My era, 1979!

Chapter 45 Experiencing the Life of a Writer
Xiao Daigang wrote the word "adopted" on the manuscript label.

"Editor Xiao," Xu Chengjun leaned forward, "this manuscript... really doesn't need any revisions?"

Upon hearing this, the sound of fans in the editorial department stopped.

Kong Rou nearly knocked the enamel mug in her hand against the corner of the table. Wu Xikang looked up from his translation, his glasses sliding down to the tip of his nose: "Young man, you've never had a manuscript rejected?"

Xu Chengjun scratched his head: "I revised 'The Granary' seven times. I even dreamt yesterday on the train that Editor Li circled my manuscript with a red pen."

Li Xiaolin chuckled, the cuffs of her navy blue overalls sweeping across the floor: "So you're hoping to get reprimanded? Teacher Xu's quirk is quite unique."

She pushed the manuscript paper in front of Xu Chengjun, saying, "Your 'The Shadow Rebellion' in 'The Fitting Mirror' was written too wildly. Changing it makes it lose its edge. Fresh river fish is best steamed; adding too many seasonings makes it fishy."

Xu Chengjun stared at the word "adopted" on the manuscript label.

Three seconds later, his face suddenly fell.

"Well..." he rubbed his fingers together, "Since we don't need to make any changes, can we still stay at the editorial department's free guesthouse?"

This remark made all the editors in the room laugh.

Appropriate jokes can help bridge the gap, provided you have the ability to do so.

Look, the atmosphere is much more harmonious now than when he first arrived.

Kong Rou laughed so hard she slapped the table, splashing strong tea from her enamel mug: "Teacher Xu, you were just talking about magical realism, and now you're already thinking about the guesthouse?"

"you do not say,"

Xu Chengjun said quite confidently, "It's not that I'm thinking about it, it's just to experience the life of a writer!"

What a boastful and arrogant statement!

Li Xiaolin covered her mouth and laughed: "You've got a better grasp of the numbers than an abacus. So it's a sin for us not to use your revisions?"

In fact, these days, what new writer doesn't revise their manuscript?

One reason is that you lack qualifications. Without qualifications, your writing lacks confidence, and if you go even slightly out of line, it will be seen as a problem with what you've written.

Once you gain a certain reputation and become a senior writer, you can have people vouch for you even if you go a little outrageous.

This is the benefit of writing "The Barn" and "Scales".

Another reason is that many writers become obsessed with ornate language in their early years, resulting in linear narratives and immature works.

As Hemingway famously said: "The first draft is always crap. The important thing is that you're willing to clean it up and reshape it until it becomes what you want it to be."

Take Xun Ge'er as an example. His first vernacular novel, "Diary of a Madman," was written in the first draft with a lot of classical Chinese sentences mixed with vernacular Chinese, making it difficult to read.

During the revision, all obscure allusions were removed, and a chilling atmosphere of "cannibalism" was created using extremely simple vernacular language.
Ultimately, it became the starting point of modern Chinese literature.

So you see, even a great modern Chinese writer like Xun Ge'er had to make changes, let alone ordinary writers.

Right, Mr. Yu Hua!

Speaking of which, Yu Hua's debut novel, "Going Out into the World at Eighteen," was also rejected!
The editor's comments were: The narrative is chaotic and the characters' motivations are unclear.

The new writer Xu Chengjun was a Chinese literature major trainee who had practiced for 15 years in his previous life.

The writing and narrative structure are both stable and innovative.

Then Li Xiaolin turned her head and winked at Xiao Dai, "Old Xiao, how about we tidy up that storage room in our editorial department where all the magazines are piled up? We can lay down a wooden board and sleep there."

Xiao Dai tapped the table with feigned seriousness, twirling a red and blue pencil between his fingers: "The storage room won't do. It leaked last year, and the paint on the walls was falling off so badly it could hit someone. But..."

He changed the subject, a sly glint in his eyes, "There's still a vacant room in the Writers' Association's guesthouse, reserved for authors who revise their manuscripts. It's eight cents a day, paid to the editorial department."

Xu Chengjun's face instantly brightened, and he slapped his thigh and laughed, "So, does that mean I'm an author who edited the manuscript? Even though I didn't edit it, the manuscript was accepted!"

“Yes! Why not?” Li Xiaolin shoved the manuscript into his hand.

"Take the 'exempt author' specially approved by Harvest magazine and ask them to reserve a room for you. By the way, the cafeteria doesn't have braised pork for lunch, but it does have braised potatoes. With a letter of introduction, you can get an extra spoonful."

