My memory gate is opened from "one or two meters for five cents". When I was a child, adults took me to the fair, and used one or two meters of tickets (or rice) plus five cents to change an oil cake to satisfy my appetite. I have used the money ticket for other purposes many times and entered the department store for picture books. I'm not as tall as the counter. I can't see the picture books on the shelf until I weigh my heels. Those picture books were stored in two wooden boxes that I used when I was studying and boarding. I moved several times later and I couldn't bear to throw them away.
My family always left a lot of books, most of which were turned over by me. I glued them with transparent glue. I looked behind my back, lit kerosene lamps, copied classic sentences and sent a message after reading them in the dormitory after studying at night. At the end of many semesters, I got the test report card, except for Chinese, which was close to perfect score, and the scores of other subjects were sad to read. Yin wenxu, my Chinese teacher and head teacher, wrote a comment, warning that "partiality is serious". I fell in love with teacher Yin's comments, not the content but the font. I have been copying his calligraphy since I was in middle school. Up to now, my handwriting still has his character.
During that period, Teacher Yin instructed me that "life is like a book, and it takes lifelong efforts to finish it", and I realized the truth of learning, being a man and doing things. I was in the rebellious period of my youth, and he scolded me the most. I felt the teacher's difficulty of "hating iron and not turning into steel". I once fell into a trough in my work, career and emotion. My close friends, such as Teacher Yin, Secretary Hu and Xiaodong, all gave me a warm hand.
I keep a diary, write it down in my notebook, and lock it up for safekeeping. I also wrote love letters, wrote them in notes, put them in envelopes and stuffed them into jane doe's classmates' drawers. I lied, asked my father for rice, handed it over to a literature training class, and even an essay was published. Mr. Guo Chen, a great writer from Anxi, once invited him to teach at the village cultural station. I risked being criticized for skipping classes and sat timidly in the last row to listen. I was arranged to be a broadcaster at the school radio station. Once I took my alumni in to play, but he broke the tweeter, so that I was bitter about him, but I soon forgave him. I am curious about places of interest. The old lion sprayed water, the hot water lake and the Jade Belt Bridge, and I went there many times in my youth. I also went to Tongtianyan, Bajingtai and Yugu Platform in Ganzhou alone. I spent half a semester's living expenses and couldn't afford to stay in a hotel. In the corridor of the station, I spent the night curled up on a mat with a few strangers and was bitten to death by mosquitoes. If I meet them again, I will recognize them.
At first, my family stopped me from writing, because my livelihood was really the first problem to be solved. My father asked me, "Can writing be enough?" He also used a "toilet brother" in the house yard as a negative textbook to persuade me not to be like him and never make a "big happy event" in my life. My ears have listened, but I can't digest it in my stomach. I'm thin and can only support a few hard bones. In the early 199s, I published my first novel in the supplement of the local party newspaper, with the headline on it and the editor as Teacher Lu Ce. Then, the provincial party newspaper published another essay of mine in the special issue of "Eleventh", during which I wrote a press release, sincerely and against my will.
Guo Fusheng, then the director of the field, suggested that I enter the office to do paperwork. I learned a lot of official document writing skills from Lai Youzhen, the organizing Committee member, and got a lot of missionary cultural information from Wang Qingsheng, the propaganda Committee member. In those years, I was basically ignorant of political affairs, and the future of my "public bowl" was full of twists and turns. Once, I wrote a manuscript of a typical grass-roots fruit expert, but it was inexplicably rejected for review. Reporters and writers were assigned to come over, and I gave them the manuscript. The next day, she was laughing in the orange in the newspaper. The work is not signed by my name, which I understand.
I went to Ganzhou and Guangzhou to work. Compared with Chen Ping, an old classmate who started a successful business in Shenzhen, was he moving too fast, or was the pace I followed too slow?
"I know I cherish my childhood friends, but I don't know what to do with them. I can't put them in a box like a fruit, nor can I bring them into the city like old clothes. So I was always depressed and sad during that time. Many years later, I stayed away from the city from time to time and went back to the countryside for a walk. I found that even the oldest tree in the village or an abandoned well can comfort me. " (Excerpted from "Walking Through Those Years Together"). But once, I received a phone call from home, and a group of people moved things to my hometown, saying that my wife had not been to the town for many years to have a pregnancy test, suspecting that we had a super life and wanted to "implicate" my parents' property. I was confused and called the leader. I believe my explanation is legal and reasonable. Finally, he said, "Don't move!" . That was in 26.
