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Chapter 105 Traditional Literature

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    The reality is always skinny, and things often backfire.  She is not a freshman author with good luck and talent, and the publisher didn't even reply to her letter.

    The manuscript was sent out with the QQ mailbox, and as time passed day by day, there was no reply for three days, no reply for a week, and still no reply for half a month.

    During the long waiting process, Lin Xiaozhuang couldn't help but began to doubt her ability, because from childhood to adulthood, teachers at every stage would praise her for her good composition, and her insights were unique and mature compared to children of the same age.

    It has always been like this from elementary school to university.

    So after digging out the old manuscripts with immature writing, revising the manuscripts on the computer, and sending this manuscript with great care, she was always nervous but confident throughout the whole process.

    However, now is not the era of letters and horses. Half a month has passed, and there is no movement in the mailbox. She naturally began to doubt herself¡ª¡ª

    Is it because I didn¡¯t write well enough, and the content didn¡¯t catch the editor¡¯s eyes? Is it because I wrote rubbish, and the editor opened it and took a look before throwing it into the trash can?  Let the editor pass out

    Lin Xiaozhuang did not receive a reply for a long time. He sat alone on the sofa in the living room, turned on the computer on the coffee table, stared at the computer blankly, and was gloomy and depressed for several days.

    Well, I am probably not this material.

    Being able to write a good composition may not necessarily be able to write a good novel.  After all, the novel is so long, and it tends to be interesting stories.

    And she writes based on herself, so she naturally doesn't have any stories in her body. From childhood to adulthood, she just studied hard, and her life experience is not enough.

    Obviously, the current self is not enough to write a novel.

    When Lin Xiaozhuang was in a daze, Zhou Quan waved his hand in front of her eyes: "Xiao Zhuangyuan, what are you thinking about?"

    "I don't want to write anymore." Lin Xiaozhuang pouted, like a wronged child.

    It was rare for Zhou Quan to see her like a crying bag, and he couldn't help rubbing her head: "Little fool, I didn't have the heart to break your fantasy last time, do you know that traditional literature has become a sunset industry?"  ?¡±

    "Traditional literature, a sunset industry?" Lin Xiaozhuang looked at Zhou Quan, and then asked, "What do you mean?"

    "Although you have been buying paper books to read paper books, but now this society is the Internet age, everyone's mobile phone is always in hand, and the way of reading novels has changed. Traditional publishing houses are on the verge of extinction. They even their own  If you can¡¯t support yourself, how can you support you with the manuscript fee?¡± Zhou Quan said.

    When Lin Xiaozhuang heard it, he felt like a primitive person, and said embarrassedly: "Then why didn't you say it earlier, and let me submit the manuscript by email?"

    "You printed it out in thick stacks, and wanted to express it to other publishers. I thought you were too obsessed with the publisher, so I wanted you to try it. In case you are lucky and voted for a 'Survivor' publisher,  It is not impossible to see your manuscript just in time. After all, the lucky ones who can survive in the current publishing house have undergone timely reforms and kept pace with the times." Zhou Quan said.

    "You know a lot." Lin Xiaozhuang looked at Zhou Quan with admiration and admiration.

    "Obviously, you are unlucky. The publishing house you voted for is probably the mailbox left before it closed down." Zhou Quan gave her an analysis, and then gave her encouragement, "Keep going, girl!"

    If you like Zhuangyu, please bookmark it: Zhuangyu is updated the fastest.  (Remember the site URL: www.hlnovel.com
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