Night Journey

Chapter 62 Remarks on the launch
Saves data, goes live, 20 extra chapters for patrons, 4 new chapters released, for a total of 24 chapters.

……

Hello everyone, this is Andlao, your loyal writing slave.

First of all, I would like to thank all the alliance leaders.

Darkness is unparalleled.

Fried fish is really awful.

Crazy Haki Lion.

DsAd.

The gray cat is sleeping.

Shimano Poi.

The boundless moon.

A super lucky koi fish.

Miaozhen.

Cinderella_菜.

The chipmunk striving to chase the light.

One hundred and forty catties.

aslti03.

Sister Niu Zi.

……

Okay, okay, let's get down to business now.

Now that I'm a seasoned author, I still feel like I don't have any deeper understanding or insight into writing. I'm still like a beginner, completely clueless.

I'm not good at writing openings. As I've said countless times, I wish I could write the opening of a novel like, "Previous events: xxxx," and then the storm begins, with lots of hacking and slashing.

But even though it's just talk, I still have to start writing step by step.

This book represents a new attempt.

In my previous books, the protagonists started with a fully-fledged account, with a past, secrets, and a certain level of basic stats. This book, however, starts from scratch.

This is my first time writing something from scratch, so I'm a little unaccustomed to it. There are some problems with the story arrangement and writing style, but I have to try.

Another point is that, as an author, being too concerned about how to write the opening of a book can lead to excessive effort and research, which can result in overdoing it.

Just like when you meet a girl you like, you become reserved and hesitant when you talk, completely losing your usual carefree and talkative style.

The same applies to writing a book; the reason I always struggle at the beginning is probably because of this.

I was too focused on the beginning, which resulted in a poorly written one. Perhaps I should have written more freely, but that will have to wait until the next book, at least two years from now.

Of course, it can also be interpreted as not caring about various data as much as during the new book period, and letting loose.

hhhh.

To be honest, a month ago, when I pressed the button to release the new book, I was very nervous, and even anxious afterwards.

Because it wasn't until that moment that I suddenly realized I hadn't discussed with the editor how to handle this, which category to put it in, or what the subcategories under that category were, etc.

Even the cover was made on short notice.

I was so anxious I was about to explode.

But actually nothing happened, nothing was amiss, everything was very quiet.

As time went by, I gradually became aware of the changes within myself.

When I was writing my previous books, I paid a lot of attention to the data, such as how many favorites I gained each day, how many people commented, and whether anyone criticized me, etc.

Now I'm much more composed. I still glance at the data from time to time, and I don't feel as anxious as before.

There's nothing else I can do.

There's nothing I can do. That's just how I write books. If you ask me to revise it, I don't even know how to revise it myself. I might as well just stay true to myself.

Writing a book is very difficult.

You can't please everyone, or even yourself.

Is such that.

In some ways, I am a very perfectionist, such as when writing books.

Readers often say that some of my plot points are very well written, but when I look back at those words, I feel that I have written a mess and I am not satisfied with it. I always feel that there is room for improvement.

I'm not satisfied with any of the books I've written before.

The good news is that this will at least motivate me to continue learning; the bad news is that learning is a lifelong process.

The worse news is that I'm never satisfied with what I write, so I punch myself twice. Sometimes when I'm exhausted from the anger, I adopt a "give up" mentality, but I don't stay in that state for long before I get up again due to anxiety and punch myself twice.

Just like fixing a bug, my complex emotions turned me into a perpetual motion machine for writing.

Anxiety and joy alternate, and that's my normal state.

Perhaps it's because I'm such a homebody, but besides writing, playing games, and reading novels, I don't have much else to do every day.

I am a person with almost no social life. The few things that can be considered social each day are encountering two rat brothers in the wild, hopping around a bit, leaving each other with tokens, and then heading to the extraction point.

In my spare time, I can't help but think about myself. After all, other things are too distant and too grand to be related to me, and even if they were, I would be powerless to change them.

