At my latest appointment with my transition doctor my pleas were heard. Since my second visit I’ve asked him to increase my dosage. I’m old and in a hurry LOL. Of course, I asked in a joking manner… I don’t tell highly educated doctors what to do. He’d look at my labs and say ‘no, you are where I want you to be.’ Well I’ll be damned if he looked over all my lab results this time, nodded gently and said ‘your testosterone is excellent, but I think we can up your estrogen.’ I squealed a little bit, embarrassingly so. He raised my dosage by 50%! Now we’re getting somewhere.
Had a horrible experience recently. If you’ve read my blog you know I am involved with various ministries in the Catholic church, and have had some minor and major battles with priests, their homilies and the Church’s stance. At the church I am currently a member I happen to be the head of the bereavement committee. When a parishioner dies I lead the process from notification to creating the mass booklet to the funeral mass itself. I’m not done until dirt is being thrown on the grave.
So on Tuesday i saw through a funeral mass. As usual, due to too much practice, everything went perfectly. I take pride in making things run smoothly… this is a process to honor a deceased’s life and is important to the family to remember their last pubic appearance of their loved one.
At the after-mass luncheon the family and friends gather to share a meal and memories. We on the committee take part in the meal. So I’m sitting at a table with my co-members shoveling down some home cooking not my own (always a plus) when one of the family members approaches us. This is a normal event. The family likes to thank us for our efforts at this difficult time.
“I just wanted you to know… i find you a disgrace. I’m disgusted you had anything to do with my mother’s funeral. I hope you’re happy.”
Stunned? Yeah. Speechless? Absolutely. Angry? No. Only angry I don’t pass well enough to have no such scene. I’m rarely spoken to quite so directly, though. When my ex-priest spent four homilies decrying the destruction of the family by those ‘men in dresses’ I simply left that church and moved to this one. I’m not a confrontational person.
Those two events intertwine. Hopefully my transition will improve enough that someone may say to themselves ‘something odd about that ugly old woman’ but feel no need to ask me why. Then I can go about my life quietly without incident. I have no desire to do anything other than live my life quietly and in peace.
Yes, once again. Hormone Replacement Therapy has its joys and its drawbacks. I can only explain my occasional depression by the hormones, as otherwise I should be ecstatic every day. I’m happily married to the love of my life. I love her in real life too. I have friends who care for me and invite me to sail, to attend fun theme parties. I live in a beautiful home and have exciting adventures in Second Life that I would never attempt in Real.
Yet here I am. Listening to live music at Beau Belle Coffee Shop and crying uncontrollably. Well, I was. I’m OK now or I wouldn’t be able to type haha. <sigh>
There are days like this I think I’ll just chuck the whole thing. Pour my drugs down the toilet and flush them away just like I’ve flushed away my life in this vain attempt to be something apparently God didn’t want for me and I feel will never attain. Burn my dresses, toss my wigs in the trash and lock myself away in a small cabin in the Appalachians or something. (Notice I didn’t mention my heels. A girl’s gotta have something.) I wonder if they’ll deliver pizza up there? My tastes are simple.
Ever have days like this? Where nothing is worth it?
I’ll be better tomorrow.
I’ve been writing a while now. I started off my publishing career with transgender erotic romances. I published many books/series in that genre. I enjoy the romance of it, taking events from my life and romanticizing them making sure the endings are always happy in the sweetest sense.
Then on a whim, and on a kind of challenge from a writing mentor, I switched to the futa genre. Lots of fun developing an entire mythos for a non-existent species. All of the characters and their sex scenes were as outrageous as I could imagine… and I can imagine a lot LOL.
Sales were radically different. The market for transgender romance is small. I suppose mostly the trans-curious. Fair enough. While I found them emotionally satisfying I was only able to reach my self-assigned goal: To sell enough books that I can pay for a nice restaurant meal once a month… with wine. Heehee not exactly a lofty goal, but I’m not trying to pay my bills with writing. Futa sales were easily twice, usually three, sometimes four times. I earned enough for the goal each week. Restaurant food! No cooking. No cleaning.
Sadly, though, I’ve become disenchanted with futas. Despite being able to let my mind soar into unchartered ideas I missed the more realistic interaction between my transgender characters. While I used futas and their problems as a surrogate for transgender people it just isn’t the same.
So, bottom line: I’m returning to the writing of transgender romantic erotica. I still get to be one nasty piece of work LOL, but hopefully my characters will be someone you may recognize, or want to know and find out what happens next. Sales will suck… don’t care. I will be pleasing myself.
This is not to say I’m going to abandon vampires or succubi… those are still perking in my mind. My focus will be at a different angle. Happy writing/reading!
