Chapter 34 14. Suffering and sublimation (2)

My worst insomnia came back, I experienced an attack of light, but also a real spiritual crisis, I was manic about the possible success of writing, and the possible complete failure of writing Anxiety is hypersensitive to every gust of wind and rain, every sound, every color, and every touch of detail, and saddened by every mistake, every awkwardness, and every overwhelming fear of difficulty.All the "ideology" problems that I have analyzed and criticized many times: worry about gains and losses, individual heroism, blockbuster dreams, unreliable, not willing to be a screw, fame and fortune thoughts, self-righteousness, self-admiration, lonely family, divorced from the masses... all rushed towards me Coming up, I was vulnerable and sick.

The behavior of my writing is at least a little awkward, which affects my relationship with the leaders and the masses, and affects my "progress". In 1954 or 1955, a group of cadres at my level were promoted to one level, but there was nothing to do with me.certainly. After all, I am writing, black words on white paper, memories and emotions, thoughts and dreams, poetry and tenderness, weaving the most precious days of the past and possible, the traces of time, Friendship lasts forever, the symphony of the times, one's own testimony to the great era of the great motherland will be possible to be completed and maintained, age will not increase in vain, cooking will not be in vain, brains will not grow in vain, intelligence will not be wasted, labor Can flower and bear fruit.

The first draft of my writing was getting closer and closer to completion, and I gradually leaked the wind. I read my first draft to the secretary of the Youth League Committee of a few good middle schools. I received some praise, but some people reported some of my neurotic performance upwards. I was criticized a little by a comrade in charge of the Youth League Committee Office. But I'm getting more and more desperate.I even thought that if my novel was successful, maybe I could be selected to participate in the World Youth Festival organized by the Soviet Union and the socialist countries in Eastern Europe. Going there, passing through the Soviet Union, this life is not in vain.Stalin passed away in 1953, and I wrote a poem called "Stalin Will Return".I often sang with tears, "The sun shines on the beautiful wilderness of the motherland, and the wilderness has become a bright place. We made up a beautiful song to sing to our best friends and leaders..." This word was also written by Surkov, who served as the The first secretary of the Soviet Writers Association, Fadeyev is the chairman.

I started to read some articles about writing, and I remembered what Xiao Yin said "start from life".I saw Fumanov, who was once the political commissar of Xia Boyang, say in his writing diary that the idea of ​​becoming famous made him crazy, and I also felt the same way. At the same time, I felt that writing requires a very strong nerve, and its risks and opportunities are too great Extraordinary. Is it a blessing or a curse?I seem to have embarked on the road of no return to writing.In Chekhov's play "The Seagull", the old writer Trigorin talked about writing, saying that every specific thing is the source of writing, such as a glass bottle... This statement is like an apocalypse, like a flash of dawn.And another young writer, Tripolev, lost his pursuit of actresses to the old Trigolin (later Cao Yu even told me that he had the impression that Trigolin was an old hooligan), and his writing would never catch up with that old guy , he made me sympathize, and even sympathize with each other, although I didn't feel the pain of double disappointment in the literary world.

I read The Young Guard over and over again, drawing a diagram of its structure.I want to find out how the author structured his grand essay with so many characters.Once on a Sunday, I went to Nanchizi Sino-Soviet Friendship Association to listen to a concert of a new record, which seemed to be a new symphony by Shostakovich.I suddenly discovered: this is structure, this is the way to organize novels.First theme, violin and oboe, second theme, cello and tuba, variations, harmonies, dissonances, sudden ecstasy, percussion goes crazy, cheerful snare drum, solo, wandering and returning, articulation and interruption , echoing and receding, fading, reinvigorating, majestic and trembling... I know how to write novels, huh!