~Turn the page

This is my last day at 34. I suppose that now 35 can start freaking me the fuck out.

I don't know that my 34 years would really entertain anyone. I suppose it's all in the telling though. People have told me that I should write a book. I tell them I already have. It's true. It's just that the final draft isn't ready for submission. Aside from what is already written out, there's a virtual library in my head. All sorts of books in there. It's just a matter of pulling one from the shelf and typing it up all nice and fancy.

I used to feel that publishing books was rather egocentric. A published writer has to feel that what they have to say is important enough for everyone else to listen to. (Yes honey, I know that "they" is not correct grammar. I'm a testy writer though. I refuse to polarize gender.) Anyway, I used to feel that way. Now I'm starting to think it's just about giving people what they want. There are so many people out there bending over backwards looking for someone else to live vicariously through. Blog Stalkers. Board Lurkers. Role Players... so many people who are much more content watching life than actually living it. It's all in the name of a drama fix, I suppose.

Give the people what they want. They'll pay you for it. There's a concept. Shit on a silver platter? Perhaps, but maybe it really doesn't matter. Maybe what really matters is that it'll give you a very nice roof under which to give the most important person in the world what she wants ...and a really nice bed to give it to her in.

I'm feeling good today.

Fight with me baby, I love how we make up.