Back to 17, My Brother is the Cult Leader

When Yu Hua took the microphone, the entire room fell silent for a moment.

His voice wasn't loud, and he spoke slowly, but everyone in the audience could hear what he was saying clearly.

"Online literature is like current literary publications; only about one percent of it is good."

But that one percent is enough. The remaining ninety-nine percent is embellishment, but it is also the soil.

Without soil, there would be no one percent.

Ah Cheng spoke the least.

He only said a few words, the gist of which was that the internet provides the freedom to publish articles and can bring new possibilities in expression, but the quality of the text itself will not automatically improve because of the change of medium, and the necessary effort still needs to be put in.

Chen Cun concluded by saying some words of encouragement to online authors to continue creating.

After the judges finished speaking, the microphone was handed to the online authors.

Li Xunhuan took the microphone first and shared his feelings about writing online.

Ning Caishen's remarks were even more amusing; he said that what he feared most was not that no one was watching, but that too many people were watching.

"You write a story and just post it, and dozens of people leave comments urging you to update. That pressure is much greater than submitting the manuscript to the editor."

A burst of laughter erupted from the audience.

During the Q&A session, a young man wearing glasses in the first row raised his hand.

The host handed over the microphone.

"I would like to ask Fang Yuan a question." The young man stood up, his voice not loud but very clear.

Fang Yuan paused for a moment, took the microphone from the microphone stand in front of him, and said, "Excuse me."

The young man pushed up his glasses.

"My name is Wu Wenhui, my online ID is 'Heart of Darkness', and I am currently a senior majoring in computer science at Peking University."

I've read your Twilight series and also watched the movies Be There or Be Square and Endless.

I'd like to ask you, as an author, how did you achieve such great commercial success with your work?

I'm not talking about writing techniques, but rather—how do you get more people to see your work?

How do I get noticed by film and television companies?

His tone was serious, but the question itself wasn't particularly in-depth.

Fang Yuan thought for a moment and said:

"Looks like everyone's interested in making money!" The room erupted in laughter.

"You're asking about the pathways to dissemination and monetization."

My own experience suggests three points:

First, what you write must have the quality of being adaptable.

For example, "Twilight" has a strong visual appeal, and the relationships between the characters are simple yet tense. These characteristics give it a natural advantage when it is adapted into a movie.

Secondly, you need someone to help you manage these things.

I have two agents who are responsible for liaising with production studios, publishing houses, and film and television companies, so I can just focus on writing.

Third, don't just be content with writing; learn to protect your rights.

Copyright, revenue sharing, and attribution—all of these should be clearly stated in the contract.

Wu Wenhui listened attentively and nodded. "So, how did you find your agent in the beginning?"

Fang Yuan said, "She found me first. She saw what I wrote, felt it had potential, and took the initiative to contact me."

So, back to your question—how do I get more people to see my content?

The best way is to write it down well; once it's written down, people will naturally come to you.

Wu Wenhui nodded thoughtfully and sat down.

During the tea break, Wu Wenhui walked over through the crowd.

He was still the same as always—wearing an ordinary crew neck sweater, with somewhat long hair, and didn't seem aggressive at all. But when you stood face to face with him, you would notice that his eyes were very bright, the kind of bright that always seemed to be thinking about something.

"Fang Yuan, hello." He extended his hand.

"I didn't have enough time on stage just now, so I didn't dare to ask any more questions."

Fang Yuan shook his hand. "It's alright, we can talk now."

Wu Wenhui took out a notebook from his pocket, opened a page, and wrote down a few questions.

Fang Yuan glanced at them—they were all very specific questions: How do I find an agent?

How do I negotiate terms with film studios? What's the typical revenue sharing percentage for copyrights? How can I protect myself from being scammed?

These questions are simple, even somewhat naive, but you can tell he's really doing his homework.

"You're a computer science student, why are you so concerned about writing and copyright?" Fang Yuan asked.

Wu Wenhui thought for a moment before speaking:

"Because I've read a lot of good articles online and I know some authors who write very well."

Most of them can only post things online for free and don't earn a penny.

Some people stop writing as they go, because they have to go to work and support their families, and they don't have the time or motivation to continue.

I think it's a real shame.

He paused for a moment, then said, "If there were a way for these people to support themselves through writing, more people would be willing to write, and more good works would emerge."

I don't know what this method is yet, but I think we should think in this direction.

Fang Yuan listened without interrupting him.

Wu Wenhui continued, "So I'd like to ask you, how do you turn your writings—film scripts or novels—into money?"

Could you explain this process to me in as much detail as possible?

Fang Yuan looked at him, thought for a moment, and then spoke:

"Let me tell you about my process. After I finish writing a script, my agent will send it to several target companies. These companies will conduct an initial evaluation, and if they think it has potential, they will organize an internal reading session."

After I pass the interview, they will schedule a meeting with me to discuss the terms.

The talks were lengthy, sometimes going back and forth several times.

But at its core, it boils down to two things: money and power. How much money you can get, and how much say you have in the project.

Wu Wenhui made a few notes in his notebook.

"But all of this is based on the premise," Fang Yuan said.

"Your product must be good enough that the other party is willing to sit down and talk to you. There are no shortcuts to this."

Wu Wenhui nodded, closed the notebook, and put it in his pocket.

"Thank you, I learned a lot today," he said.

"After I graduate, if I have the opportunity, I hope to talk to you more about this."

I'm very interested in this industry, but I still know too little about it.

Fang Yuan said, "Anytime."

He took a business card out of his pocket and handed it to him. Wu Wenhui took it with both hands, glanced at it, and solemnly put it back in his pocket.

"Then I won't bother you anymore," Wu Wenhui said.

"There are other segments coming up; I'll go listen to them first."

He took a step back, turned around, and walked into the crowd.

Fang Yuan watched his retreating figure and suddenly remembered something—

At this point in time, Wu Wenhui, a senior majoring in computer science at Peking University, only had a vague, nascent idea about the business model of online literature.

The questions he jotted down in his notebook were all very basic, concerning how individuals could monetize their wealth.

He hadn't yet voiced his ideas about "micro-payments," "pay-per-chapter," and "paid reading," which later transformed the entire industry landscape.

These ideas will gradually take shape in another year or two, after he graduates, gets a job, and discusses them repeatedly with a few friends.

It's too early now.