Back to 80: My literary life.

Chapter 730: My neck hurts after writing an article
"I also said a few words." Fang Minghua repeated the key points of his speech.

After listening to this, Xichuan fell silent.

Yes
Poetry nowadays is no longer the popular pursuit it once was among the entire population, but has gradually become something for people in a small circle to entertain themselves.

Haven’t you seen how many days we spent on university campuses reading other people’s poems or our own poems aloud on the lawns and in dormitories? Those beautiful times are gone.

Today's college students watch movies and videos, play games, some play guitar and sing campus folk songs, and read martial arts novels. But none of these have anything to do with poetry.

"To be honest, I've read some of your views, and both have merits, but they also have their own problems. 'Intellectual writing' overemphasizes dramatic expression, lacks cohesion, and is sometimes out of touch with social reality."

Although Xichuan belongs to the school of "intellectual writing", Fang Minghua is not polite when speaking to him.

“Of course, there are more problems with “folk writing”. The colloquial writing that Yu Jian and Han Dong have been advocating is just saliva writing, writing from the lower body, and in the end, shit and piss and fart come out!”

Xichuan didn't dare to interrupt, but just listened carefully.

"I didn't want to say this originally, but Xichuan, since you are here and asked me to write something about poetry, then I will write some." Fang Minghua said finally.

Xichuan was overjoyed.

Finally, Fang Minghua was asked to come out!

After chatting for a while, Xichuan was about to leave, but Fang Minghua warmly asked him to stay: "Why are you in such a hurry? Wait until you have lunch this afternoon before leaving."

"No need, Minghua, I'm still in the Academy of Fine Arts. I've made an appointment with a few students to discuss ink painting." Xichuan said with a smile.

"Oh, I forgot that you are also a painter." Fang Minghua said with a smile.

"You're joking. How can I be called a painter? It's just my personal hobby, some graffiti." Nishikawa was very humble.

Finally Xichuan left and Fang Minghua saw him out the door.

Looking at his back, Fang Minghua suddenly remembered an interesting phenomenon.

In the literary world of this era, novelists like to practice calligraphy, and poets like to paint.

Bei Dao, Duo Duo, Mang Ke, Ouyang Jianghe, Xi Chuan and Xu Demin are considered to be relatively good painters and have even held art exhibitions.

Um.
I like writing, but I would rather not hold a calligraphy exhibition and sell my calligraphy like Jia Pingwa does.

After seeing Xichuan off, Fang Minghua was not in a hurry to go to the post office to mail the novel he wrote, but was thinking about the conversation he had just had with Xichuan.

Since you want to write, just write a good one.

Fang Minghua took a sip of the slightly cold tea and thought slowly.

"The rain of apricot blossoms wets my clothes
The willow breeze blows on my face, but it’s not cold.”

Time passed quickly and it was late March, the time when Xijing City was enjoying the bright spring sunshine.

In this kind of weather, it is very pleasant to go hiking in Cuihua Mountain, go fishing in Fenghe River, or even go further to the Tianhan area on the Qinling Mountains to see the rape flowers.

But during this period of time, Fang Minghua locked himself in the study and basically did not go out of the house. Even when Jia Pingwa, Bai Miao and others invited him to go fishing several times, he declined.

On that Friday, Bai Miao called Fang Minghua to ask him to go fishing with Jia Pingwa in the Feng River the next morning, but he declined. The next day, only Jia Pingwa and he went.

"Pingwa, Minghua, what has the cat been doing at home these days? Is he surfing the Internet? I heard that people can be addicted to the Internet." Sitting on the river bank, Bai Miao looked at the fishing line floating in the water and chatted with Jia Pingwa.

"Surfing the Internet? No, haven't you heard him complaining about the slow speed of the Internet, which is just as slow as a snail?" Jia Pingwa took a puff of a cigarette and said slowly, "I guess he is writing something." "Huh? It's rare to see someone writing so seriously that he even gave up his hobby of fishing." Bai Miao smiled and said, "Wait until he finishes writing, I'll go take a look and see what other earth-shattering masterpiece he's written."

"Let's go and have a look together then."

“Finally finished writing”

In the study, Fang Minghua looked at the densely packed words on the screen, stood up, stretched, and rubbed his stiff neck.

It is true that time is merciless. After writing for a long time, the first thing that starts to feel uncomfortable is my neck.

At this time, Song Tangtang pushed the door open and walked in. Seeing him like this, she said angrily, "Is your neck no longer uncomfortable? Sit down and I'll rub it for you."

After saying that, she came behind Fang Minghua and skillfully massaged his neck.

"Wow, it feels so good." Fang Minghua closed his eyes slightly, almost moaning in pleasure.

"Tangtang, your massage technique is really good."

"Of course, I went to learn it from Doctor Chen Genhong." Song Tangtang said with some pride.

Chen Genhong is the founder of Chen's Traditional Chinese Medicine Bone Correction and Physical Therapy Shop in Baihua, a suburb of Xijing. His ancestral home is in Jingyang County, Qin Province. When he was young, he followed his father to learn the knowledge and skills of traditional Chinese medicine bone correction, which is a standard family tradition. In Xijing, push-pull massage is very famous, and many leaders ask him to give massage.

Most writers suffer from cervical spondylosis to some extent. Fang Minghua is no exception. He went there for massage several times and the effect was good, but unfortunately there were too many people lining up and the massage was quite far in the northern suburbs.

Song Tangtang was introduced by a friend and took time out and spent a lot of money to study, so that Fang Minghua could enjoy thoughtful service at home.

My wife is really good to me.

"Minghua, have you finished writing? My sister-in-law said that after men turn 35, their body functions begin to decline. You can't always sit in front of the computer typing like you do now. You need to move around regularly. I'll accompany you to play badminton later. My sister-in-law said that this is good for the movement of the cervical spine and shoulders!" Song Tangtang said while massaging.

"No, no." Fang Minghua refused: "Playing badminton with you? I'm asking for trouble."

There was no way. His wife not only liked dancing, but also had athletic talent. She was better than him at badminton and table tennis, and even better than him at snooker in the billiard hall. Fang Minghua felt inferior to him in this aspect.

"Then let's go out for a walk. We can't always sit here!" Song Tangtang said.

"Don't worry, I've finished writing it. I don't plan to write anything in the near future. It's too tiring." Fang Minghao replied.

"Are you really finished?" Song Tangtang asked.

"Of course, a full 60,000 words! This is the longest piece of literary theory I have ever written."

"Wow, he actually wrote 60,000 words? Can't that be enough to publish a book?" Song Tangtang was surprised.

She knew that Fang Minghua had been writing something on poetry theory recently, saying it was a commissioned article for Tianya, but she didn't expect it to be so long!

"What's written? Let me see." After saying that, Song Tangtang picked up the mouse on the table.

"Hey, press it for a while longer. I'm not feeling comfortable enough yet." Fang Minghua said quickly.

"I'll make you comfortable at night." Song Tangtang said casually, his eyes fixed on the screen.

The title of the article soon appeared:

“Why all this trouble? — The debate between “civilians” and “intellectuals”

(End of this chapter)