Im Sang-Jin sat in the studio of a radio station in Bangkok that catered to South Korean expats living there.
He was there for an interview and his newly published memoir was placed before him at that very moment. Sang-Jin had embarked on an extensive promotional campaign for "Delicate" through television and radio shows, interviews, and magazine covers.
"Delicate is our book club pick for November. Im Sang-Jin joins me now. I welcome you to the show," the radio host said.
"Thanks for having me."
So tell us, how was "Delicate" conceived?"
"Delicate" in my opinion, a love letter to love and I took inspiration from my personal life."
"Having read your memoir, I felt like you explored few emotions like infatuation, commitment, lust and heartache," the radio host said as she scrolled through pages of the book.
"Yes, I did," Sang-Jin admitted with a smile.
"Do you always carry your diary with you in case inspiration comes to you?"
"Yes, I do,": Sang-Jin gave a silly laugh. "I can never explain my writing process other than an idea or a thought or a particular feeling comes to me. I grab it and then I develop it into a story."
"Where were you when inspiration for your memoir struck?"
"I was in bed in my childhood bedroom at my parents house. It was very late at night. I got out of bed, opened my diary and wrote down the idea of writing a book that people who have been in love or wanting love would want to read for a long time."
"In chapter 8 you wrote about your recollection of a lost, tumultuous relationship. Please expand more on that "
"I wrote that chapter about the fact that somethings are hard to forget because the emotions involved with them were so intense."
"How was that period of your life like?"
Sang-Jin sighed deeply.
"I was experiencing a lot of different emotions at that time. Happy, free, confused, lonely, devastated, euphoric and wild. I was also tortured by memories past."
"What happens when you write?"
"When I write, I am acting on an impulse and intuition and excitement and lattes......"
"Why do you write?"
"I think as writers we want to connect and I think if you are open enough you will connect with people through your story."
"What's your favorite part about writing?"
"Getting the idea for the story is my favorite part about writing."
Shin Do-Sik looked around the waiting lounge at a Bangkok airport for an empty seat. And there were none, he concluded with disappointment.
He had given up his previous seat to an elderly gentleman and he was now on the hunt for a new seat.
Shin Do-Sik had just pulled out of a golf tournament and was heading back to Seoul. He was the first announced to be taking part, but announced yesterday that he would no longer be taking part. The main reason being that he did not like the format of play.
Do-Sik spotted an empty seat beside a young gentleman who was busy writing in his leather bound diary.
"Shin Do-Sik walked over to him.
"Hello."
Im Sang-Jin looked up.
"Yes."
"Can you please remove your suitcase so that I can have the seat?"
Do-Sik asked politely.
Sang-Jin looked at his dark green suitcase that sat majestically in the seat next to him for a moment and then answered.
"I am afraid I cannot do that," and with that he carried on with his writing.
"I beg your pardon?"
"No, sir I will not move my suitcase," Sang-Jin insisted.
Shin Do-Sik was shock to see that there were still selfish and rude people walking the surface of the earth.
"So you want me to stand?"
"Yes, if you don't mind. I mean," Sang-Jin said as he looked at Do-Sik up and down, noticing for the first time how tall and handsome he was. "You seem very fit so standing wouldn't be an issue, would it?"
And without waiting for a reply Sang-Jin continues his writing.
"You are a selfish human being and you have no manners," it came out before Do-Sik could restrain himself.
Sang-Jin looked up at him.
"That is not very nice. I mean you don't even know me?"
Do-Sik simply turned and walked away with indignation and without giving Sang-Jin a reply.
"How rude! And you have the nerve to call me rude," Sang-Jin said under his breath as he stirred at the broad shoulders of the tall stranger as he walked away.
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