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Trap interactive writing

A story, a narrative, a narrative ... a novel must follow rules: they leave the complex to arrive at the simple pull to unravel, the son of a muddled story, not to endorse the complexity of their nodes, but to give the impression that there is, in our world, rational ways and that art, writing, give meaning to life . I think on this level where you trust me, I failed, life is not always so cooperative, fifty percent of murders are never solved, and under difficulties thought to be easy to solve The science continues to uncover unexpected complexities, far from being resolved in harmony, love lives, often locked into chaos; the language itself, still speaking of something else, never says what it is supposed to say, pragmatic complexity, making us much grimacing, gods endless attract us then, chuckling,
away ...
Like me, most of you thought that Saint-Loup-or at least that I named the friend as well ... - contacting me enough clues, had launched on the classic game tracks a detective story: a double life (common in fiction, not so rare in real life ...) that we solve together, understand what he had done for How-to who - it was engaging in disinformation, the benefit thus derived, the risks he ran, the adventures, blackmail, love, seduction, assault, mysteries, clues, escapes, betrayals and tests ... ... if the story was more intellectual, emotional anguish, moral scruples, strife, metaphysical meditations ... - he had or should overcome. In short nothing in its ordinariness, rather than reassuring ...

Is clumsiness on my part, his duplicity, that he guessed my love unspoken? - I do not control this evolution say things are not what they should have been all that far from me service, your contributions, revealing always narcissistic desire to write, showing a deliberate 'm astray, giving false information, showing the simple need to be ... well for all sorts of reasons too human, far from bringing me help continue to strengthen the fog to guide me where my progress. The interaction is not a sinecure, like a bad wheel, at the risk of capsizing, each of you coming to hoot and slide. I nice to remember the original purpose, you play with the map of sincerity, nothing happens, you will not believe me and only half my narrative bogging down in the muddy swamp of indecision. You ordered me to make you write a new story or what you inspire me can only be criminal. But what would you do ... would you not?

For now, waiting for me, I must go, and yet I still write! In whatever way the thing runs, I do not repent of what I have done by your orders: willy, nilly, what trap, I let myself shut? What