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Entry tags:
life is written like a storybook
Title: life is written like a storybook
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Character(s): Poe, Odasaku
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 600
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: On a trip to Japan, Poe talks about writing with a stranger.
Notes: That's a combination of characters.
Poe doesn’t travel much, but any author worth their salt will tell you about the necessities of research.
He could have Googled Japan, Japanese cuture, Japanese day-to-day living, all the photos of Japan he could possibly want and still not get a clear picture of the setting for his next novel. Maybe he’s making this harder for himself by setting a mystery in a foreign country to begin with, but he wants to make some of the clues rely on knowledge of Japan. Not all of them! That would be too cruel to his largely British readerbase. Just enough that the ones who pick up on them can feel good about themselves.
So, Japan. Now that he’s here, though, that means he has to leave his hotel room and actually experience the country.
He starts small, not in Tokyo but in Yokohama. He almost doesn’t have to talk to anyone on group tours, nor rely on his clumsy Japanese. He gets to see some of the city’s history. It’s doable, if nerve-wracking.
On his way back from one of these tours, he passes a bookstore, and curiosity compels him to at least stop and enter. His Japanese isn’t good enough to actually read anything sold here, but he’d like to at least see what’s popular.
He starts with the mysteries, of course. A man is examining the back cover of a book that looks oddly familiar…
“That’s mine!” he exclaims in surprise, in English. The man looks up at him, and he hurries to piece together some Japanese. “I’m sorry - I wrote that.”
“I speak English,” the man says, in English, and Poe relaxes infinitesimally. “It’s easier for me to appreciate the series in Japanese.”
“So the translation is good?” Poe asks. He’s only had one series translated in the language. “My publisher says it was, but it’s hard for me to tell…”
The man nods. “You almost can’t tell that it’s a translation.” He pauses, holding up the book he’d been looking over. “In the first book in this series, is it supposed to be vague whether the culprit’s son knew about it?”
“It’s intentional,” Poe says. “In the first draft he was an accomplice, but I decided that it was more compelling if he was a good person who might have been looking the other way because it was his father. The ambiguity makes the reader think more about it.”
“Ambiguity makes you think more about it,” the man repeats, thoughtful. “I’ll remember that.”
“Do you write at all?” Poe asks, while already preparing himself for the usual answers. ‘I’d love to, but I never have the time’, ‘I want to, I just haven’t gotten the right idea’. Those kinds of cop-out answers.
“I can’t yet,” the man says. “I don’t have the qualifications to write.”
“Qualifications?” Poe asks.
“Killers can’t write about human lives,” the man says, and Poe doesn’t think even for a second to doubt that this is what he actually believes.
“Oh! Oh,” Poe says, because he really has no idea what to say about that. After a moment, he asks, “What’s your name? I won’t tell the police.”
“Oda Sakunosuke.”
“If I ever see a book by Oda Sakunosuke, I’ll read it.”
Because someone who values the art of writing so much that they would really think about whether or not they’re worthy of putting pen to paper surely would take great care in what they had to say. Killer or not, Poe is sure that whatever this man publishes someday will be a fascinating read.
Oda looks the tiniest bit embarrassed. “...Thanks.”
Fandom: Bungou Stray Dogs
Character(s): Poe, Odasaku
Pairing(s): None
Genre: Fluff
Word Count: 600
Rating: PG
Warnings: None
Summary: On a trip to Japan, Poe talks about writing with a stranger.
Notes: That's a combination of characters.
Poe doesn’t travel much, but any author worth their salt will tell you about the necessities of research.
He could have Googled Japan, Japanese cuture, Japanese day-to-day living, all the photos of Japan he could possibly want and still not get a clear picture of the setting for his next novel. Maybe he’s making this harder for himself by setting a mystery in a foreign country to begin with, but he wants to make some of the clues rely on knowledge of Japan. Not all of them! That would be too cruel to his largely British readerbase. Just enough that the ones who pick up on them can feel good about themselves.
So, Japan. Now that he’s here, though, that means he has to leave his hotel room and actually experience the country.
He starts small, not in Tokyo but in Yokohama. He almost doesn’t have to talk to anyone on group tours, nor rely on his clumsy Japanese. He gets to see some of the city’s history. It’s doable, if nerve-wracking.
On his way back from one of these tours, he passes a bookstore, and curiosity compels him to at least stop and enter. His Japanese isn’t good enough to actually read anything sold here, but he’d like to at least see what’s popular.
He starts with the mysteries, of course. A man is examining the back cover of a book that looks oddly familiar…
“That’s mine!” he exclaims in surprise, in English. The man looks up at him, and he hurries to piece together some Japanese. “I’m sorry - I wrote that.”
“I speak English,” the man says, in English, and Poe relaxes infinitesimally. “It’s easier for me to appreciate the series in Japanese.”
“So the translation is good?” Poe asks. He’s only had one series translated in the language. “My publisher says it was, but it’s hard for me to tell…”
The man nods. “You almost can’t tell that it’s a translation.” He pauses, holding up the book he’d been looking over. “In the first book in this series, is it supposed to be vague whether the culprit’s son knew about it?”
“It’s intentional,” Poe says. “In the first draft he was an accomplice, but I decided that it was more compelling if he was a good person who might have been looking the other way because it was his father. The ambiguity makes the reader think more about it.”
“Ambiguity makes you think more about it,” the man repeats, thoughtful. “I’ll remember that.”
“Do you write at all?” Poe asks, while already preparing himself for the usual answers. ‘I’d love to, but I never have the time’, ‘I want to, I just haven’t gotten the right idea’. Those kinds of cop-out answers.
“I can’t yet,” the man says. “I don’t have the qualifications to write.”
“Qualifications?” Poe asks.
“Killers can’t write about human lives,” the man says, and Poe doesn’t think even for a second to doubt that this is what he actually believes.
“Oh! Oh,” Poe says, because he really has no idea what to say about that. After a moment, he asks, “What’s your name? I won’t tell the police.”
“Oda Sakunosuke.”
“If I ever see a book by Oda Sakunosuke, I’ll read it.”
Because someone who values the art of writing so much that they would really think about whether or not they’re worthy of putting pen to paper surely would take great care in what they had to say. Killer or not, Poe is sure that whatever this man publishes someday will be a fascinating read.
Oda looks the tiniest bit embarrassed. “...Thanks.”