Surviving as a Writer in the British Empire - Chapter 72



＜ Writers League ＞

From noble mtl dot com

“It’s easy. Congratulations on your victory.”

“under. What victory is, I feel like Pyrrhus I because of the idiots from the Liberal Party.”

A meeting place with Arthur Conan Doyle after a long time.

George Bernard Shaw, who also has a foot in the Labor Party, said with visibly displeased.

In the end, he won enough to win the prime minister’s seat through a coalition government, but that’s all.

In the end, what can a premature baby party, which has no power in state affairs from the beginning, do?

After all, Ireland’s independence and universal welfare are nothing but a disease.

George Bernard Shaw said chewing like that.

“Next time, our Labor Party will have to challenge alone. Liberal idiots are progressive as well as Gladstone. After all, they are Conservatives with different names.”

“That’s it, that’s something you guys have to figure out.”

Arthur Conan Doyle, who, apart from his inclination, did not want to get too involved in politics, just said that.

Anyway, this was more urgent to him now.

“Suddenly, isn’t it time to finish what we were doing?”

“It is. Come to think of it, you did a really interesting job too.”

George Bernard Shaw said so with a smirk.

Arthur Conan Doyle, guessing what he meant, sighed with a violent headache.

“I’m saying that because I’m in a position where I’ve never been.”

When he killed Sherlock Holmes, the hardship Arthur Conan Doyle went through was worse than that, but not less.

In addition, there was a story that broke out out of nowhere, none other than the ‘Han Slo-jin-Arthur Conan Doyle feud.’

In the yellow press published in a tabloid, ‘The reason ＜Peter Perry＞ ended was a trick made by the returning Arthur Conan Doyle to expel ＜Dawnbringer＞, and Hanslo Jin, who was betrayed, was heartbroken and critically ill! ‘ It was spitting out the same article.

Considering the friendship between the two, it was an absurd content with no possibility of retelling, but since there was no information at all, there was no small amount of fuss.

Well, Arthur Conan Doyle was not agitated by the content itself, but the deteriorating health itself, a common feature of the content in other articles, was something he had always been concerned about.

So I tried to find Mr. Miller… Fortunately, George Nums, who came to his home in Malibon, took the lead.

—That’s why, it’s malingering. You’re saying this.

─That’s right. ＜Peter Perry＞ It’s a nonsense spread to break the anti-finish protest solidarity. I’m really glad he didn’t do politics.

Arthur Conan Doyle couldn’t help but nod his head nonchalantly.

Jin Han-sol also couldn’t deny this kind of malingering since it was borrowed from the common ‘prosecution attendance edition’ in the future.

Anyway, there is no answer when the fandom atmosphere on both sides intensifies.

Therefore, ‘Put out a new full-length manuscript right away.’ That was Niels’s words, and thanks to Arthur Conan Doyle’s manuscript of ＜The Valley of Fear’ and George Nuels’ crackdown on the media, the situation was able to return to a slight lull.

Of course, the conspiracy theory itself didn’t go away, but he didn’t care. In the first place, his ego was too hard for the yellow press to break down.

Moreover, the fake news of the yellow media did not necessarily cause harm. Typically…

“Well, thanks to that, we gained momentum, so in a way, it’s a good thing.”

George Bernard Shaw said through a puff of smoke, and Arthur Conan Doyle nodded too.

Between the two of them, there was a newspaper article titled ＜The Royal Society of Literature, Hanslo Bullying Jin?!＞.

The first thing that came to Londoners’ mind when they heard the word ‘writer’s illness’ was nothing else.

A writer who was the most popular star in London’s literary world when he was alive.

It’s Charles Dickens.

A man who ran a magazine company, engaged in philanthropy, staged mini-plays and gave public readings, reaching the London public more deeply than anyone else of his time.

However, due to a stroke of God, the unfortunate writer was taken away really suddenly.

—Even Hanslo Jean cannot be lost like Charles Dickens.

