Warning: Not for the faith of heart or uninitiated.
I imagined myself on a beautiful sandy beach. It was a lovely day. From where I stood, it was several hundred yards (or meters if you're wired that way - no one is judging) to the water's edge. This beach extended both left and right as far as the eye could see.
As I admired the view, I suddenly realized every grain of sand on this beach was in fact a sentient aspiring writer - All trying to get my attention.
A soft unintelligible chorus of elevator pitches filled the air as they all shouted and waved their tiny little arms in the air, "Hey, I've got a boffo spec script you just gotta read!"
I stepped back in horror thinking I'd been attacked by a swarm of insects.
My perceived threat level went to zero when I realized it was just an infinite number of wannabes.
I shook my head and grinned as I considered if only all the hopes, dreams, frustrations and anger on this beach could be turned into fossil fuel. A tankful of premium gasoline would be about five cents - Heck, they might even pay you to haul it off and burn it?
Like a pig to slop and completely unenlightened by my vision, I sat down and wrote this account.