Chapter 56 – Seo Joong, During a Hot Summer (2)
Translator: – – Editor: – –
Translated by: ShawnSuh
Edited by: SootyOwl
"Are you hungry by any chance? Should I order something?"
"No, thank you. I ate before coming here."
"OK, then we'll wait till dinner."
After gesturing Juho to sit, he went out of the room. Soon, he brought back some iced coffee.
"I enjoyed your work quite a bit," Seo Joong said as he looked at Juho with eyes filled with interest. "So, that's what you look like."
At once, Dong Gil poked Seo Joong on his side with force, and Juho was impressed by how deep his finger went in. 'Clean shot,' he thought.
"Do you mind? For goodness' sake, watch what you're saying. You're in your thirties now."
Seo Joong couldn't say anything. He was shaking in pain while holding his side. In Juho's eyes, both of them were more or less the same.
He slowly turned his eyes towards the window in the study and saw the beautiful yard he had seen on his way in. He couldn't help but keep looking at its heartwarming sight.
"Huh, you're just quietly enjoying the view without even being fazed. I knew you weren't an ordinary kid."
"Are you feeling better?"
"It's nothing. So, I heard your real name is Juho Woo? How should I call you from now on?" he asked as he glanced at Dong Gil.
"I'd prefer my real name."
Seo Joong made a circle with his hands as a way of saying 'loud and clear.' He seemed to be in a good mood.
"I've heard about you from Nabi too. Going out into the world right off the bat, I see."
"It's hard to say. Things are still in their early stages."
"You'll be fine as long as the translation is good."
"That's what I'm hoping too."
Seo Joong's book was doing quite well in the US. Juho thought about his book, and the first word that came to mind was 'growth.'
Every character in Seo Joong's books was three-dimensional. One would say that it felt like German literature. He enjoyed writing things that enabled his readers to become emotionally invested into the protagonist.
"So, where did you write 'The Trace of a Bird?' At home? Maybe at school?"
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He seemed like he had quite a interest in Juho. Well, if he wasn't, he wouldn't have wanted to invite him in the first place. It was an honor to be recognized by an author who would be actively working for another thirty years.
"Both. At home and at school. I'm not very picky about where I write."
'I am picky about how I'm feeling at the moment. If my heart was willing, I could write while laying on my stomach in the street,' he murmured silently.
"When did you get into writing?"
"I'm not sure."
"You must have written quite a bit before you were happy with the results." Seo Joong posited simply, and Juho took a moment to think.
"Nope," he answered.
"Huh?"
"I didn't write all that much. It was the first work I'd ever completed. I didn't even want to be an author at the time. I submitted it to the essay contest nearly on impulse."
"Impulse," Seo Joong echoed quietly.
Juho took a sip of his coffee.
People usually took some sort of action as a means to alleviate their anger. Some screamed while others kicked things around them. Some listened to music.
In Juho's case, he had a habit of writing out his anger. It tended to be all over the place, so he never bothered to read it again later.
However, a novel was not the same. It didn't work that way. A book came to completion through countless revisions. Whether the writer wanted to or not, he had to revisit his draft. That was what it looked like to write rationally.
'The Trace of a Bird,' that book had been written on impulse. It had been almost like throwing a fit to alleviate his own fears and anxiety. Naturally, it was more emotional than it was rational.
He could have done better. He could have written more elaborately.
With Seo Joong staring at him as if observing and measuring him, Juho said, "That's why I'm not satisfied with it."
Seo Joong nodded slowly.
"You really are a writer," he added. They were words of recognition.
To an author, writing in large spurts took on a different meaning. Mr. Moon had said in his past lesson, "We have to write a lot. It's the only way to get better." It had been a lesson for those who weren't already writers, much in the way of what Seo Joong had just said.
An author simply wrote too many words. It was more than one could count. Seo Joong had tried to see if the author 'Yun Woo' was really the result of his own efforts.
Juho didn't take it personally. Besides, he wasn't entirely wrong. He had been 'Yun Woo' in his past life. Amid the failures that stormed into his life, the name 'Yun Woo' was the only thing he had associated with success. A coincidental success of a young author. A coincidental work. A coincidental result.
(TL's note: In Korea, last name comes before the first name. This means "Yun Woo" would be "Woo Yun," which sounds like the Korean word for 'coincidence.')
This time, things would be different.
"What, did you think I had someone ghostwrite for me?" Juho asked with a smile.
"That's a strong answer. My bad, my bad," Seo Joong apologized as he scratched his head.
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Juho waved his hand in denial. "You two are the real writers," he answered as he thought about the pool table in the living room and Dong Gil's list of 'things I clearly like.'
