Simon Carver was a young journalist, twenty-four years old this year.
After graduating from university, he started working in a nearby bookstore and soon landed a job as a culture section journalist at Torrance New Media, where a senior colleague, who had been his mentor, told him, "You're really lucky."
He agreed. His employment seemed to have been merely a stroke of "good luck."
He hadn't prepared much, merely memorizing the expected content of the journalism exam. He had a knack for stuffing information into his head, and thanks to his circumstances at the time, he spent the rest of his time incessantly reading novels—from literary works to genre fiction, he missed none that seemed interesting.
Whenever he read a novel that really appealed to him, he couldn't help but marvel honestly, "How can someone think of this?"
Thus, inspired by a sudden idea, he once boldly attempted to write a novel, only to realize he lacked the talent to complete even a single work. Naturally, Simon developed a deep interest in the existence of novelists and was delighted to be assigned to the cultural section as a journalist.
A senior journalist, aware of his tendencies, gave him this advice: "Don't try to understand the authors. We are journalists, and journalists should just do their job."
It was the only piece of advice from his trusted senior that Simon chose not to follow. He strived to communicate deeply with authors, developing his own standards and philosophy over time.
Simon Carver read and tried to infer what the author's life had been like up to that point, which gave him a sense of how to approach someone when meeting them for the first time.
However, today, those standards are completely inapplicable.
'What's going on?'
He had somewhat expected the other party to be Asian, from the name on the parcel to the novel, which was peppered with content that couldn't have been produced without in-depth research into that culture.
The problem was that the other party was much younger than he had expected.
Age? Was that important?
After all, isn't age just a sum of the years lived?
Simon agreed with this thought but believed that different criteria applied when it came to writing novels. He thought that two main elements were necessary to write a novel: 'experience' and 'imagination.' These two were interesting because they could coexist, yet it was extremely difficult because imagination tends to be excluded by experience.
'That's why good writers are skilled at combining experience and imagination.'
But what about the boy in front of him?
He was of an age where he couldn't possibly have accumulated much experience.
'My goodness, he had just started high school.'
However, when Simon read his writing, he did not think so at all. The moment he first read "Mother," Simon naturally imagined a character who had socially settled down and undergone various experiences.
This method, which had been somewhat helpful in dealing with writers, had become completely useless.
It was natural for him to experience a mental freeze.
"Well, it's surprising, after all."
Thus, Shin Han sitting opposite the bewildered journalist understood his reaction. Unaware of the unchanged essence of his being, he newly recognized the peculiar situation he was in.
As a high school student, he thought that writing such a piece might elicit such a reaction from others.
He wondered if this realization would help him in his future work. What would the other person think? Determined to find out through conversation, Shin opened his mouth to speak.
"Uh, I read the contract you sent very carefully…?" He raised the end of his sentence slightly, indicating that he had forced the words out. It was just an act, pretending to be a naive high school student.
Startled by Shin's words, Simon replied, "Ah, yes! Mr. Author, I really enjoyed reading your wonderful work."
"Thank you."
"From your depiction of East Asian culture to the way you capture reality so similar yet twisted, I really liked it. The way you drew me into empathizing with the main character, Suzy, was also excellent."
"You flatter me."
"No, really! If you don't mind me asking, when did you start writing?"
"I've been writing consistently since my childhood," Shin lied smoothly. It was a lie he didn't bother to defend, for the truth, incomprehensible to others, was better kept hidden.
"I thought as much. If it's not too much trouble, may I ask where you get your inspiration for your work?"
"It comes from the reality I face. Of course, I've taken quite some liberties with it. One day, it occurred to me that people outside don't really know about the Korean church I attend or Korean customs. When I think about it, I realize I don't know much about cultures I'm not a part of either."
"I see. But I was surprised. The delicate portrayal of a teenage girl going through puberty, the relationships with people around her—if it weren't for the fanatical nature of her mother and the hallucinations the protagonist sees, it could easily be seen as a coming-of-age story," Simon enthusiastically expressed his thoughts.
In front of him, Shin smiled brightly as authors often do when their work is highly praised, but inside, he was coolly assessing the other party. It couldn't be helped; he wasn't here for casual play but for business.
And Shin made this assessment of Simon as a potential collaborator: "Not bad."
He was pleased because he could clearly feel that Simon had read his novel carefully and enjoyed it.
While authors have varying preferences, Shin preferred editors who were interested in collaborating on the creation of works, not just for business. The feedback they provided after reading his novels often proved very helpful.
Moreover, Simon's proactive attitude proved another fact:
'I was worried he might dismiss me because I'm an Asian kid.'
It seemed he could be reassured on that front.
However, as is common with people at this time, he hadn't completely escaped discriminatory thoughts.
"Is Suzy Korean?"
"She's American."
"Ah, Korean-American then?"
"Yes, that's right."
"I see. I was confused for a moment when I heard the name 'Susie.'"
"Uh?"
"…."
"Well, first of all," Shin corrected a few things awkwardly.
"The name 'Suzy' is a Korean name."
"Oh, is that so?!"
"And as written in the novel, Suzy was born and raised in Los Angeles. Actually, it wouldn't be a problem to use 'Susanna' either, although it's not common."
