Chapter 12 Iceberg Theory
Chapter 12 Iceberg Theory
No one in the chat group took Zuo Ziliang's words "Don't reply received" seriously, and kept replying "received"; but everyone generally took Wang Zixu seriously, and many people tagged "The Little Prince Uprooting the Baobab Tree", sent two "Big Boss Kneeling" emoticons, or sent greetings directly.
Wang Zixu kept staring at the chat group. He didn't reply to anyone who tagged him. It wasn't because he was arrogant, he just didn't know how to reply.
In his past 30 years of life experience, he has never been tagged as many times as he has today. When people in the group called him "big brother", he felt sweaty, and his clothes seemed to be made of cactus skin, with thorns on his back.
His wife came home and took off her shoes in the hallway. She saw him sitting in front of his computer, staring blankly at his phone. She came over and asked, "What's wrong? Aren't you going to write a novel today?"
Wang Zixu was startled and said subconsciously: "No."
The wife smiled, tucked her hair behind her ear with her fingers, and said, "A day off? I'm still trying to get pregnant."
Wang Zixu looked down and saw that his wife was still wearing black stockings on her legs and fluffy slippers on her feet. He came to his senses and said quickly:
"I am writing today. I was just daydreaming."
His wife kissed him on the forehead with her wet lips: "No inspiration, right? It's okay, it's okay to take a day off occasionally. It's normal to have no inspiration."
The prince nodded in a hollow voice, and his wife continued, "By the way, I also met a writer today, Lin Feng from the Tax Bureau. I heard he's very famous and often publishes articles in magazines. I also mentioned you to him."
Wang Zixu was startled and asked, "What did you say?"
The wife asked: "Do you know Raymond Lam?"
Wang Zixu said, "I have heard of it."
Wang Zixu asked again: "How did you meet him? What did he say?"
The wife said, "Oh, he came to my shop to buy flowers, and said he was a writer. Real writers are different, they talk in a set way, I can't learn it. I said my husband is also a writer, and he often publishes articles in magazines. He asked which magazine, and I said I didn't know, I would ask you when I got back."
His wife came over and hugged his hand, and asked, "Which magazine did you publish your article in, honey?"
Upon hearing this question, Wang Zixu broke out in a cold sweat and didn't dare to speak. Several concepts such as lectures, Lin Feng, and Freud were swirling in his mind and he was speechless for a while.
His wife nudged him with her arm: "Hmm? I'm asking you a question. Which magazine do you mainly publish in?"
The prince was stunned for a long time, and finally said, "It's hard to say."
The wife said, "Why shouldn't I tell you? Come to think of it, you never told me which magazine you were in, Wang Zixu. Are you hiding something from me?"
Although his wife did not understand his inner world, she was very familiar with his behavior patterns. Wang Zixu felt cold sweat on his back, and it took him a long time to meet his wife's gaze and speak:
"You don't understand. Among scholars, sometimes it's better to hide a little. Confessing too much... is not good."
The wife tilted her head: "Why? What's wrong?"
"Literati look down on each other, you know." Wang Zixu said stiffly, "Sometimes when you just start to make some progress, others get jealous of you and try to trip you up behind your back, and you fall down without even knowing how you fell."
The wife was confused: "Isn't it just writing an article? Is it that serious? I don't think Raymond Lam is that kind of person."
Wang Zixu said: "How do you know what kind of person he is? You only met him once today, how do you know what he is like behind the scenes?"
The wife said, "Wang Zixu, don't think too badly of him. He is a serious writer who has been writing for many years. It is still unclear whether he will think highly of you. Besides, I am doing this for your own good. If you communicate with him more, maybe you can find more ways."
Wang Zixu wanted to be angry, but he couldn't. Although he was unhappy that his wife looked up to others and looked down on him, it was a pity that she was right. He, who helped others flirt with him in literary flirting, really couldn't hold his head up in front of a real writer.
As the wife spoke, she felt aggrieved and tears welled up in her eyes. She said, "You are always like this. You never think about making more friends. You always bury your head and write alone. What's the point of no one knowing you? You are just too arrogant. How about I help you to talk to Lin Feng? Why can't you let go of your face?"
