Writer wrote. But what was the point of that, thought Writer bluntly. What was the point of Writer writing when Reader never read what Writer wrote? Unread Writer is worth nothing. Unread Writer is of no value to nobody - not even himself.
If Publisher had only published..... but Publisher had not. But if he had, then Publisher might have said to Reader "Reader meet Writer and Writer meet Reader". And then Reader would read what Writer wrote. But Publisher never published.
In fact, even Publisher never read Writer. Publisher never read what Writer wrote and Reviewer never read what Publisher published, and Reader never read what Reviewer reviewed. Reader never read what Writer wrote.
So that was that. Writer died and only Dreamer remained.
Dreamer looked at where a pile of rejection letters would sit if Publisher had at least read what writer wrote. Dreamer awoke from his dream. The dream was over and had ended much the same as all his other dreams. Dreamer stopped being Dreamer and went back to normal. To being Loser.
Loser thought he might try something else. Hang gliding perhaps.
I thought I'd write a poem
But I couldn't make it rhyme,
I thought I'd write a novel,
But I didn't have the time.
I tinkered with a tune,
But I couldn't write a verse,
Then I wrote this ditty,
And things got slightly worse...