There’s a big problem I see with the conclusions of this study. What it found was that kids from 8 to 12 years old who are exposed to violent movies are more likely to then use a gun, one of the toy or disabled ones provided by the researchers. The study then concludes, in short, that viewing violence leads to an increased tendency toward violence.

Here’s my problem: The toy and other guns were made available.

There’s a decent case to be made the exposure to violent media – movies, TV shows, music, video games – will increase one’s tendency to be violent. See more guns and you’re theoretically more likely to use them. That’s the case that’s been made by those on both sides of the conservative spectrum who want to regulate the output of the entertainment industry.

But the means to act on the impulses have to be available in order for them to do so. The gun has to be available for it to be used. If it’s not available, it can’t be used.

And that’s where the political unity ends. Democrats will tell you that the next logical step is then to enact gun control measures that will keep weapons out of the hands of those most likely to use them. Republicans, though, will stop you and argue that the fault lies entirely with the liberal media and its everyone’s right to own guns, even those with a history of mental issues and other violent behavior.

So one wants to address at least one root cause of the violent behavior and eliminate a primary means of acting on violent impulses.

The other wants to address at least one root cause of violent behavior but then do nothing about the means by which that behavior is expressed.

I would have loved to have seen a variation on the study that sent some groups of kids to a room with no violent toys. What would have happened then?

It’s an interesting hypothetical, but it remains just that. In the real world that’s not even an option. These kids will grow up, most likely, in the same reality we’re in now, where guns are freely available to whoever seeks them out, regardless of the intentions for usage and irrespective of red flags in their backgrounds.

In the movie Grand Canyon, Steve Martin (pictured above) plays a movie producer who specializes in over-the-top action films, a character modeled after Joel Silver. One day he’s shot in the leg during a robbery and has a conversion, promising to put less violence into the world because he’s now seen its impact up close. After he’s healed, though, he quickly goes back to his old territory, essentially shrugging and saying he can’t save the world.

It’s a cynical moment, but an essentially accurate one. We can’t expect the movies to change us for the better. We need to do that ourselves in real, tangible ways. Gun control laws that respect the rights afforded by the Bill of Rights but also respect the right of six-year-old kids to not be shot while walking home from school. That’s much more within our grasp.

Chris Thilk is a freelance writer and content strategist who lives in the Chicago suburbs.

I recently read a blog post by someone who began writing in May of this year. The writer was crowing over being nominated as a “top blogger” in her category by a major publishing platform. Her name appeared alongside various individuals who have well-known “brand” names and legions of followers, along with reputations for not doing any work and having zero case studies to their name. This writer had already amassed over a thousand followers of her blog, several thousand on Twitter and more.

Part of the post about the accolades talked about how the writer “felt” the needs of the audience and was sure to address those in posts, a strategy that had helped in the accumulation of a massive audience.

While I’ve been able, over the last year, to move ever-closer to my dream of being a full-time writer, my own stuff continues to be a niche hit only. My posts rarely go “viral” and become sensations. I have a few hits on Medium and my blog stats spike occasionally, but not enough to break me into any sort of upper tier. I’ve never been nominated for “top blogger” in any category in the over 13 years I’ve been blogging. My combined network on Twitter, WordPress, TinyLetter and Medium is ~4,300 people. I’m not blowing anyone’s socks off.

I’d love a larger audience. Cinematic Slant is growing slowly but surely. But I know that the stuff I publish – here and there – is usually original and not geared to address the “felt” needs of the audience sufficiently. And I realize that focus on different perspectives and contrary opinions is likely limiting my appeal.

Perhaps it’s a symptom of my age or something about me that inherently zigs while others zag, but I’d rather achieve minimal success on my own terms than succeed by following the crowd. It would be great to see some of the pieces that I devote hours and hours of research and thought to crafting become more popular, but I want those to succeed, not some drivel I’ve pounded out because a search trends analyzing tool says that’s what is most likely to be read widely.

Much love to the people who are doing well by doing these things, good for you. That continues to be a game I have little to no interest in playing, though. I’m content making a decent living doing what I love and using my own publishing platforms to express myself and share my thoughts and interests than cater to the fickle preferences of an ill-defined audience. I’ll take whatever accolades might come my way, but won’t compromise to seek them out.

Chris Thilk is a freelance writer and content strategist who lives in the Chicago suburbs.

One of the bits of advice often shared for struggling or frustrated artists is a variation on “Make bad art.” It’s meant to be an encouragement to do what you feel inspired to do without stopping to listen to the inner dialogue that might be telling you the result won’t be loved by anyone.

I never cared for that phrasing, though. No one wants to make bad art and continuing to label it as such won’t work to break down the barriers that keep people from chasing their dreams. “Make bad art” is followed by “and have your friends criticize you behind your back.”

Instead I propose the following: “Make art you love.”

Create the painting that’s been clouding your dreams for years. Write the story you can’t stop thinking of and which you think is cool and/or important. Release the mixtape you’ve been fine tuning in Garageband for two months now.

It might not go anywhere. The prospect of it eliciting no reaction may actually be more intimidating and imposing than it being reviewed and received poorly. That’s understandable.

The next one might be better, though. Or the one after that. Each subsequent effort becomes easier to let go of because it’s not breaking through the self-imposed ceiling that’s in place.

That’s the approach I’ve taken with this and other blogs. Each post is easier to push “Publish” on because I’ve done so many times already. It’s also the approach I’m working to keep in mind as I keep working on my novel, preparing for it not to be a massive success on its own, but the wedge that breaks the ice and shows me how easily it can be done.

I don’t want this post or that novel to be “bad,” though. I’m writing that novel because I believe in the story. I might be the only one who feels that way, but I’ll have put something out into the world that I created and which I hope others will enjoy.

It will be art that I love, even if no one else does.

Chris Thilk is a freelance writer and content strategist who lives in the Chicago suburbs.