Think about yourself; when you're really angry, you might even punch yourself.

harm.

Ultimately, writing a bad book won't make your life worse, and making a mistake won't make your life worse.

It seems that no matter what you do, life will never completely turn bad, but there is also the possibility that life is inherently a mess.

Over time, I tried to convince myself not to think about what would happen next. After all, everyone lives in the moment, so I just needed to think about what to eat later.

No matter how much I try to hypnotize myself, I still inexplicably wake up for a moment at certain unintentional moments.

The general feeling is like being engrossed in a game all day, and then suddenly feeling like you're back in reality the moment it ends.

To use another analogy, it's like a goldfish that blows bubbles in the water every day, then one day someone scoops it up and throws it back in.

Holy crap, what just happened?

In my daily life, I have a similar feeling. I get caught up in the trivialities of life, but then I am suddenly dragged back to reality and realize the problems I will face next.

Buying a car, buying a house, blah blah blah.

Yes, readers, many years have passed. I'm no longer a recent graduate; in three or four years, I'll be turning thirty. Ahhhhh, help!

I've been staying at home a lot, which has made me a bit out of touch with society. Incidentally, I've also frozen my time on a certain day right after graduation.

I've been happily leveling up in the newbie village, but suddenly I'm being dragged into a dungeon. I don't like dungeons; they're too stressful. I still prefer grinding in the newbie village forever.

Hi.

Thinking about these things makes me feel annoyed. I don't know whether to run away or not to accept them, but it seems like there's no difference between running away and not accepting them.

I'm not someone who likes to accept reality. I've always lived in my own room, but while I don't accept reality, I also have some... um... how should I put it?

To use an inappropriate example again, I don't like doing the 3x3 in the new season, but I still have to bite the bullet and do it. If I don't do it, my business card will be missing a stamp.

Yes, yes, that's roughly the idea.

I don't know if any of you readers have a similar feeling, as if life is incomplete if you don't do certain things, but you don't like to do them, or you don't want to do them proactively.

These two ideas became entangled: doing it would be troublesome, but not doing it would be imperfect; one's instincts and beliefs kept clashing.

Ah... I don't know if my description is accurate enough, because I'm just using some nonsense to pad the word count.

Good heavens, the alliance leaders are offering me real money to update my author's statement, and I have to write 8 words more. What a load of crap!

Ugh.

It's a little regrettable that, even now, I still haven't gained much sense of accomplishment from writing books, perhaps because I've come to regard writing as something routine and taken for granted.

For example, I won't be proud of myself for being able to eat. Isn't that the most basic thing?
So, at this point, some readers might ask, "Brother A, shouldn't we be talking about the book? Why are you talking about yourself and other random things?"

Coincidentally, my friend, perhaps for strange reasons such as shyness, I don't think I've ever fully accepted myself as an author.

Although I can now openly tell my family and friends that I write novels, I still shrink back instantly if someone talks to me about what I write.

As you can see, even in my acceptance speech, I rarely talk about my works.

If I had to give a reason, I would say that authors don't need to talk about their own works. What everyone thinks is what it is. If an author talks too much, it might seem like they are trying to make excuses or that their ideas are completely different from what the readers think, thus extinguishing everyone's imagination.

"Author, author, there must be a deeper meaning behind your writing this, right?"

"Huh? Which part?"

Haha, I don't know about other authors, but this really happened to me.

I am a forgetful person and often forget what I have written.

However, this does not mean that I am unwilling to communicate with readers. On the contrary, I have been reading everyone's comments, I just don't say anything.

I've always held a slightly offensive theory, namely, the cockroach theory.

When one reader posts an unsatisfactory review, at least ten other readers have similar thoughts, but they're just too lazy to type out their opinions.

Ultimately, writing a lot of words is a service industry.

what……

Then we can talk about something else.