Development was one of the essential elements of a novel. Authors analyzed and reinterpreted various situations between characters once they took them apart. Because authors made their living out of writing, they had to be aware of everything that was happening around the world. Even at the sight of a small pebble thrown into their boring, everyday life, authors desperately took hold of it to feel and trim it into writing material. Their hands might be covered in cuts and blisters, but that was hardly an issue.
"I can't tell if that was a compliment or not." As Seo Joong sat in confusion, he suddenly clapped his hands, 'Clap.' The sound resonated through a small hole in the room. "Is it true that you turned down the film adaptation offers? I heard that one of the directors who approached you was really famous."
"Where did you hear that?"
"It's common knowledge. Us writers know everything about each other, you know?" he said boldly.
Since it wasn't anything he wanted to hide or felt uncomfortable talking about, Juho answered honestly, "Yes, you've heard right."
As he had discussed with Nam Kyung, Juho had turned down every film adaptation offer. Among them were famous directors and studios that were quite big.
"So, why did you turn them down? Your books would have sold even more. Kids your age are usually into celebrities, aren't they? Besides, we're living in the video era. Ah, wait, was it because you didn't want the director changing the story?" Seo Joong asked.
Juho thought for a brief moment, 'I already know the outcome. It's a complete disaster.' As honest as the answer might have been, he couldn't talk about something that hadn't happened yet. He looked for another reason in his mind.
"True, but I'm not looking to make any tricky demands either. If I were to have my book made into a movie, I'd like the director to have full creative authority. I don't want there to be a condition in terms of film adaptation. I wouldn't mind if the director decided to name the movie with an entirely different name."
Of course, it wouldn't have been ideal to have the director change things in the story. However, there was no right answer to a book. It took shape based on the readers' interpretation and their emotions. For that reason, Juho felt at peace about having one of his readers as the director. He was OK with actors and actresses interpreting the book their own ways.
However...
"But at that point, I wonder if a film adaptation would even be necessary. The book is already doing well, and I don't really have a celebrity that I like."
"Still, if the film does well, your books will sell even more."
"Greed can lead to one's downfall."
Seo Joong tilted his head as he studied Juho's response. He seemed curious.
"I don't get the impression that you're anticipating success. You almost sound like you know you're going to fail...?"
"I just don't have a good feeling, that's all. My intuition tends to be pretty accurate," Juho answered calmly.
"Intuition, huh. That's fair," Seo Joong admitted.
"Well, you never know what could happen. I might change my mind too."
"A person can't change so easily."
"Still, what's more fickle than a person's heart?"
As he took a sip of his sweet and bitter coffee, a pigeon flew into the yard. It walked about as if it was home. Like an arrogant person with his hands behind his back, it looked at the flowers with its wings folded back.
"Aren't you scared?" Seo Joong asked as he spotted the pigeon.
Seo Joong sounded playful because he was thinking of a fictional character that immediately came to mind when it came to fear birds.
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"I'm not Yun, you know."
"There's a rumor that you're actually afraid of birds."
"I've heard that as well."
"You have? Do you look up your own name and things like that?"
"No, I've heard from a friend."
"A friend, I see."
Seo Joong reached into his pocket. Dong Gil saw what he was doing and protested, "If you're going to feed the bird, you should stop."
"The boy has to eat."
"You mean you don't see how chubby that thing is?"
Seo Joong paid no attention to Dong Gil and kept looking through his pockets. Soon, he took out his hand with a disappointed look. He couldn't find anything with which to feed the pigeon. He didn't have any snacks around either. His hand moved slowly away from the window.
Juho said as he watched, "I heard your new book is coming out soon."
"Yep, that's right."
"It's been five years right? I've been waiting anxiously myself."
"That's an honor," Seo Joong answered as he looked out of the window.
"A cat," he said as he pointed.
For a moment, Juho wondered if he didn't feel like talking anymore. However, there was no fatigue or annoyance on his face. He was genuinely distracted by the cat that had randomly appeared. His hair wobbled.
Juho looked toward where he was pointing. There was an adorable kitten sticking its head through an opening in the front gate. The kitten meowed sadly.
There were quite a few animals in the neighborhood. First, a pigeon. Now, there was a cat. Maybe it had something to do with the neighborhood being small and quiet.
The three observed the kitten through the window. It struggled to make its way into the yard, wailing as if it were frustrated.
"Kind of cute."
Dong Gil nodded quietly. At that moment, a black cat jumped onto the wall. It must have heard the kitten's wailing. It looked up to the three, but soon looked away, probably feeling unthreatened. It slowly approached the kitten and laid on its stomach, watching its baby's struggle. No matter how much the kitten wailed, the black cat didn't move from its place.
