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This week is a bit boring. This idea popped up suddenly, probably because I was too busy.
When I am free, I will read what I have written before.
The writing is not good.
Really bad.
Looking at it makes me want to smash my phone. In the past two years, nothing remained. All that remains is the text that exists on the website.
Fortunately, I have a thick skin, regardless of whether the writing is good or not. Just post. Reading these things is like returning to my youthful self two years ago.
I don't know the heights of the sky and the depths of the earth.
Crazy, immature, young.
A simple thought that as long as there is a dream, it can be realized. Thinking about it now, it feels so ridiculous. When you reach a certain age, you will understand that dreams are the most extravagant things in life. Because it can't be tracked, it is too precious.
This week, it should have been the night shift. If I don¡¯t want to go to work on Sunday, I can go to an education improvement center in the urban area to ask questions about the adult college entrance examination.
On Friday, there was a power outage in the factory. Transferred to day shift early. This subtle shift seemed to disrupt my life.
On Sunday, I will go to work. The agreement with others has become a fiction.
It is also recently that the idea of ??wanting to read a book suddenly popped up.
? When they asked me what major I wanted to study, I answered without thinking, Chinese language. Study modern and classic literature.
"The future employment prospects of this major are not very good" a teacher reminded me.
"I'm interested in this." I answered very simply.
Literature has permeated every part of my body. like a close lover.
Just a plan, not implemented yet.
On a cold day, I ate the chestnuts my colleagues gave me. Cool to the touch. Leaning on two tables by the window. In front of him was the sound of machines turning continuously. This is where I work. Warm and humid.
I suddenly got used to this kind of life. Developed feelings for these cold machines. I have a good impression of every part of them.
Before, how much I hated them. I find them difficult to control and operate. After more than a year of honing, I seem to have improved a lot
It is they who have witnessed my growth
? They have contained my tears, complaints, fears, complaints
And most of the text I write is done by squatting beside them
I won't dislike them for being noisy
I said to them, today I will write 3000 words
They will not answer good or bad. Don't even laugh at me. just keep turning
I just said, well, anyway, you are with me
"So, you have to be obedient and don't stop"
Does it look like a fool's talk
On August 4th, 2016, I entered this factory to work.
Don't like this job. But there was no way out. I just came from Shanghai and I have been unemployed. I found this job through the introduction of my relatives.
At first I was curious. Passionate because I've never done it before.
? At the beginning, someone asked me, do you like this job?
I answered, I like it.
The man looked surprised. "Why like?"
"Because it's fun."
This was probably the weirdest answer he had ever heard.
Not to mention 12 hours a day, there are also night shifts. I was so tired all day that I didn't want to talk or walk. And I actually said this job is fun?
In September, I started writing my first novel (Incomplete Love).
Write in October (one page of love).
Write in November (Sorry, I love you).
Written in April 2017 (summer when the north wind blows).
Written in November (wishful thinking).
If you ask me what have I done this year?
So the above is my answer.
Most of the creative ideas for (Summer Blown by the Wind) were completed when I was at work.
So, for a long time. As soon as I saw those machines, I remembered that I was sitting next to them, typing one word after another with my fingers on the screen of the mobile phone.
? I want to sign with the site with (Summer Blown by the Wind). But it turns out that I had greatly overestimated my writing skills. Failed many times. But I gritted my teeth and told myself, don't give up easily
There is very little time for me to transition from a person who can only write prose to being able to write novels. That is, suddenly one day, I think I can try to write? Said.
The first article (love) only wrote 5,000 words, which is still the biggest failure.
(Incomplete love), more than ten thousand.
(One-night love) more than 60,000.
(Sorry, I love you) More than 220,000.
(summer blown by the wind) more than 260,000.
I think this is progress.
If the next novel can be written to 300,000 words. It is a breakthrough.
Although the measure of a novel is not determined by the number of words. But the more you write, the more experience you get.
This has always been the unchanging truth.
No matter what happens in the future. I will never give up on my dream. Long Trip. Cherish what you have at the moment.
Success is my luck.
It is my fate to be unsuccessful.
I am ordinary. Don't expect to be rich and powerful.
If there is an afterlife.
Willing to be a grass
Grows in the vast fields,
Embellish the bleakness of the years.
The beautiful moonlight accompanies me to sleep
In the summer night, the frogs sing a song of departure
The river under the small bridge passes by my side
Watering my growth
A group of children walked by
their laughter
Leave a fragrance
My roots go into the soil
? into the unknown confusion
Willing to be the little grass beside you
Summer is coming, I will tell you
hope
Vigorous life
emerald green leaves
It's all my disguise
really fluid
is what I never gave up
desire for life
I want to live forever
All grow beside the road you must pass
but you
never looked back
open your eyes
that little grass
A thin life
Sway with the wind
Exhausted youth
just for your smile
Grass
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