During those years in Ganzhou, I often went for a walk under the Song City Wall and Zaoer Lane with teacher Bu Limin, literary friends Diao Zhaohua and Jane Xin. Teacher Bu said to me, "You should explore your experience, and I am full of expectations for you!" Once, I went to the neighborhood Committee of Fuqian Road to open a certificate, and a person in charge said, "Oh, you are Liu Jingming, and you often see your articles!"
I have attended many prose seminars and pen meetings all over the country. I met teacher Lin Fei in Beijing, and he happily wrote an inscription for me: "Write touching literary works". I shook hands with teacher Wang Jucai, who was interested in me, a grass-roots author from the old liberated areas in southern Jiangxi. I have been to Mr. Guo Chen's house, witnessed the library and received his hospitality. Seeing Mr. Wang Zongren again, after six years, he still remembers me doing a program on CCTV. Teacher Hong Hai was once a "herdsman", and we added new topics and interests, which narrowed the communication distance. Teacher Wang Shan is easy-going. He said, "I will look for you first when I go to Guangzhou, and a pot of rice congee will do.". Listening to the story of "Niang" told by teacher Peng Xueming, I couldn't stop crying ...
In the early summer of 214, I went to Jinan, Shandong Province to attend the 6th Bingxin Prose Awards Conference. My acceptance speech is: "I took my deep love and worries about the countryside and went to work in a southern city." Anecdotal anecdotes of rural characteristics are stuffed into my emotional gap, and I have changed my aesthetic vision countless times, revealing my pen, regretting the pain and indulging in pleasure. For example, the green tiles in southern Jiangxi, which grow old or even disappear, are a kind of entanglement of family and homesickness. They shine with the flavor of the times and the light of regional culture, clearing my eyes and soul. I try to filter out these values and carry them to the other side of knowledge, affection and meaning, but I regret that the water in the dragonfly has not been fulfilled. An award-winning event and an unforgettable memory in my life, I am always grateful and shine on the world with the light of prose. "
The Time of a Blue Tile is the first collection of essays that I have written for more than 2 years. I have selected 53 essays that I have published, won prizes or been included in the anthology in newspapers and periodicals all over the country in various periods, which has disrupted the publishing sequence. In recent years, most of the works have been made, and a few of the old works have been slightly revised, keeping the original appearance as a whole and interspersed in various series. Since the publication of my first work, the road to creation has not been smooth, and sometimes it has stagnated, leaving a gap for some time. My writing is a hobby, a desire and need for lifestyle, emotional singing and self-satisfaction. I collected them as a spiritual clean-up, which kept me sane and adjusted my posture in time. It was also considered self-pity or self-pity.
Liu Hua, Chairman of Jiangxi Writers Association, and Jiang Zi, Vice Chairman of the Association, read the manuscript and put forward their original opinions, which Vice Chairman Cheng Wei called "a grounded collection". Zhong Xiaoping, deputy director of the Propaganda Department of Ganzhou Municipal Committee and chairman of the Municipal Federation of Literary and Art Circles, said that we should publicize and promote it well. Zhang Wei, member of the Standing Committee of Xinfeng County Committee and director of the Propaganda Department of the County Committee, said that my album would be published in the county's cultural publications. Teacher Bu Limin wrote the preface for me, and teacher Yin Wenshuo wrote the title for me. Leaders such as Zhong Shiqiang and Gong Xiubin of Wangda Group gave me great motivation. Guo Ledong, my old boss, gave me the "scattered mark" of calligraphy, and Jane Mo, a Shandong writer, waved my screen name "Spring and Jingming". There are many people who encourage me, and I know it in my heart. I remember Mr. Bing Xin's life creed-"Where there is love, there is everything".
Guangdong soil is colorful, Jiangxi water is profound, and nostalgia is paramount; On the road of literature, there is no end to learning and there is no turning back.