writing
I've written a lot this year. Research reports, experience materials, activity plans, work briefings, annual summaries. Every word and sentence was wrought with blood. A year of hard work hasn't been easy. This summary is even more poignant. I was also fortunate to receive guidance from my leaders. This is a tradition. The most quintessential literary style is Mao's Selected Works. Of course, some parts of Mao's Selected Works lack authentic idioms. It uses a lot of parallelism, metaphors, and ancient poetry and prose. It's a Hunanese habit. For the materialist, use concise and clear language to explain the situation. Avoid argumentative commentary. Avoid showing off. Avoid too many subjects. Focus on summarizing the leader's intentions. Elevate the subject. Draw a line. Essentially, the essay tests this basic skill. Early on, Fatka used to look for inspiration in "Gu Wen Guan Zhi," but later realized it wasn't the same idea. This refinement of words is not the same as that refinement of words. Bi Feiyu couldn't do it. Neither could Liu Zongyuan. Walking the line between official document writing and creative writing is painful.
This is a question of orientation. It's the same tone that's been set since the simplification of Chinese characters. I took my work summary to my mom for proofreading. She read until she was so sleepy she couldn't open her eyes, half-closed. This isn't a good piece of writing by Bai Juyi's standards. Let's talk about writing. I've put my pen down for a long time. I just reread the preface to Wang Xiaobo's "The Bronze Age." So I found Mu Dan's poetry collection and Dao Gan's translation of "The Red and the Black" (I don't like Duras). I realized that for a long time, my writing attitude was extremely careless. Extremely unserious. I've produced a lot of garbage. Almost all of it. How painful. Now that I have some free time, I've decided to write something properly. Or perhaps... do a decent translation. Translate a novel for my own amusement. But... As Pangka once said in a boring English class in college, "**** doesn't represent ****, **** doesn't represent sexual ability." Long-term impotence has brought deep doubts. I found that unfinished, long-awaited piece, "April Interlude." There's so much to revise. It's been a waste of time. I translated a four-character poem by Tao Yuanming using Godot's method. It wasn't ideal. After reading my fan's blog, I felt even more vulgar. Can you really still write? I don't know. I've tried my best. While I still have the urge to create, I'll write something that brings me some comfort. I'd rather be Zhang Ailing than Wang Zengqi. I hope my literary fortunes flourish. I hope I can persevere. (To be continued.)
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