I have been reading this fiction  from Liyang's book lately.  I found that it was very interesting of this fiction, so I'll write here and share with all of you as below.  This fiction is devided into 6 Chapters.  The title of this fiction is named "The Help of a Computer."  I listen to them from the repeater every day.  I have to write one Chapter every day.

 

                                                         Chapter 1  "Every Morning"

 

    "I'm leaving now," Teresa said.

    I looked up from the newspaper.  I was in the kitchen, at the table.

    "I'm leaving," Teresa, my wife, said again.  She stood at the kitchen table and looked down at me.  I looked at my watch.  It was eight o'clock in the morning.  Time for Teresa to go to work.  She was a lawyer, a very good lawyer.  And she was beautiful.

    "What are you going to do today?" Teresa asked.  "Don't go back to bed! Why don't you go out and look for a job?"

    "Oh, no," I thought, "Eight o'clock in the morning, and she's telling me to get a job."

    "But I've got a job," I said, for about the thousandth time.  "I'm a writer."

    "But your never finish your books! You begin lots of books, but you never finish them."

    She was right.  I write by hand in small notebooks — I've got lots of notebooks under the bed — but I don't finish the books.

    And sometimes I don't work.  Sometimes I sit all day with a white piece of paper and a pen and write nothing.  Sometimes I sleep all morning and then I get up and watch television all of afternoon.

    "You need a real job," Teresa said.  "We must have more money!"

    "Why?" I asked, "Why must we have more money?"

    "We need money to buy things," she said.  "You need new clothes.  Look at your old clothes!"  I had an old pullover and jeans on.  She had expensive black clothes on.

    "There's nothing wrong with my clothes," I answered.  "My jeans are a little dirty, but I can wash them."

    "You do need new clothes!" Teresa said.  "And I want a nice car.  And we need a new television!"

    I closed my eyes.  Why was Teresa like this in the morning?

    "Open your eyes.  Don't go to sleep," Teresa said. "I'm talking to you."

    "Look," I answered.  "I'm not sleeping.  I'm thinking. Anyway, you don't read my books," I said.

    "I read the first half of Every morning." Teresa said, "I liked it."

    Oh, yes, I thought.  That was two years ago.  Teresa read the first half of one of my books called Every morning. It was about a young man in London.  She sent the book to all the big London and Hollywood filmmakers.  The filmmakers didn't answer.  And I didn't finish the book.

    "Good," I answered.

    "I think I'm going to be home late this evening," she said, "There's a lot to do at work."

    Teresa closed the door.  She didn't say goodbye.

    I stood up.  Then I saw something black on the floor.  It was Teresa's laptop computer.  I opened the door but Teresa wasn't there.  I went and sat in a chair in front of the television.  I thought about Teresa.  She was thirty years old.  I was thirty years old.  She had dark hair and eyes.  I had dark hair and eyes.  She was one meter eighty.  I was one meter eighty.  But Teresa liked to work with computers and I didn't like computers.  I liked to write with an old pen.  She made a lot of money in her job and I made nothing.

    I closed my eyes and went to sleep.