Rebirth As a Writer In Britain

Santos' abnormal behavior immediately attracted the attention of others, and at this moment, they all approached him.

"Hey, Santos, what's wrong with you? Like going crazy?" Curry touched Santos' shoulder with his hand, and then said.

Santos only reacted at this time, and then said to everyone with a smile on his face: "Everyone, that's great. This work is great."

"What? Santos, you said your work is too good? Come on, show us too. We are worried that we can't find a satisfactory work."

After speaking, Curry picked up the manuscript from Santos and read it.

"Meditations on a Broom? The title is mediocre."

Then, Curry continued to look into the content: Don't you see, this lonely, dingy broom shyly crooked in the corner in front of me, in the past years in the forest, it also had a day when it was full of juice, luxuriant branches and leaves, and thriving. However, now, its vitality has long since withered, and human beings are meddlesome, tying a handful of dead branches to its naked torso, trying to compete with man-made and nature, but in vain

When Curry saw the opening paragraph, he already felt the author's writing. Until he had read the whole thing, the expression was the same as Santos's.

"Yes, this is indeed a very good work, well-founded, and has a very deep insight into life and world affairs. The most rare thing is that he can write such writing on the spot, which can be regarded as a genius."

When the other judges heard it, they all picked up the work and started watching it. Then he nodded in satisfaction.

"That's right, what you all said is good. I saw this work as the number one. Comparing other works with it, there is a huge gap between heaven and earth."

"I think we shouldn't make a decision so quickly. There are still some manuscripts that have not been reviewed. We will wait until all the manuscripts have been reviewed."

Curry is a rigorous person, so he is more serious in doing things. In order not to miss any genius in the UK, he will not make decisions so decisively. Maybe there will be someone better than him in the next manuscript.

But the facts have proved that after all the judges have read all the drafts for the semi-finals, none of the works can be compared with "Meditation on a Broom".

"Everyone, there is no doubt now. This "Meditation on a Broom" deserves to be the champion of this year's literary competition." Santos said first.

"Indeed, no matter in terms of content, writing style, depth, or novelty, "Meditations on a Broom" is also the most outstanding among the more than 20 rematch articles."

"Well, I also agree with your statement."

"Okay, we've settled for that."

Therefore, the eight judges unanimously agreed that "Meditations on a Broom" won the champion of this year's London Literary Competition, while the other two essays, which were written slightly better, won the second and third prizes respectively.

For the sake of fairness, even if the ranking is selected, they still cannot disclose the author's information. That is to say, they have to wait until tomorrow when the results are announced, and they will disassemble the information of these highly rated works on the spot, and then announce the list on the spot.

"Our English literary world has not yet fallen, and this article is a stroke of genius."

After coming out of the judging room, Santos was still full of praise for "Meditations on a Broom". In his heart, he even thinks this way: this can be called one of the best English prose.

"Yeah, I thought this literary contest would disappoint us, especially one person who wrote less than a hundred words. Alas...fortunately, this "Meditation on a Broom" is so outstanding .”

"Well, I'm really curious who will write this masterpiece. Haha, I must have a good chat with him then, how did he think of such a rich thing in such a short period of time."

"We'll know when the results are announced tomorrow. Let's go, I'll treat you to tea."

Santos still couldn't suppress his joy in his heart, as if the champion was his own. Of course, when he was young, Santos was also famous in the British literary world. He published a very best-selling work when he was nineteen years old, and then he reached the pinnacle of British literature step by step.

While drinking tea in the tea house, Santos posted on his own Twitter, and then posted such a message: a guy who handed in the test after only writing a hundred words, and a guy who wrote a prose that can be called a classic Guys, this is the rematch status of this year's literature competition.

Since the information about the rematch is confidential, Santos can only say so much. But such a simple piece of information can't help but remind people of something.

The first person to retweet Santos's Twitter was his loyal fan, and the other party said by the way: There is no doubt that the guy who handed in the paper after only writing a hundred words must be the one who went out in ten minutes.

"Yeah, I also think it will be the guy who handed in the work in ten minutes. After all, he can only write a hundred words in ten minutes."

"We can't blame him. It's not bad for him to remember a hundred words in ten minutes. Haha, could these hundred words be poetry?"

"This guy is probably a bean sent by God. I really don't understand how he made it to the semi-finals."

For a while, Twitter began to speculate about Kevin again, and everyone thought that the author who only wrote a hundred words would be Kevin.

The same is true for Zela, who is always renewing on Twitter. When she saw that an author had only written a hundred words, her expression became even more arrogant. I thought in my heart: When did I, Zela, lose my sight, hum! I can only write about a hundred words and I am ashamed to participate in the semi-finals.

Seeing this news, Zela was even more sure that she was not wrong. Then, she was all happy.

But the editor-in-chief Enni began to worry. He saw Kevin's article, knew the talent of this young man, and admired his self-confidence very much. But if the author who wrote about a hundred words is really Kevin, then it is absolutely impossible to win the first place.

She took out her mobile phone and was about to make a call to Kevin, but found that it was very late. Will such a hasty call affect the other party's sleep?

"Never mind, maybe I should find out."

So Enni still called.

Kevin just took a shower and was happy today, so he went out for a stroll in London Square, and he came back later than the previous few days. I was also surprised when I saw editor-in-chief Enni calling.

Isn't this young woman in her thirties calling me too frequently recently? And it's already night now, could it be that she's taken a fancy to me?

"Hello, dear editor-in-chief Enni, good evening."

"Kevin, I'm sorry to bother you. It is said that in the rematch of this literary competition, one person only wrote more than a hundred words. Tell me, that person didn't hand in the paper in ten minutes?" Enni went in directly. Subject question mark.

"Don't worry, I assure you, that person is definitely not good. Oh, thank you for your concern."

Judging from the past few days, Kevin knew that Enni had been helping him all the time. Therefore, he was very grateful to her in his heart. After all, no one stipulates who must help whom.

"That's good. I was worried that the author would be you. Well, it's all right. Look forward to a good result tomorrow. Good night."

"Good night."

After saying "good night" to Editor Enni, Kevin suddenly lost sleepiness. He walked to the balcony of the hotel and watched the night of this luxurious London city. Football, business, art, fashion, finance, almost everything was included here. This is what is so special about Britain. It is at the top of the world, and people yearn for and worship it.