It's exciting time again.

Whenever this happens, I wish I was born blind, severe cerebral palsy, muscular dystrophy, and an aspiring young man who is still disabled, immersed in writing, chasing his dreams, and so on to win a few sympathetic subscriptions to make the results of my book not look too dismal.

However, the reality is cruel, I have nothing but to be handsome.

Writing about Kyogen is also very interesting in itself, and I can tell you a very interesting story.

In fact, this book is the whim of an irresponsible man on a passionate night.

At that time, the focus of my writing was actually on another book, "The God of Talking Spears", which I had already declared a permanent eunuch on the spot.

Kyogen's content was conceived much earlier than "The Gun God", but at that time, I was immersed in the unparalleled grief of my first book "The Boundary" being so beautiful that it would hit the streets, so I slapped the door of my head and knocked directly on the beginning of a small white text to motivate myself.

I desperately want to prove that a genius is a genius, and a genius can make money even if he writes a little white text.

It ended up being a terrible pounce. Hey, hey, hey...... (Touches his nose in embarrassment.) ）

Stop the question about the results of the Chatter Gun God, and continue to talk about how Kyogen Master was born.

The reason is simple: updating the chatter gun god is too painful for me. I don't know what kind of barren stuff I'm writing about, and I can't find the kind of passion that I wrote about "The Boundary" with joy and meticulous craftsmanship even though it kept going.

I decisively gave up on "The Gun God" and wrote the first draft of Kyogen, and was impressed by the cold style of the first draft, and deeply moved by my own writing talent.

Then I went to major platforms to submit.

Then I voted for a total of five editors' mailboxes.

Either it is a stone in the sea, or it is simply "not meeting the contract criteria".

He died before he left the school, and he lost his wife and his soldiers.

From these successive failures, I quickly summarized the current situation:

∵ chatter, this kind of little white text like the gun god can be signed and reviewed casually by knocking on the beginning.

∵ Kyogen Master carefully crafted and repeatedly revised it, but it could not pass the review.

∴ editors are not optimistic about Kyogen, and the book does not cater to the needs of the market.

After coming to this conclusion, two paths seemed to open up before my eyes.

One is to continue to honestly go back to write Xiaobai Wen, pretend to slap his face, pretend to be a pig and eat a tiger, withdraw from marriage and be reborn with a golden finger, slowly accumulate the number of words, accumulate popularity, and wait for the day when he will come out.

One is to act recklessly according to his own heart, and then plunge into the abyss.

I spent about 47 seconds deliberating between right and wrong, considering right and wrong, self-reflection, and reviewing my mistakes.

Then I thought:

Fuck the market. FUCK! THE! WHOLE！ WORLD!

What is writing a book for me?

It is the like, the manuscript fee, the dignity, the joy of communicating with like-minded people, the capital of my independence, and the way of life that I aspire to and have been committed to realizing.

But if I had to rule out all of the above, just one. Then I can say without hesitation, if you like it, it's OK.

Without taking into account any external factors, if the market treats it as garbage, then I will continue to write garbage. I'm only responsible for giving you the stories that I think are "stories" to the best of my ability.

Just kidding, I'm strong, Lao Tzu is a genius, how could I write a bunch of garbage out.

I'm going to tell you a cool story.

No routines, no templates, no cheats, cool and that's it. It's as if Lan Silin didn't mind pulling down the lane change lever and killing four innocent lives. It doesn't make sense, but it's cool.

I will write carefully. And since there is no pressure, I will definitely be able to ignore all external factors and write it to the end. Just take a closer look.

Thank you Ziliang for taking me in. So that I can pull more innocent teenagers into the fire pit. I'm going to start the mess next, and you're all going to go a little bit back.

I'm a dream chief, a casual writer who is arbitrary and reckless, and I believe in the Flying Noodle Sect. There are no grades in writing books, but they are very handsome, please have a private chat on a blind date.

Thank you for your love.