Hello, Adam.

Go away. Trying to write a blog post here.

Ah, yes. A post for your typewriter monkey blog—the one that’s read by tens of people. Some of them may even be mildly interested in what you have to say.

I happen to like my blog, thank you very much.

Of course. I suppose you must. I mean, who else will?

Seriously, go away.

Why don’t you take a break from your blog and work on your novel? Oh, that’s right. You’re still stuck on that chapter. The one you started six months ago.

Hey! The past six months have been crazy and busy and stressful. Survival comes before creative writing. To quote Louisa May Alcott, “First live, then write.”

Ah, it was only a matter of time before you quoted somebody. You really, really enjoy quoting people, don’t you? You think it makes you seem smart and bookish. I think it makes you sound like a pretentious twit.

Yes, I like quoting people. So what? I haven’t given up on my novel, by the way. This is the year I finish the deuced thing.

We don’t use words like deuced in America, son.

I like dated British idioms.

I know, and I think it’s really cute that you use them. Wait, did I say cute? I meant annoying.

Do you know what? I kind of hate you.

That’s funny, Adam, because you and I happen to be the same person. Therefore, if you dislike me, who is it you really dislike?

I wouldn’t mind so much if you were… you know… cooler. A shadow version of me with glowing red eyes, maybe. The Shadow Adam. The Anti-Adam. My evil doppelganger. But you’re not any of these things. You’re just annoying.

The truth is sometimes annoying, but that doesn’t make it any less true. I’m here to give you healthy doses of realism when you get drunk on excitement and optimism. I’m here, Adam, because I care.

You’re twisting the truth and you know it. You’re exaggerating the nasty facts and hiding the good ones and generally making things seem much worse than they are.

Just listen to you! I know you like big words, so here’s one for you to chew on: pontificating. More to the point, stop pontificating!

Would you kindly go away? I need to finish this blog post.

You’ll never be Jon Acuff, you know.

Go away.

You’ll certainly never be C.S. Lewis.

Go away!

You won’t make a difference.

That’s it. Listen here! I will make a difference. It may not be a big difference. It may be a very small difference, but even a small difference can cause a whole lot of good.

Why do I get the feeling I’m about to hear another one of your fancy quotes?

Well, you are. “Sometimes you can feel like what you have to offer is too little to make a difference, but today I learned that every pony’s contribution is important, no matter how small.”

Wait. Wait. Are you quoting that stupid cartoon about rainbow ponies? That’s pathetic, Adam.

Hey! You can’t blame me for being pretentious, and then fault me for being childish.

I can, because you’ve somehow managed to be both. Congratulations.

Dash it, at least I’m trying to do something worthwhile!

Yes, yes you are. Trying and failing.

“Next to trying and winning, the best thing is trying and failing.”

Ah! Do you never stop quoting people?

Shut up and listen. In the vast scheme of things, I might not have much to offer. Individually, few people can change the world. But what if everybody tries? What then?

What if everybody fails?

God used a little boy’s lunch to feed thousands of people. What might he do with a person who tries to be useful?

Fine. Keep trying. See how little difference you make.

I will. Now tell me something. What are you doing to make a difference?

That’s a stupid question.

You don’t have an answer, do you? That’s what I thought. Now go away. It’s too late for me to finish this blog post, so I guess I’ll have to improvise… or maybe not.

You’re going to post this conversation on your blog, aren’t you?

Yup.

Your readers will think it’s an awkward confession or a plea for attention or something. Besides, this has been a really lame conversation.

Hey! That’s as much your fault as mine! I have to post something today. This conversation is better than nothing. Who knows? Maybe it’ll encourage someone to make a difference—or at least to try. Now go make us some coffee, will you?