This was the thought that came to Londoners, and naturally the next thought came.

-Hanslo Jin is sick?! But, why do you ask me that!?

—But, Mr. President, the Royal Society of Literature was at odds with Charles Dickens, who died of a stroke, and there are rumors that there was a conflict with Jin Hanslo this time!?

-I don’t know! I don’t know!! leave me alone!!

In fact, the president of the Royal Society of Literature, Hardinge Giffard, Marquis of Halsbury, was really unfair.

The plan to fight Arthur Conan Doyle and the plan to accuse him of tax evasion were all ruined.

Rather, Hanslo Jin is just getting along with Mark Twain and others.

In this situation, the reason why he sits in the chair of the Royal Society of Literature is because the name of the Royal Society of Literature itself is stained, not because the members do not specifically criticize him.

So he’s very quiet. I did nothing and stayed still. It would be closer to waiting for the right time to come.

However, it was not unreasonable for Gifard to take off his studies, as reporters started to talk about ‘criminal rumors’ and ‘bullying rumors’ all of a sudden.

Of course I was determined to do something. But I haven’t even started yet, isn’t it a bit unfair to say something!

However, reporters who don’t know are the ones who fly like a swarm of bees the more they do it.

Naturally, articles like this started popping up in the headlines.

＜Charles Dickens and Hanslo Jean, on the writers we had to lose＞

＜Why did we have to lose Charles Dickens? The Royal Society of Literature Intensive Study!＞

＜The crisis of successive writers······ What is RSL hiding?＞

These articles are what Arthur Conan Doyle and George Bernard Shaw are looking at now.

It was going to go crazy when there was even an article about them running a special unit to assassinate writers they didn’t like.

Well, that’s none of our concern.

“It is not clear what these mean.”

George Bernard Shaw said, looking blankly at the sky.

“That the public sentiment of London is toward you, the popular writers. Heh, I’m envious. If only half of the tickets in front of the publisher had come in, we would have been able to enter the park.”

“Before and after are different. They didn’t come to us. It is the result of us, no Hanslo Jin, approaching the public first.”

Although it varies from case to case, in general, people like people who like them. As Arthur Conan Doyle said, he smiled and asked.

“Would you like to try writing a mystery novel? Or, children’s literature.”

“You have to say something that makes sense.”

It’s a very good joke.

The two looked at each other and smiled.

Anyway, London is now, more than ever, an organization of beloved writers that will replace the Royal Society of Literature? Academy? community? It could be said that the desire for was hot.

In other words, the tailwind for launching a new association is stronger than ever.

“This is the list secured.”

“I worked really hard on this one too.”

In popular literature, Robert Barr, Arnold Bennett, and Henry Ryder Haggard.

In the Irish independence movement, Patrick Pierce, Thomas McDonough, and James Cousins.

In addition, editor Edward Garnett, newcomer Gilbert Chesterton, Polish native Joseph Conrad, etc…

As if their hard work was not worth it, they succeeded in attracting so many figures called ‘non-mainstream’ in London.

“hmm. Even so, it’s a bit disappointing that Kipling was excluded.”

“Then I will invite George A. Birmingham.”

“No, I told you not to even put that bastard in your mouth.”

The two of them shot each other straight, staring at each other for a while.

Rudyard Kipling, the ultra-conservative and racist.

George A. Birmingham, famous as a war criminal and a traitor in the Irish independence movement.

It was unclear which side was getting more backlash and hatred, but they were similar in that they were races that didn’t like to talk about each other.

In the end, the two decided to make a silent reconciliation and relaxed their expressions. I had no idea how many times this was, no, how many dozens of reconciliations this was.

“Still, it is true that there are not enough people among us who can be ‘faces’.”

“Well, the nobles who said they collected them are people that the Labor Party would only like.”

At those words, George Bernard Shaw almost cried, asking if he was ignoring the Labor Party, but he tried to control his mind.

After all, he’s also a person I don’t like.

