If you weren't a writer, would you still be writing? I wanted to question why I asked this question, but then I remembered my former colleague, who was also a national table tennis player, retired, worked as a typist in an office, got married, and had children.She never touches a racket, and doesn't even read the sports pages of newspapers, unless a high-level leader asks her to play. Uh, uh, I still will. Why? Because—there's nothing else to do.Of course, I must go to work, do housework, fall in love, get married, and have children, but... even if my life is as solid and tight as the Great Wall, between the blue brick A and the blue brick B, I still need glutinous rice juice to fill the gap. Some vacancies.

Does writing make you happy? Ah, ah, perhaps I would be happier than I am now if my reading ended at compulsory education.I go to get off work as usual, and there is no label I don’t recognize in the supermarket when I get off work. At night, I watch those endless Korean dramas, tie a sweater in my hand, and have a wave of short messages on my mobile phone. I have a great chat.There is nothing wrong with it, maybe I will become a woman who is well-versed in human relationships and has a clear understanding of the world. Compared with the current me, I have a deeper understanding of all worldly wisdom.

What do you like to write about? I write everything, I write novels, essays, I also write poetry that does not make money, and I also write blogs.I am also ambitious to write chronicles, private or national.I also want to write legendary novels, such as "Where Are You Going" and "Amber Soul". Dirty Fiction - Interjection, Why?Why not, writing itself is entertainment.I was thinking wildly on the pillow, in the car, on the toilet, and writing in front of the computer, a private and lingering gesture. Is writing useful?Even a little bit -- if you don't take into account that it has already brought you royalties.

I have no idea.Of course there are, you need to write a love letter to pick up a girl, you need to write a letter of credence in a war, you have to write a petition in a lawsuit, and others... They all say that the writing is like a person. I have read so many books and written so many books, but I still have nothing. Write yourself as Lin Daiyu in terms of appearance - this, probably the best plastic surgeon in the world can't do anything about it. So why write at all? Probably equivalent to asking, why fall in love?A kind of desire from the bottom of the heart, hoping to know more, hoping to understand emotion or material; the joy of being deeply immersed in it, like love or admiration; when you can't figure it out, it's like a single thought; there is a good story but writing fails Yes, it is also a kind of unkindness to others.This kind of writing sometimes even hurts. I know too much and can't help being lonely.

All women know that the best love doesn't necessarily lead to marriage.But we still prefer to love passionately without complaint or regret, so writing. March 2007 During the Spring Festival this year, my family and I traveled by car and lived in Wuhan on the second day of the Lunar New Year.When crossing the Yangtze River Bridge, looking at the bright lights on both sides, I suddenly thought of Ye Qingcheng.This woman who had been immersed in the highest government agency in Jiangcheng for many years has now moved to Beijing.She has seen the enchanting and gorgeous night view of the Yangtze River countless times, right?She once said in her resume: "The water of the Yangtze River washed my hair and washed my feet."

I have never met her in person, but I have had frequent phone calls with her.I don't remember Yuanyuan, but I only remember that if she called me, I would know it was her just by uttering one word: the speech was fast, clear and sweet, like Dingdong spring water.And there is a naive and childish nature in the flashing beads and jade, such as her round apple face in the photo.If I call her and ask: "I'm looking for Ye Qingcheng." She will answer: "Yes, I'm Hu Qingyun." Hu Qingyun is her real name, the name of the most homely girl, gentle and honest.The living name on this ID card is suitable for the environment of government agencies.But she also has such a flamboyant and unrestrained name like Ye Qingcheng, who has transcended the curtains of worldly affairs and turned into a butterfly.As she said: "Fortunately, the mind has wings and can fly freely, and the manuscript paper is my boundless sky. If a dinosaur can become a bird, then who said that a green leaf cannot be a city?"

She should be proud of this question, because she really wrote it well.We often collide with each other in the same journal or the same book, and it is natural to read each other.If you don't look at it, you can't avoid it. It's like being trapped in a small dance floor, and you can see each other from the front, back, left, and right—it's simply the editors' unintentional coercion.And I also know that the writing is passable, and it is not dirty to look at.We also talked on the phone, and it was inevitable to flatter each other, occasionally discuss some opinions, and then we all envied and envied those who wrote well.In the end, they encouraged each other: "Let's keep writing down."

That was about ten years ago.Yes, what can I do if I don’t write it down?Since they were all so young at the time, and they were all addicted to words.Not to write is not reconciled, but also reluctant.As she said: "Just because of a little bit of dream, I am willing to refine what happened in the day and the dream in the night in the first night after the lights are turned off. It is like a rough gravel, with flames It is smelted into a boiling river, and then blown by the wind to make it gradually condense, and finally become pieces of glass with words." Afterwards, the news dwindled to nothing, but I would still pay attention to her articles in the newspapers.For her words, perhaps it is best to use her own words to describe:

"—Where can I dance to? Even though it is so gorgeous and exquisite, in the light and shadow, there is my whirling and indulgent figure, and my joy and sorrow are transparently presented in front of everyone. ... I am a silkworm that spins glass threads, and my cup is my glass castle.The city I build myself binds only myself.That sharp edge made the soles of my feet bleed.My heart was ecstatic and trembling.And I am an angel dancing in the glass. " So delicate, so sharp, so clear, so decisive, so painful.And when she turned around, she was so humble again: "I have never written very well, and it is impossible to write very well in my life. But if the world is always a pale rose autumn, I only hope that my article can be a rain of sweet-scented osmanthus flowers, small and small, fragrant Dropping from the ground makes the world gentle and amiable."

Yes, of course it is tender and amiable, especially for me.I am about the same age as her. Although the canals are different, the roots of some flowing water are often as one.They all wrote about missing love because of reserve, and they all advocated having fun and not regretting it.They've all heard Xueluo's voice, and they've even been moved by a plant called cocklebur... But, it's not just gentle and amiable.Among our group of writers who were later uniformly named by the media as the so-called "youth beauty writers", I always think that she is the most magical little fox fairy.She has her own beauty and charm, but also her viciousness, fierceness, heterogeneity, richness, kindness and coldness.So when I saw that she published three novels in one go, I was pleasantly surprised, but not surprised.Prose alone is not enough for her, she has to find a wider place to have fun.

I believe she will continue to write, no matter what she writes.God gave her this talent, and she has no reason to squander it.This comforts me, even though what she writes has nothing to do with me—no, I can’t say it doesn’t.Her manuscript fee has nothing to do with me, but her heart has something to do with me.Because, her writing is not all about the city, but all about her love—all her love, even more all her heart—all her heart.And in this world, love and love, heart and heart, are always related.In the vast world, I would like to have more words like this, let me perceive, let me understand, let me pause, let me feel sad in enjoyment, and sweet in bitterness. I'm sure it's not just me who thinks this way. April 2007