Fifteen minutes of fame. Not much consistency. Not much to build a career on. Not much to build a life on. Why did he bother? Why did he go through all the trouble?
He’d asked himself those questions over and over. He’d asked other people.
And still he had no answer. The closest he’d gotten was a comment that that’s all one can expect. Not very satisfying.
The whole process was not very satisfying.
And yet, what were the alternatives? What other avenues were open? The world had changed to a point that the venues that had offered a longer lasting sense of accomplishment were gone, replaced by the transitory, the immediacy of the instant gratification of the moment. The newest replaced the previous and then further and further down it went. Replaced and forgotten. Or at least passed over rarely to be retrieved.
It was totally unsatisfying and yet he continued, continued because, for now at least, it was the only avenue open to him.
All he could do was continue to hope that, one day, someone would read the newest of the new and notice it beyond those fifteen minutes of fame.