print one copy at a time, so I can't borrow it. It's probably all I'm looking at in there. ”

Speak lightly.

“It's up to you to catch the readers' ankles. I don't want to get there yet. Beginners.”

Beginner. The words revealed a little bit of a child's expression. I was a novice for sure. Of course, the readers didn't know if they were going to think of it.

“After you've finished your fear, pay for it. ”

“Well, is he scared now? ”

Seogwang turned his head and asked.

He knew the moment he met the snow. A relaxed face. He decides not to publish his work. His dream was not to be a writer.

I don't want to interfere with his choices.

He opened his mouth.

“Not yet. Not until I've retired. ”

“I see. Then we still have time. ”

He agreed with the western words. I still had time to think.

“Let's take it slow. ”

The air in the computer room was forcibly ventilated by someone.

Inside, he thought. He tried to write something else. What if it's done?

What to Do (1) End

lim Han-baek