Xu Chengjun, holding the manuscript label, asked again, "So... how much is the payment?"

Wu Xikang looked up from the translation and laughed: "Didn't realize you were such a money-grubber? Seven yuan a thousand words, one yuan more than you would in Anhui. 8000 words, fifty-six yuan, enough for you to stay in a guesthouse for two months and have tea eggs with every meal."

"That's not about being greedy for money. Material foundation determines spiritual value, and there's nothing shameful about making money through writing!" Xu Chengjun laughed. "Then thank you all for your support!"

Li Xiaolin waved his hand: "Go back and prepare for your Fudan University interview. Next time you have a good draft, remember to show it to us first!"

Xu Chengjun walked out of the editorial office.

Looking at the bustling crowds on Julu Road,

Laughed.

Publishing a piece in Harvest magazine is surely a dream come true!
It was realized on July 17, 1979, and "The Fitting Mirror" will be published in Harvest in mid-August.

That's right, Xu Chengjun's "The Fitting Mirror" will be published earlier than "The Granary".

Since its inception in 1957, Harvest has been positioned as a bimonthly publication. Ba Jin emphasized the publishing policy of "producing people and producing works", and the bimonthly rhythm can not only ensure the quality of manuscripts, but also respond to the needs of literature in the era in a timely manner.

历史上，79年复刊后，实际发行了第 1、2、4、5、6期，缺第3期。

Therefore, Xu Chengjun's work will be published in the fourth issue of the magazine. However, since the third issue has not been published, in order to prevent the gap between the third and fourth issues from being too long, the fourth issue will be published in mid-August.

The Federation of Literary and Art Circles' guesthouse is located at No. 238 Yan'an West Road.

After asking the editors for the address, Xu Chengjun once again produced a simplified map of the city's transportation network.

This time the journey is long, and bus route 11 can't withstand such a hassle.

However, taking bus 24 and then transferring to bus 71 is just right.

Bus route 24 has arrived.

Xu Chengjun clutched his 24-cent ticket and squeezed onto the No. 24 trolleybus with the flow of people.

Route 24 is a classic route opened in Shanghai in 1938. In 1979, it was still an important transportation artery connecting the South City and the West District. The carriages were made of green iron sheets, and the ticket sellers manually opened and closed the doors. Along the route, you could see landmarks such as Fuxing Park and Cultural Square.

The green metal van bumped along Ruijin Second Road, its overhead wires scraping against the power lines with a soft "buzzing" sound.

A truly magical experience.

"From Fuxing Middle Road to Le—"

The ticket seller shouted the station announcements, and the wooden handles and iron rings on the train swayed and clanged together with a dull clatter.

Outside the window, the cast iron fence of Fuxing Park is covered with vines, and workers in blue overalls are squatting by the roadside eating plain noodles, with scallions stuck to the rim of their enamel bowls.

As the tram rounded the intersection, a huge billboard in the cultural square came into view, with red background and white lettering that read "Celebrating International Workers' Day." Below it, a dense cluster of bicycles were parked, with enamel lunch boxes dangling from the net bags hanging from the handlebars.

"Passengers getting off at Shaanxi South Road stop, please prepare to transfer to bus route 71!"

Xu Chengjun hurriedly squeezed to the back door, the metal pedal making a clanging sound under his feet.

After waiting for three articulated buses, the No. 71 double-decker bus finally arrived, swaying precariously.

Xu Chengjun climbed up the iron ladder to the second floor and chose a seat by the window.

It's convenient to take a look at Shanghai in 1979.

Look around.

The golden spire of the Sino-Soviet Friendship Building on Yan'an Middle Road pierces the clouds.

The pillars under the Russian-style corridor were gilded by the sunlight.

The new slogan, "The motherland is waiting for you, the people are waiting for you, the revolution is waiting for you," had just been painted on with red paint, its edges gleaming with a fresh sheen.

"We've arrived at Jing'an Temple—" The smell of incense suddenly wafted in from outside the car window.

Xu Chengjun peered out, and the yellow walls of Jing'an Temple were faintly visible through the gaps in the plane tree leaves.

The signboard of "Shanghai Fashion Company" opposite the temple gate was shining brightly.

As the bus drove along Nanjing West Road, the grandfather clock in the old-fashioned watch shop struck three times. The sound of the clock mingled with the sound of the tram bell, carrying far away in the winds of 1979.

(End of this chapter)