"Do you think a novel is a lie?" asked Seo Joong.
"Yes," Juho answered immediately. He felt the two looking at him.
"Do you consider your own writing to be a lie?"
"Yes," without hesitation, Juho affirmed the notion.
"... Why is that?" Seo Joong asked.
Juho looked up for a moment. Instead of a blue sky, he saw the white ceiling of the study, only visible to the people inside.
"I looked up the word 'lie' in the dictionary once."
"What did it say?"
"Decorating something that's not true as truth." Juho had a thought when he had seen that sentence, "I think it is the very essence of what I do. A novel is a story made up by an author."
"Sigh," Seo Joong sighed deeply as he plunged his head against the desk. He was making a strange sound.
Chapter 57 – Seo Joong, During a Hot Summer (3)
Translated by: ShawnSuh Edited by: SootyOwl
Seo Joong made a high pitched, slightly nasally sound, "That's harsh. Are you saying that your readers are reading your lies? Mr. Woo, I'm hurt. I feel lonely."
Dong Gil's expression grew darker, but Juho added as stared at Seo Joong, who claimed to be a reader who had been hurt by him, "You have to let me finish. There's always truth in a book. Don't be sad."
"Please, explain," Seo Joong asked as he kept acting. Only, he was looking at Juho with eyes sparkling with interest.
"Let's say an artisan potter makes some pottery," Juho said slowly. "It doesn't matter what he makes. When people see it, they won't think of it as a lie."
They probably wouldn't even doubt it. The same went for the potter. He didn't doubt whether what he had made was real or not. However, authors were different.
"An author writes a novel about an artisan potter. He, too, is a potter, no matter what he makes."
"It's all pottery," Dong Gil murmured, and Juho nodded.
"That's right. It's all created by a person, but they're treated differently. One is made up while the other actually exists."
'Meow,' a faint cry came from outside. The black cat was looking in their direction with its squinted eyes.
"On the outside, yes," Juho added.
"On the outside," Seo Joong echoed his words.
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"Yes. The pottery made by the real artisan is for practical use. You could use it as containers for drinks, or rice. You could see it with your eyes, and you can touch it with your hands."
"Yes, an artisan's pottery has a definite shape."
"But not so with novels. In other words, they're made up. At the end of the day, they're just letters written a page. You can't use them as containers."
'A novel was a lie. Did that mean that authors were liars?' There had been a time when Juho had been stuck on that question. What he had written couldn't be the truth. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn't change the fact that it had been made up. He had felt guilty. He had felt like he had been no different from a con artist. He hadn't been able to look at novels the same way. His head and mind had been chaotic. The calm waters in his mind had started shaking out of control and become murky. He hadn't been able to do anything.
"Then, what's in it?"
However, as long as the author was still around, the dirt eventually sunk down to the bottom.
"Emotions."
"Emotions..." Seo Joong echoed his words again. There were emotions in novels, which couldn't be seen or touched. Yet, they definitely existed. Everyone felt them.
"There's no truth or lie in emotions. They're just feelings. They're in the heart."
Juho understood now. He had been able to stand confidently and answer without hesitation.
"I'm not writing because I want to deceive people," he said as his head dropped slightly. There were moments of realization in life. Like a thunderstorm, they came without warning. Then, what followed was time. Juho had to spend years and years living in order to understand the difference between what was true and what was false. It had been long enough for the dirt to sink back down to the bottom so the waters were no longer murky. Though it had been a long time, it didn't feel like a big deal in hindsight.
When Juho looked ahead, he saw a white mug filled with coffee.
"An author writes the potter, not the pots themselves. A person is much larger and more complex than pottery. If he's distracted with what's true or false, he loses his shape and becomes unrecognizable. We often feel uneasy at heart when he decide that all novels are lies. That's the evidence."
"Incredible."
'Clap. Clap. Clap.' The room was filled with that sound. Dong Gil was slowly clapping with a straight posture.
"That's Yun Woo for ya. You look like an idiot next to him."
Seo Joong smiled bitterly.
"It's embarrassing, but I gotta admit. It took me five years to reach that conclusion, but you've already figured that out."
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That wasn't true. Juho hadn't figured out the answer as quickly as Seo Joong had said. He thought as he swallowed words that he couldn't let out, 'Five years, that was the amount of time he took to write his most recent book. Was that the reason?'
"That was the reason," Seo Joong answered as if he read Juho's mind. He chugged his coffee and then wiped his mouth with his sleeve.
"One day, I felt sick as I was writing. I broke into cold sweats like I'd eaten something bad. After that, I couldn't write."
Juho knew what that felt like.
