I was just writing tomorrow's chapter, deleting, revising, and mulling it over. I'd managed about a thousand words or so and still hadn't finished. Tomorrow I have to take my daughter for a checkup, so I need to sleep early. I'll finish the rest tomorrow. With the night deep and all quiet, I thought I'd have a chat.
This had been Old Li's hardest year. Two books had flopped in a row, and I was numb from it, but neither one was dropped. I powered through with a flood of updates all the way to the end. The previous book only had two or three chapters left, and I'll find time to finish it.
Maybe I hadn't adapted to Qidian's revised recommendation system. It wasn't just Old Li—many veteran authors had flopped one after another. It had become a vicious cycle.
This line of work was brutally realistic. Once a book flopped, you basically had to start over from scratch.
As for this book, it was my second opening. The first one was rejected by my editor because the subject matter wasn't good, so I switched to another genre. This genre was what Old Li knew best, and it came more naturally to write. My writing style had changed a great deal compared with before, but this style was difficult to write. I might grind away for half a day and only produce one or two thousand words. These days, Old Li worked late every other day to prepare the chapter for the next day; otherwise, I couldn't update on time.
This book's results had been pretty ordinary at first, but they gradually improved. At around 120,000 words, it seemed like the follow-up readership was nearing three thousand. That was incredible, which was why I wanted to push for better