Chapter 14 story writing story

I live in a world smaller than Lilliputian, and live a life more monotonous than blank paper. Everyone has a heart, the heart that beats and fantasizes.The heart is like a brilliant sun flower blooming in the chest, and each petal is a time box, a box that hides memories and unknowns. I will regularly store some small things in each box: such as a ray of fresh air in the morning, and a very pure picture in the air; such as a lot of old houses on the opposite side of the balcony, and different interesting people in the old houses And things; another example is the smiling or crying baby faces, a series of sad and happy monologues; and the words I learned as I grew up-father, mother, love, beauty, happiness, sunshine , smiles, warmth, etc., are all stored in the time box.

In that world smaller than Lilliputian, I harvest all kinds of small things and store them in boxes.I call these things——stories, and I started to write the stories in those days that were more monotonous than blank paper with a pen and a heart that can beat and fantasize. The stories are like cute little people, growing up with me every day.They each have their own personalities, each with their own concerns, and the stories also have their own stories. Story A is a guy who is eager to grow up.When it grows up, it can manage money by itself, and manage others with dignity; when it grows up, it doesn't need to take exams, and it won't be scolded for poor grades; I most want to travel to the big world outside alone, and visit all the interesting scenery.But story A always doesn't know how to take care of himself, and always has to rely on others for help.Therefore, while it is eager to grow up, it does not grow up.

Contrary to Story A, Story B is a child who does not want to grow up.If you don’t grow up, it’s enough to have a beautiful doll as your companion; if you don’t grow up, you can get infinite sweetness from a cotton candy; Stupid, simply live a lifetime.But story B has already caught Old Man Time's tail, so he has to be led by the tail reluctantly, and finally grows up. Story C is a fool with a question mark on it.Craving noodles for breakfast?Package?porridge?have no idea.What are your plans for tomorrow?Planning to struggle?Planning a retreat?Planning a trip?Planning to dream?Plan or not?have no idea.What kind of ending should we arrange for the future?unexpected?Tasty?have no idea.It never knows what it wants.One day it got lost, should it go left or right?Story C said that he did not know.

Story Ding is an out-and-out slob.If you don’t want to read and write, it will say that your mind is not clear, you can’t put in the book, the weather is not sunny, and the inspiration is delayed; Will definitely work hard!But after countless tomorrows, it will continue to be lazy, and then swear before going to bed at night: Tomorrow, I will work hard! In the story, Xiao Er is serious, talking and acting like an adult, but in fact he is just a little guy who doesn't know the heights of the sky and the earth. In the story, Xiao San is used to disbelief in herself, doubts her own ability, and makes the atmosphere of life very tense. As a result, other people can't believe it.

There is also Xiaosi who likes to imitate, always imitating other people's fresh focus.But this makes it an unreal shadow. ... I got along quietly with the stories and began to understand their stories-in fact, their stories were my stories. I gradually lost myself in the world of the story.Stories like to play hide and seek with me, hiding here and there all day long, so that I can't write them. Sometimes I just stare at the blue sky in a daze for a long, long time. Stories like to lie on the clouds and peek at me. Sometimes I turn on the computer and listen to music easily, and the story likes to stand on the notes and invite me to dance.

Sometimes I read books seriously, and the stories like to hide in densely packed words to test my eyesight. ... There was really no way to find them, so I just waited quietly, like waiting for a rainbow on a rainy day.I don't know if the arc of the rainbow can be seen from the angle of this city, but I have to try, maybe the story is completely moved by me. I waited for the story, and after weeks of fighting to keep myself from panicking — the story finally came home. Holding a lot of stories in my hand, I was thinking what if, I mean what if!What if one day I can't write stories?I really can’t write a single story, what should I do? ... I dare not think about it!There is no need to think about it!Since I can still write stories now, I have to hurry up and write them down!