For a pretty long while, I've been struggling to figure out what happens next in my story, "Dominic and the Daddy Domme". After starting and scrapping a couple of ideas, I decided to see if an AI generated story could give me some useful inspiration. While the story generated went in a completely different direction than I'd expected, I liked how it came out, so I thought I'd share a sorta alternate world version of Dominic and the Daddy Domme. Enjoy!

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Below are a couple of unfinished chapters for stories I've been working on. I seem to be kinda stuck about halfway through the chapters for a while, so I thought I'd try posting what I got here, just in case anybody who's read the earlier chapters of these stories might be able to offer suggestions on how to get to the ends of the chapters. If nobody has any suggestions, it'll still be nice to at least have a place where people can see what I've written, instead of having them stuffed away in my story files. :)

I'd been reading through comments on a few stories, and noticed a few of the commenters requested more detailed descriptions of what people were wearing. Most of the time, I only describe what someone is wearing, if it feels like it's important to the story. Now I'm starting to wonder if maybe I should be more descriptive about things like that. Does anyone have any thoughts about how much detail should go into describing what someone is wearing, how much detail would be needed, and when more details would be helpful in telling a story?

This is the start of an idea for a story, based on "Educating Special Boys in the Feminist Republic" by Torrey Grover. It's about a kid who doesn't really identify as a boy, but also doesn't identify enough as a girl to be brought into the program for "special boys". I'm posting it here in my blog, instead of with my stories, because I haven't heard back from Torrey yet, but I'm also wondering if people think it's close enough to the original story for it to work in the universe Torrey created.

This is a report I wrote up a long time ago, about a real life camp I'd gone to, that was specifically for adults (both male and female) who felt like little girls inside. I hope it's okay to post that memory here. It's very special to me, and I just wanted to share it with my friends at BCTS.

I recently posted a story with a scene that had felt creepy to me, so I added a caution tag to let people know about that. Now I'm starting to wonder if maybe I was being overly cautious. Does anybody have any thoughts on what makes a story creepy, as well as when (or if) it might be a good idea to warn people about it?

When it comes to writing stories, I think of myself as a sprinter. I'll get burst of creative energy, but tend to feel winded by the time I've reached the end a story. I think I've only written a story with over a dozen chapters once. But ... I do find there's times when I enjoy writing multi-chapter stories. I just wish I had more stamina for them.

So, for anyone who's written longer stories, where do you get the stamina to stay with them for more than a few chapters?

After including a couple of people from my older Madam Martinique's Finishing School story in my newer Janegirl Camp story, I started thinking about my older story, and how so many people seemed to want to see more of it. Eventually, I started writing Part 6. Even though I only got about 500 words in before I got stuck, it was really nice working with Billie again.

While reading a really sweet story by Melanie Brown called "Just Friends", a song by John Lennon called "Beautiful Boy" was mentioned. Intrigued by the song title, I decided to look it up, and found a recording of it on YouTube. After listening to what turned out to be a very pretty song, I found out it was written for John's son Sean. I'd only heard of Julian before, so I did some research, and discovered that even though Julian had basically been abandoned by his father, he'd still had a good relationship with Sean.

A few days ago, I had a really vivid dream, where I was in class (I think it was high school), and the teacher called on me. My hackles went up when he called me, "Mister Brown", and I said, "It's Miss, not Mister." When the teacher asked me why I said that, I told him it was because I was a girl, not a boy. I'm not sure where I got up the nerve to talk back like that. I think it was more because I was more angry than scared of the teacher.

Well ... looks like my group therapy will be ending this week. I'm really gonna miss the people I met there. Even though I wound up being put in the wrong group (I found out a couple weeks ago the group I was in wasn't for dealing with trauma), I still learned some good stuff. Even though I wish I could stay with the group longer, I know all things come to an end, and I'm grateful for the time I was able to spend with the people there. :)