My available time to write took a big blow back at the end of August. I used to find myself with a couple free hours everyday to write, but due to a very good change in my life, I suddenly did not have as much time. I still have time to write, but I have to sacrifice doing something else I like to do now, whereas before I could write and do the other things I liked, So, it has been a struggle at times. I have been writing, but at a much slower pace.
Well, the next three days are completely mine. I have a story that I want to write. I have it pretty much mapped out in my head who the characters are and where I want to go, and I now have the time. I've decided to set the story at Christmas time to "force" myself to try and get it done before the 25th. I think I can do it. I have the idea, and I have the time. Now, I just have to stop doing things like writing on this blog and get to it.
Varian
Friday, December 19, 2014
Thursday, December 18, 2014
Story Recommendation: SRU: Second Hand Smoke
Seeing as how I just posted a mix of TG and smoking stories to DeviantArt, I thought that I'd recommend a smoking TG story. SRU: Second Hand Smoke was written by Debi back in 1999. I particularly liked that the main character's introduction to smoking included a mental and physical transformation into a woman while having sex with a beautiful female smoker. Debi has three other stories posted on FictionMania, all of them combining smoking and mtf transformation.
Varian
Varian
Thursday, November 27, 2014
Story: Coffee & Cigarettes: A Love Story
Coffee and Cigarettes: A Love Story
By Varian Milagro
“There’s something strange going on at my work,” Brooke Paulson said to her sister, Ashley, as they sat across from each other at a downtown restaurant.
“What is it this time?” Ashley asked as she rolled her eyes. Her sister tended to see conspiracy everywhere.
“I think the coffee is making people smoke,” Brooke replied.
“I should have known that you didn’t invite me to lunch just to visit.”
Ashley loved her sister, really she did, but her sister tended to annoy the hell out of her. Besides the paranoia, there was the job itself. While Ashley had worked tirelessly to graduate at the head of her high school class and holding down a part time job to save money for college, Brooke had played video games and earned a 2.0 GPA in middle school. When Ashley graduated Magnum Cum Laude from her university, Brooke had barely earned her high school diploma, having spent all her time on Facebook and twitter. Once out of college, Ashley couldn’t find a job to save her life, while Brooke fell ass backward into a job as the Social Media liaison for a large accounting firm. So, while her sister has her own apartment and makes 50k a year while playing on Facebook and Twitter, Ashley is struggling to finish her masters while working as an intern and freelancing on the side.
“I’m serious. We started getting a new brand of coffee a couple months ago and, like a week later, people start smoking.”
“You know that correlation does not equal causation. Perhaps they were closet smokers or they just didn’t smoke at work.”
By Varian Milagro
“There’s something strange going on at my work,” Brooke Paulson said to her sister, Ashley, as they sat across from each other at a downtown restaurant.
“What is it this time?” Ashley asked as she rolled her eyes. Her sister tended to see conspiracy everywhere.
“I think the coffee is making people smoke,” Brooke replied.
“I should have known that you didn’t invite me to lunch just to visit.”
Ashley loved her sister, really she did, but her sister tended to annoy the hell out of her. Besides the paranoia, there was the job itself. While Ashley had worked tirelessly to graduate at the head of her high school class and holding down a part time job to save money for college, Brooke had played video games and earned a 2.0 GPA in middle school. When Ashley graduated Magnum Cum Laude from her university, Brooke had barely earned her high school diploma, having spent all her time on Facebook and twitter. Once out of college, Ashley couldn’t find a job to save her life, while Brooke fell ass backward into a job as the Social Media liaison for a large accounting firm. So, while her sister has her own apartment and makes 50k a year while playing on Facebook and Twitter, Ashley is struggling to finish her masters while working as an intern and freelancing on the side.
“I’m serious. We started getting a new brand of coffee a couple months ago and, like a week later, people start smoking.”
“You know that correlation does not equal causation. Perhaps they were closet smokers or they just didn’t smoke at work.”
I finished a story!
I finished a story! Yeah!!
In my last post I stated that I was going to take part in National Novel Writing Month. Well, that lasted three days. I really did not want to write another novel length story this year. I have two that have not been posted and I did not want to add a third to the pile. I switched to made a half-hearted attempt at starting a TG version of my story "The Birth of Bethany" and I may continue it at some point, but I really wanted to post a story. It had been over four months since I last posted a story online and I was getting itchy.
In my last post I stated that I was going to take part in National Novel Writing Month. Well, that lasted three days. I really did not want to write another novel length story this year. I have two that have not been posted and I did not want to add a third to the pile. I switched to made a half-hearted attempt at starting a TG version of my story "The Birth of Bethany" and I may continue it at some point, but I really wanted to post a story. It had been over four months since I last posted a story online and I was getting itchy.
Saturday, November 1, 2014
Writing goal - progress
Well, I didn't do that well on my writing goal for October. I was able to revise one story and submit it for comments and I nearly finished another, but I did not tackle the third. I struggled with motivation in the later part of October. I love the farm story and look forward to receiving comments on it. And I look forward to taking another pass at the salon story, but the story "Coffee and Cigarettes: A Love Story" has been a bitch to write. I like parts of it, but many times I ask myself "Why, the flip, am I writing this story" and I don't have a good answer. I think I may need to put it aside and work on a story I feel compelled to write, but at the same time I think that if I give up on the story it will be that much easier to give up on the next one.
