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我几乎是在得意洋洋地写小说时, 却突然感到生活有点不对劲了,具体地说 我觉得有些不合算 我呕心沥血兴奋若狂 热泪盈眶地构思。我点灯熬油冥思苦想夜 以继日地挥笔。创作出自以为深刻深邃深 沉的作品,其稿酬却不够大款吃半顿饭 的。一万多字小说的稿费,仅够交纳每月 的水电、煤气和房费。再看看别的作家,有 的比我还惨,数年数月苦苦地爬格子,写 出一部数十万字的长篇小说,还得自己掏 腰包拿出几万元钱自费出书。不仅作家艺 术家们在经济上拮据,连掌管他们的文联 和协会也穷得叮当作响。开个会都得精心 安排到吃完午饭开,否则连饭钱都拿不出 来,上级领导考虑到文学艺术家们的困
I was almost triumphantly writing the novel, but suddenly felt a little wrong with life, specifically, I think some uneconomical I make painstaking efforts excited tears of imagination. I lit the oil meditation bitterly day and night to wave. Created by the profound deep and profound works, the draft is not enough money to eat half-meal. More than 10,000 words novel fee, only to pay monthly hydropower, gas and room rates. Look at other writers, and some even miserable than I, a few years to painstakingly crawl plaid, write a few hundred thousand words of novels, have to dig their own pocket tens of thousands of dollars out of books. Not only are the writers and artists financially strapped, but even the Federation of Literary and Art Circles, which runs them, is raging. Open a meeting have been carefully arranged to eat lunch open, or even can not get the money out of meals, superiors take into account the difficulties of literary artists