If you want to ask me what is the most painful sticking point in my life, I will not hesitate to answer it-writing, because it is a local tyrant dream that I have been sticking to..
I am a female loser. Like many people, I am like a donkey pulling a mill, wandering around the trivial aspects of firewood, rice, oil and salt's daily life.. The initial contact with words was just a one-man show, with no partners and no audience. It was just a self-entertainment of masturbation.. One day, I suddenly found that writing can not only express thought, express emotions and criticize current malpractices, but also win popularity for you, earn fans and even bring certain economic benefits. A dream sprouts on your fingertips, blooms on your keyboard, and bears fruit on your blog..
It is said that no pains, no gains, from fame and fortune to certification, seem to follow suit all the way, but Watermelon is full of unknown hardships. Behind the enthusiasm for writing is no longer the simple self-entertainment at first, but more the need to take into account the readers, as well as the various frictions and collisions between my own writing and the world. Such frictions and collisions have aroused a spark called conscience, which is the social morality and sense of responsibility as a social person and a writer of writing. And this spark is the inspiration and motivation of writing, which urges me to set out again and again with hope and return with disappointment. The so-called success also means writing and failure also means writing.
However, the title of the so-called new writer that I have crowned on my head today is indeed obtained through my unremitting love for words, but it is not worthy of the name.. To this day, I am still not a writer but at best an author.. I don't know what kind of value Lever should be used to measure an author's writing, but reality clearly tells me that the life and death of an author is not the literary value of the writing itself, but the market value.. Words without markets are worthless nonsense. However, my words just lack market value. Under the current situation of the depressed publishing market, which relies on celebrity benefits to dominate the world, I have undoubtedly become a wild child with no mother's pain. This represents what I call the title of writer, but it is just a The Emperor's New Clothes that shows people naked but feels good about itself..
For this reason, I am deeply distressed and perplexed, and constantly struggle between sticking to and giving up.. Once firmly believed that there is a kind of writing is like a scalpel, can reach the depths of human soul, save people from fire and water, this is also the reason why I stick to it. However, when this kind of adherence can only be measured by the market and strangled alive, I don't know whether my nib should conform to the mainstream or nature. Are the two mutually related or antagonistic??
Finally, it is found that a kind of writing follows the mainstream and owns the market, while following the nature and owning the value.. The former may be the scalpel that will open your stomach and remove the focus when you are in danger, but not necessarily effect a miraculous cure and bring the dying back to life.. The latter is like a daily provision for life, supporting your body and your soul. It is not a panacea but a daily necessity.. It seems obvious which is more important and which is less, but it is always put the cart before the horse and abandons the essence.. Like my words, there are too many sharp, even a scalpel to save people, can heal the sick, but it is difficult to prevent people from getting sick..
Ibsen has long commented on this. He said: Everyone is responsible for the society to which he belongs. He also has a share of the social ills. To live is to fight with inside's Shan Yao. To write is to sit down and make the final judgment on yourself.. Yes, my soul, inside, also lives in such a Shan Yao. I have never met before, but I am always with you.. I think he may be ferocious and horrible, or gentle and lovely, no matter how a pair of skins, are released by the same venom, with Parthenocissus tricuspidata's exuberant tentacles, he should have a name-Desire, Desire.
Desire is indeed a terrible thing, like a black hole. Consume your greed, hatred and delusion. However, one cannot live without a trace of Desire. Selfless and unselfish is a kind of Desire who wants to be detached from the world.. The so-called Xanadu, it is not in order to break free from the pursuit of Desire and create another kind of Desire. Writing here, without clearing the clouds to see the sky suddenly enlightened, it gives birth to Desire, who is within the bounds of As the heart desires. Shan Yao, who wants to come to inside, is stirring again. He is in accordance with his nature. I think it is the most tenacious resistance to him..
"Writing is a murder by hook or by crook! "This is my summary of writing, but in fact, I prefer to regard all my words as flesh and blood. Every word is a cell separated from my body and mind, forming an embryo and finally forming an individual to come to this world.. During his five years of blogging, inside worked frantically and insisted on updating one article a day. He wrote the first 290,000-word novel in three months, followed by the second and the third. Although the three completed novels have not been published and brought me so-called economic benefits, I believe there will be the fourth and the fifth. In my own words, writing can bring me infinite passion and pleasure, and I can only think of writing as my own..
They say,' Living in An idea is very different.' Five years ago, when I first started writing as a serious hobby, I became indissoluble with writing.. Looking back again, the original writers who had gathered together for the same hobby, like dandelion seeds scattered in the vast net of Nautical mile, are as few as morning stars. I don't have to stick to the last one, but I will definitely stick to writing words that conform to my own nature and make my own words a positive energy that all readers like to see. This is the dream of a female loser local tyrant..
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