Since the end of the 20th century in my past life, the literary scene has been suffering from an intense writer drought.

There are a lot of reasons for this, but there’s one claim that has been consistently raised for over two decades: “All the talented writers are fleeing to become broadcast screenwriters!”

Now, trying to dispute that is tough. After all, many broadcast writers are initially lured by the flashy allure of  television, and just because someone doesn’t become a broadcast writer doesn’t mean they’ll necessarily become a novelist. Plus, considering that one of the roots of literature is Greek tragedy, the notion that “I don’t write novels because I’m busy screenwriting!” strikes me as a bit silly.

Adding to that, one of the main sources of income for 21st-century Korean novelists has been from film adaptation rights.

Honestly, whether or not something actually gets turned into a film, broadcast stations buy up those adaptation rights, and then it gets molded into a screenplay by a writer who’s done this many times. In the 21st century, the film industry was more of a cozy companion to literature rather than stiff competition battling for supremacy.

(On a surprisingly positive note, Korean novelists had a serious edge over foreign writers when it came to these adaptation profits. Why? Because Korean broadcasters were in a fierce race to buy up every possible adaptation right to secure content. In most countries, apart from so-called ‘bestsellers’, ‘book income = royalties’ is the whole enchilada. If a book doesn’t sell, you’re left twiddling your thumbs.)

Anyway.

In cases of competitive dramas or high-quality films, they had a pretty direct and effective marketing impact on ‘literature.’

That being said…

“We’re planning to release the movie and the book simultaneously, with massive publicity!”
“Absolutely! We’ll get right on it!”

It was all about the “original hype”.

Publishers would sell books by hitching a ride on the marketing power of  TV dramas, branding them as “the original work of the hottest new show,” or they’d adapt the screenplay back into a book format and sell it as a collectible for fans.

‘Simultaneous release’ was just one of those marketing tricks.

“Let’s put your publicity skills to the test! Newspapers, flyers, publisher banners—spend away!”
“Uh, what?”

“This could be a turning point for cinema culture, let’s go all out! We’ll collaborate with an artist support foundation, involve other writers, and secure some exclusive publicity!”
“Uh… is a movie really that important?”

Mr. Kindersley is a businessman who can probably appreciate a good magical theater show.

Given his influence in the cultural and artistic community, he wouldn’t even need to buy a ticket; he could just pull a VIP seat from thin air. So, he looked a bit puzzled about the lengths we were going for a “movie.”

To be honest, I’m not the biggest movie buff either.

“The growth of the whole arts scene is tied to literature, you know. Since the essence of these reproducible arts is all about ‘content,’ you could even say screenplays are a type of literature,” I explained.
“Oh, I see!”

The reason I set up this marketing for the new movie of the White Tower is because—well, it just makes me feel good.

Seeing a literary original’s success reflected in a movie or drama—it’s a bit refreshing, like a cool breeze. It might be a slightly twisted feeling, but for a literature lover like me, the fact that ‘literature’ can steer the content industry of video media with its weight is a sort of ‘self-gratification’.

As we reach the 21st century, where fewer people glance at literature, its ‘content capability’ remains one of those rare strengths it can still boast about.

Of course, even that’s been fading little by little in this century…

Still, I genuinely believe this ‘content-ness’ is one of literature’s finest strengths. Even if times change and nobody reads anymore, it’s a stronghold that never withers. Being a literary translator, I often find myself drawn to ‘stories’ rather than mere ‘sentences.’

“So, I’m counting on you, Mr. President!”
“Absolutely! Leave it to me, dear Author! I’ll make this project succeed, even if I break my bones and smash my body to pieces!”

“…Take it easy. Really, take it easy.”

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One of the greatest fairy tales ever written is finally published in the Empire!

“Finally! A new fairytale from Homeroth!”
“I wonder if it’s going to be like Alice in Wonderland? Can’t wait!”

Homeroth had a ton of works, but his “Fairy Tales” was the one that really stole people’s hearts.