If it were me in the past, I could have talked for ages when writing my reflections. Back then, I had just graduated, and I was full of weird ideas, and I could have rambled on for ages.

But now, I don't seem to be as interesting as I used to be; I've become boring.

I rarely say strange things on social media platforms anymore. I don't know if this is a sign of maturity or just being boring.

Or rather, I am still the same person I was before. It's just that over the past few years, I've remained holed up in my room. After years of rambling, I've finally said everything that's on my mind.

Abba Abba.

As for the fun things in life, to be honest, there aren't many left. Before, when I lived outside, I could talk about the wonderful adventures with my roommates. Now that I'm back home, I've really become a shut-in.

As mentioned earlier, writing, gaming, eating, reading novels, and sleeping are all repeated and cycled day after day.

When you live the same routine day after day, it's easy to feel like time has stopped. But time keeps moving forward steadily. When I come to my senses, I suddenly realize that a long time has passed.

But after so long, life hasn't changed much, and I haven't made any progress.

Sometimes I get sad because of things like this.

I sometimes think about what I was like a year ago. If I am no different from myself now, or even worse, I get angry with myself.

Sigh, I've been rambling on for so long and it's only 3000 words.

Looking to the future...

I'm already grateful that I can consistently write 7000 words a day; I really don't dare to ask for anything more.

To be honest, writing is not an easy task. I'm like an old-fashioned computer. Just running the writing process is enough to make the air cooler almost explode. I really don't have the enthusiasm to deal with the trivial matters of life.

Take today, when I'm currently writing this, as an example.

I was lucky enough to fall asleep at midnight last night and woke up at 8 am. I played games for half an hour to clear my head, wrote in fits and starts, and by midnight I still hadn't finished my reflections. I tidied up and went out to get some things. I got home at 2 am, rested for a bit, and ate some food.

It's 3:40 now, and I'm reading this line of text, but I haven't written the main content for today, haven't played many games, and haven't read many novels.

And then... it's 10:30 now. I haven't written much in the meantime. I read a book for a while, had dinner with my family, blah blah blah, my time has been filled with all sorts of random things.

I figured it wouldn't hurt to take a break the day before it went on sale.

This feels a bit like a diary entry, but even though I'm resting, I'll still write down my thoughts.

Looking at it this way, writing has also helped me anchor my own existence. At least I've done something meaningful, which makes me feel much more at ease.

After being in this strange state for a long time, I've recently started to enjoy intermittent fasting. I say it's for weight loss, but the feeling of hunger is strangely sobering and feels like a feedback, a real sense of my own existence.

I once saw someone say that the midpoint of life is eighteen years old. Before eighteen, everyone explores the world every day. After eighteen, you've explored most of what's within your capabilities. This period of exploration is also the happiest.

Sigh, I suddenly thought of one of my classmates. When my classmate asked me why I wasn't in the class photo, I said, "Look behind the desk, there's a huge pile of clothes."

A classmate asked, "What happened to that pile of clothes?"

I said, you can sleep under that pile of clothes.

Difficult to stretch.

I recently got in touch with this classmate again, this time through her WeChat Moments. She's expecting a baby soon.

To be honest, it's quite surreal. In my memory, this classmate was still a child huddled under her clothes, and now she's about to have her own child.

In fact, from this perspective, life sounds a bit like most grinding games. In the early stages, leveling up is fun, but once the cycle is established and the endgame gameplay begins, everything becomes boring and just like the same old routine.

In grind-heavy games, you can sometimes get something good as loot. For example, I once grinded a weapon with four Ancient stats that I was good at getting, and I even sold it for over 400 yuan on Xianyu (a second-hand marketplace), haha.

Anyway, it's time to start writing.

I would like to thank all the readers who have read my words, no matter which platform or time you are on.

I am very grateful to everyone for allowing me to do the work I love and have the extra energy to raise two fat cats. I am also grateful for your existence, which gives my insignificant life a little bit of value.

I'm going to start writing!
(End of this chapter)