Lesson 39 What every writer wants
第39課 作家之所需
First listen and then answer the following question.
聽錄音，然后回答以下問(wèn)題。
How do professional writers ignore what they were taught at school about writing?
有名的作家如何忽略掉他們?cè)趯W(xué)校所受的寫作訓(xùn)練的影響？
I have known very few writers,
我的認(rèn)識(shí)的作家寥寥無(wú)幾，
but those I have known and whom I respect, confess at once that they have little idea where they are going when they first set pen to paper.
然而凡是我所認(rèn)識(shí)和尊敬的作家，都立即承認(rèn)在他們動(dòng)筆時(shí)，不清楚要寫什么，怎么寫。
They have a character, perhaps two;
他們心中只在一個(gè)或兩個(gè)角色。
they are in that condition of eager discomfort which passes for inspiration all admit radical changes of destination once the journey has begun;
他們處于急切不安的狀態(tài)，而被當(dāng)作是靈感。他們無(wú)不承認(rèn)，一旦“旅程”開始，“目的地”常有急劇的變化。
one, to my certain knowledge, spent nine months on a novel about Kashmir,
據(jù)我所知，有位作家花了9個(gè)月的時(shí)間寫了一部關(guān)克什米爾的小說(shuō)，
then reset the whole thing in the Scottish Highlands.
后來(lái)卻把整個(gè)故事背景換成了蘇格蘭高地。
I never heard of anyone making a 'skeleton', as we were taught at school.
我從未聽說(shuō)過(guò)任何一位作家像我們?cè)趯W(xué)校那樣，動(dòng)筆前先列什么提綱。
In the breaking and remaking, in the timing interweaving, beginning afresh,
作家在剪裁修改、構(gòu)思時(shí)間、穿插情節(jié)、以至從頭重寫的過(guò)程中，
the writer comes to discern things in his material which were not consciously in his mind when he began.
會(huì)領(lǐng)悟到素材中很多東西是他剛動(dòng)筆時(shí)所未意識(shí)到的。
This organic process, often leading to moments of extraordinary self-discovery, is of an indescribable fascination.
這種有機(jī)的加工過(guò)程往往達(dá)到不尋常自我發(fā)現(xiàn)的境界，具有難以言表的構(gòu)思魅力。
A blurred image appears; he adds a brushstroke and another and it is gone
一個(gè)朦朧的形象出現(xiàn)在作家的腦海里，他左添一筆，右添一筆，形象反而消逝了；
but something was there, and he will not rest till he has captured it.
可是，好像還有什么東西存在著，不把它捕捉到，作家是不會(huì)罷休的。
Sometimes the yeast within a writer outlives a book he has written.
有時(shí)，一個(gè)作家一本書寫完了，但興奮仍不消散。
I have heard of writers who read nothing but their own books;
我聽說(shuō)一些作家，除了自己的書外，別的書一概不讀，
like adolescents they stand before the mirror,
猶如希臘神話中那位漂亮的少年，
and still cannot fathom the exact outline of the vision before them.
站在鏡前，不能辨認(rèn)自身的真面目。
For the same reason, writers talk interminably about their own books,
由于這個(gè)原因，作家喋喋不休地談?wù)撟约旱臅?BR> winkling out hidden meanings, super-imposing new ones,
挖掘其隱晦的含義，
begging response from those around them.
詢問(wèn)周圍人的反應(yīng)。
Of course a writer doing this is misunderstood: he might as well try to explain a crime or a love affair.
作家如此行事當(dāng)然被人誤解。他還不如給人講一個(gè)犯罪案件或一個(gè)戀愛(ài)故事。
He is also, incidentally, an unforgivable bore.
順便說(shuō)一句，他也是個(gè)不可饒恕的令人厭煩的人。
This temptation to cover the distance between himself and the reader,
這種企圖消除自己和讀者之間距離的作法，
to study his image in the sight of those who do not know him, can be his undoing: he has begun to write to please.
企圖用不了解自己的人的觀點(diǎn)來(lái)研究自己塑造的形象的作法，會(huì)導(dǎo)致作家的毀滅，因?yàn)樗呀?jīng)開始為取悅他人而寫作了。
A young English writer made the pertinent observation a year or two back
一兩年前，一位年輕的英國(guó)作家發(fā)表了中肯的看法。
that the talent goes into the first draft, and the art into the drafts that follow.
他說(shuō)，初稿是才華，以后各稿是藝術(shù)。
For this reason also the writer, like any other artist,
也是由于這個(gè)原因，作家同任何藝術(shù)家一樣，
has no resting place, no crowd or movement in which he may take comfort,
找不到可休息的場(chǎng)所，找不到伙伴和活動(dòng)使自己得到安逸。
no judgment from outside which can replace the judgment from within.
任何局外人的判斷也比不上他內(nèi)心的正確判斷。
A writer makes order out of the anarchy of his heart;
一旦作家從內(nèi)心的紊亂中理出頭緒，
he submits himself to a more ruthless discipline than any critic dreamed of,
就應(yīng)該按任何評(píng)論家想像不到的無(wú)情規(guī)范約束自己寫作；
and when he flirts with fame, he is taking time off from living with himself,
當(dāng)他沽名釣譽(yù)時(shí)，他就脫離了自我生活，
from the search for what his world contains at its inmost point.