Wednesday, October 1, 2014
Writing goal
I have set myself a goal to finish the three "in progress" stories by 11/1/2014. I started writing "The Purse Came First" around 11/1/2013. It would be nice to start a new story on the anniversary of my start. The two TG stories might not get posted as I may decide to have them illustrated, but the smoking story will get posted once finished.
I hope I can reach my goal. It would be nice to start something new. It has been three months since I've posted a story and eight and a half months since I posted a TG story. If I can complete these stories by the end of the month I will have written around 265000 words in a year (completed stories). I've written a lot more than that in drafts and a couple stories that I started, but put on the shelf after a couple thousand words.
I hope I can reach my goal. It would be nice to start something new. It has been three months since I've posted a story and eight and a half months since I posted a TG story. If I can complete these stories by the end of the month I will have written around 265000 words in a year (completed stories). I've written a lot more than that in drafts and a couple stories that I started, but put on the shelf after a couple thousand words.
Monday, September 29, 2014
Progress so far
Hmm, my last post was nearly six weeks ago and at the time I had three stories in the works. I am sad to say that I still have the same three stories in the works.
"Summer Secrets" is still in peculating mode. The second draft is complete and I am going to let it sit for an undetermined amount of time before starting the third draft. I want to distance myself from the story so that I can read it with fresh eyes.
I worked on "Coffee and Cigarettes: A Love Story" from my last posting until the first week of September, during which time I added a measly 6,500 words. It was a busy time for me and my weekends, when I get the lion share of my writing done, were filled with social obligations. Shocking, but true.
I got inspired to take up my other unfinished story. It has been in the hands of someone who expressed interest in reviewing it for me. The person is very busy. I value their opinion so I am more than willing to wait until they have the time give me their feedback. During this wait, the ending of my story began to bug me the more I thought about it. Also, I'd occasionally get ideas of little extra details to add to the story. So, I started another draft of the story. I worked my way through its entire 200 plus pages, making my changes and reworking sentences only to get to the end and decide that I didn't like my new ending either. This was yesterday. I was pretty annoyed since I'd put in a lot of hours not only writing, but pondering the story and I felt like I'd wasted my time. Until today.
I realized what my ending was missing, I hope. I deleted the last 15% of the story and I am going to rewrite it from scratch. I'd been trying to use my original ending, but tweak it until I liked it and it did not work well. I am hoping that by writing the ending from scratch (more or less) I will have more success.
Also today I realized the missing piece for my third story in the Bethany series. I had a lot of ideas for the story, but it was missing the spark that would make the story take off for me. I believe I fond the spark. We will see if it is still there when I finally get started on writing it.
Enough for now.
I hope to post more soon.
Varian
"Summer Secrets" is still in peculating mode. The second draft is complete and I am going to let it sit for an undetermined amount of time before starting the third draft. I want to distance myself from the story so that I can read it with fresh eyes.
I worked on "Coffee and Cigarettes: A Love Story" from my last posting until the first week of September, during which time I added a measly 6,500 words. It was a busy time for me and my weekends, when I get the lion share of my writing done, were filled with social obligations. Shocking, but true.
I got inspired to take up my other unfinished story. It has been in the hands of someone who expressed interest in reviewing it for me. The person is very busy. I value their opinion so I am more than willing to wait until they have the time give me their feedback. During this wait, the ending of my story began to bug me the more I thought about it. Also, I'd occasionally get ideas of little extra details to add to the story. So, I started another draft of the story. I worked my way through its entire 200 plus pages, making my changes and reworking sentences only to get to the end and decide that I didn't like my new ending either. This was yesterday. I was pretty annoyed since I'd put in a lot of hours not only writing, but pondering the story and I felt like I'd wasted my time. Until today.
I realized what my ending was missing, I hope. I deleted the last 15% of the story and I am going to rewrite it from scratch. I'd been trying to use my original ending, but tweak it until I liked it and it did not work well. I am hoping that by writing the ending from scratch (more or less) I will have more success.
Also today I realized the missing piece for my third story in the Bethany series. I had a lot of ideas for the story, but it was missing the spark that would make the story take off for me. I believe I fond the spark. We will see if it is still there when I finally get started on writing it.
Enough for now.
I hope to post more soon.
Varian
Monday, August 18, 2014
Stories in the works - 8/18/2014
Hello,
As of today I have three stories that are in process, one of which is actively being written. I will talk about them chronologically from when I first started writing them.
The first story was started in February 2014. The title will more than likely be "Summer Secrets" and will be posted to FictionMania once it is completed. The story was inspired by a forum post by Gandar at FictionMania on 2/8/2014.
"I keep waiting for someone to write a 60's or 70's style story where a woman who owns a salon has a hippie-type son in that age group (13-18) who won't cut his long hair for a summer job and ends up keeping his long hair, but forced to work as a shampoo girl working for his mom in a skirted uniform and finds he loves it."
I realized I'd been that age in the 70s and my mom had worked at a salon and I even had a job sweeping floors for about a week. I decided that I would write a story that combined the wishes of the poster along with people and events I remembered from my time growing up in the 70s
As of today I have three stories that are in process, one of which is actively being written. I will talk about them chronologically from when I first started writing them.
The first story was started in February 2014. The title will more than likely be "Summer Secrets" and will be posted to FictionMania once it is completed. The story was inspired by a forum post by Gandar at FictionMania on 2/8/2014.
"I keep waiting for someone to write a 60's or 70's style story where a woman who owns a salon has a hippie-type son in that age group (13-18) who won't cut his long hair for a summer job and ends up keeping his long hair, but forced to work as a shampoo girl working for his mom in a skirted uniform and finds he loves it."
