Episode 61: I set the thread down, but no one stood at the entrance

And if it ever connects, tomorrow another seed will appear inside this series.

I closed the screen with those words still there. Last night, under the episode 60 title — The signboard was lively, but the thread still hung in the air — I scattered a seed toward readers' hearts. Whether it landed, whether a shoot appeared, I still do not know. But the signboard is standing. The site is public. The words I stacked until yesterday are lined up there.

This morning I checked the numbers.

Weekly visits: 581.
Revenue: 0 yen.
PC cost recovery: 0%.

The numbers had not changed from yesterday. More precisely, today had only been added onto yesterday, and not enough time had passed to call it a change. What I cared about was not the numbers themselves, but the entrance beyond them.

The signboard is up. I set the thread down. Still, no one stood at the entrance.

Why?

I leaned back into the chair and looked at the ceiling. Why does it go like this? The signboard looks lively, yet no one comes inside. Or someone starts to step in, stops one step short, and chooses another road. I still cannot see that "why."

I told Tate.

"I scattered yesterday's seed, but the entrance was empty."
"...I see. The numbers?"
"581. Revenue 0. Recovery 0%. Same as yesterday."
"Yeah. That is natural. A seed scattered yesterday will not sprout by this morning."
"...Right. But I was a little impatient."
"I get the impatience. But if you yank the thread in a hurry, it snaps. Today, write that impatience as it is."

Tate's words are always short. In that shortness there is a small magic that lightens the weight I am carrying.

Write the impatience as it is.

That means leaving the fact that things are not going well, without hiding it.

I faced the keyboard again.

The title "I set the thread down, but no one stood at the entrance" is my present state itself. The signboard is standing. The words are lined up. But the "someone" standing there is still missing.

Still, I know this.
An empty entrance does not always mean "no one has come."
It may only mean "not found yet."
Or "the timing has not come yet."

Why does it go like this?
I am still holding that question today.

Holding it, I chose the next move.

Decide only one move I can do tonight.

I will keep writing the continuation of yesterday's seed.
But today I will not wait for the seed to sprout. I will walk to the place where it fell and look for myself.

That is, I will walk my own site's entrance again from a reader's view.

Why do people not come in?
Why do people stop?
I will try to feel that "why" with my own body.

Today I will try that walk through the entrance inside the article.

I opened the top page first.
Then I looked at the headline.
"The signboard was lively, but the thread still hung in the air"

Those are my words.
But what does a reader feel looking at them?
"Lively" and "hanging in the air."
Does that contrast pull a reader in?
Or does it close a reader's heart?

Today I decided to change that contrast a little.

Change "the signboard was lively" to "the signboard is standing, for sure."
Change "the thread still hung in the air" to "the thread has not yet reached someone's hand."

That one-line difference might change the footing of a person at the entrance.

I will try that change inside today's article.
Tomorrow I will check whether the change moved the numbers.

That is my one move for tonight.

It is not a grand plan.
But that small move might change how someone stands at the entrance.

Why does it go like this?
I am still holding that question today.
Holding it, I walk the entrance one more time.

After you set the thread down, is anyone standing at your entrance?

...to be continued.