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In fact, writing is a painful journey

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    It is rare for others to see what I look like when I create.  Need an independent and undisturbed space.

    I always feel that my occasional headaches are related to writing.  Because writing takes a lot of mental energy.

    If I need to write something today and I don¡¯t have inspiration within half an hour, I will choose to give up.

    I finished watching [Blue Forest], which was something I created. It was okay at the beginning, but after watching it, I couldn't find the tone of the plot development.  Very messy.  Don't know what to write?  If you explain the creative environment I was in, you can understand why the later plots become fast-paced and lack emotion.

    Before writing this novel, I did not write a complete outline of the story.  At the beginning of 2020, I was stuck at home because of an epidemic.  If it weren't for this epidemic, I might have written another version of "Blue Forest". My thoughts are changeable, who can tell.

    The main line of the story is that Lin Mujie and Huang Jialan meet each other, know each other, fall in love, and finally hurt each other. The purpose is to set off the vigor of their love.  If I am in my current state of mind, I can't write the version I created at that time.

    I used too much pen and ink to describe the situation after they fell in love.  At that time, I was thinking that following the development of the plot, how sweet the beginning is, the harm will be as tragic.  but it is not the truth.  In the following plots, the car accident should be the climax scene, but I underestimated it. On the contrary, I used the least good psychological description to repeatedly emphasize their past memories, which made the plot too messy and lengthy.  , The part that should be sensational is written too bluntly.

    This is my blind spot when creating.

    I was thinking about the development of the plot while writing.  Later, I became a little too hasty, like walking on the street. I was in a good mood and the weather was good.  You are enjoying the scenery along the way, suddenly there is a heavy rainstorm, and you have no place to hide from the rain, do you feel very sad?  The rain fell too quickly, and the sun came out again before you got used to the change, so you were at a loss.  Is God losing his temper?  Cloudy and sunny, even you can't figure out whether to bring an umbrella or not?

    I read a lot of words I wrote before.  To be honest, there are many, and I may not be able to write them at all now.  It may have something to do with the state of mind at that time.  I like myself at that time, very pure.  Between the lines, one can see a kind of hope, a kind of happiness.  The ignorance of literature, a kind of perseverance.

    I was like an outsider looking at myself at that time. I used to be a little stupid, a little innocent, and a little foolish.  Pretending to be calm, pretending to be deep.

    It seems to be particularly chic and comfortable in the world of words.  But in fact, this is not the case.

    Will the things I have written be remembered forever?

    of course not.

    If I don't look through the things I wrote before, these things will disappear without a trace in my memory.

    Like a piece of prose that I just finished writing recently.  I probably forgot all the punctuation marks in it.

    Only when I re-read it will I remember it, and the memory is particularly clear.  I even remember what time it was when I wrote this article, and whether anyone came over.  How was the weather that day?

    Writing is like dissecting yourself.  Constantly squeeze the most fragile and sensitive territory in my heart.  Striptease like a dancer.  Many people are eager for the dancer to take off all the clothes, so that they can watch.  Good to appreciate.

    I make up stories.  At the same time, it will also be infected by the story.  Like two interbiotics.  I gave them life, they gave me emotion.

    I look at the works I have created, although they are the result of my own efforts.  But I don't like these works because the effect is not satisfactory.  Sometimes even the idea of ??tearing them up will arise.

    Writing is a painful journey.

    If you want to experience this pain, try listening to the wind outside the window at one or two in the morning.  The very lonely voice seemed to be piercing through the chest cavity.

    And you have to grit your teeth and insist on finishing that dream.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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