I realized I'd been that age in the 70s and my mom had worked at a salon and I even had a job sweeping floors for about a week. I decided that I would write a story that combined the wishes of the poster along with people and events I remembered from my time growing up in the 70s
Story: Unforced Errors
Unforced Errors
By Varian Milagro
By Varian Milagro
“This is Yolanda Tackleberry reporting for the Tennis Channel and, along with hundreds of adoring fans, I am waiting for Christine Mahoney to emerge from Vagisil stadium where she has just won the American open single women’s title for the second year in a row and securing a non-calendar year Grand Slam. Standing with me is Christine’s coach Angela Harris,” Yolanda said into her wireless microphone, trying to shout over the noise of the crowd. The young, pretty, blonde reporter thrust her microphone into the face of a middle aged woman standing next to her. “Angela, you must be proud today.”
“Yes, I couldn’t be more proud of
Christine. She has dedicated her life to tennis and it is wonderful to see her
hard work and dedication paying off,” Angela replied.
“Besides Christine, did you not
coach today’s top three finishers in women’s singles at one time, better known
as the ‘Holy Trinity’?”
“Yes, but that was many years ago
when they were teens. Once they turned professional Jeanette Jones and Nichole Thompson
found new coaches. Coaching a professional tennis champion is a full time job
and I simply could not coach all three. By the way they find that nickname
offensive.”
“Isn’t it true that the nickname
originated because in addition to their strict religious beliefs and their
dedication to anti-smoking, abstinence and anti-drug organizations, they are
constantly ranked one through three?”
“Yes, but the girls find the term
sacrilegious,” Angela retorted.
Yolanda said something into her
microphone, but she was drowned out by the roar that erupted from the crowd.
Yolanda turned around to see three women emerging from the stadium. They made
their way along the path which was cordoned off by ropes and enforced by large
men in security uniforms. All three were in their early twenties and dressed in
conservative street clothes. They waved to the crowd and signed autographs as they
slowly advanced towards Yolanda and Angela. The first woman to make it to
Yolanda stood five-seven, had a slim figure and had her strawberry blonde hair
pulled into a ponytail which hung to the middle of her back.
Story: Bethany's Mom Smokes for Her Man
Bethany’s Mom Smokes for Her Man
By Varian Milagro
Beverly was pondering her eldest daughter while preparing dinner when her life changed. She'd just been wondering where she had gone wrong, how her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, could not only try smoking, but also have sexual relations with her boyfriend, when her daughter burst into the house.
"Oh, Mommy Dearest."
Beverly could not believe her eyes as Elizabeth stormed into the kitchen. Not only did she have a lit cigarette in her mouth, but she was dressed up as a street walker. Makeup was plastered all over her face, large hoop earrings hung from her ears, and she was wearing a dress that barely covered her hips or her breasts. "What..." was all Beverly could manage.
“Silence!” Her daughter ordered before she blew smoke into Beverly’s face. “Listen to me and learn your new fate. From now on, besides caring for Jimmy and Donna, your primary concern will be pleasing your husband. You will yearn to bring him to orgasm; it will dominate your thoughts. You will consider yourself an abject failure if you cannot bring your man to climax nightly. The thing is you will soon find that he will have a new smoking fetish. He will only be able to cum if you are smoking seductively for him.” She tossed Beverly a pack of cigarettes. “Better get acquainted with these, Daddy will be home soon.”
As soon as her daughter left the house Beverly sat in a chair and began to cry. That her own daughter would speak to her in such a vile manner devastated her. As the tears slowed she looked at the package of cigarettes that Elizabeth had thrown at her. She stood, walked across the kitchen and dropped the package into the trash. Beverly wondered what had become of the sweet, modest girl she had raised. The Elizabeth she knew would never wear such clothes. Before this week, wearing studs in her ears or a small amount of lip gloss was her daughter’s way of rebelling. Her daughter had taken a purity pledge in her early teens and it had been so important to her. The girl who just stormed out of her house in stripper heels looked like there was nothing pure about her.
Beverly glanced at the clock. She wanted to call her husband, Benjamin, to tell him about the incident with their daughter, but he would be home in less than a half hour so she decided to wait and talk to him face to face. She turned her attention back to preparing a meal for her husband and the remaining children that still respected their parents.
By Varian Milagro
Beverly was pondering her eldest daughter while preparing dinner when her life changed. She'd just been wondering where she had gone wrong, how her eldest daughter, Elizabeth, could not only try smoking, but also have sexual relations with her boyfriend, when her daughter burst into the house.
"Oh, Mommy Dearest."
Beverly could not believe her eyes as Elizabeth stormed into the kitchen. Not only did she have a lit cigarette in her mouth, but she was dressed up as a street walker. Makeup was plastered all over her face, large hoop earrings hung from her ears, and she was wearing a dress that barely covered her hips or her breasts. "What..." was all Beverly could manage.
“Silence!” Her daughter ordered before she blew smoke into Beverly’s face. “Listen to me and learn your new fate. From now on, besides caring for Jimmy and Donna, your primary concern will be pleasing your husband. You will yearn to bring him to orgasm; it will dominate your thoughts. You will consider yourself an abject failure if you cannot bring your man to climax nightly. The thing is you will soon find that he will have a new smoking fetish. He will only be able to cum if you are smoking seductively for him.” She tossed Beverly a pack of cigarettes. “Better get acquainted with these, Daddy will be home soon.”
