264 The Reason That Author Never Won 5 (2/2)
”I'm afraid I don't know her name.”
That was about the extent of Juho's relations.h.i.+p with her, and realizing that there wasn't much else to ask, the critic let up. The producer looked as though he had expected more. Nevertheless, the young author was quite satisfied with his answer. The next question was about the Nebula Award.
”I believe we brought it up just now. You mentioned a fellow author giving you advice. Who was that author?”
”I've been wanting to know this myself,” the critic added.
Then, after some thought, Juho said, ”Would it be OK to bring up his name without getting his consensus?”
”It's not like you've done anything bad. You'll be fine,” Pyung Jin said, waving his hand in order to rea.s.sure the young author. Meanwhile, the producer and the writer at the front signaled to him emphatically, encouraging him to say the name, and when Juho looked at Nam Kyung, he nodded slowly with an ambivalent look on his face. 'Hope he doesn't get mad at me,' Juho thought as an image of the author gently admonis.h.i.+ng him crossed his mind. Despite the gentleness, Juho couldn't help but be afraid. And eventually, after wrestling with his thoughts for a little while, the young author brought up the name cautiously, ”It's Mr. Lim. Hyun Do Lim.”
At that, a look of shock appeared gradually on the critic's face.
”So, it was Mr. Lim!” he said, his voice getting louder by reflex. Seeing his reaction, the host asked, ”I've read his books too. He's known for the depth of his descriptions, right?”
”He certainly is,” the critic said. Then, he started raving about how great an author Hyun Do was, until the host had to step in to stop him. Pyung Jin's praise toward the literary great was very much valid, even from an objective standpoint.
”He's also known for not asking favors from other authors. He turns down every testimonial request, no matter who it's from. He declined yours too, didn't he, Mr. Woo?”
”I didn't realize that was such a widely known fact.”
”Those who know will know.”
Hyun Do Lim had taken the initiative to talk to Yun Woo, and as a result, 'Language of G.o.d' was born. Meanwhile, thrilled by what he heard, Pyung Jin started raving on about Hyun Do all over again, as if he had forgotten that he was on TV. Seeing the critic growing rambunctious, Juho started to feel uncomfortable.
”That's incredible. It makes me wanna get a peek at your daily life, Mr. Woo.”
”It's nothing out of the ordinary,” Juho said. However, the critic didn't believe him.
”Are you planning on publis.h.i.+ng an autobiography or an essay anytime soon?”
”Not at the moment, no.”
”Don't be so quick to brush it off, Mr. Woo. Give it some thought. Every single person in this country will buy it. You could also include your short stories while you're at it.”
”I'll consider it.”
From then on, an array of questions followed, from Juho's relations.h.i.+p with Kelley Coin to how the young author started writing, his habits when writing, and tricks and tips. Although they seemed to have chosen questions that were more personal in nature, such as preferences or hobbies, Juho answered each and every one of them with complete sincerity. With that, break time came, and Juho rose from his seat in order to stretch.
”Gettin' long, huh?” the host said to him with an apologetic smile.
”A little.”
”We tried to condense it as much as possible, believe it or not. You see, there are quite a few questions that have been backed up for the last three years,” the host explained, and Pyung Jin agreed emphatically, adding, ”One of these days, Mr. Woo, I'd love to have an long, in-depth discussion about your books.”
At that, Juho chuckled awkwardly. Soon, the taping resumed for the latter half of the show.
”OK. Now, let's talk about your books.”
As the host listed the young author's books in the order they had been published, Juho took a sip of water from his bottle, and Pyung Jin straightened his tie.
”You've managed to write all these books in the span of three years.”
When Juho heard the t.i.tles of his books in the form of a list, it dawned on him just how much he had written up to that point.
”I'm a fast writer.”
”Is there a reason for why you write so much?” the host asked.
”Nothing in particular. I just write when I think of something I want to write about, and here I am three years later.”
At that, Pyung Jin exclaimed quietly. It was a signal of sorts, and with the host's permission to speak, the critic said, ”There are still conflicting opinions about Mr. Woo's prolific writing, even to this day, because not only does it dilute the point of interest, but it also becomes increasingly difficult to maintain the quality of each piece. And there are authors out there who struggle with this.”
”Am I one of them?” Juho asked the critic. To which, he answered, wincing, ”Not at all,” and proceeded to tell the young author what he wanted to hear, ”Each of your pieces has a distinct flavor. Not only are they new every time, but they also bring precisely what the readers want from Yun Woo. Quickly at that. The length is also a plus. The readers tend to want to cherish and savor a piece written by their favorite author. Your books rea.s.sure the readers that they made the right decision to get into Yun Woo literature, and frankly, that's not easy to pull off.”
It was quite the praise, and Juho couldn't help but roll his eyes.
”So, I've been dying to ask this in person,” he said in all seriousness. ”How were you able to do that?”
Pyung Jin was referring to the deep emotional experiences that came from Juho's books. People had different ways to explore the incomprehensible in their lives, and asking questions had to be one of the most effective ways to go about this. Asking somebody a question conveyed to the other person just how earnestly one wanted to know the answer. Then, Juho looked straight at him and gave him an honest answer, ”I write every day. I don't write a set amount within a certain amount of time or anything, but I'm in the habit of writing every day. One time, our Literature Club teacher taught us just how easy it is to become a better writer. And that was to write more. In order to write more, one has to ask themselves what they have seen up to that point. That's the only way you can get the hand moving. I collect raw materials and I make a story out of them. The fewer the ingredients, the shorter the story. Likewise, the heavier the ingredients are, the weightier the story becomes. Although, it's not always accurate.”
Then, thinking of all the ma.n.u.script paper he had used throughout his career, the young author added, ”Sometimes you end up with a defective product, but there are rare occasions when you're awarded with a piece of writing that isn't too shabby. But more often than not, it's not long before you notice all the flaws, which is why I rewrite the same story over and over again.”
”So it seems like you're not just being figurative here,” the host said, and Juho answered honestly, ”No, there are days I don't write.”
”If you've been writing that much, I can only imagine just how many stories there are.”
At that, Juho couldn't help but be reminded of the stacks of ma.n.u.scripts in his room.
”Yes, there are quite a few.”
”Do you pick which ones to publish out of that reserve?”
That time, Juho shook his head without delay. That was unthinkable.
”They're all failures, every single one of them. I wouldn't even want to look at them.”
”What do you mean by failures?” the host asked.