Along with the weekend, comes the moment to be more serious.  (Jun In) – Along with the weekend, comes the moment to be more serious. It could sound beneath someone of my age with a University student's life but that's the truth. When you write, there's no resting moments. You have to be always fully focused and to never let anything go. Even when inspiration doesn't seem to be here with you, you have to try to do something somehow. The most difficult is to get it started.

Just because classes are overt for a few days doesn't mean that the concentration have to vanish away. I can even say this is the best moment to generate, and generate again. The final result doesn't really matter in the first place. The most important is to write. After that, you can refine, correct, shed off your text. It's a bit like silversmithery : first, a rough diamond, then the cut, the finish and finally, the precious gem is ready to get sold. The only difference is that someone else will come after you and strike out what's not working. You rarely get a diamond at the first move of you pencil.

I especially like each step of the work. There have been times when I have drag my feet to go to my poetry club back in High School but it was because I didn't really liked poetry and that was all there is close to my passion out there. In the city of Robert Bloch, Edgar Rice Burroughs, Michael Crichton, Philip K. , Nella Larsen, Jonathan Latimer, Alison Lurie, and Sidney Sheldon, you could have expected better... Unfortunately for me, my school was crowded with science lovers and literature was a little dispised, which explains the lack of links to it. However, that's different since I've been living here. Each step of the writing process got its little personal thing I'm into.

There are not only my works for the institute that I have to do on the weekends. It's obvious that the money from my scholarship along with the little sent by my mother are not enough to get freedom. When you're my age, and living in a city such as Seoul, having barely enough to buy food and notebooks, it's not really fun. To get more money for me, I got a little job. It's called like that, but that's slicker than your average little jobs.

One of my teachers had that very interesting job offer and told it to his students. It was a magazine looking for budding writers to liven up their editorial with various novellas or episode stories. We have been many to have tried to get chosen but a great number of male candidates have given up when they discovered it was a women's magazine with an audicen of young girls aged between eighteen and twenty-five. The editor-in-chief yet haven't had made an announcement offered exclusively to girls... Representents of the male category were welcomed, especially because that magazine was regarded as avant-gardist, because it did not talked about society problems of genders.

Personnally, it never bothered me to apply for such a magazine, even if I'm a boy. All I want is to be able to write, to be read and that my writings would be enjoyed, no matter where I could be published. I have seen this as an amazing springboard, especially because the editorial board gives us a great freedom. I have brought with me what I considered to be my best novellas, but the competition was tough, because the announcement have been sent to various universities. There were very good writers among the candidates. I have thought I would never be take on. We have been three, two very talented girls and me. To be honest, each time I'm in front of my blank page on the weekend, the one I'm typing on my computer for the magazine, there's an enormous pressure on my shoulders.

I'm not ashamed to sign with my name on this magazine, oppositely to what many students have asked. I don't change anything to my writing style or to what I want to write just because the target public is young girls. And, I've got three sisters and my mother is the one managing everything at home and since I've been a little boy, I have learned that a women universe is not that different of a males universe.

For all those reasons linked to work, weekends aren't exactly the right moment for me to go errands through the city. I like being out with my friends and work has the priority on everything. It's work first and the rest after that. Basically, on the Friday nights like tonight, I sit at my desk and I write until I go to slee^p, with a meal I quickly ate at the same time.

It's necessary to be disciplined if you want to persevere. I won't achieve my goals one day if I take any moment I can to have fun. Because meanwhile, more hard-working than me are wearing themselves out doing their best to come closer even in the slightest part to the aim that is also theirs.

I never write with the television on. There's no better attention diverter than this small box - the youth hostel televisions still are cathode-ray tubes ones. If sometimes I pick up one or two ideas from it, I never turn the button "on" at the same time than my computer's. On the other hand, music sometimes help me to be more productive. Not to bother my neighbors, since the walls in here are not that thick, I listen to it with a headphone on my ears.

