Surviving as a Writer in the British Empire - Surviving as a Writer in the British Empire chapter 29

Alexandrina(2)

what?

I couldn’t understand the current situation at all.

Apparently, I came out of a reading for a charity fund.

But suddenly, I was dragged out by an old lady and an officer and suddenly got into a carriage. And, and…

hmm······.

‘Have I been kidnapped?’

To me, the kidnapper, the grandmother who looked like a dwarf warchief… Alexandrina-san, spoke to me.

“Hmm, you seem pretty nervous.”

“Uh, um. yes.”

“Well, nothing to worry about. Even though this old woman has a dirty temper, she won’t harm a petty person.”

“to······.”

what is this guy? Why do you think you’re secretly mad at me?

While I was thinking that, Mr. Alexandrina quietly leaned over to me… and started talking to me.

“So, why did you kill Peter? Mr. Hanslow Jean?”

······what?

“Cool, cool!”

“Oops. Here, get me some water.”

At that, the man I thought was an officer rushed to pour the clear water, but I couldn’t bear to drink it.

No, did you kidnap me for killing Peter? Rather, how did you know that I was Hanslo Jin?

‘This is it, right? That what Conan Arthur Doyle went through.’

Wow, I never thought I would go through this…

No, more than that, I carefully resurrected you, right? He wasn’t dead in the first place, he was just about to die, but he came back to life, right? Isn’t that what happened?

“Just in case, I hope you don’t make an excuse that it didn’t work out because you barely survived the near-death situation. I still can’t forget the shock it gave to my old body at that time.”

“Hiccup.”

“Oh, I should add that my grandson and daughter-in-law cried for a while. He was naive but stubborn in strange parts, so he had a lot of trouble appeasing him.”

“That… he has no face…”

“Then did you really think there would be? I don’t know why you did such a foolish thing when you could just use it as you used to.”

I raised my head slowly at the words of the old woman who said that with a snort. The feeling of intimidation she felt was the same.

But I thought that I shouldn’t back down from here.

This was the part that had to be said.

And looking at my eyes like that, the old lady also shone as if she was interested.

“Hmm? Do you have anything to say?”

“Yes that’s right.”

“Do you have something to say when you have no face?”

“…”

“good. Let’s listen.”

“Kuhmm, then.”

I was lucky, but somehow… I checked the whereabouts of the kidnapper who kidnapped me.

Even though I’m not a detective, I’m proud to say that I’ve at least grown up with enough of my wits while interacting with the upper class for a long time.

And, in my eyes… this grandmother is not an ordinary upper-class person.

Even in this situation, he speaks very naturally, and the ego that comes out of every word he says is quite strong.

Even if you see that he is not rude, but he is talented… I don’t know how high he is, but he’s probably sitting like a Buddha in the back room of a fairly high-ranking house.

And on top of that hand, he’s going to be making fun of Son Goku and everything else.

In other words, they are very stubborn, very high-level people, and they are the kind of people who don’t listen to people.

There is no need for professionalism in this category. Because you won’t hear it anyway.

So, just direct.

It’s best to just hit and f*ck what I want to say.

“I wrote that because I thought it was the most fun.”

“Hmm.”

done.

Seeing that even though he snorted, he didn’t stop talking, he said he would listen.

I calmly tidied up my clothes.

“I’m sorry for shocking the readers so much by killing the main character as you said. But I, even if I could go back to before I wrote that manuscript, I would probably write the same.”

“You are confident. Why?”

“As I said, it was because I thought it was the most fun way to bring my writing to life.”

The old woman, Alexandrina frowned.

Seeing the hand that seemed to be holding the cane reddened, it seemed that he wanted to wield it right away. I took the pulse of the story again.

“I know my writing is easy and light. Such writing is… I say something, but it is very volatile.”

“volatility?”

“Simply put, it is quickly forgotten.”

“Wait, that’s…”

The old woman tried to retort, but quickly shut up. I looked at her and nodded.

Perhaps he tried to recite some scene or sentence from my book.

But I wouldn’t have remembered right away.