脫離了對(duì)自己靈魂深處世界的探索。
第39課 作家之所需
First listen and then answer the following question.
聽錄音，然后回答以下問(wèn)題。
How do professional writers ignore what they were taught at school about writing?
有名的作家如何忽略掉他們?cè)趯W(xué)校所受的寫作訓(xùn)練的影響？
I have known very few writers,
我的認(rèn)識(shí)的作家寥寥無(wú)幾，
but those I have known and whom I respect, confess at once that they have little idea where they are going when they first set pen to paper.
然而凡是我所認(rèn)識(shí)和尊敬的作家，都立即承認(rèn)在他們動(dòng)筆時(shí)，不清楚要寫什么，怎么寫。
They have a character, perhaps two;
他們心中只在一個(gè)或兩個(gè)角色。
they are in that condition of eager discomfort which passes for inspiration all admit radical changes of destination once the journey has begun;
他們處于急切不安的狀態(tài)，而被當(dāng)作是靈感。他們無(wú)不承認(rèn)，一旦“旅程”開始，“目的地”常有急劇的變化。
one, to my certain knowledge, spent nine months on a novel about Kashmir,
據(jù)我所知，有位作家花了9個(gè)月的時(shí)間寫了一部關(guān)克什米爾的小說(shuō)，
then reset the whole thing in the Scottish Highlands.
后來(lái)卻把整個(gè)故事背景換成了蘇格蘭高地。
I never heard of anyone making a 'skeleton', as we were taught at school.
我從未聽說(shuō)過(guò)任何一位作家像我們?cè)趯W(xué)校那樣，動(dòng)筆前先列什么提綱。
In the breaking and remaking, in the timing interweaving, beginning afresh,
作家在剪裁修改、構(gòu)思時(shí)間、穿插情節(jié)、以至從頭重寫的過(guò)程中，
the writer comes to discern things in his material which were not consciously in his mind when he began.
會(huì)領(lǐng)悟到素材中很多東西是他剛動(dòng)筆時(shí)所未意識(shí)到的。
This organic process, often leading to moments of extraordinary self-discovery, is of an indescribable fascination.
這種有機(jī)的加工過(guò)程往往達(dá)到不尋常自我發(fā)現(xiàn)的境界，具有難以言表的構(gòu)思魅力。
A blurred image appears; he adds a brushstroke and another and it is gone
一個(gè)朦朧的形象出現(xiàn)在作家的腦海里，他左添一筆，右添一筆，形象反而消逝了；
but something was there, and he will not rest till he has captured it.
可是，好像還有什么東西存在著，不把它捕捉到，作家是不會(huì)罷休的。
Sometimes the yeast within a writer outlives a book he has written.
有時(shí)，一個(gè)作家一本書寫完了，但興奮仍不消散。
I have heard of writers who read nothing but their own books;
我聽說(shuō)一些作家，除了自己的書外，別的書一概不讀，
like adolescents they stand before the mirror,
猶如希臘神話中那位漂亮的少年，
and still cannot fathom the exact outline of the vision before them.
站在鏡前，不能辨認(rèn)自身的真面目。
For the same reason, writers talk interminably about their own books,
由于這個(gè)原因，作家喋喋不休地談?wù)撟约旱臅?BR> winkling out hidden meanings, super-imposing new ones,
挖掘其隱晦的含義，
begging response from those around them.
詢問(wèn)周圍人的反應(yīng)。
Of course a writer doing this is misunderstood: he might as well try to explain a crime or a love affair.
作家如此行事當(dāng)然被人誤解。他還不如給人講一個(gè)犯罪案件或一個(gè)戀愛(ài)故事。
He is also, incidentally, an unforgivable bore.
順便說(shuō)一句，他也是個(gè)不可饒恕的令人厭煩的人。
This temptation to cover the distance between himself and the reader,
這種企圖消除自己和讀者之間距離的作法，
to study his image in the sight of those who do not know him, can be his undoing: he has begun to write to please.
企圖用不了解自己的人的觀點(diǎn)來(lái)研究自己塑造的形象的作法，會(huì)導(dǎo)致作家的毀滅，因?yàn)樗呀?jīng)開始為取悅他人而寫作了。
A young English writer made the pertinent observation a year or two back
一兩年前，一位年輕的英國(guó)作家發(fā)表了中肯的看法。
that the talent goes into the first draft, and the art into the drafts that follow.
他說(shuō)，初稿是才華，以后各稿是藝術(shù)。
For this reason also the writer, like any other artist,
也是由于這個(gè)原因，作家同任何藝術(shù)家一樣，
has no resting place, no crowd or movement in which he may take comfort,
找不到可休息的場(chǎng)所，找不到伙伴和活動(dòng)使自己得到安逸。
no judgment from outside which can replace the judgment from within.
任何局外人的判斷也比不上他內(nèi)心的正確判斷。
A writer makes order out of the anarchy of his heart;
一旦作家從內(nèi)心的紊亂中理出頭緒，
he submits himself to a more ruthless discipline than any critic dreamed of,
就應(yīng)該按任何評(píng)論家想像不到的無(wú)情規(guī)范約束自己寫作；
and when he flirts with fame, he is taking time off from living with himself,
當(dāng)他沽名釣譽(yù)時(shí)，他就脫離了自我生活，
from the search for what his world contains at its inmost point.
脫離了對(duì)自己靈魂深處世界的探索。