Just yesterday, I received a notice from the editor, and to be honest, I was a little surprised that this book is only 270,000 words now, and I expected it to be on the shelves by the middle of next month.

I didn't expect it to be so soon, and this message from the editor really scared me.

I remember when I first wanted to write a novel.

It's just because I have seen too much of the Virgin, **, pretending to be forced to slap my face, pretending to be a pig and eating a tiger, and the talent of pig's feet is against the sky, and learning for one day is equivalent to more than ten years of learning.

Problems that can't be solved for tens of thousands of years are solved as soon as they reach the hands of the protagonist, and as an old bookworm, I think you all understand this feeling.

I really couldn't bear it anymore, so I was ready to write a different book.

However, when I thought about simplicity, I realized how difficult it was when I did it myself.

To be honest, I think writing fiction is too simple, too easy.

There is no outline, setting, or even a plot, and there is only a vague concept.

I, a young newcomer who is poor and white, has no experience, and just plunged into the sea of online articles.

At first, I could entertain myself and write very well, but after 100,000 words, it became difficult to write every time.

Without an outline, it means that you don't know what to write, and the plot must be imagined.

The plot that I came up with roughly, the speed of my hand, what it means, is self-evident.

For me, however, this is just the beginning.

From the beginning, I was going to write a book without a heroine, without a brain, without a virgin, and with a rational protagonist.

There is no heroine, no brains, and the protagonist is so rational that he is cold-blooded, which means that it is impossible to unfold the plot as easily as other books that pretend to slap his face.

There have been many times when I have written plots of pretending to be forced to slap my face, heroes saving beauty, and pretending to be pigs and eating tigers, but in the end, I deleted them all.

There's no why, it's just that because I decided to write a different novel in the first place, let's keep writing.

Maybe it's because of my shallow social experience, I don't even know what to write except for pretending to be a slap in the face.

So slowly the plot became flat, without passion, and calm like a pool of stagnant water.

To add insult to injury, I chose to work full-time a month ago, which means that I didn't have any other income for these months, and I had to rely on the income from the book.

From the release of the book in May to now, it has been two whole months, but the manuscript fee is only 150 yuan.

It is equivalent to saying that I only have an income of 75 yuan this month, even if I am a rag picker, it is much more than me.

In the past few days, I have been thinking about one thing, and some people in the book review area have already guessed it.

Yes.

I'm getting ready to be a eunuch, and I've been thinking about a new book these days.

I remembered that when I first wrote the book, a great god commented to me that my book would be very difficult to write, and the main character was a tree, which meant that there would be very few interactive links.

And there is no pretending to slap the face, which means that there is no cool point, and there is no way out for this kind of article at the starting point.

Someone once told me that if I was persuaded to cut it, it would not improve if I continued to write it down.

Maybe it's because of unwillingness.

Or maybe it's because men are born with the element of adventure lurking in their bones.

I picked up my pen again, ready to fight.

Regardless of the grades, at least I fought hard.

Or, write down the minimum number of words at the time of signing.

There will be two more shifts later, and there will also be two shifts around one o'clock in the morning