Shin gave a meaningful smile.
Realizing his mistake in front of Shin, Simon bowed his head deeply.
"I'm sorry!"
But even that was a form of discrimination.
Did he think that just because he was Asian, he would bow his head?
"Mr. Author! I was ignorant!"
"No, it's okay. I intentionally named her 'Suzy' to hint at 'Susie'."
Shin felt no desire to say more.
He had spoken out of ignorance and had apologized quickly.
'We can talk more about it slowly in the future.'
He just felt anew how Asians were treated in this era.
"We are like that, too."
"If you say 'we'…"
"I am a second-generation Korean-American. We were born and raised entirely in the U.S., so we often clash with the older generation's culture. 'Mother' is a work that depicts such conflicts. If Mr. Carver found himself deeply immersed in Suzy, perhaps I succeeded in that regard."
Hearing this, Simon froze for a moment.
His mind mercilessly crisscrossed between the words he had just heard and the contents of the novel.
Suzy, a name devised to be mistaken for Susie.
A pure and ordinary girl, if one excludes her relationships with her mother and her hallucinations.
'Did he consider the reader's immersion as well?'
In fact, Simon had done just that. He recognized the girl as Korean in his mind, but naturally took the most familiar form to himself in his heart. And perhaps it felt like letting him know that Suzy, a Korean-American girl, was not much different from himself.
"Perhaps the most important element in a horror novel is the 'helpless' protagonist designed to maximize the object of fear."
"That's true."
Simon couldn't help but nod repeatedly at Shin's explanation.
The image he had formed of this writer seemed to be changing, or rather, evolving in his mind.
"Mr. Author."
"Yes, Mr. Simon."
"Would you consider serializing 'Mother' somewhere other than in the newspaper?"
"Excuse me?"
"I'm sorry to say this, but after hearing what you have said, I feel that our newspaper might be too small a venue for such a work. Especially since the magazine caters specifically to an audience that loves novels, besides, the pay per episode is much higher there, and after publication, you can publish the book without involving Torrance New Media. I believe this work would definitely merit that."
"This is all so sudden."
"I think so too, but if not now, I wouldn't be able to make this offer. Mr. Author, if it's okay with you, I know a magazine that might be interested in contracting with you to serialize it."
Simon spoke with a pained expression, trying to hide his discomfort.
He wanted to work with this writer. It would be a lie to say otherwise, for Simon loved good novels and good authors.
But having heard the story, he felt that Torrance New Media was not the right place to showcase this work.
He wanted it to be recognized.
"Don't more people read newspapers?"
"Our newspaper is rather small, so probably not as many as you think. Besides, not many people seriously read stories published in newspapers."
"Then we should make them want to read it."
"Excuse me?"
"Mr. Simon."
Shin narrowed his eyes as if asking what all his previous childlike demeanour had been about.
A serpent that had been coiling inside now revealed itself.
No longer would he be deceived.
No longer would he play the victim.
He would change things.
The resolve in Shin's eyes momentarily froze Simon.
"I believe in my work. And I want to work with someone who believes in my work too."
"Uh, yes."
"If the work is interesting, surely people will read it and it will generate word of mouth."
"That is true, but…"
Simon wanted to say that such cases are very rare.
Yes, the medium of newspapers is more popular, that's true for places like the Los Angeles Times, but definitely not for Torrance New Media.
Should he explain that properly?
Deeply distressed, Simon looked into Shin's eyes.
The eyes of a boy who wanted to test his created world on the stage of reality.
Without realizing it, his fist clenched tightly.
Of course, the reality was slightly different from the naïve journalist's thoughts.
***
'Ah, he talks too much. If Reagan gets elected, your newspaper will boom, so just shut up and serialize it!'
But there were far too many issues to say that.
So, I just spoke honestly.
'Mother'.
It was a confident piece.
Of course, it might not do well. The genre novel industry, indeed, the world at large, was a matter of luck with a final coin toss.
But whatever it takes, it's worth a shot. I decided to stake my debut on Torrance New Media.
"Then, have you read the contract?"
"Yes, I have checked it thoroughly."
"Uh, it really is $10 per episode."
"I am aware."
"We will co-own the rights to the work."
"That's fine."
"If your work becomes a hit and later gets turned into a TV drama or movie, you'll have to share the profits with us, you know?"
"Mr. Simon. I know all this, just sign it."
It was clear he was a kind-hearted racist who was too considerate of an Asian boy writer.
It was excessive, and it made me have to show a bit of my true self for time's sake.
"Ah, it's really a waste of a good piece."
But one thing was certain.
'I won't feel dirty working with this man.'
Simon signed reluctantly, as he had to secure a good contract for the work, while I signed with a big grin.
The contract was not so much advantageous for them as it was, again, a typical newbie's contract.
Simon seemed to think the work was worth more, but 'not everyone would think so.'
Holding the contract and the pen with which I had signed, I smiled to myself.
The high-ups at Torrance New Media would never acknowledge my work, no matter how splendid the results.
So, inevitably, I had taken out an insurance policy.
There was one fact I hadn't told Simon or anyone else.
'Mother' was actually planned as a two-part series, to be serialized over a total of 50 episodes.