The Real Premium Launch Note

Six updates over two days were done. I felt exhausted. I had been writing since I got up this morning, hadn't eaten, and my hands had gone numb. I'm not lying to you all: I did have chapters saved up, but to keep updates steady in the future, I basically added as many chapters to my stockpile as I posted. So I really had worn myself out writing these past two days...

Some people said I was in a hurry, and I really was. My life was a mess, and the pressure of writing was enormous, so I desperately wanted to use it to turn things around. In fact, yesterday I thought for a while that I'd succeeded, so at noon I posted a note thanking everyone, without complaining or saying anything else. Then it flopped, sending me straight from heaven to hell.

Below is the real premium launch note I wrote on November 25, when I came back because of an urgent matter (everyone in the group knew about the ticket, right?). At first, I'd left the premium launch to my editor, but after staying for two days, I insisted on coming back down from the mountain to handle it myself.

Given how things stood now, I thought it over and decided to post this note, the real one after all...

To write a good premium launch note, I went looking for plenty written by more experienced authors. After reading some of them, I wanted to cry...

Each one was more emotional and more heartbreaking than the last...

I couldn't write like that. Even though my novels should have contained more emotional description than theirs, I really couldn't write a premium launch note as compelling as theirs.

No money, how much they'd sacrificed for writing, how much they'd suffered...

I didn't want to guess how much of it was made up, but I was willing to believe it was true.

Only those who'd tried to make it on Qidian knew how hard it was. Rampant piracy had caused subscriptions to plummet. How many authors had given up on their dreams in tears?

For each chapter an author updated, they earned one cent from each subscribing reader...

I knew a few authors whose books had gone premium with tens of thousands of collections, only to get double-digit subscriptions, or three or four hundred. Almost every one of them ended up dropping their books.

Why? Because what they spent hours writing through hard work each day only earned enough to buy their morning bread!

I was afraid... I was afraid of becoming one of them...

More afraid than many people.

I had spent three months raising this child bit by bit, but this child was younger and more fragile than most works. I didn't want it to face an early death.

For me, and for the vast majority of authors, the parents of every book that went premium weren't the author alone. The book was the joint creation of the people who subscribed and the author who wrote it.

I was the gardener, and you were the sweet dew.

If this book eventually grew into a healthy, charming child... then I could proudly say I'd raised it, but it was you subscribers who'd done more of the raising.

It needed many parents, and the reality was that, among its potential parents, more than nine-tenths of those who looked after it might never become its parents. They would only admire its colors from outside the wall...

A few jiao a day, three or four yuan a month in child support... most people found excuses not to pay...

Less than the cost of a top-up card... was enough to support this child for more than half a year, or perhaps even cover the entire amount needed to raise it...

So only when a book went premium could you tell who its real parents were...

Last month I followed the progress of two books: God-Tier Talent, with forty thousand collections, and Apocalypse Super Martial Arts, with over twenty thousand.

Those two books were hits. I was so envious...

So envious I didn't dare compare myself to them.

This book's numbers really couldn't compare to theirs...

My goal was both bigger and smaller than those of the impressive authors.

They aimed for two or three thousand subscriptions from the start, but all I asked for was one thousand...

A thousand subscriptions, not counting rent, was enough to keep me from starving.

I wanted two thousand, three thousand, four thousand too... but I had to be realistic and reach a thousand first.

Even that number of subscriptions was already a towering peak for me!!

That peak was so hard to climb, and I had it no easier than any other author. While they talked about their troubles, I faced a whole pile of difficulties too.

I wouldn't make it sound too miserable. I would simply state a fact.

On the third day of my front-page recommendation, I left the city for work, as the people in the group all knew. But because I'd kept it from them, they didn't know where I'd gone or what I was doing.

To be honest, in that freezing weather, I went into the mountains to do manual labor building a farm facility, bringing along a laptop I'd used for four years that had serious overheating problems.

Don't think it was impossible. Some poor kids who'd seen that kind of work might know: a private boss, a livestock farm facility, farmers, and a few experienced workers leading a group of unskilled laborers.

