I freely admit that I had no idea what to expect from this exercise. But even so, I’ve already been suprised by the impact of not knowing my audience. I don’t know the innate biases and backgrounds of the faceless people reading this, and so not can’t intuit the most relatable way to frame my ideas.

Granted, the premise of this piece is not strictly true. My audience is my girlfriend and family, the ones who will actually read this. But still. In theory anyone with an internet connection could read my words.

I’ve never written a faceless person before. There’s no shared ground between us, which is liberating and a bit intimidating. Instead it’s my job as the writer to create that spark of empathy. And I’m really not sure how to do that. Beyond being as honest and candid as possible, and hoping that my basic humanness shines through. Any other way seems like pandering.

Maybe I’m approaching this from too analytical a world view. Maybe I should just create and accept that it will resonate witb some people and not others. Maybe thats what true creators do, the ones with legions of fans.

I’m not convinced by that though. Celebrities are only human, so I have to believe that they are aware of the reactions to their work. It makes my appreciate the work that they do to actively find and cultivate groups of like-minded fans into tight-knit communities. Even if the actual content is as inane as advertising for new underwear on instagram.