There is a link on the side bar to a discord chat. Free to join just read the rules carefully so you can type.

That said there is a common theme, of sorts, lately.

I can’t write….

My stories seem too short
I can’t write longer.
I wanna write longer chapters but they always end up….

I may not be able to help you unjam yourself but I can help you write fuller stories.

DESCRIPTION!

Just painting a picture can take a sentence and make it story all on its own.

Here’s a common sentence used many times in many stories.

I drove to the gas station. Six words. Let’s paint a picture with a few extra words.

I drove my ford car to the nearest gas station. Nine words. Let’s do some more painting to set the scene.

I drove my ford mustang to the nearest gas station late at night for some gas, but mostly to help me relax. 22 words.

Now I’M gonna paint a picture story with *I drove to the gas station*. You can do the word count.

IT WAS LATE AT NIGHT

Technically is was early morning of Halloween being that it had just gone four am.

The last two days had been prep for this monumental moment. Perhaps it was longer, maybe my whole life, which was certainly flashing before my eyes in my anxiety.

“Calm down you got this girl!” Came the musically feminine voice out of my mouth. one I had no control over. It was just there whenever I put on a skirt. It caused more than a few awkward moments in my life.

I had spent most of the day removing hair, creams, waxing, even a painful epilator experience had left me free of that disgusting hair in places I shouldn’t have it. And accidentally in a few places I really should. It would grow back. It always grew back, much to my internal disgust.

From the tips of my newly painted pink shiny toes, after a few dozen tries, to eyes I was free of THAT hair. I had never felt so good or so free. My bare, and sexy toned legs, ended at the edge of my tan/khaki, box pleated mini skirt. Even though it was barely five inches above my knees and was of the “high waisted” trend it also helped with making my padded hips and butt fill out it correctly and my waist a little tight, made it look more hourglass.

Just above that was my black satin and lace bra, that happen to match my panties but was hidden from view because of the satin tan half slip under my skirt. My bra held my “almost D” glued on gel filled forms that looked and felt so real they had made me cry with tears of both happiness and sadness of something that should be there normally and wasn’t.

The hint of cleavage that was visible, and I spent far too much time admiring in front of mirror, showed through my simple black top that was neither too loose nor too tight. A much agonized over purchase. The v neckline ended at some short cap like sleeves that emphasized my spindly skinny normally hidden arms, free of their normally flannel covers for the night.

My father had big meaty hands, and I feared that my small boned hands may one day follow suit. A nightmare I had way too much. They were only ever a use to him when they could fit into those tight spaces with a wrench, socket or screwdriver of some sort. After much soaking via doing my dishes by hand for a long thirty minutes, my hands were soft, and more importantly clean. These two had long square pink tips with only an empty charm bracelet for the charms my girlfriends should have given me growing up but never did since I never had any.

The purse dangling over my shoulder was neither dainty nor huge. I had agonized over getting just the right one, tan or black? Big or small, dull or shiny? Leather or cheap knockoff? The plain black daily bag looked ordinary for a girl to carry for purpose but not for show. Went with just about anything and had just enough bulge to be right. Actually it didn’t take much to fill it with almost everything a girl would have except the Id it was wrong.

It should have the picture of my face now. Long not quite copper hair with waves and a curled bang, a long series of videos, mistakes and cheap wigs had let to this proper coiffed hair. Agonizing hours spent Infront of my mirror with different makeup, many many video tutorials, wet wipes, and more tips from free makeup artists of all types from the simple girl next door with a phone to special effects makeup artists had left my face looking like my real face, not the one I scarcely looked at everyday.

Gone were the almost unibrow thickly gruffly eyebrows and in ther place was over plucked and drawn in thin proper arches. My beady eyes had been replaced by a dark shade topped over with a lighter earth tone shade, eyeliner, and too many coats of mascara to eyes a guy could drown in. A guy I could never have but always had wanted..no don’t even think about that. Sniffle and a fight to not shed tears and ruin an hour of makeup ensued.

My nose looked small and dainty. It wasn’t the ugly nose I normally saw. My almost invisible cheekbones were in full display thanks to three different shades of foundation blended with a loose face powder, the lightest being just off to the underside of eyes. My red lips had the look of having had makeup on for hours without touch ups. Just like my clothes did. Simply because I had had them on for hours building up courage.

Open door and the glare of the police helicopter spotlights, along with the tv evangelists, along with the flashes of all my neighbours to glare at me did not appear. It was quiet, a dog barked and a bird chirped far away but that was it. No fanfare at all. I locked the door, took a step towards my car.

Hanging head I turned around unlocked door to reach in and retrieve my car keys. I was sooo embarrassed!

The muted click of my kitten black toeless heels did not wake up the neighbours like I was sure it would.

There was no snipers or surprise cameras as I made it to my car, my baby, my 2005 gun metal grey ford mustang gt 500!

I slid into her without my usual plop, almost as if my two left feet made me graceful.

