The dream of youth is a small seed. However, time is like this vast land under your feet. You can wave your hand and sow countless seeds, but those who sleep in them will eventually rot; People who rush out of the soil but can't stand the wind, frost, rain and snow will die young; Stubborn growth will slowly open delicate flowers; Those who constantly irrigate with sweat and painstaking efforts will bear fruitful fruits. From the initial budding idea to the firm step forward, more than ten years have passed, and I finally understand that the real dream, after more hard struggle, will eventually rush out of the soil and tenaciously open up a splendid landscape.
"Once you climb to the top of the mountain and peek, you will see that other mountains look short under the sky ..." Until now, I still can't forget how the junior high school Chinese teacher sang this poem happily when she took the whole class to the top of the mountain. In fact, the mountain is not high, but when we stand on the top of the mountain overlooking the breeze and have a panoramic view of houses, farmland, paths and all directions, a surging pride and carefree soul gallop arises spontaneously.
That's our mountaineering poetry meeting. In June that year, our young Chinese teacher recited many poems to us, guided us to appreciate the beautiful language and artistic conception of poetry, encouraged us to write poems, solemnly put the envelope containing our poems into the mailbox and sent it to Xiaoxi magazine, and took us to the top of the mountain to stand in the wind and read our poems aloud.
The weather was bad that day, and it rained all morning. At noon, the rain stopped and it was still dark, but everyone was going to climb the mountain with their own poems. So, we set off under the slogan of "rain or shine". Not long after we reached the top of the mountain, our poetry meeting began, and the rainstorm in June came with a cool breeze. Nobody moved, and the teacher recited the poem selflessly. Raindrops as big as beans hit his hair and clothes, and the manuscript in his hand rattled by the raindrops. He just took it and read the poem to us intently. We all stood in the rain, watching him, listening to the sound of his poetry mixed with the sound of raindrops beating on everything in the world, so that the rain poured down from the sky overhead and got soaked.
I watched him recite poems in the rain, as comfortable as standing on a podium, and even had an unparalleled spirit. Suddenly inexplicably moved, my little heart was full of sacredness and excitement.
It was my first time to listen to poetry. It was so touching. This is also the first time I really feel the extraordinary power of words. Although I have been keen on writing unforgettable people and things in my exercise books since primary school, there has never been a real writing craze. My Chinese teacher didn't know that one of his extracurricular activities opened the door to my writing. I collect high school Chinese textbooks and extracurricular reading materials everywhere and tell myself seriously that I want to be a writer in the future.
From then on, I began to fall madly in love with reading and writing. There are often several notebooks on my desk, some of which are used to extract beautiful American sentences and famous sayings of celebrities, some are used to extract writing materials and stories, and some are used to extract famous ancient poems and classical Chinese sentences. I also have exquisite writing books, family and friends, favorite stars and a scene on campus ... all these have become my writing themes. I feel like I can't write it in my life.
That year, I was 12 years old in the first day of junior high school, but I kept this dream in my heart for three years in middle school and never forgot it. Looking back now, the seeds of "writer's dream" were buried in my heart as early as that year and sprouted quietly in a corner.
From junior high school, I found that my favorite writers, such as Lu Xun and Dai Wangshu, were almost all from Zhejiang, so as soon as I entered high school, I secretly set myself a goal to be admitted to a university in Zhejiang and learn Chinese. Although I know that studying Chinese Department does not mean becoming a writer, I firmly believe that Chinese Department will bring me more professional training and bring me closer to my dream.
In order to realize my dream, I began to study hard as soon as I entered the high school gate. I took the initiative to cut off all entertainment activities and buried myself in reading books and examination questions all day. The only way of entertainment may be to copy the poems I read after class in excerpts, plus occasionally read some novels. I firmly believe that no matter what way, as long as I work hard, I will eventually get where I want to go.
Unfortunately, I didn't go to the place where I meditated for three years after all. Because I was ill for nearly half a year in senior three, I got an unsatisfactory score in the college entrance examination. I had no choice but to stay in my hometown when I volunteered. It's silly to say, because I have never learned anything about college entrance examination enrollment, and I didn't know that Chinese departments generally don't recruit science students until the day I filled out my college entrance examination volunteers.
It is said that growth is a process of constant gain and loss. In the first year of college, I actually lost my enthusiasm for literature, because being a writer is so far away. In addition, I heard some teachers and students around me have "advice" on the employment of liberal arts students, and I believed their words: the future of literature is bleak, so it is better to learn your own major and master a "technology."