I remember what kind of personality Peter was and what kind of actions he showed in certain scenes, but it is difficult to perfectly output the lines or sentences.

Can not help it. Because this is equivalent exchange.

What comes into your head easily goes out of your head easily.

What comes in hard comes out late.

This rule also applies when studying.

I’m not asking you to solve problems that are slightly more difficult than your skills.

Even just me, I can’t remember all the sentences of web novels I read that impressed me.

It can be said that it is pure literature, but pure literature makes people remember. ‘Stuffed genius’ or ‘Time, stop. You are so beautiful!’ It is clear if you think about the same sentence that has remained in history.

It’s not simply because it’s a famous line in a famous scene, but because each sentence is well-organized art.

Each word is carefully worked out, and the sentence is forged and re-forged as if carving granite. That’s why it leaves a lasting impression.

The word “retirement” is not for nothing.

However, web novels do not have enough time to write such sentences or to inject them.

Therefore, web novels cut scenes and characters instead. and inject

“Killing the main character is part of that.”

The shocking scene is unforgettable.

It is similar to the magical girl who died after 3 episodes and became a legend.

In fact, that magical girl continues to appear after that. Whether it’s a flashback or a different time period.

However, because he died very shockingly in episode 3, the character is remembered as ‘the kid who died in episode 3’ to the public. That’s what a well-organized impact is.

Of course, even if it’s a web novel, people who write it really well can make scenes, lines, and characters memorable… Unfortunately, I’m not at that level.

Fortunately, Mr. Alexandrina seemed to understand roughly what I was talking about.

“So, are you saying that if you write as you used to, you will soon forget it?”

“yes. So I killed him.”

to not be forgotten.

It’s ironic that death becomes immortal, but it’s true, so I can’t help it.

“I am very proud of you. After all, isn’t it because you’re incompetent?”

“Yes, that’s right.”

“what······.”

“But shouldn’t the incompetent bastard live?”

I said confidently.

“Anyway, fiction is basically a job that sells fantasy. Especially when it comes to fiction, like fairies, like mine.”

“······so?”

“The fact that I gave up my lack of writing skills and chose a fast development may also be a fiction to someone. However, if the profession of selling fiction uses even the fiction that hides its incompetence as a skill, wouldn’t that be another ability as it is?”

“her!”

“More than anything… So, did you find my writing boring?”

From noble mtl dot com

As if speechless at this, the old woman Alexandrina shook her head.

know. I also think this is bullsh*t.

However, isn’t it sales that turns that bullsh*t into truth?

I was already selling hundreds of thousands of copies in weekly and monthly magazines, and sales proved my mettle.

that the public is acknowledging it. my way.

The old lady seemed to know that too, so she just glared at me without saying a word.

She sighed and leaned back against the back of the wagon, tiredly asking.

“…then, who is that Arthur Conan Doyle? Are you saying he thinks the same as you?”

“That, no. I haven’t met him in person, but I think he killed the writer because he really wanted to kill him.”

He was a man who genuinely wanted to write a historical novel in the first place, and he was a nobleman who hated it terribly because he made a masterpiece called Sherlock Holmes.

“Huh, I don’t understand. I understand… anyway, that’s why artists are, tsk.”

No, it’s not that I don’t understand it because I’m an artist, but I think it’s because I’m old.

Commonly people these days say kkon······.

Of course, I would get really angry if I said it, so I endured it.

It feels like blood has risen on my head and I’ve shot it all over again, but for some reason, I feel anxious that if I go against this old woman, I’m going to become a real gem.

“Then, let me ask you one thing.”

“Ah, yes. do it.”

“If you neglected to spend well and studied ‘how to sell’ so diligently, it must mean that you want to make a lot of money.”

“Well… that’s right.”

“But why did you create this donation foundation? Besides, it costs so much money.”

“Ah, that.”

“Isn’t that money earned through hard work? Wouldn’t it be a pity to sprinkle that money on idiots in a completely different country who don’t even know their faces…?”

Damn, you’re talking harshly.

I looked at the old woman in bewilderment. This is why you hear that British-American billionaires are monsters created by capitalism.

I can’t stand this. I replied with a frown.

