Chapter 710: Take a Day Off—A Few Random Thoughts

Friends, this concept is still being worked out; see you again on the 24th at 20:00.

On the 25th, our sect will hold a reunion for last year’s graduates—gather, take photos, have a meal (I’ve taken today off, so this should pass smoothly); then I plan to return home on the 27th or 28th (this might affect updates slightly).

The author is simplifying the plot structure to better maintain pacing and serialization; the balance is still being sought, but so far it shows slight progress.

Simple, clear elements make reading more comfortable; deep, substantial elements extend a book’s lifespan. The latter must still be done—it’s the very source of my writing confidence—but there’s no need to cram it into every short arc; it can be reserved for long-term arcs, which is far more friendly to serialization.

Casual chat:

A few days ago, I suddenly noticed a writing habit: whenever I write, I always get stuck on rhythm.

Even a completely insignificant piece of narration or aside—I may have already conceived its content in three or five minutes—but when writing it out, I spend excessive time agonizing over sentence length and structure, constantly rearranging word order.

If you ask what the purpose is, I don’t know; perhaps it’s just for a sense of smoothness, to achieve a certain flavor (a faint air of pretension? Not entirely).

For example, after returning from a long break, the opening of the chapter 【Wuyun Tower】:

“On the seventeenth day of the first month, Pei Ye stepped out from the side gate of Great Ming Palace; he greedily, deeply inhaled the winter air, as if a man who had been sealed in a jar for a month. Then he took a few quick steps and leapt lightly like a gazelle, slipping through the carriage’s blue curtain; the vehicle swayed slightly, then began moving forward.”

“The seventh nine days bring the river’s ice to melt; the eighth nine days bring the swallows home. Spring has not yet arrived, but its scent has already seeped out in quiet corners—the faint fragrance of budding willows, the mild fishy odor by the river, bird droppings and fallen feathers. Once, the blind Yue Muzhou told Pei Ye that the air’s scent changes with each season; back then, Pei Ye’s senses were not keen, so he found it wondrous.”

The first paragraph—a simple narration, a jar, a gazelle metaphor—that’s all the content. I had this ready within three minutes, but since the update wasn’t urgent, I spent nearly forty minutes refining it, chasing a certain texture. Yet in the end, I saw no real effect.

I think this is a fairly common issue, but when I casually asked a few other authors, none shared this feeling.

I believe this is one of the main reasons I’m the slowest writer among daily-four authors.

But Ji Yue Ren said my style is highly distinctive—perhaps because of this. I was both surprised and pleased, because often I feel my prose is undercrafted, its texture shallow; in the rush to update, a writer inevitably feels defeated, thinking they’ve served up hastily piled ingredients.

I’ve always loved sentences rich in information and sharp in artistic style; a few days ago I read twenty thousand characters of 【Madness】, and these past two days I read the opening of 【Steel, Gunpowder, and Spellcasters】—both impressed me greatly; you should check them out too (I don’t know the authors, just recommending blindly, sorry).

Yet in the pace of serialization, one must always sacrifice much—perhaps character depth, perhaps plot complexity, perhaps prose refinement—and inevitably fill in a lot of filler work; finding balance in this is unavoidable for web novel writers.

I think I’m a naturally born web novel writer; I deeply feel and greatly enjoy many of the satisfying moments, yet at the same time I hope those satisfactions have layers and lingering resonance.

I don’t know if I can achieve it, but in any case, I’ll always strive to deliver good moments—and if I truly can’t, I’ll at least try to make readers enjoy themselves.