"I couldn't answer any questions about myself. My brain had stopped working. I didn't dare to go outside, even if I've always been a homebody," he added. "The first year was bearable. I thought to myself: 'let's treat this as a vacation. I'll feel better in no time.' But after a year, and the year after, nothing changed. I started growing anxious."
Juho observed him. He saw his casual attire and his spiky hair. Writing a book had the power to make its writer anxious, even a free-spirited person like Seo Joong.
"It was no use, no matter how much I talked to him. It had been something he had to explore all along," Dong Gil said quietly.
Juho nodded. When such doubt and anxiety bloomed from within, one had to find the answer himself.
"After three years, my health started to deteriorate. There were constant headaches and dizziness. On the fourth year, I found myself incredibly timid. My movements were becoming sluggish and awkward. I spent more and more time crouching in the corner. I was growing smaller," Seo Joong said as he reminisced the last five years he had spent without writing a single word. The days were unbearable, and filled with self-loathing. He grew more and more lethargic by the day, and his brain no longer tried to distinguish between the days. Every day had been the same. His sense of time had grown dull. Time had flown past him.
"Time was just passing, and I couldn't have been more afraid," he said.
"How did you manage to get out of there?" Juho asked quietly.
"Funny story," he said with a chuckle. "One day, my landlord told me to expect some noise because she was going to plant a big tree in the backyard. I couldn't see the backyard from here, so as usual, I just went back to sleep."
'A tree and the landlord, it had been a sudden change of pace. How was he able to come out of his rut?'
"The place was kind of noisy for several months, and there were sounds of people moving building materials. Still, I stayed home quietly. One day, I noticed that the house was unusually quiet, so I'd opened the window to see what had changed. Then, I heard a faint chirping. That was when I realized where the tree had been planted."
Juho imagined a tree, a tree that would have existed in a place that his eyes couldn't reach.
"It was refreshing, several times more than usual. I couldn't remember the last time I had breathed in the fresh air. From that day on, it became my daily routine to breathe in fresh air with my windows wide open. One day, I was sitting by the window, getting some air like usual, and my eyes met with my landlord's in the yard. So, I said 'hi,' and we had a short conversation. Do you know what she said then?" Seo Joong asked with a smile.
"There had never been a tree. Once she started, she realized how complicated it was going to be, so she gave up. Things had felt so good since the tree had come, but it turned out that the noise had been made from some nearby construction. In hindsight, it was kind of odd that planting a tree would take so long. If I had used my brain just a little more, if I had come out and looked just for a moment, I would've known right away, but my sluggish brain had been thinking there was a tree the entire time. That whole day, I was rolling on the floor laughing. Although the "tree" wasn't there anymore, I felt refreshed."
"I had finally reached the truth," he added.
"The "tree" reveals itself the moment I believe it exists. My job was to reinterpret that as a development in my writing."
His eyes sparkled in the shade and he smiled brightly while looking untidy. One day, the anxiety would return. Times of confusion and chaos would always come back, and he always went on a quest in search for truth.
"I'm looking forward to your new book!"
"You should. It's probably going to be nothing like my other books. It'll be long."
"Is that right? In what way?"
"Maybe... spiraling downward instead of growing?"
It was the polar opposite of what he had been writing so far. Most of his books had characters who grew more mature throughout the book. They experienced things for themselves as they grew and groaned in pain. Then, they learned.
"Let me tell you a secret," Seo Joong whispered although there were only two other people in the room. "The protagonist is a corporate worker."
"I've already read that in the synopsis."
"Buy the book if you want to know the rest."
Dong Gil didn't even look surprised. The two cats were gone, and there was no kitten wailing. They had to have left to look for another place to stay, and Juho asked as he stared out the window at the empty front yard, "I guess you had an answer this whole time, Dong Gil."
"There was no need to find an answer. My stories are based on my own experiences. In other words, they're real," he answered brusquely with his arms crossed.
"He might not look like it, but he's the simplest person in here."
"What's that supposed to mean? Do you have something to say about my looks?"
"I've known you for years now. It's kind of late for complaints."
"I don't think I like your tone."
That was very Dong Gil-like, someone had told Juho that every author has their own unique personality. They each wrote with their own hearts. It was their hearts that defined their stories and writing styles. Juho looked at the clock on the wall. They had been talking for quite some time now.
"I'm hungry."
Like Seo Joong had said, the pool table made the black bean noodles taste even better. As he was his way out after cleaning up, Seo Joong asked, "When are you planning on writing your next book?"
He had asked light-heartedly. Yet, there was substance in his question, and Juho felt Dong Gil looking back from the gate.
"I'm already working on it," he answered as he quietly stepped out.
"Stop right there!"
That day, Juho had to stay even longer at Seo Joong's place.