I was a laborer, the one who'd awkwardly brought a laptop to the "front lines," and the palest of the bunch. Every night, amid their laughter, I crouched on the ground, using my scraped-up hands to type on a computer set on a stone in the cold wind.

Didn't I catch cold? I could tell everyone my special secret recipe: ginger and brown sugar made into a filling, cooked in a big pot all at once, then scooped out and gnawed on every morning. It tasted cold and spicy, and it looked disgustingly like shit.

Only on days off, or when I occasionally had free time, did I come down the mountain for a breather and put a week's saved chapters into scheduled releases. Honestly, I'd even left my premium launch to my editor to handle.

There was more I hadn't said, but just based on this one situation, was I any better off than other people?

When you'd eaten your fill and slept well, all I could do was look up at the sky and smile foolishly...

This job was short-term, done by a crew put together on the fly. It would be over in a month.

Where would I go after that month? Still in my fourth year of university, I didn't even know myself.

But I still wanted to keep writing... to keep writing forever...

Did you have dreams? I did...

I wasn't as ambitious as most people, wanting success and fame. My dream was simple: first earn some money, open a little shop in this small city, then live out my life in peace and quietly write lots and lots of stories.

I had so, so many stories I wanted to tell...

Unfortunately, I didn't have any money now. Opening a shop also took a lot of money, and I didn't have it...

And just when my life was at its most turbulent and unstable, my novel had set sail...

I didn't want to stop...

So I hoped subscriptions would give me more choices. Please subscribe to my book!

What I worried about most now was whether my laptop would break. As soon as I turned it on, it made a loud whirring noise, so my greatest hope was to earn enough for a laptop in the next few months. At least... I'd have a tool to keep writing.

Each of you would spend only the price of one breakfast a month reading this book, less than a pack of cigarettes...

But I needed the combined support of many people to earn that money. Whenever each individual thought about not subscribing, the total number of subscriptions went down...

What I wrote wasn't as passionate and worth following as other authors' work, so I couldn't afford to lose a single potential subscriber!

Everyone.

This was my wish: I wanted to keep writing... to keep writing for all of you and for myself...

In a few years, when I really became an uncle, I wanted to at least have become a minor god!!!!

So please subscribe...

If you liked this book, please subscribe!!

(Did you dare defy the heavens? Help me reach a thousand subscriptions!!)

(I once dreamed of averaging two thousand subscriptions, and I wanted to say that if that dream came true, I'd put everything else aside and stay by my computer as a full-time writer-I swear! Had you ever seen anyone tell you so plainly how many subscriptions it would take for them to go full-time?)

(Finally, thanks to my editor, Kangaroo. Honestly, I did have some complaints about the recommendations you got me. They really weren't very effective... But that was partly my fault too. Neither my update rate nor the quality was quite what you'd expect from a conventional web novel... And as a Qidian editor, you were willing to comfort me and talk with me, and I was truly grateful. I knew you were new too, since other authors had told me, so I hoped we could keep working together. I was very lost about the future, but right now I truly hoped I could overcome life's difficulties and keep writing...)

(If possible, let's grow together on Qidian...)

(Based on the number of tips I received while the book was free, I decided to trust my readers. This book's subscriptions wouldn't be too miserable, and they would give me enough reason to finish it.)

(Because even if I didn't love it, I still loved the readers who had supported me all these months...)

Sanyue Yi

November 25, 2012

That was my original premium launch note. I'd thought the subscriptions were enough, so I hadn't posted it. Now it seemed better to post it after all. Some parts might seem strange because it was written on the 25th, and things might have changed since then.

I had to leave for work again tomorrow, but I wouldn't stop updating. I'd put my saved chapters into scheduled releases, so everyone could rest easy.

I'd written a lot these past two days partly because I was worried that when I got back to the mountain, all the work I'd missed would increase my workload, and I probably wouldn't be able to write as much each day. I had to save up chapters. I didn't want to miss updates, because I wanted the 500-yuan perfect attendance bonus.

Scheduled releases were set for 10 a.m., 5 p.m., and 9 p.m. Please keep supporting me.