The Great Storyteller

Chapter 94 – Parents, Creator, Myself

Translated by: ShawnSuh

Edited by: SootyOwl

Mr.Moon examined the plots the club members had come up with and their structures. Seo Kwang wanted to write about the history of books while Sun Hwa wanted to write about the life of a celebrity. Bom had decided to write about a child who had just begun to stand on his own two feet, and Juho had decided on the daily life of a woman who made a trip to the beach.

“So, I’m guessing you all thought of the characters for your story?” Mr. Moon asked the club members sitting in front of him.

Everyone answered, “Yes.”

“Today, we’re going to give them as much shape as possible.”

Everyone looked at him with excitement and anticipation. They would be giving their characters a personality. Creating a character was a fun process, but there were exceptions.

“Characters are important. Sometimes, they even affect the direction of the development of the plot. Think about what you want to express in your respective stories and think of a character who would best represent that.”

“That sounds hard,” grumbled Seo Kwang.

After a brief, momentary thought, Mr. Moon gave a simpler explanation, “You’re all parents.”

“Huh?”

“Your characters would be your children.”

“… Eh?”

Author, parents. Characters, children. Mr. Moon continued with his explanation, “Think about your parents. What do they for you?”

“Uh… Lot’s of things,” said Sun Hwa, looking puzzled. She had to have received a lot from her parents in her upbringing.

“That’s right. You guys, need to treat your characters the same way.”

Juho thought about what he had received from his parents. ‘Everything.’ From his uniform to the slippers he was wearing, everything had come from his parents. The hand he wrote with, the brain he used to think, everything had come from them.

“Parents.”

The club members still seemed to be at a loss. After all, they were all children of their parents. Though grateful toward them, they didn’t quite understand what it meant to be a son or a daughter. Their confusion was natural. Examining the look on everyone’s face, Mr. Moon took some time to think before giving them an even simpler explanation.

“How about this? If it’s hard for you think from your parents’ perspective, be the creator. That’s kind of cool, isn’t it? You guys, are making a person. A creator gives different talents and characteristics to his creation.”

“The creator…”

“It does sound cooler, but it doesn’t make it easier.”

In fact, it had made it harder for them to understand, so Mr. Moon thought some more and said, “That’s it! Think ‘me.’”

“As in you, Mr. Moon?”

“Yourselves. The writer.”

As Seo Kwang was about to ask another question, Mr. Moon raised his hand, indicating that he wasn’t finished.

“What would it feel like to hold hands with my character? How would they answer my questions? How would they respond to a certain situation? How detailed or vocal your characters are would depend on the writer. Since you guys are beginners, you won’t be able to get much further than getting really ambiguous answers. So, just think from ‘my’ perspective. You all know how your hand feels, right?”

“That’s because the writer isn’t skilled enough. I’d be frustrated,” complained Sun Hwa.

“You’re still a beginner,” answered Seo Kwang. It sounded like an answer Mr. Moon would give, but for some reason, he waved his hand in denial.

“Treating your character as your own self is a very author-like way of thinking. At the end of the day, a novel can’t escape the limits of exploring the existence that is ‘me.’ You’re writing about a person and their life. As a parent, creator or an author, you are distinctively you.”

Juho nodded quietly.

“…”

“Uh… Hm, right,” said Bom, chuckling awkwardly. The club members seemed all the more lost, and Juho smiled internally. There really was no way to get around the matter. The more the author thought about and dug into his novel, the more they tended to tread into the territory of identity and metaphysics.

‘Clap! Clap!’

Suddenly, Mr. Moon clapped twice while sitting quietly. He was probably having trouble with his explanations.

“Anyway, today, you’re going to create your own characters,” he changed the subject, emphasizing on characters alone while setting everything he had said very far aside. “Every single one of your characters is alive,” he emphasized.

The club members listened intently, telling themselves that they were writing about a live person in their minds.

“As long as a character is alive, that means that there’s a reason behind the things they do or say in the novel.”

“A reason?”

“That’s right. Why are we here?”

“Uh… Hm… Maybe… to go college?”

“To be happy, all of us,” said Mr. Moon.

“What you’re about to write, it won’t help with college in any way. It won’t bring your grades up either. YET, you guys are working hard. Even now, you guys are on fire to learn more and write better. Why?”

“Because it’s fun,” said Bom.

“I love writing.”

“I want to write.”

“It helps me reach my goal.”

The other club members added to Bom’s statement. Whether emotional or rational, everyone had a reason.

“See? Everyone has an answer. It’s the same with your characters. They move about because they have their own reason to.”

Pausing briefly, Mr. Moon looked around.

“OK, let’s say I kill a person.”

“Huh!?”

“Ah, assuming that I’m a fictional character,” explained Mr. Moon, waving his hand to mimic swinging a knife. Juho watched his hand carefully. “Stab.”

The members imagined the gut-wrenching sound of a knife piercing through skin. Mr. Moon had just killed someone. Of course, his knifeless hand was swinging in thin air.

“This doesn’t leave you with any impressions. Why?”

“Because there is no reason for it,” said the club members, applying what they had just learned.