My father, a long time employee at a car restoration shop, had been with me and the borrowed flatbed trailer at the insurance auction when we found the stang. Crunched in the front but otherwise rust free. Months of salvage yard hunting, jobs for purchasing said parts, hours of work had transformed the car body to like new condition.

I caressed the woody classic steering wheel lovingly as I thought of the time we found the badly wrecked and rolled over cobra. The engine and trans long gone along with the computer. Dash half torn apart but complete after a bit of hunting. The classic, and ultra rare woody wheel that had an airbag somewhere, fake wood grain and chrome *ralley* dash, as he put it, had survived with a bit of work. So had the rear end gears which were also in my stang.

The engine, true to dad’s insistence that it look stock, was number matching along with the manual transmission thanks to friend of his. I didn’t ask.

I hadn’t realized I had tucked my skirt or closed the door. Just sitting in her calmed me down. It had been far too long.

With a turn of the key she turned over once, twice, then fired up! No roar from this engine until you put your foot in it.
I simle try apologized for letting her sit for months as I road my hybrid mountain bike to and from work. Not only was it cheaper, both gas and parking wise, it was great exercise as well. That and I just plain enjoyed the euphoria after a good ride. I told my coworkers it was my way of being green.

Earlier I had washed her, checked all tires and fluids, even the full size spare, while hiding the solvent I would need to remove the forms.

Once she was warm enough I popped the parking brake, which was NOT EVER the emergency brake! I mentioned that once! The lectures and books that followed forever ingraining THAT into my head! Foot on brake, heel depress clutch and shift it smoothly into gear. Letting go of brake gave me just enough momentum to back out into street. Let go of clutch and she purred forward. Another smooth quick clutch and shift and I was on my way!

I was still positive that the police were going to stop me, lights flashing for daring to be out late at night dressed as I was. In hindsight I probably should have dressed in jeans but I really wanted to wear my new outfit out! I mean other girls normally showed off their new outfits all the time. With that reason I should be free to do so as well.

The old mobile gas station had been around a long time. There was pictures of it from back in the days people ran to cars to check tires, oil, and wash windows without asking! There had been a malt shop near it. Then a restaurant and mall during its heyday. The mall had been closed last year when the RadioShack had finally closed its doors the last time. A developer had bought the property then the bank foreclosed so all that was left was slight folded construction temporarily fence and pieces of rubble and stuff sticking up.

On the other side of the side street the malt shop / restaurant had a suspicious fire, it was also torn down. Now the empty lot sported a few dumped trash from people unwilling to properly bring trash to dump. Old couches, mattresses, and roofing. Not a lot but it was there.

The gas station had once been a garage before my time later converted to wash bay but the smoke damage from fire had meant it was replaced with this tiny shack. Enough for an attendant during the day. Ice box on outside that was always out of ice. And one of the last Pepsi can drink machines I knew of.

At this time of night it was just use card to fill “pay at the pump”. Which suited me perfectly!

All anyone would see is a girl getting gracefully out of car, paying then filling car with gas. I used the somewhat dirty wash squeegee to clear of the fine dust and raindrops from windshield. The long walk to drink machine for cold can of Pepsi was nerve wracking. My long awaited dream of tilting my head back for a swig did not end with my wig falling off. The glue held.

The loud clack of the pump stopping almost made me jump! I managed to not spook. A careful very practiced graceful sway walk back. Hang up nozzle, lock gas cap. Unlock car and get back in. Took a minute for my heart to stop banging.

I knew my luck was too good as no sooner had I pulled out of station my anxiety went through roof as the telltale flashing went off.

“Shit shit shit shit” the police officer came near. Tap tap.

“Oh sorry” calm face as the ducks feet underwater goes like mad! *lower window stupid!*

“She’s a bueat! She yours?” He asked?

“Uh yes!” Normally I would eagerly get out pop hood to show her off. This seemed like a really bad idea at moment though.

“I saw you gas up at the station. Little late for a pretty thing like you to be out so early. You should be more careful as some unsavoury types have been around. Dam shame too this is still a good area”

“Yessir” meek be meek!

“Anyway your taillight is flickering may burn out soon” no it does that from time to time and I still haven’t figured it out dang it!

“You be careful and get of safely home. Do you want an escort?” Wait what? Why is he smiling? I looked down my skirt had risen a little but not that much!

“Thanks! I’m good though.” Go away goawaygoawaygoawaygoaway!

“Ma’am!” He nods with his hat, yep one of those old sherrifs hat and walks back to his car. Lights go off so I carefully drive off.

He kept going after following me for a block or two home when I turned into the suburb. My nerves were totally on edge as now the sun was starting to rise and my neighbours would surely report me!

But like always I carefully parked my baby. Cranked the brake and turned her off.

It was all I could do to not dash to my house. Car locked checked then a short walk into my house.

I collapsed on the other side of door.

“ I AM NEVER DOING THAT AGAI….Shit! I forgot the solvent!”

Of course I did go out again…but that is another story….