\”Mom, your starting point is so high, why do you do so poorly?\”

Yes, these are the exact words my own son Wan Wan said to me. One day, just when I was arrogantly and eloquently pointing out the words Jiang Shan Ji Yang, Wan Wan suddenly said this sentence: \”Mom, you started from such a high place, why did you do so poorly?\” This sentence was like a wake-up call. Cold water poured over me from head to toe. He also said: \”If you worked hard enough, you would have published a book and become famous long ago. Why? Because you are lazy and not hardworking enough.\” Zhimu Mo Ruozi. Yes, I must admit that what Wan Wan said is the truth. But why didn\’t he blush when he said this? It seems like he works very hard. In fact, there were many good times when I was writing and writing while he was lying in bed playing with his mobile phone. I must find a way to let him see this article, make him realize his own problems, and then work hard to avoid following in the footsteps of his mother and me, who has black hair but does not know how to study early, and white head regrets that he did not study hard. Why am I doing so poorly? As a leader in \”young fame\” and as Yu Xiuhua\’s middle school classmate, why did I do so poorly? I\’m asking myself too. I was so ashamed that I covered my face and sweated violently. Before I say how bad I am, please allow me to brag. Of course, these are also true. I have never been to kindergarten, but I already knew a lot of pinyin and Chinese characters when I was five or six years old. This is all due to my sister. My sister is three years older than me and is a good teacher. She taught me for three years before I entered elementary school. Because she likes Chinese, she only teaches me Chinese. It can be said that I have been dealing with square characters since I was sensible and fell deeply in love with them. Although writing is not something I am born with, it has always been with me growing up and is deeply rooted in my bones. When I was about six years old, I can\’t remember the exact time, I wrote the first \”article\” in my life using the only Chinese characters and pinyin I had mastered, called \”The Willow Tree in Front of My House\”. In the third grade of elementary school, the school began to teach composition. However, for me, who had been practicing for several years, those routines were like child\’s play. The teacher took me to the countryside to participate in an essay competition, and I won first place. The judges thought that I was too good at making up and my imagination was too wild. Yes, what I write is not a good article in the traditional sense. I don’t write about primary school students helping an old lady cross the road, I don’t write about doing good deeds without leaving a name, I don’t write about straightening and watering the crooked saplings, I don’t write… I am all of them The sky is unconstrained, and it shines brightly when given a little sunshine. I start to imagine and compile from the little things in life and my feelings. I have always believed that true feelings are important, and imagination is even more important. Only imagination can make an article full of spirituality. True feelings plus imagination, it is difficult to write a good-looking article. In fact, I taught Wan Wan the same way, and as a result, he was even worse than me, so I was resigned to being inferior. The teacher thought I was talented, but little did he know that it was because I won at the starting line. I must thank my dear sister. Maybe she was unintentional, but she did act as an enlightenment and guide on my writing journey. My life\’s encounters are closely related to her. In fact, my sister’s love and ability for writing are no less than mine. She has published articles, won awards in competitions, and wrote a novel in high school. During the summer vacation of my second year of junior high school, I was sweating profusely at home writing romance novels. After school starts, circulate it in the classroom. earlyThird, my Chinese teacher took me to the city to participate in an essay competition. It was the first time I went to the city when I was so old. During the summer vacation in high school, I worked hard at home writing novels. I wrote several books in A4-sized notebooks. After school started, it was circulated in the classroom, and then spread to the next class, and the next class next door. When I was about to graduate from high school, one of my articles was published in the \”National Middle School Outstanding Essay Selection\”, which was unprecedented in our school. I submitted this article through the post office more than a year ago. I never dreamed that it would be published more than a year later. The article was called \”Wild Chrysanthemum\” and the manuscript fee was 25 yuan. Two years ago, I contacted my high school Chinese teacher, Mr. Zheng, who had a profound influence on my writing. I said: Teacher, I haven’t contacted you for many years, do you still remember me? He said: Of course I remember, my Chinese class representative. Yes, I am the Chinese class representative. The teacher loves me so much. His comments on my articles are as long as half a page. He gives me affirmation and encouragement. He believes that I will be successful in the future. He lent me many classics and asked me to use the winter vacation to recharge my batteries. When he was on a business trip, he would not let teachers from other classes take over his classes. Instead, he would let me manage the class and lead everyone to review Chinese. Sometimes I would complain about spring and autumn for no reason, and I would also write about romance, romance, and love. I did not act according to common sense at all. He never blamed me and never forced me to write within the rules. I later realized that he was protecting my precious love and imagination for writing. If my sister is my inspiration in writing, my teacher is the noble person who helps me integrate writing into my soul. My enthusiasm for writing was deeply remembered by my classmates in elementary school, middle school and even college. After many years apart, they were not surprised when they learned that I was still persisting. During the Spring Festival this year, I got together with two of my best friends from middle school who have been together for 20 years. It was windy and the temperature was very low. I shivered at the entrance of a supermarket and waited for them to pick me up. As soon as I poked my head, they noticed me immediately. L said, \”You see, you see, how come this guy hasn\’t changed at all? Not only has he not aged, but he is still so energetic.