While I am not a writer I understand how hard it is to be a good writer as I read a lot of stories here at BC. The time, effort and thinking one puts into their stories so people like myself can enjoy them is rather large. I try to read the work of many of those who offer their work for people to read, I give kudos to those stories I enjoy and try not to put down the stories I don't as well. I will say this about the many talented writers, AND the behind the scenes staff here at BC. Thank you for your time and efforts into making this reader's days a little brighter with each story that I do read!

A lot been said already, so here's my take. I started writing here when at a really low ebb, and it was mostly as a way to sort out my life as a trans woman. It's what I am, it's what the world sees, but it has never been the easiest of paths to walk. While I am (no false modesty here) very good with words I have never been original in terms of plot ideas, so I started out on the path of creating characters--people, if you like. Those people then became very real to me, and that took over a large part of my life.

To a large extent, they write themselves, and I find myself wanting to deliver them to the wider world. I never described Joey Harber, but I can see and hear him very, very clearly. My problem is that as I add to my cast, they sit there waving and demanding their own stories be told. It means a lot of overlap in my books, but I get the fun of showing things from multiple angles, rather like the enjoyable film "One Night at McCool's".

I am not living in some world of delusions and imaginary friends, but I am deeply involved with my people. Bringing them to life gives me an awful lot of emotional returns. Comments and compliments, of course, are always welcome, but the satisfaction of delivering someone fully-grown to the world, even if they are as foul as the Cunninghams, is in many cases the reward I need.

There are SO many reasons to write... either in stories... blogs... or posts.

I actually don't consider myself a writer. I think that I started more to see if I COULD write. The intensity of feelings (and yes... even physical) discovered on sites like this and FM were compounded a hundred-fold as I committed my own thoughts through my fingers. I still remember the utter thrill of clicking that button to send my first story into the world too.

The thrill of writing still remains. I think that it starts to become almost an obsession too. The more that I do... the more that I feel compelled to write more. Why do we write? Why do we breathe?

For every story that I've posted, I've probably committed a score or more to the delete key. I have dozens in various states of completion... or snippets of starts. I find myself my biggest critic... and often cringe at the ones that I have exposed to the light of day. I've written better... and certainly worse. My biggest obstacle is the ruts that I find myself falling into. I don't mean using the same main character names (which I am guilty of... though I'm breaking that habit). So many of the "posts" might have been to see how my writing "experiments" were received by reviews or comments... but more as part of my own learning/growth.

I learned a long time ago that view-counts, review-counts, and comments/reviews are a very misleading drug. You will never please all of the people all of the time. While one reader may want to read saccharine confections to escape their lives... another may want to vicariously live in the dark corners that they could never experience on their own.

I write mainly for myself... and often. I used to try coming up with intentionally innocuous titles and descriptions so that people would almost accidentally read my little ramblings. I don't know why, but I think it comes back to who I'm really writing for. If someone else enjoys it too... YAY!

I'm actually in yet another edit of a very long story that somehow took a life of it's own. I hope to share it someday, but it has distracted other writings a little. I don't know how people can juggle so many different continuing stories like they do... but I applaud them for it.

Maybe I write because I love to read. I was never a recluse growing up, but the escapism of a good story always grabbed me. I was never the runty little kid whose friends lived in the pages of other people's imaginations... but I enjoyed those friends just the same.

Okay... My fingers are farting on the keyboard again. We write because we write.

Hugs All,
Stacy