So, I lost my dream buried in my heart when I was a teenager and decided to study my major with peace of mind, instead of dreaming as a distant writer. Occasionally, when I am free to think, I feel that college days are like a dream. In my dream, I was calm and indifferent, and I lost all my light and spirit. Walking quietly on campus, recalling me in those years, I asked myself, am I still me? I laugh at myself as an "idealist" and despise my so-called dream. I can't stand the test of reality, and others' so-called "suggestions" can make it die.
What I didn't expect, however, was that one day I actually regained my old dream, and this time, I broke out from my bones with stronger fighting spirit and determination.
The literary society I joined in my freshman year is a literary society that has experienced 30 years of wind and rain. The friends of the club prepared the 30th anniversary celebration party. At that party, the whole venue was packed. When the flickering candlelight lit up on the third floor birthday cake, the host on the stage and the audience under the stage sang a happy birthday song for the literary society in unison. At that moment, I almost moved to tears. Thirty years of vicissitudes have now turned into tenderness. What supports a literary society step by step to today? It is these literary lovers who regard words as treasures. They came to this warm collective with full love for literature and burning dreams, accompanied each other and encouraged each other, so that their immature literary dreams gradually grew stronger.
At that moment, the surging emotional wave told me that my love for literature has never died out, but has been suppressed in a corner of my heart. At this time, it was released and stimulated again, so it quickly climbed over every nerve and blood vessel of the body like crazy grass. I finally understand that this dream can't be separated from me and I can't give up.
A real dream is something like this. When you are confused and confused on the road of life, when you come to a deja vu intersection, it suddenly breaks through your closed heart and makes you cry. It's time for me to really do something for my dream.
In the summer of this year, I participated in the cadre campaign of the Literary Society, became the executive editor of the Literary Society, undertook the editing and publishing work of the social magazine, became the responsible editor of the league magazine sponsored by the Youth League Committee of the school, and later served as the deputy editor. Besides studying, I spend most of my time planning magazines, writing articles and communicating with friends in the editorial department. During the whole university, I participated in and presided over the editing and publishing of nine magazines, won two awards in provincial and municipal literary competitions, published many papers in municipal newspapers, and made certain achievements in school and college competitions.
Although these achievements are insignificant, they are great encouragement to me. This experience made me understand what I want and how to spend my life to be worthy of my heart. So, in my junior year, I made a decision to take an interdisciplinary examination and give myself another chance to realize the dream of Chinese department that I missed in the college entrance examination. I know that this road will never be smooth sailing, and I also know that there are many people who are better than myself, so I use the achievements of others to spur myself. Only by continuous efforts can I go further. I chose this road, not for fame and fortune, but to write more warm and uplifting words to infect my heart that loves literature as much as I do.
In senior three, some teachers and classmates didn't understand my behavior. They asked me, in this age of despising literature and advocating technology, is it worthwhile for a science student to take the literature postgraduate exam?
At that time, I didn't have a clear concept of what the future would look like, but I knew that people must have a chance to struggle for what they love in their lives. During the preparation for postgraduate entrance examination, I took classes in the College of Liberal Arts in my spare time, read hundreds of literary works, chewed on a thick history of literature, literary theory and a large number of papers, and finally got a score of 380+, and finally became a student of Chinese Department.
My dream of high school has finally come true after such a tortuous process. I began to learn to write novels during my postgraduate period, studied novels with my tutor, wrote literary reviews, and published papers in CSSCI journals. Last year, my short story won the silver prize in the provincial literature competition, and I also signed a publishing contract with a publishing company for a biography book. I began to try to write on the new media platform this year. Because I have been used to serious literary creation for a long time, I am still unfamiliar with the creation of new media content. I am also gradually adapting to and exploring the writing style that conforms to the current readers' reading habits and learning from the outstanding writers on the platform.
This is a brand-new road, but I think that as long as love does not stop, the pace will not stop. No matter which way you take, as long as you don't deviate from your original dream, you will eventually go further and further on the right road.
Recalling that summer, when I was twelve years old, I planted the seeds of my dreams in a daze. After more than ten years of unspeakable joy, hardship and struggle, they are full of infinite vitality, quickly grow into a refreshing and tall tree, and produce a beautiful flower, which is full of excitement and ready to go.
"Dreams will produce flowers, and dreams will produce beautiful flowers." Singing the poems of my favorite poet Dai Wangshu, I have a lot of feelings in my heart. Climbing up the hill and looking at the direction of my hometown, I know that my little tree must have quietly blossomed on the hillside where the poetry meeting was held. I will wait quietly for it to bear rich fruits.