As soon as her daughter left the house Beverly sat in a chair and began to cry. That her own daughter would speak to her in such a vile manner devastated her. As the tears slowed she looked at the package of cigarettes that Elizabeth had thrown at her. She stood, walked across the kitchen and dropped the package into the trash. Beverly wondered what had become of the sweet, modest girl she had raised. The Elizabeth she knew would never wear such clothes. Before this week, wearing studs in her ears or a small amount of lip gloss was her daughter’s way of rebelling. Her daughter had taken a purity pledge in her early teens and it had been so important to her. The girl who just stormed out of her house in stripper heels looked like there was nothing pure about her.
Beverly glanced at the clock. She wanted to call her husband, Benjamin, to tell him about the incident with their daughter, but he would be home in less than a half hour so she decided to wait and talk to him face to face. She turned her attention back to preparing a meal for her husband and the remaining children that still respected their parents.
Story: The Birth of Bethany
The Birth of Bethany
By Varian Milagro
“Thank you for agreeing to watch Billy tonight,” Nathan Wilson said. “We had a different sitter lined up, but she had to cancel at the last minute.” Nathan drew deep on his cigarette and exhaled smoke across the family room of his large upscale home.
“It’s really no problem Mr. Wilson,” Elizabeth Drake replied. She tried to hide her disgust for his filthy habit, along with her disdain for subjecting his three year old son to the toxic fumes.
Elizabeth was an ardent non-smoker as was her entire family. If it weren’t for the money she would not step foot inside the Wilson’s house, but they paid very well and she had to make rent. Nineteen year old Elizabeth shared a house near the local University with a couple other co-eds. She was working on her first year of a sociology degree and while her parents paid for school they would not help with rent, not when she ‘had a perfectly good room at home’. Elizabeth found that babysitting worked very well with college; it allowed her to pick her own schedule and it quite often allowed her to study on the job.
“We should be back by 10pm,” said Nathan as smoke poured from his mouth. “There are emergency numbers on the refrigerator along with our cell numbers. Please do not hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“Thank you Mr. Wilson. I’m sure there won’t be any problems, but if there is I’ll let you know right away.” She wondered if Mr. Wilson knew how ridiculous he looked when he smoked. Besides the smell, there was the health hazard that cigarettes inflicted not only upon the smoker, but all those around them. Elizabeth considered Mr. Wilson a handsome and successful man and looked dashing in his expensive suit, but when he smoked it was as if he was saying ‘I don’t care about myself or those around me’. She found that ridiculous.
“Billy’s bedtime is at seven-thirty,” Mary Wilson said as she entered the family room. Her wavy auburn hair fell to the top of her breasts which were on full display. The tiny, red, strapless cocktail dress, which barely covered her panties, was so tight it caused Elizabeth to wonder how the woman breathed. Mary wore a pair of strappy, silver heels which appeared to be over four inches tall. Her makeup was sultry and dramatic and her silver jewelry was abundant and expensive. And, of course, she had a cigarette in her hand.
“I’ll make sure he is to bed on time, Mrs. Wilson,” Elizabeth replied.
By Varian Milagro
“Thank you for agreeing to watch Billy tonight,” Nathan Wilson said. “We had a different sitter lined up, but she had to cancel at the last minute.” Nathan drew deep on his cigarette and exhaled smoke across the family room of his large upscale home.
“It’s really no problem Mr. Wilson,” Elizabeth Drake replied. She tried to hide her disgust for his filthy habit, along with her disdain for subjecting his three year old son to the toxic fumes.
Elizabeth was an ardent non-smoker as was her entire family. If it weren’t for the money she would not step foot inside the Wilson’s house, but they paid very well and she had to make rent. Nineteen year old Elizabeth shared a house near the local University with a couple other co-eds. She was working on her first year of a sociology degree and while her parents paid for school they would not help with rent, not when she ‘had a perfectly good room at home’. Elizabeth found that babysitting worked very well with college; it allowed her to pick her own schedule and it quite often allowed her to study on the job.
“We should be back by 10pm,” said Nathan as smoke poured from his mouth. “There are emergency numbers on the refrigerator along with our cell numbers. Please do not hesitate to call if you need anything.”
“Thank you Mr. Wilson. I’m sure there won’t be any problems, but if there is I’ll let you know right away.” She wondered if Mr. Wilson knew how ridiculous he looked when he smoked. Besides the smell, there was the health hazard that cigarettes inflicted not only upon the smoker, but all those around them. Elizabeth considered Mr. Wilson a handsome and successful man and looked dashing in his expensive suit, but when he smoked it was as if he was saying ‘I don’t care about myself or those around me’. She found that ridiculous.
“Billy’s bedtime is at seven-thirty,” Mary Wilson said as she entered the family room. Her wavy auburn hair fell to the top of her breasts which were on full display. The tiny, red, strapless cocktail dress, which barely covered her panties, was so tight it caused Elizabeth to wonder how the woman breathed. Mary wore a pair of strappy, silver heels which appeared to be over four inches tall. Her makeup was sultry and dramatic and her silver jewelry was abundant and expensive. And, of course, she had a cigarette in her hand.
“I’ll make sure he is to bed on time, Mrs. Wilson,” Elizabeth replied.
Story: The Purse Came First
The Purse Came First
By Varian Milagro
“Don’t forget your purse, Larry.”
I came to a stop. I turned and looked at the speaker; it was my co-worker Janine, a short, serious minded woman in her mid thirties.
She smiled at me and pointed to my desk. “You wouldn’t want to forget that.”
