Back to 80: My literary life.

Chapter 597 Chen Zhongshi's book about making pillows is finished

In his old house in Jiangxi Village, Chen Zhongshi carefully stuffed a thick stack of manuscripts into his briefcase and said to the woman standing next to him:
"Cuiying, I have to go to the city tomorrow to attend a meeting of the Writers Association. I'll send this manuscript while I'm there."

Wang Cuiying didn't say anything, but just looked at her husband with some heartache.

Chen Zhongshi already looks old, and he has been working hard at writing over the past few years. His face is now full of wrinkles and his hair is gray, making him look like a sixty-year-old man.

But he just turned fifty this year.

Seeing his wife silent, Chen Zhongshi thought she was worried about something, so he comforted her: "Cuiying, don't worry. I said that if no one wants this book, I will stop writing it and come back to raise chickens with you! I mean what I say!"

"That's not what I meant. There must be someone who wants your book." Wang Cuiying quickly replied, and then asked, "Which company are you going to invest in?"

Chen Zhongshi felt a little surprised. His wife was not well educated, so she seldom asked about creative matters. What happened today?
But Chen Zhongshi also answered truthfully: "I plan to submit to Contemporary Magazine."

"I heard that Fang Minghua's friend runs a book company that specializes in publishing novels and pays some kind of royalties. Lu Yao became rich by doing this. Why don't you find Fang Minghua and submit your works to this company?" Wang Cuiying expressed her opinion.

Chen Zhongshi smiled bitterly and lit a cigar before explaining, "Do you think royalties are given out casually? Fang Minghua's friend's company publishes bestsellers, the kind that sell hundreds of thousands or millions of copies. How can my book sell that much?"

"You've been writing for several years, why can't you sell that many?" Wang Cuiying muttered.

"Who says that works that take longer to write will sell better? Forget it, I can't explain it to you clearly, so don't get involved in this matter." Chen Zhongshi seemed a little impatient.

Wang Cuiying didn't ask any more questions. She just said, "I'll cook for you now," and then turned and left.

Chen Zhongshi walked out of the room and into the yard, smoking a cigar. Through the thick smoke, he looked at the sycamore tree outside the wall, wondering what he was thinking.

Fang Minghua naturally had to attend the Writers Association meeting.

Since the beginning of this year, the number of meetings of the Writers Association has increased dramatically, mainly for study. They study current political affairs and various documents, and the regulations stipulate that no leave is allowed unless there are special circumstances.

Look, almost all the vice chairmen and directors of the Writers Association who are in Xijing are present, but there is still one person missing.

Jia Pingwa.

"Brother Lu, why didn't Pingwa come to the meeting? Is he not feeling well?" Fang Minghua asked Lu Yao who was sitting next to him. The two of them often met together at the Writers Association meetings.

He knew that Jia Pingwa had hepatitis B and his condition was sometimes better and sometimes worse.

But unexpectedly, Lu Yao lowered his voice and said, "He's not in Xijing. He's hiding from his wife."

"Hiding from my wife?"

"Junfang (Jia Pingwa's wife) and he had been having a lot of trouble recently, and Pingwa couldn't stand it anymore, so he went to Taoqupo Reservoir in Yao County to relax and do his creative work."

Fang Minghua said "oh" after hearing this, but he was not very surprised.

The relationship between the couple is very strained, and this is an open secret in the Writers Association.

"I think it's only a matter of time before Pingwa and his wife get divorced." Lu Yao sighed again.

This is true.

"Brother Lu, do you know what Pingwa wrote?" Fang Minghua asked again.

"I met him once and heard him say that this time he would not write about the countryside but about the city, so he would write about Xijing where we live."

"Wasted City"!
Jia Pingwa is going to write "Wasted City"!

This is a book that has received mixed reviews, but it has sold quite well.

Well. Wait until Jia Pingwa finishes writing and then I’ll talk to him.

Fang Minghua suddenly remembered that Lu Yao was also writing a novel, so he asked, "Hey, Brother Lu, you told me before the New Year that you were going to write the novel "Collapse", how is it going now?"

"It's still early. I spent several years writing "Ordinary World", and only a few months have passed?" Lu Yao said with a smile.

That's true. Apart from Jia Pingwa, who is a quick shooter, Lu Yao and Chen Zhongshi are not very fast in their creation speed.

It took six years from the creation to the publication of "Ordinary World".

Chen Zhongshi’s “White Deer Plain” also took five years!

Huh.
Has Chen Zhongshi finished writing "White Deer Plain"?
Fang Minghua turned her head and glanced at Chen Zhongshi, who was sitting on the other side, smoking a cigar and taking notes.

Ask him after the meeting.

The morning meeting was not long, ending in about two hours, and then everyone went about their own business. Fang Minghua went to the toilet after the meeting, and when he came back to look for Chen Zhong, he found that he was nowhere to be seen. He hurried to his office, but the door was locked.

gone?

He then asked the staff of the Writers Association where Chairman Chen had gone.

A worker told him: "I just heard Chairman Chen say to go to the post office to mail the manuscript."

Contribute?!
"Got it, thank you!"

Fang Minghua quickly ran to the front yard and headed straight for his SUV.

After getting in the car, we quickly drove out of the Writers Association gate and headed east straight to Changle Gate.

There is a Dongguan Post and Telecommunications Office outside Changle Gate. People from the Provincial Writers Association like to come here whether they want to submit manuscripts or send letters, as it is the closest to the Writers Association.

He drove out of Changle Gate and saw Chen Zhongshi riding a bicycle on the street. There was a black briefcase hanging on the handlebars, and it was bulging.

Fang Minghua slowed down the car, approached the street, honked the horn twice, and when he saw Chen Zhongshi turning around, he rolled down the window and greeted him with a smile.

"Teacher Chen, where are you going?"

"I'll send a manuscript to Contemporary Magazine." Chen Zhongshi told the truth.

"Is it you who wrote White Deer Plain?"

“That’s right.”

really!

"Teacher Chen, wait a moment, I have something to tell you."

When Chen Zhongshi heard this, he jumped off his bicycle. Fang Minghua quickly pulled over and got off.

"Teacher Chen, can I take a look at your novel now and have a sneak peek?" Fang Minghua said with a smile.

If it were someone else, Chen Zhongshi might not agree, as it has not been officially announced yet.

However, the other party was Fang Minghua, so he did not hesitate and took out a thick stack of manuscripts from his briefcase and handed it to him.

Fang Minghua took it and took a look.

On the first page were written the three words "White Deer Plain", and below that there was a line of small words, which turned out to be a famous quote by Balzac: Novels are considered to be the secret history of a nation.

The second page is the main text.

Chapter 1: "Bai Jiaxuan later took pride in having married seven women in his lifetime."
There are traces of smears all over the manuscript.

Fang Minghua flipped through it, handed it back to the other party, and said, "Teacher Chen, I have an idea. I wonder if you are willing to do it?"

"what idea?"

"Don't rush to submit your manuscript to Contemporary Magazine. I'll ask the CEO of Shengshi Books to take a look and have their company publish it and give you royalties. How do you think?"

(End of this chapter)