1978 Synthetic Writers

Chapter 115 New Manuscript
"What do you mean?" Jiang Xian was a little confused.

Li Jingfeng quickly glanced around, leaned over and whispered:
"In January next year, the National Publishing Administration will make some adjustments to the royalty system. The basic royalty will be increased and the royalty will be restored based on the number of copies printed."

"Payment based on the number of copies printed?" Jiang Xian was a little excited. "So that means the basic payment is a combination of the payment based on the number of copies printed?"

As we all know, our country's manuscript fee system has undergone several changes.

The earliest period was from 1950 to 1958. During this period, publishing houses adopted the Soviet system and paid royalties with a fixed quota. For example, printing 1000 copies was a payment quota. If the print number was less than 1000, the author would be paid one fixed quota of royalties. If the print number was less than 2000, the author would be paid two fixed quotas of royalties, and so on.

After 1958, it was changed again, replacing the fixed remuneration with a combination of basic remuneration and remuneration based on print run.

After that, things got weird. Writing entered an era of zero royalties until 0, when one-time payment of royalties was resumed, meaning only basic royalties were paid.

The adjustment in 1980 restored the royalty payment system promulgated in 1958, which combined basic royalty payment with royalty payment based on print run, with the royalty payment based on ten thousand copies.

That is, in addition to the basic remuneration, for every 1 copies printed, a print fee of % of the basic remuneration will be paid. If the number of copies is less than , it will be calculated as copies. When reprinting, only the print fee will be paid.

"If you are not in a hurry to use the money, wait until this system is implemented, and our Renwen Press will pay you the royalties for "Furong Town" according to the new standards." Li Jingfeng whispered.

"Okay!"

Jiang Xian could not suppress his joy, "Jingfeng, my good brother, I won't go to your house to eat dumplings. You can go to my house to eat dumplings, and I will make them for you."

"You are just as bad as Feng Jicai."

Li Jingfeng said helplessly, "The old lady summarized it for me that time. You and Feng Jicai are both very clever writers."

Jiang Xian's heart was filled with joy. With Li Jingfeng's revelation, the extra money he would get would not be a small sum.

Of course, this is based on the premise that "Furong Town" has good sales.

However, he was confident that the sales of "Furong Town" would not be too bad. Previously, "People's Literature" had revealed to him that the number of reprints of the four issues of "People's Literature" (9, 10, 11, and 12) had exceeded 200 million.

Even if the final sales volume is not good, the increase in basic royalties can still bring him a considerable amount of income.

So the money is worth waiting for.

After leaving Renwen Press, he rode his bicycle to Beijing Literature and Art.

The weather was a bit cold. It had snowed a few days ago. When we passed some sections of the road, the wheels slipped and many people fell on the road.

After riding a bicycle for a long time, Jiang Xian's hands and ears were sore from the cold that he thought about getting a sheepskin hat.

The familiar No. 7 West Chang'an Avenue and the familiar sign of the editorial office of "Beijing Literature and Art".

I first visited an old comrade I knew well.

"Teacher Dening!"

Zhang Dening was leaning over the shore writing something. When he saw Jiang Xian, a look of surprise appeared on his face.

"How did you come?"

She glanced at Jiang Xian's thick shoulder bag and guessed something, "Are you here to hand in a manuscript?"

Jiang Xian nodded, "That's true."

"I knew it. We are old friends. If you have a new manuscript, you will definitely give it to me first." Zhang Dening became proud.

Jiang Xian looked embarrassed.

"Teacher Dening, although I submitted this manuscript to Beijing Literature and Art, it was actually invited by Teacher Wang Meng."

"Who?"

"Teacher Wang Meng."

"."

Zhang Dening was silent for a while, then sighed depressedly, "Well, since you're giving it to Beijing Literature and Art, it doesn't matter who you give it to."

Jiang Xian felt quite apologetic when he saw her like this. Thinking of their comradeship for so many days and nights, he patted his chest.

"Okay, Mr. Dening, I've made up my mind."

"Ok?"

"Let's settle it today. I will definitely give you my next manuscript."

"Really?" Zhang Dening showed a happy expression. She was about the same age as Jiang Xian. "Then let's make a deal. Your next manuscript should be returned to Beijing Literature and Art." "I always keep my word."

"What are you going to write for your next article?" Zhang Dening asked curiously, "Do you have any ideas?"

"Not yet." Jiang Xian smiled awkwardly.

Now he has no sequence or inspiration and can only wait quietly for the fifth sequence to appear.

"Would you like some prose?" he asked tentatively.

"The essay is too short. Don't use essays to get rid of me."

After saying goodbye to Zhang Dening and entering another large office, I saw Wang Meng at a glance.

He was wearing a clean blue uniform with all buttons fastened and a regimental badge pinned on his chest.

"Teacher Wang Meng."

He was surprised when he caught a glimpse of Jiang Xian.

"Already written?"

"It's written."

Jiang Xian handed him a stack of manuscripts. Wang Meng first brought him a chair, poured him a cup of hot water, and then sat down in his seat.

“How many words did you write?”

"More than 7."

Wang Meng nodded and said in agreement: "It is rare to be able to maintain such vigorous creative energy and speed. You deserve the words 'quick thinking' and '10,000 words a day'."

"How could that be? My life is called 'no great hopes, only a little wine every day and night'. In fact, I am just a person who writes slowly and has clumsy working methods." Jiang Xian was polite with a kind face.

Wang Meng glanced at the title of the novel on the first line, "Fuxi Fuxi? Why use such a title?"

"I think Fuxi has too many images. He is the ancestor of human civilization and the emperor of ancient people. He symbolizes an old power. In addition, according to legend, Fuxi and Nuwa got married and had children, which implies incest, which also happens to correspond to the content of my novel."

“I see.” Wang Meng thought for a moment, “I didn’t expect you to finish this manuscript so quickly. If everything goes well, it won’t be a problem for it to be published in the February issue of Beijing Literature and Art next year.”

"Well, there's no rush for this matter." Jiang Xian was thinking about the royalties, which didn't really matter.

“How can I not be anxious?” Wang Meng smiled. “If it can be published in February next year, then this novel will still have time to participate in this year’s national novella selection!”

"You are talking about this matter." Jiang Xian had the same idea.

He doesn't mind being in the spotlight and should show himself when the time is right to leave a deep impression on others.

Since he traveled through time to this era, he naturally did not want to be an ascetic monk working quietly in the literary world.

"Teacher Wang Meng, if that's the case, I have something else I want to discuss with you."

"You speak."

Jiang Xian's face was full of kindness. "Can you wait until a month before paying me the fee?"

Wang Meng was stunned at first, but quickly thought of something, adjusted his glasses, and chuckled a few times.

"Are you threatening me? If I don't give you the fee for that copy, you're going to delay revising the manuscript?"

"No, I'm planning to buy a house recently, and I'm short of money."

"House"

When it comes to this, Wang Meng has no objection, because the Writers Association has allocated him a house. Facing those writers who have not yet been allocated a house, he naturally wants to provide more help.

"Then do as you wish. This is not a problem."

"Thank you, Teacher Wang Meng."

Jiang Xian extended his hand and shook hands with Wang Meng. Suddenly, he heard a familiar voice in his ear.

“【Writer】+【Love Letter】=Short Story “???””

(Someone always guesses the result in advance, you make me lose face)
(End of this chapter)