Escape Game: I Can See Strange Prompts

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Putting it on the shelf for writers is like overcoming calamity for cultivators. It seems that success or failure is 24 hours, but what is tested is all past abilities, accumulation, temperament, talent, and maybe a little bit of luck.

I am ashamed, I have spent seven years in the catastrophe, and I have been on the street in place.

When I was in the third grade of elementary school, my uncle suspected that I and him robbed the TV and gave me a copy of "The Legend of Condor Heroes" from the rented bookstore, saying that it was better than Gu Tianle's performance.

Since then, I have been obsessed with the world constructed by words and cannot extricate myself.

Martial arts, sci-fi, web novels, classics and even romance... as long as I find something interesting, I can read it with gusto and sleepless nights until the end.

I still have a great illusion that I can write works that surpass San Shao Tudou's so-called "little white essays"

It was 2012, my senior year, I didn’t go to Dota no matter who told me, I just stayed in the dormitory. The upper bunk found out 100,000 words, and I killed a certain point.

My envisioned picture is a few months from now, with a new star rising.

In the end, they didn't even sign a contract?

Just kidding me, something must have gone wrong!

Fight again, fight again, fight again, I can't remember writing many beginnings, but no one cares about it.

So, the end of the world, is it real?

At that time, I was unwilling to share a hundred thousand copies, my mentality collapsed, and I yelled that the web articles were depraved, and the editor was blind. , took many detours.

I don't know where the friends who were rolling around in the Internet at that time are now?

But I finally realized in the face of the wall that my level of storytelling is not smooth, and reading a lot does not mean that I can really express it.

But at that time, I was working, my income was stable, and I was in a pool of stagnant water, so I escaped the boring and careful work by writing books.

But when I sat in front of the computer, I felt that I would not die of hunger, and I would be done with jb. I just wrote the brainless routine loop that I hated the most.

So, at both ends of the first mouse, I got nothing, and even quit the stable job that my parents wanted so much under pride and impulsiveness, and went to the great capital to go around.

In the next step, I should be proactive. I didn’t show the attitude of a fighter. I just watched the ebb and flow of the tide. Others built tall buildings, and I slept on the overpass.

One wrong step and one wrong step, I began to doubt myself and the world, constantly changing directions, constantly failing, constantly escaping from reality, and constantly sinking.

Only the Canyon of Kings has a trace of happiness, but that is also the place where dreams are buried.

This is the vicious circle.

The mentality collapsed again.

I feel like that's it for me, there's a curse hanging over my head, I probably won't be able to turn over in the mud. At that time, I wanted to blow up my life, I wanted to argue with everyone I met, I wanted to scold people bloody and be scolded bloody, and I even had the urge to bump into a driver who violated the rules. .

Because in my heart, I have become a scum. The pride of youth is gone, do something out of the ordinary to kill yourself, and be the last to be different, avoiding the situation of delivering food and working as a coolie struggling to eat and drink.

It wasn't until an unprecedented conflict broke out that I realized that I really had nothing, no one to rely on, and no direction to pay was meaningless. All the absurd dreams made up of language were really just a dream-field. Since there is nothing, there is nothing. Pack your bags and start over.

How many times have I thought that in many scenes in the past, if I tried my best to burn everything, even if I failed, my heart would be happy, instead of just being unwilling now. I can't always pray for God's blessing, good luck will fall on my head and give me a direction, right?

I want to go out in one direction by myself! I returned to Feilu, and I remember that I wrote a book here at that time. There were lovely readers who tolerated my willfulness and read hundreds of thousands of words. I said stubbornly, I...now really want to tell this story!

It is not perfect, it is not the mainstream of Feilu, it is against the trend of the times, not relaxed, not delicate, not provocative, not digging deep into popular characters...

But it is an author who has poured his emotions into it - wipe hope!

I opened the book "XXXXXXX" with confidence. .The last listing result, double digits, was so miserable that many friends asked me, did you release poison gas? Writing with your feet is better than this, right?

