1980 My literary era

"Tiesheng! Tiesheng!"

Shi Tiesheng was used to hearing familiar voices in the yard every now and then. He rolled his wheelchair to the door and opened it, only to see Lin Weimin carrying his things and entering the house.

"What is this?" Shi Tiesheng asked.

"The welfare provided by the work unit, how can I eat so much by myself, I will give some to your family."

Shi Tiesheng sighed imperceptibly, he owed Weimin more and more favors.

It's not that he never thought about rejecting Lin Weimin, but every time Lin Weimin's enthusiasm always made him unable to refuse, so he could only hide this gratitude silently in his heart. If there is an opportunity in the future, we must return it to the people twice as much.

Lin Weimin sent a bag of Fuqiang flour and ten pounds of pork to Shi Tiesheng's family. Shi's father stood there looking at his son, not knowing how to respond to this sentiment.

"Weimin, what do you want me to say?"

Lin Weimin smiled and said: "Hi! Why are you so polite to me? If you want to thank me, you can write more articles and send them to our "Contemporary"."

Shi Tiesheng shook his head helplessly. Even if he wrote articles for "Contemporary", it did not mean that he could repay Lin Weimin's favor. He was just comforting himself.

"Where's Shi Lan?" Lin Weimin asked.

"We went out to play. At this young age, these kids went crazy." Shi Tiesheng said.

Father Shi poured a cup of tea for Lin Weimin. Lin Weimin stood up and said, "Thank you, uncle."

Father Shi nodded, he was not good at words.

Lin Weimin saw that the radiator he brought last time had been installed, and asked, "Does the installation of the radiator have any effect?"

A smile appeared on Father Shi's face, "It's much warmer than before, thanks to you Weimin."

Lin Weimin felt that his home was a little warmer than before. He estimated that the temperature had increased by at least two to three degrees.

"As long as it's useful, Tie Sheng's body can't be frozen." He said happily.

Father Shi looked touched, "Thank you for thinking about Tiesheng..."

"Uncle, look what you said, Tiesheng and I are friends, which means we have this convenient condition. Don't take it seriously."

Lin Weimin was chatting with Shi Tiesheng and his son. The door of the house was pushed open from the outside with a bang. Shi Lan rushed into the house with excitement on his face, "Brother Lin, are you here?"

She was playing outside just now. When she heard someone said that there were guests at their house, she immediately ran home.

Among her brother's friends, Lin Weimin was the one who came the most frequently. Every time she came, she would have a big meal. Since the food had not been improved for several days, the glutton in Shi Lan's stomach was about to rebel.

Lin Weimin looked at Shi Lan funny, knowing what this girl was thinking without having to guess.

Before he could speak, Shi Lan's eyes fell on the Fuqiang noodles and pork he had brought, and her eyes lit up.

Shi Tiesheng and Lin Weimin looked at each other, with a fond smile on their faces.

While Lin Weimin and Shi Tiesheng were chatting, Shi Lan was wandering around flour and pork. It seemed that she wouldn't give up until she got this food in her mouth today.

"Brother Lin, you can have dinner at our house tonight." Shi Lan's tone was very sincere.

"OK!"

Shi Lan jumped up excitedly. As long as Brother Lin eats at home, the food will definitely be good. Besides, he just sent so many things.

Father Shi was the happiest when Lin Weimin stayed for dinner. At least he could express his gratitude to Lin Weimin with his craftsmanship.

"Have you written anything recently?" Shi Tiesheng asked Lin Weimin while Shi's father was cooking.

"I don't have any ideas yet." Lin Weimin said.

He really didn't think about what he should write next. The few novels he wrote before were basically written under pressure from others. "The Death of Yura" is like this, "Latent" is like this, and "The Cliff" Also like this.

Now that he has left the environment of the Literature Institute, he has adapted to the intensity of work. He is a little confused for a while and doesn't know where to start.

"Then take a look at what I wrote."

Shi Tiesheng picked up the manuscript he had just finished writing from his desk.

The title is "Green Dream", and the length is very short, maybe not even 3,000 words.

I don’t know if he has developed a professional habit, but Lin Weimin only had a negative reaction after reading it. This manuscript will not be published in "Contemporary".

Shi Tiesheng paid attention to his expression, "It seems I still have to work hard!"

"Well written."

"It's good, but it's not up to your "Contemporary" standards, right?" Shi Tiesheng asked with a smile.

Lin Weimin didn't lie and nodded.

The novel "Green Dream" is in line with the temperament of Shi Tiesheng's early works. It is not stronger than narrative, but more like prose, such as "My Distant Qingping Bay" which will make him famous in the future. Even Shi Tiesheng himself said This novel is more like an essay than a novel.

"I understand. I didn't intend to publish this novel at all. It just came from a dream, and I also know that it's not very well written."

"When it comes to writing, you are most afraid of self-righteous self-appreciation. Your current mentality is very good." Lin Weimin said.

Shi Tiesheng said: "Why do I feel like you are not praising me?"

"You have wronged me. Having a clear understanding of yourself and your work is crucial for a creator."

Shi Tiesheng had to admit that what Lin Weimin said was very reasonable. If a person does not have a correct understanding of what he writes, it is impossible to write good works.

"You didn't become an editor in vain. Now you've summarized it in detail."

"Haha, it's all work experience!"

While the two were chatting, Shi's father had already prepared the meal.

After eating at Shi Tiesheng's house, Lin Weimin rode back to his dormitory.

He thought of Shi Tiesheng sitting in a wheelchair and letting him read the manuscript, and suddenly felt a little depressed.

Tiesheng's creative conditions are so poor, but he can still write without stopping. Looking at myself again, I feel a bit decadent.

Thinking of this, he picked up his pen.

But what to write about?

After much deliberation, Lin Weimin turned his attention to movies he was familiar with.

Looking for works that fit the characteristics of this era and resonated with people, Lin Weimin quickly thought of a movie.

This film made a great director, won numerous awards after its release, and was regarded as a classic in film history by countless people. It was also adapted from a novel.

Unfortunately, readers often comment that the original novel is not even one-tenth as good as the movie, so they criticize the original author completely.

Lin Weimin recalled the plot of the movie over and over again in his mind and determined that it was a good work worthy of being turned into a novel.

After sorting out all the details in his mind, Lin Weimin began to write.

During this period of time, he had not started writing. He suddenly started writing, and his writing was a little sluggish. It took him a while to get used to it before he found some feeling.

After writing for about an hour, he rubbed his sore wrist.

Looking back at the opening text, I shook my head dissatisfied.

As he said, creators must have a clear enough understanding of the content they write, otherwise what they write will be difficult to read at all.

Lin Weimin crumpled the manuscript paper into a ball and threw it on the ground. This beginning still needed to be polished.