It is always pleasant to imagine what it would be like after gaining something you want, or after accomplishing something you wish to do. If I follow the stem of the thought, I sometimes find myself smiling alone. I may fall into the details and sit there blankly, yet still feel good. This is different from planning for something that will actually happen, making a schedule, or preparing countermeasures in case things do not work out. Above all, it is a thought done while feeling good, so it leaves me refreshed and clears my head.
I follow one line and think, what if this happens? Then I can do this. Yet even within the same imagination, it sometimes goes in different directions. That is no problem. It is only imagination. And whichever direction it takes, it is enjoyable.
For me, that imagination is “a life of only writing.” While going to work, I can write down notes whenever thoughts come, as much as I want, and write from those notes whenever I have time. In that sense, half of it has already come true. Then, after listening to my wife’s advice and posting my writing online, I climbed one step, and by challenging myself on Brunch, I climbed another. I do not know what meaning that will have. Yes, I do not know. Even if I am recognized, I do not know how long such recognition can last in a fast media-centered popular culture that sweeps instantly this way and that. In writing, I do not even know what the standard of recognition is. And when I read blog posts or Brunch essays that appear through various search terms, I often feel good after reading them, so there is already enough writing out there to make me think that writing something people will read is a competition, and I am glad I do not have that as my goal.
I know I should be grateful that I can write each time like this. I also know I should not take for granted the fact that, when I want to write, something I want to turn into writing pops out so readily. I am also fortunate that I do not have to make a living by writing, so I can write with an easier heart. Still, a life spent only writing lies at the very end of my dream. If solving the problem of making a living by writing is excluded, I already feel fully that this would be the most ideal condition. But putting that condition aside, simply writing every day and doing no other work looks good in itself.
When I imagine that, I am always in Singapore. My mind skips past paying more than a million won for an airplane ticket, folding myself into a plane for about nine hours, fumbling through English conversation at immigration because it has been so long, and taking the subway to the hotel. It has already arrived at the hotel.
There is much to see in Singapore. More than anything else, simply walking the streets feels good. I am not talking about cleanliness or order. Since most people are diligently walking to work, it feels like Seoul with only the background changed. Being in the lodging during the day in such a place reminds me, even in an unfamiliar landscape, that I am on vacation.
I stayed in Singapore for about two weeks on a business trip in 2023. The lodging where I stayed was very good for reading and writing. The room was very narrow, and the bathroom was too small for two people to shower together. It was so narrow that I did not even think it would have been better if there had been a bathtub. The bed filled the room, and if one person stood sideways beside it, another could not pass. Right there, against the wall, was a desk. The wall beside the bed was entirely glass, so the scenery entered the eye all at once. It was exactly the kind of place where I could bury my head at the desk and write or read, then turn my head to the right and take in the whole view. Of course that was possible because the room was on a high floor, but even on a lower floor, I think it would have been fun to watch people walking and buses passing.
In such a place, I would read at the desk, roll around and read on the bed, lie on my stomach and look at my phone, then sit back at the desk and write on a typewriter with determination. If something I wanted to write appeared, I would keep writing for three or four hours, then go down for dinner.
One might say that if I am going all the way there only to sit in a hotel room and read books, I could do the same at home. Thinking about it carefully, I suppose it would not be bad to make my office, or my room itself, into that sort of structure. Singapore can remain, for now, a place I visit in my imagination.
Original Korean article: 글만 쓰면서 살 수 있게 된다면