我时时感到,一个年过而立的人,在这个时代还要把写作放置在生命价值的核心位置上,是需要巨大的勇气的。写作的欢乐已经淡薄,焦虑却在骤增。茫然四顾,仿佛自己是被一种神秘的力量骤然间抛在了这个残酷的战场上。是的,残酷。因为敌人看不见摸不着,如同鲁迅先生笔下的“无物之阵”。在“无物之阵”中谈论自己的创作,我深感艰难,因为在回望之际是一片纷繁的森林。我印象最深的,反而是上大学时对小说的大量阅读,那几乎到了恐怖的程度。读诗是非常节省时间的,目光短暂地停留在几行字上,心灵便做出了体验。读小说就不是了,小说是时间的艺术,它蕴含的一切元素都得在时间 From time to time, I feel that it takes tremendous courage for a man who has stood by for years to place writing at the core of the value of life in this age. The joy of writing has been weak, anxiety is on the rise. At a loss, as if he were suddenly thrown into the cruel battlefield by a mysterious force. Yes, cruel. Because the enemy can not see or touch, as Mr. Lu Xun’s “no matter array.” I’m struggling to talk about my own creation in “The Matrix”, because when I looked back I was in troubled forest. My deepest impression, instead, was a great amount of reading of novels when I was in college, almost to the point of terror. Reading poetry is very time-saving, eyes briefly stay in a few lines of words, the heart will make an experience. No novel to read, the novel is the art of time, it contains all the elements must be in time