Writer 1978: I Need to Give the Literary World a Lesson

Chapter 1 Submission
In the spring and summer of 1978, the weather was unusually hot.

Ruxian County has not seen rain for more than a month, not even a few scattered drops.

Often, the dark clouds gather only to be dispersed by the sun shortly afterward, and the rumbling thunder is just like the dry cough of an old man who has been smoking a pipe for decades, only louder.

On the streets of Shiling Commune in Ru County, pedestrians were too busy looking for shady spots to chat with acquaintances.

In the middle of the street, a young man wearing a tattered straw hat, a beige vest, and blue coarse cloth pants wiped the sweat from his face with discomfort. His worn-out shoes on his bicycle were unable to resist the sun's rays.

Liu Yimin parked his bicycle in front of the post office, pushed through the crowd, and hurried into the post office, clutching the military green satchel slung across his shoulder tightly.

The edges of the handbag were badly worn, with sparse green threads revealing the original color of the fabric, and there was a large patch on the bottom.

"Comrade, I need to mail a letter!"

"Registered mail or regular mail?" the post office worker asked while busy with his work, quickly sewing a package with a needle and thread.

This is the post office's agency in Shiling Commune. It only has three staff members and one postman. When it's busy, they can't stop working.

For mailing letters, use an envelope; for mailing items, put them in a bag, which the staff will sew on themselves with needle and thread, and write the address on the outside to prevent the items from getting lost.

“Registered mail, comrade, could you please get me a larger envelope? I’m sending quite a lot!” Liu Yimin said patiently.

Post office staff are among the few with stable, secure jobs who offer decent, even excellent, service. Sales clerks at supply and marketing cooperatives are considered outstanding service workers if they can refrain from swearing.

"A lot? How much more can you send?" The staff member chuckled, tied a knot in the package in his hand, and looked up with a smile.

Then, upon seeing the thick stack of letters in Liu Yimin's hand, covered with densely packed black characters, his smile instantly froze on his face.

"Young man, is this a letter you sent? I'm not mistaken, am I?" the post office worker asked repeatedly.

"That's right. Send it to the editorial department of *People's Literature* in Yenching. How much would that cost?"

"People's Literature and Art? You're a writer?"

The post office staff stared at Liu Yimin in shock, scrutinizing him closely, thinking to themselves, "I don't see anything about him that makes him seem like a writer!"
Liu Yimin scratched his head and said, "Not yet, this is my first novel!"

"Oh, not bad, not bad, being a writer has potential. But so much money, sending registered mail costs a lot, let me calculate it for you first!"

Liu Yimin wanted the registered mail to be sent quickly so the editorial department could receive the manuscript as soon as possible. The editorial department also needed time to review the manuscript; it required three reviews and three proofreadings before printing, and revisions were also involved in the process.

For most authors, the revision process is inevitable. New authors, in particular, will inevitably face criticism from the editorial team. They'll clearly tell you, "The manuscript is okay, but it needs revision," meaning, "We want it to be better!"
For authors with greater reputations, the editors take a different approach. They will discuss revising the manuscript with you. If you are assertive, you might be able to avoid the revision process. If the editorial department deems there no major issues, they will publish the manuscript directly.

The current price for sending a letter locally is four cents, and for other places it's eight cents. Registered mail is more expensive, and there are special requirements: it's one price for no more than two pages; if it exceeds two pages, sorry, you'll need to pay extra. Liu Yimin's manuscript reached 45,000 words, far exceeding the two-page limit.

"That'll be 6 cents in total. You can stick the stamp here yourself. Come on, let me bind your manuscript again. By the way, young man, what's the name of your novel?"

"Mr. Donkey!"

“Writing about donkeys? There are too many ‘people’ to write about these days, why would you write a novel about ‘donkeys’? I’ve read the magazines ‘People’s Literature’ and ‘Yanjing Literature’ recently. Writing about ‘donkeys’ won’t do. You should write about the suffering and hardship of those ten years.”

The post office staff offered words of advice as they bound Liu Yimin's paper.

The staff member was referring to "scar literature." Since Liu Xinwu's "The Class Teacher" was published in October 1977, more and more works of "scar literature" have emerged in the literary world. There has even been a phenomenon where works with a hint of "scars" have a much higher chance of being accepted.

"I have faith in 'Donkey.' You enjoy watching stories of suffering and hardship over the past ten years?"

"I'm a worker, so I don't particularly like these things. But these are all the magazines out there now," the post office worker said, pointing to several magazines nearby.

This was the best of times for writers and literary works. People's spiritual lives were extremely impoverished, and reading books and newspapers became the most important pastime in daily life. Not only intellectuals read books and newspapers, but workers did too, and even some people in rural areas read newspapers. The status of writers rose steadily; they were no longer the people who were universally reviled.

The royalties may not seem high, but in that era they were considered quite high, and most writers could live comfortably on them. A very small minority, like Lu Yao, remained impoverished despite receiving substantial royalties, and even lacked the travel expenses to go to Beijing to receive his award.

The magazines *People's Literature* and *Yanjing Literature* had just resumed publication, and their sales were increasing with each issue. This was related to the quality of the works, but to say it was the decisive factor was not necessarily true. There weren't many literary works from this period that have been repeatedly mentioned, read, and pondered by later generations.

"Goodbye, comrade!" Liu Yimin waved with a smile.

Goodbye, and I hope to see your 'donkey' in the next issue of the magazine.

Long after Liu Yimin left, the staff sorted through the packages while pondering how to write the character for "donkey" and what was so interesting about it.

"Old Zhang, do you think someone will write a novel specifically about 'donkeys'?"

"Why think so much? You're not a writer, how can you know what a writer is thinking? Hurry up and get back to work!" Then Old Zhang put down his work and said thoughtfully, "However, if our commune really produces a writer, that would be a great joy for the whole commune and even the whole county."

Liu Yimin walked out of the post office, pushed his bicycle onto the street. The road was all dirt, but after it rained, it turned into a "cement road." Dust swirled around his toes, and soon his trouser legs were covered in yellow dirt.

The pedestrians on both sides of the street were dressed in remarkably uniform clothes, mostly blue or yellow coarse cloth, interspersed with military green uniforms, and most of their clothes were covered in patches. Their faces were dirty, and black sweat slid down their foreheads in obvious streaks. Liu Yimin looked at this scene, his face somewhat dazed.

There was one question he couldn't understand: how did he end up being reborn?

　With the new book underway, I hope to continue making breakthroughs!

　　
　
(End of this chapter)