Alice in the Land of Steam

Chapter 1168: Favorite?

"In fact, I hesitated for a long time about how to write this plot."

Sitting on the sofa, Olivia stared at the thick manuscript paper in her hand in a trance, as if she was talking to Lingge or talking to herself, saying: "Whether it is mentioned briefly or described in detail, it is always so unhappy. Readers don't want to see such a story. But I can't change it, because I am just a recorder, not a real creator. If I change the plot in the book, will reality change as well? If only novelists really have that kind of power."

She spoke quietly, and Linger listened quietly. Although he was not a novelist, and his personality was completely opposite to that of a profession that required romantic fantasy, he could subtly understand Princess Berman's difficulties. This might be because he was the one who gave Olvera the idea of ​​"wanting to create a work of her own", and he was also the one who suggested that the girl write down the "stories of travelers".

The young man's original intention was to help the girl, who had suddenly returned to the secular world and had lost her parents and teachers, to adapt to the life of the world as soon as possible. Nothing can make people more intuitively aware of their own lives than pursuing dreams. The young man had no experience of dreams, but he could understand this feeling. Under his advice, Olvera did indeed write day after day, integrating all the history books, story books, novels, fairy tale picture books, scripts, poems... that she had read in the long 700 years, which were like dreams and illusions, and condensed them into the crystallization of her writing.

When she first arrived in Renwitin, she submitted her masterpiece, Grimm's Fairy Tales, to the Northern Order Publishing House under the pen name "Karna", a name that makes people show a subtle expression upon hearing it. At that time, she went to the post office to submit her work, in addition to Metien and others, there was also Miss Livia, who is now a nun in Tianxin Church. After leaving Renwitin, the group stayed in the Wind Flower City of Sumia for several months. At that time, Olvera actually deliberately inquired about the news and learned that Grimm's Fairy Tales had been published by the Northern Order Publishing House and was very popular among children. This greatly encouraged her and she vowed to make persistent efforts to bring happiness to more children with her stories.

However, since leaving Sumiya City, the journey has been full of twists and turns. First, the North Ashka Mountain was swaying with wind and snow. In order to cover up their tracks, Yunjing Sky Island had to hide in the snowy mountains, and Olvera could not go to Heidebrusburg at the foot of the mountain to submit her new manuscript. Then it was the journey to the universe, and the many changes encountered along the way. Finally, the group came to the East Continent. Even with the support of the cult, the Northern Cult Publishing House could not take root in the land of the old forces, so Olvera found it even more difficult to submit her manuscript. What's more, the team has experienced so many twists and turns, and the Gray Hill area is not peaceful. She is really embarrassed to ask her companions to make a fuss for her own private affairs.

Having said that, she did not stop her creative pace, and kept writing the sequel to the story silently until she put down her pen before the most tangled, difficult and indecisive plot.

She suddenly realized that her original dream might not be possible.

Because someone has already sacrificed for this.

For a fairy tale, there is nothing worse than this. If it were another author, they could still modify the plot, but Olvera could not. She did not have absolute control over her story. As she had just said, no one could modify reality, not even a novelist.

“Sometimes I wonder if all the things I do are meaningless.”

Olvera sighed quietly, "Even if I write down the stories, I can't publish them. This is the greatest sorrow in the world, both for the creator and her work. But what's the point of publishing? Will it make more people sad because of this story? The sacrifice of Themis in the celestial world is the first, but it will definitely not be the last, right? If we don't give up our position and stand firm against the Witch Society, then such plots will be staged again and again, but will readers accept familiar characters leaving them again and again? They may not know that this is what happened in reality, but the plot can be fictional, and the emotions are all sincere. Can every creator ignore such feelings and force himself to write an unsatisfactory ending? I'm afraid I don't have such a heart of stone, Lingge."

Her absent-minded gaze was fixed on the pale manuscript paper, like a drop of black ink falling, gradually rippling: "After thinking this through, I no longer feel that words are the greatest power in the world. There are still things that are heavier, stronger, and more unstoppable than words. So, I may not be able to hold on any longer, Lingge. I don't want to write anything..."

The princess of the ancient country of Beman pursed her thin lips, a trace of sadness spread across her shallow brows: "It would be nice if I could really write nothing."

At this time, it seems that nothing you say will be of any use.

Don't give up? Should you stick to your dream? Isn't an unsatisfactory ending better than giving up halfway? In fact, we are just standing in the position of outsiders, and it's easy to talk without feeling any pain. How can we empathize with the girl in front of us and understand all her confusion and sadness? Those who move forward will not go back. How can we regret the story that has been written?

"I think you should continue writing, Ovilla." Lingge said suddenly, without giving any reason, just asking the girl to stick to this path that she thought was no longer feasible.

However, such a simple statement obviously could not make Ovella change her mind.

"What's the point?" the girl asked, and she also asked herself. She looked at the draft in her hand quietly. When the words lost the weight they were supposed to carry, who would sigh and grieve for the plot in the book? A story that cannot resonate with readers will eventually be abandoned by its readers - perhaps before that, the creator had already given up. As if she had made up her mind, Ovella no longer hesitated and stretched the manuscript paper towards the burning flame on the candlestick. The gradually licking flame cast a thin shadow on the pale paper. The power of temperature made the surface of the paper gradually curl up, and fine wrinkles appeared. Perhaps what happened next would prove that the ignition point of words and paper is actually very low, just like the dreams in people's hearts.

But it never happened.