If it wasn’t for this, we probably wouldn’t have been together. But what can I do, things have already happened like this.

And Arthur Conan Doyle, whether he knew what he was thinking or not, just continued with a slight frown.

“First of all, I have spoken to the Authors’ Club and the Society of Authors. When the time comes, Besant (Walter Besant) and Meredith (George Meredith) decided to merge each other based on timing.”

“Hmm. I’m sure they’re fine.”

The writers’ club, which is more of a simple social gathering, but has the largest number of members, and the writers’ association, which is a kind of labor union to guarantee the legal interests of writers, including copyrights, although the number is small.

If these two organizations, which have been playing separately from each other until now, are united as one at this opportunity… a huge writers organization that even the Royal Society of Literature can’t ignore will be born.

“But in the end, it must be the same that there is no face to rally even them?”

“Of course. So, someone has an idea.”

“Are you not doing it?”

“I’ve kept my distance from them until now, but who will follow me if I say that they will come and serve as the captain?”

Arthur Conan Doyle said with a bitter laugh.

Anyway, this and that were all because of Hanslo Jin who eventually awakened him.

“So, I’m thinking of inviting him.”

“Who are you talking about?”

“George MacDonald.”

“······like.”

Bernard Shaw’s eyes lit up with the name of an elder novelist who was active at the same time as Charles Dickens.

“It’s been a while since I haven’t seen him, isn’t he already dead?”

“It’s been a while since I went on vacation to Italy. But I will be able to reach you through Elder Lewis Carroll.”

“Hmm. Certainly, he is a suitable person to be the first president of our association.”

It did not cause social controversy as much as Carol, and she has a long career as a children’s literature writer.

It has not been active at all in the last 10 years, and it is forgotten because children’s literature that is comparable to the UK has appeared in a row, but it is clear that it is a heavy name that will not be pushed out among other writers.

“Okay, then everything is out now. Now, then… have you decided on a name for our association?”

The gentleman with the pipe answered briefly.

“Alliance of Authors.”

Simple is good.

At those words of Arthur Conan Doyle, George Bernard Shaw couldn’t help but laugh.

“Not bad.”

***

“mmm.”

“Ughhhhh?”

Wallow wallow.

“Mmm.”

“Aww.”

Wallow wallow.

“uuu!”

“Queng?”

“What are you doing lying around with a kid, right now!”

“Ah, lady. sick!”

I raised my upper body while holding on to the battered back.

My lady, Madge Miller, who had come down for vacation, was looking down at me with bewildered eyes.

And she took Mary Miller, not Agatha Christie, the 5-year-old who was rolling around with me in my arms. You’re doing too much.

“I heard it’s a vacation, but this is too… isn’t that like the sloth that lives in the Amazon? Aren’t you thinking of going on a picnic in a healthy way?”

“You don’t know what, lady.”

I said it proudly.

“Humans are creatures that want to sit when they stand and lie down when they sit!”

“Immida!”

Mary laughed as she followed the end of my words. Seeing that, Madge sighed deeply and sat down.

“I also think it’s good that Hanseul went on vacation after a while. Haven’t you been working too much?”

“Eh, um.”

Well, I ran a lot with too much junk food.

Madge said as she grabbed my arm.

“So, when you rest for the first time in a while, let’s take a proper rest. huh? Whether it’s southern France, Belgium, or Italy, I’ll go on a trip. Come and eat good things. Why don’t you just roll around at home?”

“······miss.”

I stroked Madge’s hair for a moment.

This is it, I guess…

“You must have had a hard time studying at Godolphin School. I want to use me as an excuse to go play… Nook!!”

“I don’t know! Stupid Hanseul!!”

You hit me right in the middle.

I thought about it as I rubbed my stomach gently where Madge had hit me.

Well, it was true that it was boring to the point of being boring.

“It’s a trip…”

But is there anywhere I can go on a trip at this time? While thinking about it, I suddenly remembered something.

Come to think of it, should I look into the new collection?