Someone asked me for an outline, saying that he used it to avoid lightning when opening a new book.

I want to finish knocking on nothing, for you, new book and fight again as if nothing had happened, but tears can't do it.

Now, I still want to say sorry to the cute readers who are still voting for that book every day, I am really sorry...I also like that story very much, but I also want to have a meal.

Eat full time, write a new book.

I don’t know how many times I couldn’t fall asleep at four or five in the morning, changed the article and profile, went to the comments to catch bugs, or just refreshed the data like that, as if I was praying for my tomorrow.

I'm so scared... I'm afraid that I will be beaten back to my original shape again and again when I put it on the shelves. I am still standing still and have nothing.

Until now, I have been like a little boy who was abandoned by the master, groping for the foundation, even if I can increase the success rate of crossing the catastrophe by 1%, I am willing to do it with all my strength.

In the past month, I have changed my essay several times, traveled a long distance, and insisted on not stopping updating, which is my biggest improvement compared to the past.

Insufficient ability, attitude comes to make up.

The downside is that I used to have two chapters in one hour, but now I can't write a chapter in two hours.

Some friends said that your protagonist’s occasional outbursts of emotion are so embarrassing. I don’t know how to tell them that compared to Terra in desperation, my life has no way out. If you have also been confused and persisted in longing for a direction, you may be able to see a persistence in it.

My family still hoped that I would take the civil servant test, and my friends advised me to find a company to hang out with. I was alone in a small single room in the suburbs, holding a computer, and still insisted on: the original dream.

Write a book that you like, others like, and you can tell your friends the title of the book with your chest out.

(Hey, don't think about it, I'm not that kind of writer!)

Of course, I also know that reading is not about begging for abuse. I am learning to intersperse some relaxed and warm plots, with loving characters, and even portray the villains with human touch.

I used to be in a cross talk club and was the president for a year, but I am actually an optimistic boy in my heart. No matter what kind of desperate situation, we must work hard to find happiness and light, don’t we?

I will read more, think more, summarize more, and find the balance between reading effect and self-expression.

A few days ago when I was walking on the road, "Stubbornness" sounded in my mind. I thought I would be moved by the belief of "Even if tens of thousands of people block me, I will surrender" when I was a teenager. When I finally opened that song , but found that the opening sentence "When I am different from the world, then make me different" already made me cry.

Because I failed thousands of times, I really didn't surrender.

I love myself like this, even if I have nothing, at least I am not useless.

If the road suitable for the majority of people does not make me comfortable, then I will take the road that makes me comfortable. It is great to hide in a small building to form a unity, guarding the faint light in my heart, and it is good not to go out.

Even though the road ahead is unknown and there are thorns everywhere, I still set off and yearn for the other shore.

I know that now is the time to say goodbye to many friends, and the next post may not be so lively. But this is life, and this is the journey.

In the end, there will always be fewer and fewer friends. I just pray that more people will give me a chance to tell the story completely this time.

I'm not a talented writer. I'm a newcomer and new book who was only a freshman at the same time. I was on the list together. I tried my best halfway to climb to the top with sparks and lightning.

I....I picked lemons! (Wait, py is over? Then...you are so cute, big brother)

The only thing I have more than him is the word count. My favorite author, Yan Nan, wrote a book called Xian Xia, in which it is said that such a cultivator, who is never startled, can be stunning, but only builds the bluestone road up the mountain, chiseling one by one, his shame never changes, and he persists for a hundred years, It finally worked out.

I gritted my teeth, tried to make up for my shortcomings, and did not want to rise to the top. I only hope that more people will like this little story.

To put it bluntly, as an author with limited abilities, the only thing he can repay is more updates and better quality.

Say nothing.

20,000 words per day.

If you can't do it to death, do it to death.

rush!

Seeing this, it is estimated that the author does not need to ask, but I will say it as usual.

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