作家坐在书房里,面前笔记本电脑的word文档上密密麻麻地写满了文字,电脑放在书柜的台面上,书柜上摆的全是作家阅读过的中外经典名著和自己已经发表文章的样刊。作家停止了敲击键盘,他靠在椅子上,嘴里叼着烟。书房里烟雾缭绕。窗外已是春暖花开,百花争艳,暖暖的春风吹进来,但作家的心很冷,恍如掉进了数九寒天的冰窖。他看了一眼还没写完的小说,不知道还有没有继续写下去的必要。 Writer sitting in the study, in front of the word document on the laptop filled with text, computer on the table in the bookcase, the bookcase is placed on the writer’s reading of both Chinese and foreign classics and his articles have been published in the sample. The writer stopped tapping the keyboard, leaning on his chair and smoking his mouth. Study room smoke-filled. Out the window is a blossoming spring, blossoming flowers, warm spring breeze blowing in, but the author’s heart is cold, like falling into the ice cold in the number nine cold. He glanced at the novel not yet finished, do not know there is no need to continue to write down.