My novella is about a boy who absolutely wants to find back the little girl he once was in love with as a child. When he does, he discovers she has changed a lot. She's the headmaster of a motorcycle girly gang, she's aggressive... He wonders what could have made her changed so much. My aim is to avoid clichés. There's nothing worst than a story with worn out resources and preconceived images. The whole difficulty resides in it.

I'm only at the very first phase. All my ideas aren't clear yet and I sometimes let my characters bring me through the plot. I will lay off everything latter and will make it turn, little by little, into the thing I want it to be like. I need a lot of concentration and the least small unusual thing could disturb me. Just like right now... Sounds like a beating without any logic pointing under the melody I'm listening to. I never heard it before.

Just in case, I'm pushing "pause" and take off my headphones. I need a whole minute to understand it has nothing to do with my music. Someone's knocking on my door. I take a look at my cellphone screen. How odd... The youth hostel's manager isn't there anymore around that time and he's the only one person likely to knock at my door. Maybe I'm wrong, maybe it's from the next door. After all, it wouldn't be the first time someone would step into his room the rough way, making everything slam and throwing oneself on the bed, and it would make me mix up the noises. I'm waiting one more seconds.

No doubt. Someone's really knocking on my door. Here I am obliged to leave my work where it is. I'm not quite encouraged as I'm stepping to the threshold. The youth hostel entrance is secured by a door code but you never know... As most of the time, residents don't really know each other, someone could have let a foreign person enter in. There are thieves would like to strip the tourists... Why not in there?

That's how I'm thankful towards my mother for having send me to those Tae Kwon Do lessons. I thought for a while it was ridiculous to force myself to go to those martial art classes under with excuse that it's a tradition for males of the family - tradition which also got to the girls of the family, since my second sister does it as well - but today, I understand. Whatever might come my way, I'll know how to defend myself.

Unless she suddenly decided to become a youth hostel burglar, the person standing in front me me when I'm opening the door doesn't make it necessary for me to use one of my high kicks. It's only my unknown neighbor and at the sight of the look on her face, I can guess she's got troubles. I have to admit it : I'm glad Na Rae isn't with me this time.

For all that, the fact she's coming to knock on the door of my room remains a bit odd. I'm politely smiling... As long as I don't know more about it, it's the least I can do but I'm feeling a bit stupid when she's greeting me with a bow. Oh yes... After I have scratched the back of my head, I'm bowing as well to greet her. Some habits are harder to take...

"Do you have a problem?"

I supposed those physical greetings would exempt me from saying hello aloud but once again, I'm feeling a bit stupid when she's adding a "annyeong haseyo" before answering my question. In some kind of way...

"I'm... sorry. Maybe you're in the middle fo something," she says seeing my computer on and my ipod on the desk above my shoulders.

"I was working but don't worry, it's going to be alright. Is there anything wrong?"

"I guess that's the least you can say. It's pretty embarrassing but I don't really have the choice. I... forgot my keys inside my room, like a moron."

Ouch. To avoid that what's inside our rooms would be stolen while the residents aren't there, each door is equipped with a special system which makes it impossible to open it from the inside if you don't have the key. Once, I have tried it to check out whether that system was reliable or not. I have been obliged to call the manager so he would help me to open the door. It's resisting to anything. Everything maybe does not work perfectly in here but this, at least, is devilishly effective. (it was true in the Korean youth hostel I have been with my best friend last summer and she did forgot her keys inside -- True story ---- Writer's note)

I can understand what's the problem... But what is she expecting from me?

"It's bothersome."

"Yes, bothersome... I know the manager isn't there around that time but maybe if I can call him, he would come. As you're the only one I know a little around here, I... Well..."

She's sighing. Looks like what she's trying to ask me is very complicated for her. Even if comparing is wrong, I can't help but wondering how would an American girl have behaved in such a situation. For sure, it would have been more explicit. At the same time, it's kind of charming, Korean baked hesitations...