“That’s right. It’s because there was no explanation as to why I did what I did. Again, your characters are alive, and they do things for a reason. There’s always a reason. It’s just that we can’t express it for them. Parents! Are you planning on raising a child who’s a boring killjoy? The almighty creator, are you intending on leaving your creations confused? Aren’t you all going to explain yourselves?”

“No!” the members exclaimed.

“That’s right. You have to protect yourselves with everything you’ve got. ‘I will reciprocate as much love as you show me. I’ll tell you what you want to hear. Or, maybe I can show you something unimaginable.’”

“I’m kind of getting goosebumps.”

“As you can see, creating a character is not easy.”

“I didn’t mean it lik…”

“Got it? Now, think about a character that would suit the events in your stories,” Mr. Moon interjected.

“Sounds complicated.”

“Try to enjoy it. You’ll get the hang of it.”

With a sigh and a pens in hand, everyone glared at their notebooks.

When Mr. Moon finished speaking, the room sunk into silence. Only the air lingered about. Juho thought, ‘What do I do? I’ve already met her, and I already know her personality. I know her reason for her actions and behavior. I know what she wants and where she wants to be in life.’

With those thoughts, he quietly raised his hand.

“Yeah?” asked Mr. Moon.

Juho’s voice broke the silence, “If I’ve already heard an answer from my character, can I just start writing?”

“… Bring it here.”

Juho took his paper over to Mr. Moon. All eyes were on him as he walked toward the teacher.

Slowly, Mr. Moon immersed himself in the world Juho had created. Though it was incomplete, things were bound to change down the line. New things would come up as others would get taken out.

“Ha…!” Mr. Moon laughed. “When did you write this?”

“Eh, this is nothing. Besides, it’s short,” said Juho.

“Have you thought about how you want to end it?” Mr. Moon asked carefully. Juho had a history of writing ridiculous endings.

“Vaguely. Things are still blurry,” Juho said, shrugging.

“Try to be more intentional this time, will you?”

“I’ve told you, it’s not that simple.”

“Try anyway. Starting with the next time we meet, write in the computer room. For now, focus on your ending.”

“Yes, Mr. Moon.”

With that, Juho returned to his seat, feeling the uncomfortable gazes of the other club members over him. The first one to speak up was Sun Hwa.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“Don’t act like you don’t know.”

It made sense that she was surprised. Juho had already started writing when everyone else was still busy thinking of a character. Since he had decided to write two separate novels, there was no time to waste.

In the end, Juho had no choice but to say, “What can I do? I’m just that good.”

“You’re so shameless.”

“Haha.”

“You’re laughing? That’s cheap. When did you start writing? Cheap shot.”

“I’m not surprised,” said Seo Kwang, resting his chin on his hand. He seemed familiar with Sun Hwa’s experience.

“Juho can be like that,” agreed Bom. It was clearly not a compliment.

Suddenly, Seo Kwang clapped loudly as if he had remembered something.

“I should write about someone like you!”

“I will reciprocate as much love as you show me.”

“Strike that,” said Seo Kwang at once.

As Juho poked fun at Seo Kwang, he felt someone looking in his direction and asked, “What is it?”

“Nothing,” Sun Hwa and Bom said, giving him a peculiar look.

“Do you want to write about me?”

“I thought about it, but I don’t think it’ll work out. It’s too much.”

“Yeah, I think so too.”

They had answered gently, but it had been a resounding “No.” At that moment, Seo Kwang pulled Juho’s notebook in his direction and asked, “Can I look at this?”

“No,” another voice answered.

Seo Kwang looked in the direction of the voice and protested, “Why not?”

“It’ll affect your writing. You have to write on your own,” warned Mr. Moon, crossing his arms. Until he had finished his own writing, Seo Kwang wouldn’t be able to read what Juho had written.

“OK.”

“Alright then, I’m leaving now. Don’t look or show.”

With those words, he made his way to the staffroom. Watching the door open and close, Juho organized his thoughts.

Then, Baron raised his voice and asked, “I can look, right?”

“That’s not fair!”

“We want to look too!”

“That’s really unfair Baron.”

The three club members protested, but Baron paid them no attention. Willingly, Juho handed him the notebook.

“Wow, these people,” Sun Hwa grumbled, but Baron took the notebook from Juho’s hand, reading it quietly.

It was the overall flow of the plot. Although it wasn’t long, Baron remained silent for a good while.

“… You’re writing this?” he murmured.

“Is there a problem?”

“No, no problem.” Baron thought, ‘There’s no problem, but…’ “… Wouldn’t it be a little difficult?”

Though he was about to go on, Baron stopped himself. He was conscious of other club members. However, Juho had understood more than enough to know what he was trying to ask. A person going to the beach alone, all without an apparent climax or danger. It could easily turn out boring. It would be a challenge to keep it interesting. Yet…

“I want to write it, so there’s nothing I can do.”

“… Show it to me when you’re done. I’d like to read it.”

With that, he gave Juho’s notebook back to him. To everyone else who was glaring at him with piercing curiosity, Juho added, “If you’re so anxious to read it, then all you’ve got to do is finish your stories.”

“Punk,” said Sun Hwa, who snatched her pen still glaring with her nose on her notebook, she immersed herself in thoughts about the characters for her story.

By contrast, Juho reached slowly for his pen. It was time for him to write about the woman at the beach.