“You are talking too much. That’s natural, isn’t it?”

“Huh, too much…?”

“Of course, it’s because the readers like my writing.”

Should we put a lot of meaning into that obvious thing?

More than anything.

“Besides, originally, writers are creatures with strong self-loathing. And I am very full of that desire.”

“Greed?”

“Have you been to the East End?”

At the words I said out of context, the old woman frowned.

“Just looking at it, I don’t think there’s ever been such a thing since he’s a noble person…”

“is it so. Why do I have to go to such a dirty place?”

“So that is what I am saying.”

I said, closing my eyes.

The person I had in front of me right now was not Alexandrina, an old English woman.

It was someone giggling and kicking.

He was someone who would solve at least one more problem if he had time to see it.

It was just a public servant who couldn’t hide his annoyance and just smiled bitterly.

It was the novel that comforted me then.

So I wanted to make it.

It’s fun even for a moment, I’m curious. I want to see you tomorrow too. writing like that.

and.

“I want to show it to more people.”

I said.

“If I can make money even for people who can’t read, and people who don’t have time to read… then I have nothing more to ask for.”

“Do you love the public?”

“I think it is natural for humans to love the land where they were born and raised.”

I calmly explained my own popular theory.

Popular writers are for the public, and trying to make the public grow and prosper is, in the end, the way to serve themselves.

After hearing all of my story, the old lady nodded with a serious face, unlike before.

“So, I want to increase the public itself who will buy the book, la.”

The old lady looked straight at me.

“Can I abandon you after I grow up like that?”

“It is a matter of my abilities.”

I am proud No, he said it so strongly that he felt mad.

“I will not be abandoned. I’m going to write an interesting article that I can’t throw away. Even if it is abandoned… I will crawl up on my own feet and succeed somehow.”

“Ha ha, ha ha ha, ha ha ha ha!”

The old lady laughed coolly, as if thunder struck.

As if he had seen something very interesting, or as if he had been convinced.

It was a very cool and unstoppable laugh that left no delusions behind.

After laughing for a long time, the old lady eventually took out a handkerchief decorated with gold leaf and wiped her eyes, then slowly looked this way and replied.

“Yeah, that’s my favorite word.”

what. The tone of voice has changed.

It wasn’t charisma that was lacking until now, but it’s as if he’s even gotten rid of what he was hiding.

I gulped.

“Go, thank you…”

“Why are you shaking so suddenly? It seems like you’ve already said everything you shouldn’t say while shouting.”

No, well… that’s because there was blood on my head for a while. I am also a person who knows how to regret, right?

It was then.

“Stop it.”

“yes!”

As soon as the old lady spoke, the carriage stopped like a ghost.

Before that… What? Is it the Savoy Theater? Then what is it, are you just running around?

“It was a very fun fan meeting. Writer Hanslo Jin.”

“Oh, well. yes. I also had a lot of fun…”

“Don’t talk white.”

Saying that, the old lady pulled out a piece of pure white paper from her bosom. Then he scribbled something on it with a fountain pen and held it out to me.

“Take it and go.”

“yes?”

“Take it and go. And where will you try hard?”

No, what is this…

The moment I thought so, the naval officer who threw me into this carriage pulled me down.

and.

“Then, I will be waiting to see you next time. Let’s go.”

“yes!”

gone like the wind

What the hell… I feel like I’m possessed by a ghost.

While I was so bewildered, someone very familiar approached me.

“Hey, author! Are you all right!”

“Mr. Bentley?”

“Oh, yes! This is Richard Bentley Jr.! The sudden disappearance really shocked me!”

Disappearance… Disappearance is disappearance.

It was because I was kidnapped by a fan for a while.

Wait, was I really in danger? Didn’t you almost get ‘Misery’?

“Come to think of it, writer-nim, what is that thing you are holding in your hand?”

“Uh… well?”

Is it a fan letter? and the moment I unfolded it.

“… Bank of England?”

“Hey, author! This, this!”

“no way······.”

I opened my mouth. And I couldn’t close it.

After all, it was a check.

It was a check with too much money written on it to be dissatisfied with being kidnapped.