A hand reached out, blocked the candlelight, and gently took the manuscript from the princess's hand.

"Write it for me, Ovira." Ling Ge smiled and said to the stunned girl, "Don't forget, I was the one who suggested you write a novel. I was also the first person to read your work and make suggestions. In other words, I am your first reader. I haven't given up yet and want to see the end of this story. As the author, can't you persevere for me, your number one reader?"

Listening to his words, Avella was stunned. After a while, she laughed helplessly. She shook her head gently: "A person who insists on writing a whole book for a reader, even if the plot and ending of the book may not be the type he likes, a person like this, a person like this... isn't he just like a fool?"

"But even if only one person can see your story, I believe it is worthwhile. Besides, people always have to do a few stupid things to make their lives more meaningful, right? Of course, stupid things themselves are meaningless, but why did you do that stupid thing? What was your mood at the time? What feelings did it bring to you? I don't think these things can be turned into ashes like paper when burned by candlelight."

As he said this, Linger reached out and took a pen from the desk next to him, put the manuscript paper on his thigh, and wrote something on it. The rustling sound of the pen tip scratching the paper brought Avella back to her senses in a trance. This feeling was very familiar to her. She would have this feeling every time she wanted to sleep, ate food that she had always disliked since childhood, walked around in the hotel late at night and returned to her room alone. Sometimes she would use a pen to record this feeling, but the mood that came up at that time was neither frustration nor sadness. She just felt its existence continuously, just like the sea water constantly washing the breakwater on the pier. And now the pen is in the hands of the young man. What does he want to write? The same feelings as himself? Or turn those indescribable emotions into the most real words? If it were not for the deepest and most passionate great writers, it would be absolutely difficult to do this, but Linger... maybe he is different?
Olvera was thinking in a daze, but at this moment, the rustling pen tip suddenly stopped, and the young man raised his head and smiled at Olvera.

"In fact, I can't write anything." He admitted, not sparing in talking about his past: "Just as every child has had the fantasy of being a great hero, everyone who has access to paper and pen has definitely fantasized about what kind of story he will write to make the public obsessed and crazy about it, but the fact is that we are ordinary and mediocre in most of our lives, and do not have special talents. If I tell you that I haven't tried, it is absolutely a lie; but if I tell you that I still haven't given up my ideas after trying, I am just deceiving you. In college, I wrote several papers and got the approval of professors; later I wrote a few other types of articles and sent them to the publishing house, but I only got the three words "failed". This made me realize that even if it is the same text, rigorous and romantic, logical and emotional, realistic and romantic, are completely two different concepts, and I haven't tried it since then."

"Recognizing your own mediocrity is the first step in life, but if you ask me, how can a person who has chosen to give up persuade me not to give up? Then I should tell you, Olivia, the reason why words are the greatest power in the world is that they are also the most ordinary power in the world. The threshold for using it is high, the threshold for understanding it is also high, but the threshold for seeing it is there, lower than your ankle. So I often hear people say that beggars also know how just Prince Hamlet's revenge is, but the lines of the script of "The Renwittins" caused the audience in the Garden Theater to smash and destroy things wantonly. If it weren't for the infection of emotions, how could the poorest of us empathize with the most lofty fate, and how could the most violent behavior be for the defense of the purest art? You have a unique talent, but you are also given a sacred mission, destined to use your pen to write stories for thousands of people without talent. But please note that the story does not belong to you, but to all those who fantasize about its existence. They have seen it a long time ago, but they just don't have the talent, so they can't write it."

"If you stop writing, will they not see it? This is arrogant; if you let the story stay here, will their fantasies be abandoned forever? This is one-sided; if you think that there is only one Shakespeare in the world who can write "Hamlet" and only one Sir Roman who can write "March Diary", then it is also wrong. Among the fantasies of thousands of people, there are always people who are not inferior to them, or even far surpass them. Master Shakespeare and Sir Roman knew this very well, so they never regarded themselves as great, but called their pens "readers' pens". The meaning of writing books for readers is not that you must let readers see your work, must make them feel satisfied, or even must make this work recognized by many people until it goes down in history; its real meaning is that only you can help readers write the stories they have imagined but cannot write, the ideals they have pursued but are forced to abandon, and the enthusiasm they once had but carefully hid. This is the inevitable path for every great writer, when they realize that creation is not their own power, but a mission given by fate and inspiration."

The young man paused for a moment when he spoke here. The abrupt blank in a long but not lengthy narrative was like a broken chapter in a piece of music, which made Ovella feel uneasy for no reason. At this time, the young man had already removed the pen from the paper and handed the paper to Ovella in the light of the flickering candle.

The girl took it subconsciously.

"I must admit that you have a point. It is indeed something only a fool would insist on writing a whole story for a reader, especially a story that he does not like. But sometimes I also hope that there is someone in the world who is willing to do such a stupid thing for me."

He winked at the girl. Although there was a smile on his lips, it was not frivolous. On the contrary, it gave people a feeling of gentleness and encouragement. Olvera felt that her hands were shaking, as if she would lose her grip at any time. But no, she squeezed the paper very tightly, and even made it wrinkled because of too much force. The wrinkles spread like the lines on a person's palm, going through the tortuous course of years. Only the line of words on the paper was not affected by these delicate and deep lines, and was reflected so clearly in the girl's eyes. She heard the voice, as if it came from the bottom of her heart, because it was not reading, but feeling——

"Are you willing to become a fool for your first readers?"

"My favorite author, Miss Olvera?"

Give me some meow