Reflections on my creative writing, perhaps I am rushing the plot too much

I recently reread my own novel and had a thought.

Perhaps I am rushing the plot too much.

With settings, themes, foreshadowing, and character movements,

I felt so strongly about those things that I think I left behind the 'time spent in that moment' for the reader.

I feel like I should advance the story, but

lately, I've started to think that what I really love is the 'time when nothing is happening'.

The sunset visible from the window.
The wind on the pedestrian bridge.
The few seconds of hesitation before opening a notification.
The time spent agonizing over a drink in front of a vending machine.

Moments and atmospheres like those gaps in life,

the old me used to skip over them.

'I mustn't bore the reader,'
perhaps I had that kind of awareness.

But lately, conversely, I am drawn to 'works where you can linger in the atmosphere'.

It doesn't need dialogue, incidents, or setting explanations.

I just

want to read writing that has that 'mid-life feeling,' like being unable to move while leaving a convenience store bag on the desk, or drinking lukewarm cafe au lait for no particular reason.

Perhaps that is what I want to write, too.

Moreover, the works I like are usually a little broken.

They speak normally, yet something is slightly off.

Even though social anxiety, loneliness, or fatigue are in the background, the dialogue has a strange sense of everyday life.

They talk normally about being hungry, being sleepy, or stopping by a convenience store.

But something seeps through underneath that.

Recently, I finally understood that the atmosphere I want to write is also there.

So now, rather than explaining 'emotions,' I want to write about 'life'.

Not 'I was lonely,' but

a room where only a notification is glowing.

Not 'I was tired,' but

the feeling of sitting for thirty minutes with a convenience store bag left on the floor.

I want to let emotions seep through with things like that.

Also, I feel like I was trying a bit too hard to 'write beautifully'.

Neon.
Night view.
Loneliness.
Pale light.

Of course, I like that kind of atmosphere.

But my ideal is not 'aesthetic depression'.

Rather,

an atmosphere like 'it's a beautiful view, but life is kind of coming to an end'.

Because there is that kind of life noise, it becomes human-like.

Perhaps I don't want to write about a 'perfect creator'.

I want to write about a slightly strange person who is coming home from a convenience store at 11 PM, vaguely thinking about society.

That's why lately, I'm thinking of pausing a little in my novels too.

Before advancing the plot, I will breathe in the air of that place.

I will write about the time when nothing is happening.

Because life is probably longer during those times.

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