"I would like to know if you would lend your phone to me. Mine is in my room. Obviously... And the record with the rules and the manager's number... Is it bothersome if I borrow yours?"

Obviously, too. It's a record covered with plastic where everything that's forbidden in the hostel is written, along with some other things, like the fact there's always free kimchi and instant noodles in the kitchen. The manager's number is written on it as well. When you don't have it, you're obliged to go down the lower floor to find a pamphlet to everyone's attention. The problem is that the pamphlet is behind a door with a door code that's different from ours.

I understand it better now. Indeed, she doesn't have the choice. Either she asks it to me or she askes it to someone she doesn't know at all. The ajummas living here are nice but they never open their doors to anyone. Once they're locked up in their rooms, they're locked up in their rooms.

I can't see why would I refuse to help her. It's nothing but a phone call, after all. I can help her, and, it's not as if her company was unpleast to me. It would even be the exact opposite. I'm moving aside to let her stepping in.

"It's not bothersome at all... Wait, I'm getting all this for you."

She's staying at the threshold and slowly rocks herself back and forth, as I'm looking through my desk to find her salvation. There's no problem to find back my cellphone... When it comes to the famous record, however, it's a little more delicate. I have piled up notebooks where I could on the desk. It's small, and there's already the television post on it, along with my computer and everything I have to keep at my reach, just in case, like a thesaurus dictionnary and a Korean grammar book I keep to make sure I wouldn't be mistaking about the different languages levels (which are my highest difficulties since always). So, obviously, it takes some time.

From the corner of my eyes, I'm watching her. She doesn't move and is patiently waiting, yet I can see her eyes wandering. Sometimes, she's looking at me searching through the desk and other moments, she's studying my room innocently, at least the little she can see of it. I would like my character to catch her attention but she's surely only bloody tired of waiting on me.

The record finally in hands, I'm proudly shaking it in front of her before getting it along with my cellphone, right between her hands. The least I can brush from it, I can feel how soft it is.

"Thanks. Thanks a lot. I will owe you one, really..."

She doesn't stop bowing and each time she does, I'm feeling the need to do the same. Quickly, she's typing the number. Her nails are polished in light pink. All I can hear from the conversations are snippets. She's explaining her problems to the manager and after that, there are only "yes" and "I understand" through her lips. She had put gloss on it, light pink as well. Maybe I shouldn't be looking at her this way. At the end of the conversation, she's giving me my phone back but her expression doesn't look reassured. Right the opposite, even... I suppose the answer didn't meet her expectations.

"So... Will the manager come and help you?"

"He cannot do that. He's home and won't be able to come back until tomorrow morning. I told him I would go my some friends' house..."

I'm lowering my eyes to her feet. She's wearing her sleepers on. Without our room key, she can't have her shoes locket's key neither. She's dressed in a light pink dress with a slight white wool cardigan. No bags, no wallets. It's going to be hard to move through Seoul in such conditons.

"How will you get there? Do you want me to lend you some money for a cab?"

"Oh no, I can't do that. We don't know each other that well... And with this, I... Well, my friends aren't contactable."

"What are you going to do, then?"

"I will find something. I can sleep in the corridor... or maybe on the bench of the kitchen. I will find something, sure. Thanks for helping me."

She's bowing again. I can't let her do that all. I haven't been raised that way... When someone is in need, the least one can do is help. No one can sleep in those narrow corridors or on that rock-hard bench in the kitchen. She's going to be very cold without any sheets to cover herself with that, only wearing a dress and a cardigan. I don't have much to offer, but the little I've got, I'm alright to share it with her today. And it will be the perfect occasion for us to learn to know each other.

But I would better say it the right way so she wouldn't mistaken me with a little ert trying to take an advantage from her distress.

"You won't do that. There's nothing more uncomfortable. Listen... I know we don't know each other that well and you would have all the reasons of the world not to trust me but I can't let you in this situation without helping you. I've got a sleeping bag in my stuff. You can have my bed for tonight and I will sleep on the floor in the sleeping bag..."