I looked at my cubicle and sitting on my desk was a black woman’s purse. It had short handles, was around a foot or so tall and looked like something a stylish lady might carry. It also had not been there seconds ago when I got up to leave work for the day. "Very funny, that's not mine."
“What?” Janine gave me a frown.
“Who put that there? It wasn't there a second ago,” I said. “Are you making fun of me?” I didn’t find this funny, not in the least.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “Look, if you want to leave it here that’s fine with me; I was just trying to be nice,” she said as she turned back to her computer.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
I looked around as I walked slowly back to my desk, fully expecting someone to jump out and laugh at their prank. This had to be a joke, but I didn’t know how anyone could have placed the purse on my desk without me noticing. Once at my desk I opened the purse and found a set of keys that looked remarkably like my own. I reached into my coat pocket for my keys, the place where they had been just moments before, but they weren’t there. I pulled the keys out of the purse and verified that they were indeed mine. “What the…?” I breathed.
I stood at my desk dumbfounded; there was a purse on my desk with my keys in it, a purse that appeared out of nowhere. After a few moments I picked up the bag and tucked it under my arm like a football and headed out the door. Once in my car I placed it on the passenger seat and examined its contents. Besides a matching lady’s wallet everything else in the purse belonged to me, my phone, my thumb drive and my pocket knife. I looked in the wallet and it contained my driver’s license, cash and credit cards. I was flabbergasted. As I wracked my brain trying to figure out how this was possible, my headache began to grow in intensity. I had awoken in the morning to a massive hangover. I had drunk a few beers the night before, but hardly enough to bring on a headache of that magnitude. Aspirin had helped a little, but the headache had persisted all day. After a few moments of not knowing what else to do, I started my car and headed for home.
By Varian Milagro
“Don’t forget your purse, Larry.”
I came to a stop. I turned and looked at the speaker; it was my co-worker Janine, a short, serious minded woman in her mid thirties.
She smiled at me and pointed to my desk. “You wouldn’t want to forget that.”
I looked at my cubicle and sitting on my desk was a black woman’s purse. It had short handles, was around a foot or so tall and looked like something a stylish lady might carry. It also had not been there seconds ago when I got up to leave work for the day. "Very funny, that's not mine."
“What?” Janine gave me a frown.
“Who put that there? It wasn't there a second ago,” I said. “Are you making fun of me?” I didn’t find this funny, not in the least.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she replied. “Look, if you want to leave it here that’s fine with me; I was just trying to be nice,” she said as she turned back to her computer.
“Thanks,” I muttered.
I looked around as I walked slowly back to my desk, fully expecting someone to jump out and laugh at their prank. This had to be a joke, but I didn’t know how anyone could have placed the purse on my desk without me noticing. Once at my desk I opened the purse and found a set of keys that looked remarkably like my own. I reached into my coat pocket for my keys, the place where they had been just moments before, but they weren’t there. I pulled the keys out of the purse and verified that they were indeed mine. “What the…?” I breathed.
I stood at my desk dumbfounded; there was a purse on my desk with my keys in it, a purse that appeared out of nowhere. After a few moments I picked up the bag and tucked it under my arm like a football and headed out the door. Once in my car I placed it on the passenger seat and examined its contents. Besides a matching lady’s wallet everything else in the purse belonged to me, my phone, my thumb drive and my pocket knife. I looked in the wallet and it contained my driver’s license, cash and credit cards. I was flabbergasted. As I wracked my brain trying to figure out how this was possible, my headache began to grow in intensity. I had awoken in the morning to a massive hangover. I had drunk a few beers the night before, but hardly enough to bring on a headache of that magnitude. Aspirin had helped a little, but the headache had persisted all day. After a few moments of not knowing what else to do, I started my car and headed for home.
Saturday, June 14, 2014
Story Recommendation: Paint it Black
Today's story recommendation regards an entitled rich girly girl being changed into a goth lesbian. It is Paint it Black by Jukebox. Great induction scene. Jukebox is a great writer and has many other fine stories.
If you like it please let the author know.
Varian
If you like it please let the author know.
Varian
Friday, June 13, 2014
Just Pretending ramblings
Hello,
I thought I'd talk about how the genesis of my story "Just Pretending".
I first came up with the idea of Keith's wish in 2009. I had played co-ed soccer in the 90s and I really sucked. Quite a few of my fellow team mates made it rather clear that if I quit the team it would not break anyone's heart. I continued to play for the team for over a year anyway and even joined another team five years later with that team also wishing I'd quit. Since it was a co-ed team we had to field as close to half of each gender as possible. We were constantly short on girl players, so whenever a girl agreed to play everyone was overly enthusiastic no matter her skill level. It made me a more than a little jealous. Well, in 2009 I started commissioning comics and I came up with the following idea for a comic.
====
soccer player is having trouble not getting picked up for coed teams. When he does no one wants to play him. He is not that bad, but the other guys are better. He hates getting razed when he screws up a play. Notices that the girls are always getting picked and no one gives them grief. This has a lot to do with there are a lot less girls showing up and a team must have a minimum number of female players.
soccer player gets a wish and wishes he could get picked everytime like the girls do. is transformed into female. Gets lots of compliments playing soccer. Women at work are nice to him now, decides to stay that way. SRU?
perhaps person is in teens and was getting picked on by bullies at school and now they are nice to him.
perhaps wish is made next to his friend and friend is aware of new and old reality. In this reality they still hang out a lot and since new girl is pretty it has raised friends status so he no longer gets picked on either. He begs soccer player to stay as is so he wont have to go back to old reality.
end up dating? perhaps hint at it in end?
