Writing holds the same properties as children's building blocks. A great work is made with the proper pieces; they contain the correct shape, color and size. There are usually working parts. It is seldom ever stationary. Yet, when it is stationary, like a tower, there is always more joy in breaking it down than building it up. Crude people often knock down the writer's towers without permission, or in a bullying way. Yet, there are infinite ways to crush a beautiful block tower— some with grace, others with sloth. There is never a princess stranded on the highest block, nor is there a beautiful pot of gold within its winding basements. The only enemy a block tower has is time and wind.

As a child, the writer is handed building blocks, such as Lego Bricks. As an artist, the writer must learn to create blocks. He must craft them for particular functions; shape, color and size. The blocks can change, particularly blocks that represent character as they are the most sporadic and unpredictable. After this, the writer must learn to create mortar and be mindful of his style in doing so. The writer's tower is only as strong as his mortar; a loose brick could result in failure and cause the whole thing to come tumbling. Finally, the writer must learn to build his tower from the bottom up and to never have complete plans for any tower before it is finished. The writer's result is often catastrophic and nearly every writer fails in ever creating a stable tower. The writer who never builds outside of his means and understanding always has the greatest success.