Soon, she's appearing to be incredibly embarrassed by my suggestion. I can clearly see her blushing. I know I've got a lot of nerves. Even in the United States, a girl would have found it sounded weird and would have not trusted me... Even if I know I'm not looking menacing, I can understand she's got hesitations about being all alone with a stranger in a room that is barely six square meters.

"I can't accept that. It's really bad... I'm going to find a plan. You're very nie, thanks."

"Are you sure about it? I'm offering you with no ulterior motives, I promise. If you really don't trust me, I can lend you a knife to defend yourself, just in case."

I have no problems to eat with chopsticks and spoons but I'm more used to the west-style cutleries so I brought it back to here to get some of my meals easier. That knife of mine, I'm not sure it would make a good defensive weapon but if it can reassure her...

I can see she's got hesitations. A part of her surely wants to accept, because she knows the advantages she would get by saying yes but another part is still not trusting me and might feel embarrassed to get into my private life. I know all I need is to insist a little more for her to stop refusing my help.

Tu n'as nulle part où aller. Il fait encore frais la nuit, en plus de ça... Si tu dors dans le couloir ou pire, dans la cuisine, tu risques de tomber malade. Tu peux avoir confiance en moi...

"I don't know. It's so embarrassing... I'm afraid I'm disturbing you, you were working, you said."

"If that's the only problem, don't worry. I've got nothing special to do except writing so I can do it tomorrow all day long."

"Are you a writer?"

Looks like I have just scored a point. She suddenly seems more interested. There's surely something to deepen here. Since she's got more hesitations because of good-manners than because of a real mistrust, maybe I've got the opportunity to make tip the scales in my favor thanks to this. There is no way she would sleep in the corridors anyway. Even if she refuses, I will come and pick her a little later to ask her if she had changed her mind.

"I'm studying at the SIA, creative writing section... Do you know about it?"

"Of course I do. I'm also doing art studies. In some kind of way..."

"What is your discipline?"

"Singing and dancing. And I'm trying to improve at piano as well. Well, all that..."

Not realizing, as we're chatting, she has stepped inside my room. Of course, she just have made a few steps forward but I guess this means she agrees wit my offer. It's better than sleeping on the floor... And, she saw I'm not going to jump on her. I'm closing the door behind her and invites her to sit. On my bed, there are issues of the magazine I'm working for, that I'm taking off in a hurry. I might be comfortable with it, I don't want her to be mistaking about me. When we will know each other better, I will explain her. But for now...

"I don't even know your name, by the way..."

"Yes, we've been living in the same place for so long, it's a bit stupid. I'm Han Mi Yeon."

"Moon Jun In. We're doing it all the wrong way."

And now we have introduced ourselves for real and that she's in my room, I'm realizing what's inside is not pretty presantable. I'm not the one to contradict the cliches about boys' rooms. Unfortunately, I'm the kind to let my socks lying around anywhere I let it, by the way, I'm quickly spotting a few white balls on the floor, that I'm picking up in a hurry to put it back into the drawers of my little closet. I also have to put back the dirty jeans, to throw the empty cans I have dranked when I arrived in the dustbin, to put affairs on my desk in order... Mi Yeon is looking at me with an amused face. It's as if the roles had been inverted. This time, I'm the one embarrassed.

I'm turning off my computer and sits next to her on the bed. There are no other room, anyway. I'm realizing that if the idead was very chivalrous from me, in the end, the situation isn't that comfortable. We barely know each other, and despite my few past girlfriends (even if I would better call it flirts), I'm not that at ease with a pretty girl I appreciate who's forced to spend the night in my room. I have to say it's not the kind of thinks which happens everyday. To break the ice more easily, I'm about to turn the TV on but as I'm getting up to push the button, she's stopping me :

"What if you tell me about what you're writing instead?"

This, I wasn't expecting...