===
The idea sat for the next 4 and a half years, along with a lot of others. In late December of 2013 I had nearly ten days vacation looming and I wanted to start a story. "The Purse Came First" had not been posted yet and was in the hands of an editor. I was Christmas shopping and going over story ideas in my head. None of the ideas were inspiring me and I was also having trouble finding good presents for family members. As the day wore on I became more and more depressed.
My thoughts went to the soccer idea and as I mulled it over I thought that the main character's dad could be disappointed in him since he was not good at sports and then the ideas started flowing.My mood immediately lifted and I was able to finish my Christmas shopping within the hour.
Here is what I wrote down as soon as I arrived at home
===
I'm not sure why the Dad being a sports guy got the ideas flowing, but it did. Shortly after this I had the idea that the sister would be getting married and that Kaylee and Seth would find the SRU store on the way to the wedding. Original idea was that they would end up delaying the wedding. By time I had written to the wedding it did not work out this way. I did put the finding of the store on the wedding day, but it did not interfere with the wedding.
When I started writing the story I was going to have Keith/Kaylee figure out how to do girl things (makeup, walk in heels, etc..) by looking on YouTube, but this seemed pretty boring. I then switched to having Kaylee "trick" Jenny into helping with make up, etc... and I started writing it this way, but then the idea of Kaylee telling the sister the truth, but her not believing hit me. I liked the idea, but I did not want to rewrite a bunch of the story. I am very glad I trusted my instincts. I like the sister's disbelief, but playing along anyway. I have a sister who would probably do this. I kind of patterned Jenny after her.
That's all for now.
I thought I'd talk about how the genesis of my story "Just Pretending".
*** Potential Spoilers Follow ***
I first came up with the idea of Keith's wish in 2009. I had played co-ed soccer in the 90s and I really sucked. Quite a few of my fellow team mates made it rather clear that if I quit the team it would not break anyone's heart. I continued to play for the team for over a year anyway and even joined another team five years later with that team also wishing I'd quit. Since it was a co-ed team we had to field as close to half of each gender as possible. We were constantly short on girl players, so whenever a girl agreed to play everyone was overly enthusiastic no matter her skill level. It made me a more than a little jealous. Well, in 2009 I started commissioning comics and I came up with the following idea for a comic.
====
soccer player is having trouble not getting picked up for coed teams. When he does no one wants to play him. He is not that bad, but the other guys are better. He hates getting razed when he screws up a play. Notices that the girls are always getting picked and no one gives them grief. This has a lot to do with there are a lot less girls showing up and a team must have a minimum number of female players.
soccer player gets a wish and wishes he could get picked everytime like the girls do. is transformed into female. Gets lots of compliments playing soccer. Women at work are nice to him now, decides to stay that way. SRU?
perhaps person is in teens and was getting picked on by bullies at school and now they are nice to him.
perhaps wish is made next to his friend and friend is aware of new and old reality. In this reality they still hang out a lot and since new girl is pretty it has raised friends status so he no longer gets picked on either. He begs soccer player to stay as is so he wont have to go back to old reality.
end up dating? perhaps hint at it in end?
===
The idea sat for the next 4 and a half years, along with a lot of others. In late December of 2013 I had nearly ten days vacation looming and I wanted to start a story. "The Purse Came First" had not been posted yet and was in the hands of an editor. I was Christmas shopping and going over story ideas in my head. None of the ideas were inspiring me and I was also having trouble finding good presents for family members. As the day wore on I became more and more depressed.
My thoughts went to the soccer idea and as I mulled it over I thought that the main character's dad could be disappointed in him since he was not good at sports and then the ideas started flowing.My mood immediately lifted and I was able to finish my Christmas shopping within the hour.
Here is what I wrote down as soon as I arrived at home
===
Two friends
who are geeks. They are in high school
or college and both play soccer. The
main guy, Keith, is not very good at soccer, but has been playing since he was
little. He eventually gave up on regular
boys leagues since he never got to play (not that good). He started playing on a community co-ed
league. Since it was pretty causal he
got to play more, but there were some on the team who thought he sucked and it
bothered him. He had talked his friend
into playing and he was a natural.
Friend would not play on regular leagues because he hated coaches,
having been teased when he was younger.
It is
Keith’s birthday and Friend, Seth, unveils a birthday candle on a cupcake just
before a game. Keith wishes his team
would value him and he becomes female.
When he walks to the field, they are excited to see him since a couple
of the other girls couldn’t make it and now they won’t have to forfeit. Now when he does a lame thing the guys are
encouraging.
Keith wants
to change back, but store is no longer at mall (spells r us). Seth asks Keith to pretend to be his
girlfriend since he hears that girls are more attracted to guys who have a
girlfriend. They go to a comic
convention together, they go to the new super hero tent pole and snuggle. Keith finds he likes the closeness, but still
wants to be a guy.
Keith gets
very jealous when Seth starts flirting with another girl at a party.
Keith’s dad
was a sport guy and was disappointed that his son was a nerd. Has older sis who helps him put on moves for
comic convention.
===
When I started writing the story I was going to have Keith/Kaylee figure out how to do girl things (makeup, walk in heels, etc..) by looking on YouTube, but this seemed pretty boring. I then switched to having Kaylee "trick" Jenny into helping with make up, etc... and I started writing it this way, but then the idea of Kaylee telling the sister the truth, but her not believing hit me. I liked the idea, but I did not want to rewrite a bunch of the story. I am very glad I trusted my instincts. I like the sister's disbelief, but playing along anyway. I have a sister who would probably do this. I kind of patterned Jenny after her.
