Writers

There is an ocean of writers that swells against our shores. They crash upon our beaches and leave forlorn bits of insight if we take the time to peek into the flotsam they have left behind. They are like a mounting wave of zombies crawling over a barrier, relentless in their desire to inflict their views upon us. I am overwhelmed at their number and the sheer volume of words that pour forth from them. They gush out as if from a broken conduit to hell. It all passes over my head like the wave that took me under on the beach when I was five years old, feeling the power of the sea for the first time.
Sad to say, I am one of them.
It is a hopeless position to be in.
No one has time for this.
In fact, many of them are not that bad, many are even good.
But that makes no difference at all.
The raves will still go to those who play the game the most strategically, and manipulate the audience the most effectively, those who plumb the public psychology the most cynically; and damn those who seek to find an honest expression.
And it's not easy to say that that's a bad thing sometimes,
because
there
are just
too
many
damn
writers.