Back to 80: My Literary Life

I will eventually take the path of literature, and this is an opportunity.

What to write?

Fang Minghua sat on the chair in the guard room, thinking about this problem.

Naturally, it is the most popular scar literature or root-seeking literature in recent years.

Got it!

Fang Minghua suddenly remembered the controversial movie "Into the Dust" before time travel. It was a box office hit, but was inexplicably removed from the shelves in the end.

Some people say that the scene he described does not fit the rural scene of the 21st century, but it definitely fits the rural scene of the 1970s and 1980s.

"Not a word about love, but love to the core; not a word about bitterness, but bitterness to the extreme."

This is very much in line with the current mainstream aesthetic consciousness.

Moreover, it turns out that Fang Minghua had joined a team in Gansu Province, and his creative motivations were reasonable.

It’s him!

Fang Minghua decided to write.

First of all, we need to eliminate and modify some settings and plots in the play that are not in line with the current society, such as "The boss who collects grain in the village is absolutely impossible to have a boss in the countryside of this era, and changing it to a brigade leader is almost the same."

Also, the original movie script is original and is not an adaptation of the novel.

Fang Minghua suddenly felt funny.

Others adapt novels into scripts, but if you want it, you have to do the opposite and adapt the script into a novel!

Fortunately, I had written scripts and novels before traveling through time. Although it was a bit troublesome, it was not impossible to complete.

Of course it takes time.

"Baofu, are you working the night shift tonight? Why don't you work the day shift and I'll work the night shift?" Fang Minghua said to Zhang Baofu when he was about to get off work in the afternoon.

There are three people on duty in the guard room, but they are mainly Fang Minghua and Zhang Baofu. Wu Jiefang sometimes has to work in the security department.

Zhang Baofu looked surprised when he heard this: "Ah? Why?"

"My grandpa will stay at my house for a while. As you know, our house is small and he needs a bed, so I have no place to sleep. I thought of making do with the duty room."

Zhang Baofu also knew that housing in the community was tight, so he readily agreed.

"It starts tonight. I'll go back and have a meal and come over right away." Fang Minghua said.

"No hurry, brother Minghua, come back when you sleep."

Fang Minghua refused: "How can that be done? I have to do my work myself."

Brother Minghua is so serious and proactive in his work.

Zhang Baofu couldn't help but sigh in his heart.

For example, looking at the door, a job that some people look down upon is still so dedicated.

How did he know that Fang Minghua just wanted to relax here at night.

Once the door is locked at night, no one will disturb you.

How to write at home?

Either the pots and pans were playing, or the uncles and aunties on the road were shouting loudly, along with the sounds of children crying, which made it very lively.

Therefore, Fang Minghua spent every night writing furiously in the guard room, but his stomach often growled in the middle of the night.

Unfortunately, there are no takeaways in this era, and even instant noodles are rare. Fang Minghua had no choice but to eat the cold steamed buns he had prepared to satisfy his hunger.

Fang Minghua was always on duty at work all day long, which soon aroused his mother's doubts.

"Hey, what's wrong with this kid? Why is he always on night shift? Is the leader of the unit bullying him? Dad, please go to the leader and tell him what to do if his health collapses?" Zhang Fenglan started nagging.

Unexpectedly, Fang Changhe's eyes widened:

"What are you talking about? Looking at a gate, your body is broken after working the night shift? Compared with when I went to repair the reservoir, is it nothing?"

Zhang Fenglan suddenly stopped talking.

Today is the night shift again. Fang Minghua wrote in the communication room until two o'clock in the middle of the night before finally completing this novel.

I rubbed my sore wrists and looked at the thick manuscript paper, feeling quite accomplished.

In fact, the word count is not that many, only about 40,000 words, which is barely a novella.

In this age before computers, writing by hand is a very painful thing.

I write as I think, and after I finish writing a plot, I have to keep revising it. After all, this is a serious novel, not an online novel. I must pay attention to character portrayal, environmental rendering, and plot processing.

After the revision, I saw that the smearing was unclear and I had to re-write it. It took twenty days to complete the 40,000-word novel.

Lu Yao wrote "Ordinary World" with one million words, which took six years! How much perseverance this requires!

Be able to endure loneliness and resist temptation.

I admire you just thinking about it.

"Sleep! Find someone to help you tomorrow."

Fang Minghua didn't bother to wash up, took off his coat, curled up in the cold bed and fell asleep.

Zhang Baofu woke up when he came to work in the morning. He quickly put on his clothes and washed his face with cold water. He suddenly felt much more awake.

At this time, he saw Dong Mo hurriedly walking into the door with his briefcase under his arm.

"Editor Dong! Editor Dong!" Fang Minghua ran out and called him quickly.

Looking at Fang Minghua, Dong Mo showed a smile on his face and asked: "Comrade Xiao Fang, have you written poetry again?

"It's not a poem, it's a novel. I wrote a novel and I want to ask for your advice." Fang Minghua said.

"Novel? Okay, bring it to me and have a look."

Fang Minghua immediately went back to the house and took out a thick notebook from his yellow satchel and handed it to Dong Mo. The other person stood at the door and flipped through it, with a look of surprise on his face.

"It's a lot of words. I'll go to the office and read it."

"okay."

As soon as Dong Mo left, Fang Minghua immediately got off work, bought a two-cent fried dough stick and drank an eight-cent bowl of spicy soup from the snack bar across the street. He suddenly felt warm all over his body, went home and fell asleep.

I was busy until two o'clock in the middle of the night last night, and I was really sleepy.

While Fang Minghua was soundly asleep, Dong Mo was sitting in his office and reading the manuscript carefully.

The door was knocked open, and a female editor walked in and placed a stack of manuscripts on his desk.

"Editor-in-Chief Dong, this is the poetry manuscript we recently reviewed."

"Okay, let's leave it for now." Dong Mo said without raising his head.

The female editor felt a little strange.

As the deputy editor-in-chief of the editorial department and the leader of the poetry team, Dong Mo usually reviews and processes poetry manuscripts sent by editors as soon as possible and never presses them.

What happened today?

The female editor took a look at the manuscript Dong Mo saw. It turned out to be a novel.

As the leader of the poetry group, of course you can review novel manuscripts, but you don’t have the final decision-making power like you do with poetry. Usually, colleagues who see a certain novel and can’t make up their mind can help provide advice.

The young editor did not dare to interrupt, put down the manuscript and quietly left the office.

The whole morning, Dong Mo was immersed in the manuscript. It was not until lunch time that his colleague next door called him. Then he hurried to the cafeteria with an enamel bowl and made two steamed buns and one tofu and cabbage. He saw Zhang Pixiang and Stanley Ho. We were sitting together eating, so I walked over and sat next to him.

It is common for the "big three" in the editorial department to often use meal time to talk about work.

Dong Mo excitedly said to He Hongjun: "Sister He, I found for you a young talent who writes novels!

"Who?" He Hongjun perked up after hearing this.

She is the leader of the novel group, and of course she hopes that more people will write better novels.

"Fang Minghua!"

"That doorman of ours? Doesn't he like to write poetry?" He Hongjun was a little surprised when he heard this.

"He gave me a novel he just wrote this morning. I'll show it to you." After that, he walked away.

"Old Dong, wait until you finish eating. Your steamed buns and vegetables are all cold!" Zhang Pixiang, who was standing next to him, hurriedly tried to dissuade him.

As a result, Dong Mo was seen leaving the canteen quickly and disappeared.

"This old Dong" even Stanley Ho, who was standing next to him, couldn't help but smile and shake his head: "He is simply a desperate man. He thinks he is a young guy."