That's all for now.
I hope you are having a good day.
Varian Milagro
Thursday, June 12, 2014
Story: Just Pretending
Just Pretending
By Varian Milagro
In a long line of extremely lame birthdays this one had to be one of the lamest. It wasn’t the lamest, that award defiantly went to my eighth birthday when not one of my ‘friends’ showed up. This one did not hit that much of a low, but it was exceedingly lame. No one had even remembered it. Well, my mom had given me a quick ‘Happy Birthday’ in the morning before I left for school, but it was pretty perfunctory. My dad had left by the time I had gotten up, but I doubted he would have said anything if he had been there.
I didn’t get a happy birthday from my sister Jenny either. She was five years my senior and had moved away for college and then stayed away. We’d always been close growing up so I was surprised when I didn’t even get so much as a text from her today. She was probably busy with wedding plans so I gave her a pass. She was marrying a guy named Zack whom she’d met at college. He had a nice job out east and that’s where they planned to setup shop after their wedding in three weeks. The wedding was being held at the ocean a few hours from my home, so at least I’d get to see her a few more times before she went back east again.
No one at school said a thing, not even my best friend Seth Johnson. Seth and I were attending a local community college together and had been friends since a few months after my disastrous eighth birthday. Since then I didn’t need to worry about no one attending a birthday party of mine since Seth and I were fairly inseparable. I couldn’t believe that he forgot as well. Seth and I had so much in common we had a similar style of humor and usually had each other in stitches over one of our many inside jokes. We were both died in the wool nerds and shared a love of games, both board and video, comics, anime, movies and soccer.
I first started playing soccer when I was in grade school. Being a three letter man in school my father wanted me in a sport of some kind. He had entered me into baseball, football, basketball and even hockey. Soccer was the only one I was even fairly passable at. I was too small for football, too short for basketball. I never got the hang of skating and I couldn’t hit the damn ball with the damn bat. I didn’t do that much better at soccer, but my dad insisted I play at least one sport. At least with soccer I could quickly pass the ball to someone else before I made too much of a fool of myself. I began to really enjoy it, but I’d always wished I could play better. I wanted to be an asset to my team. I wanted the members of my team to see me heading to the field and actually be happy about it.
By Varian Milagro
In a long line of extremely lame birthdays this one had to be one of the lamest. It wasn’t the lamest, that award defiantly went to my eighth birthday when not one of my ‘friends’ showed up. This one did not hit that much of a low, but it was exceedingly lame. No one had even remembered it. Well, my mom had given me a quick ‘Happy Birthday’ in the morning before I left for school, but it was pretty perfunctory. My dad had left by the time I had gotten up, but I doubted he would have said anything if he had been there.
I didn’t get a happy birthday from my sister Jenny either. She was five years my senior and had moved away for college and then stayed away. We’d always been close growing up so I was surprised when I didn’t even get so much as a text from her today. She was probably busy with wedding plans so I gave her a pass. She was marrying a guy named Zack whom she’d met at college. He had a nice job out east and that’s where they planned to setup shop after their wedding in three weeks. The wedding was being held at the ocean a few hours from my home, so at least I’d get to see her a few more times before she went back east again.
No one at school said a thing, not even my best friend Seth Johnson. Seth and I were attending a local community college together and had been friends since a few months after my disastrous eighth birthday. Since then I didn’t need to worry about no one attending a birthday party of mine since Seth and I were fairly inseparable. I couldn’t believe that he forgot as well. Seth and I had so much in common we had a similar style of humor and usually had each other in stitches over one of our many inside jokes. We were both died in the wool nerds and shared a love of games, both board and video, comics, anime, movies and soccer.
I first started playing soccer when I was in grade school. Being a three letter man in school my father wanted me in a sport of some kind. He had entered me into baseball, football, basketball and even hockey. Soccer was the only one I was even fairly passable at. I was too small for football, too short for basketball. I never got the hang of skating and I couldn’t hit the damn ball with the damn bat. I didn’t do that much better at soccer, but my dad insisted I play at least one sport. At least with soccer I could quickly pass the ball to someone else before I made too much of a fool of myself. I began to really enjoy it, but I’d always wished I could play better. I wanted to be an asset to my team. I wanted the members of my team to see me heading to the field and actually be happy about it.
Story recommendation: A Regretful Wish
Hello and welcome to my first story recommendation.
Today I am recommending A Regretful Wish by RL_Dogwood. This is a girl to puppy transformation story and it has a great, slow mental transformation. The author has not written many other stories, that I know of that is. I hope that RL_Dogwood continues to write. I have a feeling that the author has a lot of talent and I look forward to future writings. If you read the story, please leave the author a comment. It will help encourage future efforts.
Thanks,
Varian Milagro
Today I am recommending A Regretful Wish by RL_Dogwood. This is a girl to puppy transformation story and it has a great, slow mental transformation. The author has not written many other stories, that I know of that is. I hope that RL_Dogwood continues to write. I have a feeling that the author has a lot of talent and I look forward to future writings. If you read the story, please leave the author a comment. It will help encourage future efforts.
Thanks,
Varian Milagro
Tuesday, June 10, 2014
Hello
Okay, I've decided to start a blog. I'm not really sure why. I should be going to bed since I am really tired and I have to get up early, but instead I am writing this.
Last October I decided to start writing. I'd been contemplating writing for over a decade, but I fought against it. Many others told me I should write. They thought that I would be good at it, but I let my fear rule me. What I wanted to do was draw, but I have no talent for drawing. I have a hard time with stick figures.
