Some time ago, I decided to write a science fiction book, mesmerized by too much cyberpunk literature engulfed during long nights of solitude. I finished it as well; it was in the year 2005 if I remember well.
It tells about a great new Kantō earthquake that forced Tokyo to rebuild from the ground up. I had also guessed the exact year in my prediction, although the results I described were much more severe.
Rereading it now makes me smile. Paragraphs are too long, there are too many disjointed sentences, and very complex LaTeX macros all over the book. It is a mixture of all the science fiction I read in my youth.
I copied the other without realizing it. I shaped my experiences as a reader trying to emulate something that I will never get to write.
Life is strange.