Fantasy Writers 1860

With tears in her eyes and full of pity, Mrs. Michelle escorted Dorian back to his room, and even at noon she specially saved the chicken's tail from a pot of chicken soup for herself.

Maybe it's because I finally paid the rent...

It's a good thing overall.

After lunch, Dorian went up to the roof of the apartment building and returned to his cramped, coffin-like room. He sat down at the table, looked at the slightly yellowed, rough manuscript paper in front of him, and fell into deep thought.

In the morning, I signed a manuscript supply contract with Editor-in-Chief Clancy at the editorial office. In addition to continuing to provide no less than 20 jokes of the same style and quality, there was also an agreement that I would create at least one novel that could be serialized for no less than five issues within a month.

The Soviets laughed at him, saying he still had a lot of stock, including many miscellaneous books he had read in his previous life, including a considerable number of novels. So Dorian readily signed the contract.

But now he realizes that things may not be as simple as he thought.

One of the biggest problems is, what to write?

It's not that there's nothing to write about, but rather that there's so much to write about that I'm finding it hard to choose.

He may be the first creator in the world to encounter such a problem.

The countless books he had read in his previous life were now clearly imprinted in his mind. Whether it was classics like "Les Misérables" and "The Old Man and the Sea" or online novels like "Lord of Mysteries" and "Battle Through the Heavens," he could easily flip through them as if he were reading in a library, as long as he closed his eyes.

But I can't exactly write a fantasy novel about cultivation in Britannia, can I? I can't exactly write about water droplets in a world where even basic forces haven't been discovered yet, can I?

It's either too advanced for its time, or the environment isn't suitable.

Therefore, the first priority should be to create works that are closer to the historical context of this era, while also taking into account the audience of the Lentinian Weekly, and avoiding works that are too difficult to understand or obscure.

At the same time, considering the length requirements, it cannot be too short.

Furthermore, since this is another world, we also need to consider whether there are other versions of the same work from other dimensions that we are familiar with.

If it were to be considered plagiarism by accident, it would truly bring shame to plagiarism predecessors like Su 〇 Chen, Zhou 〇 Xuan, Mi Weng Lai Shi.

It seems that when I have money in the future, I should find a big library and read all the books in it, so that I won't have to deal with this embarrassing situation again.

This significantly narrows the range of choices, but even so, there are still quite a few works to choose from.

"Forget it, I should go out and get a job first. I won't come up with anything by just thinking like this. I might as well change my mindset and maybe I'll come up with an idea." Dorian put down his pen, put on his worn-out coat, and prepared to go out.

With his reputation still tarnished, he knew he couldn't find a job as a copyist or tutor anytime soon. He decided to go to the dock area to see if he could find a day labor job. The people there probably wouldn't know him and wouldn't have any prejudice against him.

After wandering around for a while, we still ended up at the Blue Sun Cafe.

Unlike before, this coffee shop seemed to be doing exceptionally well today, with a long queue forming outside.

Has Manager William developed a new product?

Dorian changed direction and walked towards the end of the long line.

"Sir, what are you all doing queuing here?" Dorian asked a middle-aged man at the end of the line.

"The Lentinion Weekly, everyone's saying today's issue is different from the previous ones, it has some really interesting stuff," the middle-aged man replied.

At the same time, a worker in overalls walked from the front of the line, looking like he had just come out of a coffee shop, but with an uncontrollable smile on his face.

"Hey buddy, what is this thing? Is it really that good-looking? Don't make me wait in line for nothing!" The middle-aged man who had just replied to Dorian shouted at the worker who had just come out of the coffee shop.

"What a joke, it's a joke!" The latter didn't keep anyone in suspense, but instead enthusiastically and directly pointed out the differences between this issue of the "Lentinian Weekly" and previous issues.

"A joke? The things everyone's talking about are just jokes? What kind of joke is worth so many people lining up to see?"

"It's definitely a joke, but it's completely different from the old ones. Trust me, once you see it, you'll think the wait was worth it!"

After leaving those words, the worker strode away. When he reached the street corner, he suddenly went mad and began to laugh wildly.

The middle-aged man shrugged indifferently. He felt like a fool wasting his time here, but his left foot, which he had just lifted to leave, landed back on the uneven road.

"I don't think there are any jokes in the world that can make me laugh. My threshold for laughter is very high. The last time I was amused by a joke was almost twenty years ago... I want to see how funny it can be." A strange stubbornness drove him back to where he was and to continue waiting.

Upon seeing this, Dorian naturally understood that his joke had been published and had a good effect.

I must say, Mr. Clancy is incredibly efficient. I submitted my article yesterday, and it's already been published today.

Dorian walked past the long queue with a smile, gently patting the corner of his clothes, feeling a strange sense of satisfaction at having accomplished something without seeking recognition.

Soon after, the middle-aged man finally got to the front of the line, sat down in his usual spot, ordered a coffee, and began searching for his target: the *Lentinian Weekly*.

Strangely, the newspaper racks were empty; not only the Lontinion Weekly, but all the other newspapers had disappeared.

"What's going on? Boss, give me a copy of the 'Lentinion Weekly'!"

Manager William approached the middle-aged man with a magazine, placed it on the table, and then tried to remove the coffee from the table.

The middle-aged man quickly stepped in protectively, "Boss, what are you doing? I haven't finished my drink yet, why are you taking it away?"

"What are you doing? This is the last clean copy of the *Lentinion Weekly* in the store!"

"What does this have to do with my coffee?"

"If you watch this while sipping your coffee, you'll laugh so hard you'll spit it out and make a mess!"

Upon hearing this absurd reason, the middle-aged man couldn't help but sneer sarcastically: "How interesting, William. You're the first person in the last ten years to make me laugh."

"It's just a joke, but it's so funny that it made me spit out my coffee? This is the best joke I've heard in the last ten years."

After saying that, he deliberately took a sip of coffee, snatched the "Lentinion Weekly" from Manager William's hand, and skillfully flipped to the jokes section.

[...The judge laughed: I've lived in Britannia for decades, do you think I don't know which king is a fool...?]

"puff--"

Looking at the middle-aged man laughing so hard in his seat, Manager William wiped the liquid off his face with his sleeve, his brows furrowed.

"See what I told you?! This is the last clean copy of the *Lentinion Weekly*! Damn it, I should have made a bet with you earlier, wagering a gold pound that you would have spat it out!"