I have had many ideas for stories over the years and more come every day. I've wanted an outlet for these ideas,but refused to write them out. So,in September of 2013 I signed up for a beginners drawing class. After a couple classes I decided that I should probably give writing a try. Surely it could not be as humiliating as showing my crappy drawings to a class of strangers.
I started writing a story and it was not easy, but I tried to keep at it. Normally I would quit after less than a page. I would reread my short staccato sentences or struggle to come up with the correct word and I would stop and then delete the whole thing and quit.
While I working on the story I caught a podcast in which the host talked about "The Shame Cone". He said that this shame cone is what stops many people from continuing a creative project. They hit a tough spot and they start belittling themselves and the shame cone grows. They eventually quit and the endeavor is never finished.
Another thing that stayed with me is another podcast where the host tells his guests repeatedly that "Things are not so much written as rewritten".
Between these two they gave me the encouragement to continue writing this time. The story took around five weeks to get a workable draft complete. I then sent it off to a person who had volunteered to edit the piece. The person didn't. It was the holiday season and I'm sure that they were busy, but they also never gave an update. I thank the stars that they delayed as they did or my second story may never had been written and had it not I may have stopped writing.
While my first story sat in another's hands I wrote my second story. The story flew out of me and was fully written after only one week. I posted it and it received a lot of praise. Two people even posted about it on other sites. One person was so eloquent in their glowing praise that I am still flabbergasted by it.
I eventually finished the first story and while people were kind the comments were not glowing. It was a first story so I am happy that people actually took the time to read it and give me their feedback. But, if I had posted that story and received the so-so praise I may never have written the second story. So I am very happy the way things turned out.
By the way, the first story (posted second) is called "The Purse Came First". The title is an homage to a story I read in an "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" book called "The Dog Died First". There is no similarity between the two stories, I just read "The Dog Died First" at a relatively young age and it has always stuck with me.
The second story is called "Just Pretending" and it is my favorite story. It has special meaning to me. I cried for a long time when I finished and I realized who the characters in the story represented in my life.
Both stories can be found on Fictionmania. I may post them elsewhere someday.
I have posted two other stories as of this writing and they have also received high praise. They are both smoking fetish stories and can be read at SmokingFetishKingdom. I am thinking of posting the my third story (first smoking story) on The Erotic Mind-Control Archive. It is called "The Birth of Bethany" and was followed by "Bethany's Mom Smokes for Her Man"
I will probably post each of these stories to this blog, but not tonight. As I said earlier, I'm tired and I should go to bed.
Goodnight.
Yours Truly,
Varian Milagro
Last October I decided to start writing. I'd been contemplating writing for over a decade, but I fought against it. Many others told me I should write. They thought that I would be good at it, but I let my fear rule me. What I wanted to do was draw, but I have no talent for drawing. I have a hard time with stick figures.
I have had many ideas for stories over the years and more come every day. I've wanted an outlet for these ideas,but refused to write them out. So,in September of 2013 I signed up for a beginners drawing class. After a couple classes I decided that I should probably give writing a try. Surely it could not be as humiliating as showing my crappy drawings to a class of strangers.
I started writing a story and it was not easy, but I tried to keep at it. Normally I would quit after less than a page. I would reread my short staccato sentences or struggle to come up with the correct word and I would stop and then delete the whole thing and quit.
While I working on the story I caught a podcast in which the host talked about "The Shame Cone". He said that this shame cone is what stops many people from continuing a creative project. They hit a tough spot and they start belittling themselves and the shame cone grows. They eventually quit and the endeavor is never finished.
Another thing that stayed with me is another podcast where the host tells his guests repeatedly that "Things are not so much written as rewritten".
Between these two they gave me the encouragement to continue writing this time. The story took around five weeks to get a workable draft complete. I then sent it off to a person who had volunteered to edit the piece. The person didn't. It was the holiday season and I'm sure that they were busy, but they also never gave an update. I thank the stars that they delayed as they did or my second story may never had been written and had it not I may have stopped writing.
While my first story sat in another's hands I wrote my second story. The story flew out of me and was fully written after only one week. I posted it and it received a lot of praise. Two people even posted about it on other sites. One person was so eloquent in their glowing praise that I am still flabbergasted by it.
I eventually finished the first story and while people were kind the comments were not glowing. It was a first story so I am happy that people actually took the time to read it and give me their feedback. But, if I had posted that story and received the so-so praise I may never have written the second story. So I am very happy the way things turned out.
By the way, the first story (posted second) is called "The Purse Came First". The title is an homage to a story I read in an "Alfred Hitchcock Presents" book called "The Dog Died First". There is no similarity between the two stories, I just read "The Dog Died First" at a relatively young age and it has always stuck with me.
The second story is called "Just Pretending" and it is my favorite story. It has special meaning to me. I cried for a long time when I finished and I realized who the characters in the story represented in my life.
Both stories can be found on Fictionmania. I may post them elsewhere someday.
I have posted two other stories as of this writing and they have also received high praise. They are both smoking fetish stories and can be read at SmokingFetishKingdom. I am thinking of posting the my third story (first smoking story) on The Erotic Mind-Control Archive. It is called "The Birth of Bethany" and was followed by "Bethany's Mom Smokes for Her Man"
I will probably post each of these stories to this blog, but not tonight. As I said earlier, I'm tired and I should go to bed.
Goodnight.
Yours Truly,
Varian Milagro
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