The Author sighs with great indignation inside the school's male dormitory, 'D*mn, why did they have to make more restrictive rules? What do they mean by surrendering gadgets by 7? 7-10 literally states that it's for studying purposes...
Instead of having time to write from 5-7, I might not even write something in a day. Don't get me started with the classes, I have cultivated the way of laptop and lecture balance, and what I get is the banning of gadgets! Now I've got no choice but to do my projects and hobbies out of classes...'
The Author looks around the study room, the only sounds were the typing of his fingers and the electric fan swaying left and right, 'This...is disheartening. Dropping a novel is not what I intended to do...why is this so depressing?'
The Author sighs for the umpteenth time, 'I think I did terribly, at least my execution of the events wasn't right. The general idea was cool in my head though', he chuckles pained laughter.
He couldn't introduce 2 minor villains dying to Shinji and then making them haunt the latter which will eventually turn those 2 into a power couple and a comedic relief, slapstick duo.
He couldn't introduce girls who had problems (inspired by tuyu and their girls' designs), and made an idol group with them.
He couldn't secretly hint at a forgotten extra whose existence must not be known unless he suffers backlash and dies. He was supposed to be an overarching character in the shadows.
He couldn't make a whole arc dedicated to Shinji creating inventions as interesting as Phineas and Ferb, fucking with the laws of reality, fantasy, and logic.
He failed to fuck over his readers by sending eldritch elements to satisfy his sadistic cravings.
He failed to introduce even more cliches and tropes, making the novel a total joke with rich world-building. He hasn't even introduced the other races or shown the culture.
He decided that it was enough. He would take a buffer, maybe do another story. But something more simple. Something he could cope with.
'Sometimes, when you have no one but yourself to blame, it becomes one of those sad stories. Whenever there is a conflict that makes your blood boil with excitement or anger, it would be because of someone else's fault. But if I have no one else to blame then it would feel pitiful and sad, I bet someone would get a kick out of this.
...is this how you make introspections, ey? What a lousy excuse, because there is none...'
Immediately, The Author snapped his finger, and a button made of red ruby landed on his palm. Using his imagination he made a clone of himself inside the fictional realm.
'The Outer Beings of this world are indifferent to the plight of the fictional realm. May you never know sentience nor regret.', and with that thought, he pressed the button.