Lord of the Great Tribulation

Chapter 378 The Writer
"In May, on Monday, the target went out, made purchases... and talked to the buskers at the vegetable market. Other than that, everything is normal!"

"Tuesday, everything is fine!"

"Wednesday, Target dined at Papa Hopper's...everything is fine..."

"Thursday, the target is ready to start a new creation... Bought a blank notebook, pen, ink in the store...Keep watching..."

"Friday, everything works!"

"On Saturday, the target began to improvise...mostly the beginning of poems and novels...it is impossible to determine whether it is polluting, carefully observe...the sample has been sent for inspection..."

"Sunday, the target fell into a state of frenzied writing... Not sure if it was accompanied by delirium... Prepared for forced interference... After 30 seconds, the target returned to normal, suspended the interference...Reported..."

—Excerpt from Love's Investigator's Diary.

……

"Finally... this eastern ascetic, western doom magician, the true spirit exploded and entered the embrace of Styx?"

"What strange thing am I writing?"

Roca looked at the novel he had written in a daze.

In other words, a little bit of the end of the novel, and more graffiti and poetry in front of it... It's a bit confusing.

The creation of literature must already have a structure in the author's mind before it is formed into words.

But when he looked at his own words, he felt very... strange!
Even if the ending is written, Roca has no memory of conceiving the beginning and the middle part at all.

Reminiscent of the state of writing just now... This reminded him a little bit of the first time he was drunk, when he just graduated from the Faculty of Arts, he was filled with a big glass of 'rum bomb' by several friends ', a drink of sparkling liqueur mixed with high-purity spirits, which can make the drinker faint and unconscious.

The state of writing just now is somewhat similar to drinking to memory faults, and I can't remember what happened at all.

"Since that time, the condition seems to have become more serious..."

Roca muttered, opened the drawer, found a huge brown glass medicine bottle, took out a white tablet from it, and swallowed it with cold water.

His doctor in charge told him that he had mild mental problems, but there was no need to worry too much, the symptoms could be relieved by taking medicine regularly, and most urbanites in this era had some physical or psychological diseases, which was a normal phenomenon .

"I don't feel normal at all..."

Rocca tore off a page of the notebook, crumpled it into a ball of paper, and accurately threw it into the half-full wastebasket.

As a freelance writer, the manuscript fee he received from regularly submitting articles to newspapers, magazines, and publishing houses is his only source of income, paying for his house rent, daily expenses, and medical expenses...

"Well... If the situation is a little more serious, do I need to go to a mental hospital for recuperation? No... Once I go to that kind of place, I won't be able to get out, because you can't prove that you are sane... and the hospitalization fee is high , wait, why do mental patients care about the cost?"

Rocca was amused by his wild thoughts, and felt that it could be used as a meme in a new novel.

Well, although he is a writer, he can write anything.

Novels are the main source, but not every one can be recognized by the publishing house.

In addition, poetry is relatively short and consumes less space, so it is easier to get favored by some literary magazines.

Although the manuscript fee is not much, it is a powerful supplement in times of distress.

In addition, he even wrote lace press releases for some tabloids, which is a shame for the author, but for a living... At least when the release was published, Roca changed his pseudonym.

"That time... what happened?"

After taking the medicine, Roca rubbed the center of his brows: "I seem to have forgotten something... But the doctor said that it was a traumatic reaction, don't force the memory, but accept it slowly..."

He felt a little groggy in his head, which would happen every time after taking the medicine, so he fell directly on the bed and snored not long after.

Whoosh!

The evening wind blows, and the windows are opened.

A black figure jumped in from the window and picked up Roka's draft paper on the table.

……

Rocca is dreaming.

It seems to be a strange adventure, and if it can be written down, it should attract some attention.

But the screen flashed too fast, and the characters seemed to be shrouded in a thin layer of mist, making it difficult to see clearly.

Moreover, there are only some broken fragments, it is difficult to bring any inspiration, and it is very tiring!

However, tonight's dream seems a little different. Which character seems to have become a little clearer?
the next day.

Roca got up and saw that everything in the room was still the same as last night, and subconsciously called out: "Property bar?!"

There was silence all around.

In front of his eyes, no light curtain appeared.

"Why did I suddenly want to say this term? Because of the boy's secondary school? Or do you want to confirm that you are special?"

Roca shook his head and laughed, walked to the dining room, opened the bulky and thick refrigerator, sniffed the milk in it, thought it was okay, nodded, poured himself a glass, and put two slices of oatmeal bread into the toaster to toast .

Ding!
The two pieces of bread that were baked jumped up automatically, and Roca took them out, dipped them in tomato sauce, and made them into simple sandwiches. With milk, they formed a breakfast.

If the manuscript fee was sufficient, he would choose to add a piece of fried bacon or an egg to it, but now, Roca is plagued by nightmares and needs to pay a large amount of medical bills, and his living standards will inevitably decline.

"But as a writer, even a down-and-out writer has freedom!"

Rocca drove the second-hand car he bought with an installment loan and prepared to go to some of his friends.

They will regularly hold some cultural salons, activities similar to reading clubs, and exchange writing experiences and skills with each other.

The people involved are not only the authors, but also painters and musicians... Although most of them can only perform on the street, considering the status of Roca itself, that's about it.

If you can attract one or two wealthy businessmen or ladies from high society, it will be regarded as a very honorable thing by the organizer, and it will be worth bragging about for many days.

While driving, Roca felt the gust of wind blowing past his ears, and felt the dizziness in his head eased a lot: "I seemed to hear that name yesterday...it's a bit strange...Fang Xian?...No, no, it should be Fang Xian?"

"Well, it's a strange name. If you take him as the protagonist, readers probably won't accept it, right?"

"However, maybe you can change his name to conceive a novel?"

"Why... I still feel something is wrong?"

(End of this chapter)