\” I teased them happily: \”Oh, I didn\’t notice for a long time. You guys, who do you think those two old ladies are?\” They were so angry that they beat me wildly. In fact, they were not angry at all. They loved me and hoped that I would write famous stories and hope that I would always be young and beautiful. I know that it is writing that keeps me simple, full of life, and always beautiful. Writing is where my collagen and soul are. This has been my only hobby for the rest of my life. If I want to say what I have been passionate about over the years, apart from love, it is writing. Love once made me cry. When I was young, I liked some people, but I was scarred. The feeling of falling out of love is really painful, life or death. At that time, I thought, I was not good enough. Later, on the university campus, I met the destined person. He was the classmate and roommate of my high school classmate Y. At that time, I was going to a middle school for an internship, so I went to Y to borrow a bicycle. Later I found out that the bicycle belonged to him. After going back and forth, we became familiar with him. He taught me how to play billiards. It was winter and my hands were swollen from frostbite. He bought me ointment to treat chilblains. Later, we hooked up together. I asked him if he was interested in me when he was playing billiards. He said no, he was attracted by my \”talent\” after reading my articles. Then I remembered that a composition I wrote was at Y’s place. Not only did he read it, but his roommate also read it. I deceived my husband by writing, so all those years of hard work were not in vain. Later, I figured out that those people in my life who had made me cry and get drunk were just because we were not meant to be together, and they had nothing to do with whether they were good or bad. Thirteen years ago, I published an article in a magazine and the fee for one article was six to seven hundred. Back then, money was still valuable. That was the year I got pregnant. After Wan Wan was born, all kinds of complicated and trivial matters came to mind. In the following years, as I traveled back and forth between the workplace and my family, my passion and speed for writing slowly slowed down. Well, that\’s how I started to get worse and worse. For a while, I didn\’t even write a word for half a year. During that time, I was confused and confused. On the one hand, I have to run around for a living, and on the other hand, I can’t let go of my deep love for writing. I was so irritated and entangled that I had no desire to write and could not write decent words. In this way, more than eight years have passed. Although there are occasional articles published, most of them are inactive. It wasn\’t until Wanwan entered the second grade that I suddenly realized that I could no longer live like that. I couldn\’t let go and couldn\’t do without writing. I had to start again. No matter what it was for, even if I ended up doing nothing, at least I was worthy of the share. The love of the past. In the fall of 2013, I picked up the pen again and started writing continuously, insisting on writing growth notes for Wanwan. So far, I have written hundreds of thousands of words, many of which have been published in newspapers and periodicals. In March 2016, I opened a personal public account and started running my own paradise. I laugh here, cry here, talk to myself here, and drink and chat with like-minded people here. Thanks to my dear son Wanwan, who has given me continuous inspiration, and has produced many explosive articles on parenting, which has allowed so many readers to know me. Now, my writing is getting better and better, and the subjects I cover are becoming more and more extensive. I not only write about emotional stories about life, but also about family education and parenting experiences and life insights. If I don\’t write a few thousand words on a day, I feel uncomfortable all over, as if I\’m missing something. I can go a day without eating, but I can\’t go a day without writing. Whenever I am irritable, as soon as I sit in front of the computer and type the first sentence, my heart gradually calms down, and then I am immersed in the joy of writing and cannot extricate myself. Why am I doing so poorly? In fact, it has nothing to do with the objective factors such as pregnancy and childbirth work that I mentioned above. People cannot blame the government when they are poor, and they cannot blame society when they are poor. In the final analysis, it is still my own fault, not being persistent enough or not diligent enough. Although I am still doing very poorly, and my classmates are all directors, principals, and bosses, and I am still a poor writer, I am not envious or anxious. I have a hobby that makes me cry, laugh, make me reflect on myself, grow with me, and stay with me until I grow old. That’s enough. Moreover, I can write whatever I want, no matter who else’s face, I am the master of my own life, and I only live for myself. In a sense, I was finally living the life of my dreams. before meToo much time has been wasted. For the rest of my life, I will stick to it and never throw away the pen in my hand. It is what I eat and the source of my soul. Although Wan Wan often deliberately teases me, I know that he deeply loves me, appreciates me and is influenced by me. Once, his English homework required him to write a short article, and he wrote about me. He proudly wrote the beginning: My mother is a writer… When I wrote this article, Wanwan was writing next door. Zhou Ji, we don’t disturb each other, but we are close to each other. Wanwan\’s father was making dinner in the kitchen, and the scent of duck meat was already wafting in the air. This is probably the so-called quiet time. Finally, what I want to say is: If you love something, don’t think about what it was like before, don’t think about what it is like now, let alone what it will be like in the future. You just have to persevere and keep going.