All in all we're just bricks in the wall. Consider this a social rant. Not a rant about rants, although that would be an expected rhetorical cold reaction to follow up, go right ahead. What is so special about eye-googling into the lives of others when you know nothing compares to you. Is it escapism, perhaps. I often have a imaginative narrative that is in a way nothing short as if read from pages of a book called my life. This is sometimes a reason to sit behind the so called drawing board when inspiration hits. The setback is not style, not performance, not the writing. It's the inner voice that doesn't shut, but fears that a story will not be received or will be looked down on, in a way that no trial and error process is going to make things better. I can't tell I'm a pleaser for that matter, as far as my audience concerns. A writer only needs his world and his objects relations, some syntax, logic and drive. Ideally. Blueprinting a mindset that was supposed to be able to start filling pages on the convey is utopic, but not unique as a concept. Some might argue episodes are created by a few variables from a grab bag surrounding a, likely, character or set of characters as a constant factor. A sense of status quo leaves one to the choice to act out on it, and make one's inner senses sensible. This means getting there. Once on the road, however, realizing you're not reaching a goal, is part of accepting you're going to get there. Productively, you'll achieve, but you'll know when it's time to open up if you have a beautiful product for the world. Then you'll receive fans, essentially. If you won't get there, it's not necessarily due to not having the speculated X factor, or missing the spot marked X, but maybe it's because of the inability to make an impact even when you're noticed. This unfortunate thing to happen might be considered as giving up or trying too much or might indicate being in the wrong place in the wrong moment to achieve, success or recognition. Try archeology, and start digging up old cows from over the past hundred years. Try making a reconstruction from what has been covered in dust. There's a whole new world, if you're not studying or otherwise acquainted in the field as avant gardist. You'll become obsolete, even as a master, your work will be covered by specs of dust that will be from the masses' rustling about, like me right now. This rant is a spec of dust, and I don't realize it's meaning or relevance. You'll not only become obsolete by realizing you have been cautiously trying to reinvent the obvious wheel, but you'll realize there's a forest of digression and oblivion that is the past. You were born a case of ignorance, clay, to be remodeled into a structure by repetition of the known, as you learn, it has been known, but you weren't. You aren't a leading example or a revolutionary oracle. You're something to look at, so people can say that's not the way it works. At this time, you'll do right to start building a wall, sit on top of your castle, keep one ear open, but drown in your private world to start creating solid chunks from liquid shapeless averageness. Unique, solid chunks? Perhaps detailed descriptions of an arrange of views, perspectives, feelings and experiences, apprehensible and shared by many others. Can only good come from this? Maybe you'll find a person who thinks you're a unique spokesman, who was on the way of inventing that very wheel, that is actually in the minds of many.