Feeling Old

I wonder about the glut of writers riding the ebook wave. I've had this discussion with other writers regarding the compulsion to write. It's not that you think, "hey, fuck, maybe I want to try that there writing thing!" It's more like every fucking day you find the time, unless sickness or death stomps down on your soul, to write. You live to write. You don't decide to write, no, writing taps against your brain and demands release. Words swell, demand, threaten.

If the words don't find release, they roll around in the thoughts. They invade dreams. They are the first thing to surface when massaging the head in the morning shower. I do mean the actual head, the part attached to the neck. Men might find a different direction in their thinking. 

I'm so fucking weary. I feel too traditional. Imagine, writing gay male romance and feeling traditional.

I want to tell a glorious story, not shock a reader. 

And that, kittens, makes me feel old.