Chapter 10: The Threshold of Literature
Many professions have their own thresholds. One must cross that threshold in order to “enter the field” and become a member within it. It is somewhat bitter (heartbreaking) to say that in Taiwan, literature has always had an uncertain status and has never clearly become a “formal profession” capable of supporting a livelihood, because the publishing market is simply too small. The royalties, manuscript fees, and prize money are like a cup of water—barely enough to feed a single goby fish. Unless literature is combined with advertising and both large and small screens, the result of insisting on literary writing is often reduced to that of a street homeless person, starving every day, limbs weak, eyes dull and lifeless.
Although literature cannot be called a “formal profession,” it undeniably has always had a group of enthusiasts. According to their level of engagement, they can roughly be divided into pure readers, part-timers, and devoted practitioners. Pure readers are the main consumer group; they treat literary works as spiritual commodities for consumption. Part-timers are those influenced by their surroundings who feel an itch to dabble in romantic or aesthetic expression, but because of either busy work schedules or personal mentality, they cannot devote themselves to deep study and practice, nor cross the threshold of literature. Thus, they can only play supporting roles, unable to stand on the main stage. As the saying goes, “ten minutes on stage requires ten years of practice offstage.” Without sufficient skill and maturity, experts will quickly see through their weaknesses.
Devoted practitioners, however, are willing to invest more time and effort, repeatedly refining expressive techniques, taking the crossing of this threshold as their primary goal of advancement.
In the era when print media dominated, “submitting work for publication, participating in competitions to win awards, and publishing books” were the necessary procedures for crossing the threshold of literature and entering the ranks of writers. After the rise of the internet, “writing and posting instantly” gradually replaced the first two procedures. The stage became like a swimming pool—anyone who dares to jump in and splash around, regardless of swimming ability, is nominally considered a “cultural creator.” However, this “cultural creator” is in fact an illusion of self-perception, and is probably still tens of light-years away from becoming a true “contemporary writer.”
The author is one of the very few cultural creators who has crossed the barrier from modern poetry and literary criticism into fiction and screenplay writing, and has survived successfully while gradually bearing fruit. Such a trajectory is itself quite fantastical.
From the author’s creative experience, among the three major literary genres—modern poetry, fiction, and drama—modern poetry is the easiest to enter, but the hardest to reach the highest level. This is because, in addition to acquired effort and cultivation, innate “talent” is often the greatest variable. Fiction comes next; its entry threshold is relatively higher and places more emphasis on acquired effort. However, as long as one can “fluently tell interesting stories,” one has a chance to cross the threshold and join the ranks of novelists.
The most difficult genre is drama, because it must be presented through actors and stage performance. Moreover, actors must be able to use indirect suggestion to express a character’s psychological state and present emotions (i.e., “inner drama”). This alone explains why Guan Hanqing and Shakespeare have maintained their enduring status as towering figures in Eastern and Western theatrical history.
To become a literary writer, the prerequisite is that one must first cross that threshold: produce works of both quality and substance that can be recognized by critics, judges, or editors, thereby becoming an excellent cultural creator. Then, through publication of works, one gradually advances into the ranks of writers. This process is not something that can be achieved in a few years; it may require decades of effort and accumulated results.
In short, whether one can enter the ranks of poets, novelists, or playwrights is absolutely not something that can be “self-declared” by the creator. Therefore, when you frequently read works by a cultural creator whose technique is elegant and whose content is moving, you should show them a considerable degree of respect. After all, they have achieved their current accomplishments through long-term effort and refinement.
If you are willing to emulate the virtuous, then find the correct path of entry and take each step steadily. When critics recognize the artistic value of your work, and when authors themselves support you and are willing to accept your work, then without the need for self-proclamation, you have already crossed that threshold and become a “recognized” cultural creator. At that moment, you have only just obtained your entry ticket to becoming a “contemporary writer.”
