Finished, finished, finished!
Stretch and celebrate.
When I first started this book, I thought if the performance was good enough, I'd push it to three million characters. In the end, I didn't quite make it, capping out at nearly 2.5 million characters.
This is the first time I've written something this long; it felt like running a marathon, but the process wasn't tiring. Instead, I found the writing enjoyable.
When this novel first began, it was essentially a post-apocalyptic survival, farming, and game-leveling mode. As it progressed, it evolved into a novel depicting the world, leaning towards a slice-of-life style with an increasingly slow pace. This might have sacrificed a lot of the satisfying elements of leveling up and fighting monsters. For my next book, I want to be as concise as possible.
If humanity breaks free from its cradle-like home planet and ventures into the vast universe, possessing tens of millions of planets, what will the state of human society be like then? How will human psychology change? What stories will unfold on each planet? This is what excites me immensely to write about.
What changes will occur when science and technology advance to the point of resembling magic? What will the biosphere born on different planets look like? These are also things that excite me to write about.
The writing process for this book has given me unforeseen experiences. The world typed out on my keyboard has convinced me, and at times, I've vaguely believed that these written things were real.
Battlefields on barren planets littered with metal wreckage, bizarrely prosperous alien cities, congested interstellar routes, alien creatures with strange appearances and habits—all of these things, in a daze, I've felt to be real.
When I was in junior high school, I read Liu Cixin's "The Three-Body Problem" from beginning to end. Back then, the series hadn't become popular yet, unlike its current global recognition.
I still remember finishing the last page late at night. I looked out the window, and the dark universe no longer seemed as silent and desolate as I remembered. Instead, it was filled with clamor, with interstellar wars raging in every corner, and prosperous alien civilizations busy destroying each other. The stars were like countless eyes, watching each other, and occasionally casting their gaze towards the solar system.
Perhaps this was a seed that, many years later, took root and sprouted. Thus, I also wrote about a bustling universe, crowded, lively, and teeming with people, much like a marketplace.
Later, I read Yuval Noah Harari's "Sapiens: A Brief History of Humankind," which presented a novel concept to me: human civilization owes its birth to imagination.
If humans only believed what their eyes saw, civilization could never have been born.
But humans possess imagination; they can imagine things they hear and things that don't exist. Thus, they transformed from arboreal creatures into beings capable of venturing into space.
If you believe dragons exist in the world, then dragons truly exist in your world.
If you believe aliens exist in the world, then aliens truly exist in your world.
Whether they truly exist or not is not important. What matters is that a world with dragons and a world with aliens is more interesting.
Beyond being interesting, virtual imagination often ends up changing reality.
Some people believe in the existence of dragons, leading to the creation of numerous dragon artworks. Others have attempted to excavate dragon remains, only to unearth ancient tombs, historical sites, and giant dinosaur skeletons.
Some people believe in the existence of extraterrestrial life, resulting in piles of science fiction works. They have also invested heavily in building giant radio telescopes and arranging for staff to monitor cosmic signals daily.
This is perhaps the meaning of fantasy: it is interesting and it changes reality.
After finishing this book, I'll probably take a few days off before starting a new one.
I have several new book beginnings on hand: a culinary novel, a post-apocalyptic novel, a prodigy novel, and a strange, brain-opening genre. I've written tens of thousands of words for each, but ultimately, none have been published. I always feel something is missing, and I can't decide which one to focus on.
There's a very old folk tale about a donkey placed between two piles of hay.
The donkey is very hungry and wants to rush to the left pile of hay to eat ravenously, but then it looks back and feels the right pile has more and better hay. By the time it rushes to the right pile, it feels the left pile seems to have more and better hay. In the end, the donkey, caught in repeated indecision, starves to death.
I am that donkey now. The beginnings of novels in different genres in my hands are the hay, and I'm spinning around in distress. However, I won't be as foolish as the donkey. If absolutely necessary, I'll just publish one book. If it's good, I'll keep eating; if it's not, I'll switch to another pile of hay.
Currently, I am most inclined to start a post-apocalyptic novel. A planet destroyed by nuclear war, with zombies and mutated creatures everywhere, and surviving humans scavenging in the ruins.
Actually, I wanted to start a post-apocalyptic novel last year, but for various reasons, I didn't dare. Now, I touch my heart, and my heart still tells me, "Post-apocalyptic novel! Post-apocalyptic novel!"
Finally, since this is a concluding remark for a sci-fi novel, let's look forward to the future.
Our lunar base is already preparing for construction. Is the interstellar age far away?
I hope that one day, I can update novels in outer space, and you can read novels in outer space as well.
Thank you, readers. I love you all!
2023.2.8