"I have found someone to confirm the invitation, and the nominee is "Qilin List"." Maomao's voice was still filled with excitement.
But unlike Maomao, when she heard that this book might win an award, Mei Qian felt that something was wrong.
Just because the book "Qilin Bang" is really difficult to describe in one sentence.
In the past few years, Mei Qian has produced quite a few works under his name. Excluding original works and tomb-robbing novels that have been criticized by the mainstream as unhealthy in outlook, most of the other copied works come from classics on Earth.
He wouldn't be surprised if any of them win.
Only this "Qilin List" was written when he was writing "Memoirs of a Grave Robber". Because he was not famous yet, he chose this double book for multiple income. It was inspired by a classic TV series called "The Earth Is Very Popular".
It's a pity that his writing style was raw at that time, and because it had been so long since he watched the TV series that he hadn't read the original work, his memory was not as profound as the tomb-robbing novel. The latter can be reproduced at least 50% to 60%, which is barely vivid. The former is not even a lot of
The key characters have been forgotten, and many plots depend on his free play as a rookie.
It's just that he regretted it as soon as he started it. In the end, he had to bite the bullet and finish it. The quality can be imagined.
This results in a small number of words. Except for the main storyline, almost all of it has been magically modified.
Well, you can look forward to the muscular version of Mei Changsu...
For this reason, Mei Qian himself did not like this novel and felt that it was a waste of a classic.
Not to mention readers, there are basically no good words in the comment area.
To be honest, he was surprised that "Qilin Bang" was picked up by a publishing house, translated into a foreign language and published abroad.
The year before last, a film and television company even took a fancy to the copyright and almost sold it.
But even so, Mei Qian didn't think this book was that excellent.
At least the pitiful publishing fees that I have been receiving one after another are enough to explain the problem.
Therefore, when Mei Qian first heard that this book could be nominated and even had a high chance of winning, it was like a fantasy.
Could it be that the translator of this book was a literary genius and made revisions while translating?
Or do foreigners just like this kind of revenge tone?
Or, what counts as art is what the public can’t understand?
While Mei Qian was thinking wildly, Maomao on the other end of the phone saw no reply. He probably thought that the boss might not like this award, so he couldn't help but explain: "The Sibel Jialin Literary Award has not been established for a long time, and the groups it faces are
He is just a new writer, so he is not well-known in the country, but this award has many sponsors, so the prize money is very high, and its influence in the world is also growing. Brother Qian, you are the first Xia national to be nominated."
After hearing several keywords such as "influence", "bonus" and "the first to be nominated", Mei Qian was not as excited as his assistant at all. Instead, he looked around and saw Ning beside him, who had always raised his ears.
There was no one else around, so Chi simply turned on the speakerphone and asked: "What time does the invitation say the awards will be awarded?" As he spoke, he opened the browser and searched for all the information about the "Sibel Jialin Novel Award".
Maomao: "The invitation says it will be in half a month."
Mei Qian couldn't help but frown: "The time is wrong, when was I selected?" Unfortunately, there is not much known about this award in China. He searched for a long time, and although he was sure that this award existed, he only found a few words.
, there is nothing else about the approval and awarding process.
But although he has not won any awards, he has also heard the rules in communication with his peers. Generally, such international awards are not as simple as imagined, but take a very long time. But he was a finalist.
The author only received the news ten days ago? This cannot but make him suspicious.
However, after listening to his question, Maomao on the opposite side sighed and said in a helpless tone: "I understand this. It is said that the organizer sent you a Chinese version of the e-mail a few months ago, but did not receive it.
As for your reply, this invitation letter is still forwarded through the publisher."
Mei Qian suddenly remembered the pile of letters in his email box that he had deleted as junk ads, and was speechless for a moment.
Out of caution, he replied: "Is there any requirement that the author himself must be present?"
"No!" Maomao answered quickly: "Aren't you going to go and take a look? This is a good opportunity. Even if you are only shortlisted, it can increase your influence in the domestic literary world." At this point, she suddenly lowered her voice.
With a loud voice, he said with some resentment and some expectancy: "I haven't been to Europe yet..."
It is necessary to mention here that a literary award actually has the interest of the member states. The location of the award ceremony changes every year. Last year it was Hawaii in the United States, and this year it is the turn of Ukraine in eastern Europe.
"Let me think about it again! I'll give you news later." Mei Qian was silent for a long while, then hung up the phone after using a procrastination trick.
It’s not that he is repelled from receiving the prize, nor is he unmoved by the bonus, nor is he determined to avoid Maomao’s hints.
Perhaps he was afraid of being tricked by the dog system. He was always a little uneasy and felt that it was strange that he had won the award.
Although, he opened the email and did find an email from last October in the trash.
Although, the information I got from my friends was basically the same as what Maomao said.
From shortlisting to qualifying, and finally reaching the nomination, we have indeed gone through the formal procedures. Everything seems reasonable and there is no problem at all.
But Mei Qian still plans to contact the Writers' Union and find someone to go to Europe to receive the award on his behalf, but he himself has not been going out recently.
You know, if the dog system causes trouble abroad, the police there may not be as "reasonable" as in China.
But just the next day, he had to reconsider this decision.
The spring rain was continuous and dense, and the breeze stirred up layers of mist, covering the entire city.
Although the ripples on the lake are slightly invisible, there are many of them. Thousands of raindrops melt into the water, hit the trees, and drip onto the umbrellas, completely overwhelming the voices of tourists on the lake embankment.
, all with freshness and poetry.
After Mei Qian got up, he looked at the sky and lost interest in traveling. He ate breakfast hastily and simply opened the floor-to-ceiling windows, leaning on a lounge chair with a pot of tea, just in time to enjoy the scenery.
The West Lake, rendered like smoke and mist, undoubtedly brought him great visual enjoyment.
Mei Qian felt that she could sit here all day.
Unfortunately, the constant vibrating sound of his cell phone successfully ruined his leisurely mood.
When I opened it, I saw a constant stream of updates on Weiwei.
The first thing I saw was messages from colleagues with very similar formats and content.
It turns out that the news about Mei Qian being nominated for an international award has spread throughout the circle before we have decided whether to leave to receive the award.
Everyone who was familiar with him or not and had his contact information sent congratulations.
He had to allocate his energy to reply one by one.
A few humble and polite words are enough for casual acquaintances, but with those who have a good relationship, it is not as simple as sending a message.
Therefore, his cell phone was never put down in the following time.
At this moment, he was no longer in the mood to appreciate the rainy scene, and simply returned to the room.
The calls came one after another, making his mouth dry. Just when he found a kettle and was about to moisten his throat, he suddenly heard Ning Chi's trembling voice outside: "Brother, let me tell you something."
What a joke, it’s still raining in the sky, and the water in the West Lake has just dried up..."