Wang Zixu blushed and said, "How can I not let go of my pride? What's wrong with me burying my head in writing? Writing is a lonely struggle. I can only rely on myself. Is it useful to make friends? If you write well, you write well. If you write badly, it's useless to find ten thousand people to praise you. If you are not worthy of your position, you will fall sooner or later... Stop talking, you don't understand literature." His wife said, "Yes! I don't understand! Only you understand! You understand too much! You have been writing for several years, but you dare not even say where the articles are published! You are too stubborn! Wang Zixu, just continue to be arrogant!"
After saying that, his wife slammed the door and left. Wang Zixu sat down and gasped for breath. It took him a long time to calm down. He picked up his phone and saw that Zuo Ziliang had sent him more than a dozen unread messages.
The agreed lecture time has arrived, and Zuo Ziliang has muted everyone in the group. Now the group is silent, but Wang Zixu was arguing just now and people have not arrived yet. Zuo Ziliang asked everyone to wait twice in the group.
He quickly turned on his computer and began to reply to Zuo Ziliang's message:
[I was a little late because of something. Sorry.]
Zuo Ziliang said: [It’s okay. If you don’t have time, we can talk about it at another time.]
Wang Zixu said: [No, I have finished my work here.]
After typing this line, he ran to the bedroom and pushed the door, only to find that his wife had locked it. She was like this every time they quarreled, so he could only sleep on the sofa tonight. But on the bright side, he didn't have to hide his lecture from her later. Except for going to the bathroom, she would not come out today.
Zuo Ziliang said: [Then let’s get started when you are ready. ]
Wang Zixu took a deep breath and opened the group chat.
At first, facing a blank screen, he didn't know what to say. He was in a daze for a long time before he started typing a line on the screen.
Then, his desire to express himself was like a hole in a dam opening, and a flood poured out.
He began to talk about his understanding of literature, how he viewed creation, and how he incorporated traditional literature into the script. Gradually, he forgot about the quarrel with his wife just now.
He talked about how his imagination worked when he created the script. In fact, he created the entire script based on his imagination, and then used the basic theory of story construction to lay the foundation and build the framework for the script.
First, he will set up a major conflict. This conflict does not refer to the conflict between the male and female protagonists, but a philosophical conflict, such as love and sex, freedom and morality, poverty and wealth. He will choose one as the "theme" of the script, and then develop his imagination around this theme.
A conflict that cannot be easily resolved can provide a constant source of tension for the story. When he wrote the script about a colleague cheating on his wife at work, he designed a conflict between the male and female protagonists based on the theme of "love and sex", a lover with sex but no love and an ex-wife with love but no sex. The male protagonist is always immersed in his own struggle.
Of course, these contents are not directly described, but the background of the entire script, like the iceberg hidden under the sea, and all the plots are hidden in the language. The characters he writes in the script have their own roles and character arcs, and they will express their life experiences and understanding of the world with subtle and ambiguous dialogue details.
At the same time, he not only builds up his own image, but also deliberately outlines the image of the other party in the conversation. Women are animals made of water, and the so-called water means that they can become any shape, and as for what they will eventually become, they can be controlled and guided.
He will deliberately guide and manipulate the other party in the script, so that the other party will gradually let down their guard and accept his manipulation. Of course, the tone must be beautiful and bright. He believes that no matter how indulgent the surface is, a positive foundation is needed to set the tone, because he thinks that humans are essentially animals with more positivity than negativity.
All in all, the final result is that both parties in the chat will vaguely touch the virtual other party at the end and achieve a spiritual resonance, while the speech therapist in the eyes of the female party is still calm and determined, like an iceberg floating on the water. They will still indulge in this fate and feel unsatisfied.
He got these ideas when he was studying Hemingway's "Iceberg Theory". Only one eighth of an iceberg is above the water, and most of it is hidden under the water. In his creation, less is more, and hinting to readers through blank space is more shocking than writing it out directly.
So, if he really had to thank someone, he felt that he should thank Hemingway, a real tough guy and a genius writer.
While Wang Zixu was giving a lecture, the midnight snack at the barbecue stall was still going on. Huang Da was watching very attentively. He kept biting his fingers and reading every word of Wang Zixu over and over again. His brain waves seemed to be running on a highway.
The lecture was over and the question-and-answer session was about to begin. His brain nerves relaxed a little, and he looked around and asked, "What do you think?"
A colleague answered his question with a question:
"Did the boss invite a Mao Dun Literature Prize winner?"
(End of this chapter)