The Little Prince, Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland, Through the Looking-Glass…

And now, The Wizard of Oz gets to join that illustrious list. Parents would sit on the bed, reading fairytales until their children dozed off.

But this time, one more thing was added to that daily routine.

“But what is this? A movie…?”
“Well, since they are doing something at the theater, I guess they’re talking about a play? Looks like they’re staging it at the same time as The Wizard of Oz comes out.”
“Oh, then we can’t miss the first performance. Let’s go!”

The movie.

A whole new way of enjoying culture at the White Tower, the Filanelgia Theater.

Some people knew what a movie was, but most folks had no clue what the term ‘movie’ even meant.

So they flocked to the theater, full of curiosity and expectations about what a “movie” could be.

“What’s that? A wall painted pure white…?”
“It looks like a solid curtain. Are they going to use magic to show us some shadow play or something?”
“Uh-huh.”

Settling into my seat, I was faced with the bright white screen instead of a stage.

Soon, the theater lights dimmed.

With the sound of the projector whirring to life, the title “The Wizard of Oz” appeared on screen.

“…Huh?”

And then—

Before their eyes.

Without a single illusion or magical trick.

The magic began to unfold.

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[“If I had a heart, it would guide me, and I’d never have to do wrong. But since I have no heart, I must always be careful.”]

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The success of the movie “The Wizard of Oz” sent shockwaves throughout the Empire.

Countless theaters popped up in major cities across the Empire, letting throngs of people watch The Wizard of Oz simultaneously.

“Did you see that movie?”
“Are you talking about The Wizard of Oz? I thought it must be boring just watching moving pictures without any magic… But man, the first time I saw it, I was hooked! The music, the visuals—it was stunning! I went back to the theater multiple times in a single day! Each time, I spotted something new, it felt just like reading a Homeroth novel.”

“That’s right! I went every Sunday, but I was shocked—despite theaters springing up everywhere—even the central districts couldn’t keep up with ticket demand.”
“Actually, I installed a projector and screen at my mansion…”

“At your mansion?!”
“Yep! Why not come over and watch it with me next Sunday?”

“Sounds great!”

The Empire’s first color film.

Created under Homeroth’s guidance and a boatload of financial support, this film became the hottest topic of the Empire, captivating countless souls in just a single day.

Everyone was buzzing about it.

It was like the frenzy during the first publication of Don Quixote. Girls styled their hair like Dorothy, with pigtails and blue dresses. Some people were even making silly impressions of the Tin Man and the Scarecrow.

Interest in the film was so fervent that the White Tower nearly collapsed under the weight of visitors craving technical info.

“The movies are a revolution! They’re going to dominate the Empire’s culture!”
“No, I’m not so sure about that. This is an adaptation of Homeroth’s work, so it’s certainly good, but is the movie itself that amazing? Compared to the book, it seems all over the place.”

Some folks debated if the movie’s success came from the content of “The Wizard of Oz” or the inherent potential of the medium itself.

This discussion got particularly heated among critics.

Not only did “The Wizard of Oz” draw literary critics who usually hammered Homeroth’s works but also art critics who focused on the film’s visual beauty, and performance critics devoted to the actors’ performances and directing.

“The movie ‘The Wizard of Oz’ is just one interpretation of Homeroth’s work! It’s a valuable endeavor, but it should be understood as an extension of the aesthetics of ‘literature’, rather than being measured by the aesthetics of the movie itself!”
“The movie ‘The Wizard of Oz’ is an extension of the ‘performing arts’, adding immortality to the original play that can be replayed repeatedly!”
“The movie ‘The Wizard of Oz’ is a form of exhibition art using the screen and light! It should be interpreted from an artistic standpoint!”

Even some critics who were a bit skeptical of Homeroth found themselves compelled to defend him amid this “competition.”

It turned into a cultural ego battle.

Literature analyzed  The Wizard of Oz through its own logic, art viewed it through artistic reasoning, and performance art approached it from that perspective. Some performance art directors even started borrowing or buying cameras from the White Tower, launching into their own filmmaking ventures.

Thus, in this otherworld, a new academic discipline called “cinematography” began to sprout.