Chapter 56: 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?”
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 a.s.sociated 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.
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 a.n.a.lyzed 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 antic.i.p.ating 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.
“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.