A while back I posted explaining to the person I love the reason for my — shall we put it mildly and call it distrust — of men. Not A Pretty Story. (Trust me… don’t read it.) I had the pleasure last night of discussing my first books (T-Girl in the Office) with a friend who had been reading this 9-book series. As noted before this is a romanticized version of my life. So she asked if one of the events was true. The scene of my near-castration at the hands of a gang of assholes. Sadly it was true. We talked about it for a while and I explained it had finally been figured out that I suffer from what I consider a mild form of PTSD. I’ll leave that diagnosis to those military types who have suffered real, actual trauma, not my piddling little panic. Nevertheless, it affected me and my life ever since. It has defined me. The result was a recurring nightmare. I’d wake up screaming at the top of my lungs. My dog doesn’t even wake up any more hahahaha.
In talking about this with her it slowly dawned on me: I have not had the nightmare in… I can’t recall the last time! I cannot recall!!! And I don’t want to think about it other than to note its demise. I can attribute this to one person and one person only. My love. I will call her Kelly here. My Second Life wife. Through her love and her love alone, her caring nature, calming demeanor and the fact that I know had I been with her it never would have happened. She would move heaven and earth to prevent it. I now realize that not all men are assholes who want to hurt me for no reason other than that I am different. Kelly would stand between me and any attack… physical or verbal. There is not a doubt in my mind. My darling, I could not love you more. Thank you for being in my life, SL and RL.
I just checked my Amazon’s Author Central page for any new reviews and received a shock. A reader, Chris Hughes, has read a buttload of my books over the holiday period. I am honored. What really impressed me was he took the time to review each of the books in a fair and honest manner. No blanket 5s, no blanket 1s. Each was considered individually and rated individually.
What this revealed to me is that each of us brings our likes and dislikes to a read. I’m the same author, yet I keep throwing different personalities, situations, kinks, anything I can think of to vary my plotlines and characters. Some are more romance and sweetness, some delve into BDSM, some lightness and loving and some filled with pain. He liked one, not the other. And he said so. And that is how it should be. As a reader, I tend to stick with one thing. But in writing, everything is fair game. In my mind, then, I am properly spreading my skills in such a way as to reach the widest possible audience.
So thank you, Chris Hughes, for taking the time to not only read my work but to provide feedback to authors. We thrive on them. I thrive on them.
I learned over the 2015 holiday season that book sales reeked. Badly. I was very discouraged at that time. I was following what was a weekly publishing of a new book. So in self-defense this year I took a two-month sabbabical. Nothing new came out in November and December. The result?: I have been astonished at how much people continued buying or reading my old books. This has proven to me the value of having a decent catalog. Every doggone one of my 58 books have been either bought or read at least once. Not only has this done a lot for my self-esteem but hasn’t hurt my pocketbook any either. Kudos to Reed James, a prolific author FB friend of mine who currently has a catalog of — can this be right? — 881. Wow. Anyway back when I started and was complaining about meager sales he told me to write, publish, and grow as big a catalog as possible as quickly as possible. Like all other advice he’s given me it has proven valuable.
That said, time to swing back to work. A 4-book series that sold more than once during this time was Her Hot Futa Wife. Hot wives must be appealing to lots of folks LOL. Naturally, then, I am working on a new series on futa hot wives. Look forward to my usual nasty, sexy over-the-top erotica to come out next week.
December 14 marked the one year mark of my HRT. Before that I was working hormone-free, just soaking in the testosterone poisoning and being a girl. Found a doctor to prescribe my medication then he dies in an accident. Found a replacement and am very happy that I’ve begun my journey.
What I’m not happy about is my progress. I have a simple wish… to be able to walk down a street without seeing people elbowing their companions and pointing at me. How small a fucking town do I have to live in before I’m comfortable? I’d move to a cabin in the woods but I’m afraid my heels would dig into the dirt paths LOL.
I went shopping yesterday. Needed some retail therapy to get out of a funk. I bought some very nice stuff. Then I remembered when I was trapped with other townsfolk due to hurricane evacuation I had no male-type clothes to wear… I went en fem, sort of. Sloppy but me. So yesterday I actually bought jeans and a few shirts. Just in case. I can’t tell you how depressed it made me to think I may have to go back to them. I held them up and looked at them, tears in my eyes. I would hate it.
I’m giving myself two more years. My doctor said I’d reach full effect after three years. Fingers crossed. No matter how I’m dressed… how ugly I am… how unlike the many transition photos I see on Reddit that I’ll never be able to attain… I am a woman. <sigh>
Sorry. Holiday depression starting to set in. Happens every year around this time when I go out and see all the excited families shopping, laughing, enjoying the season. Will I ever get over this annual funkfest? Heehee <sigh> No
My only high point has been my discovery of Second Life where I’ve been able to start a life, find a love, and now even plan a wedding. Thank you Kelly Cross for coming into my life. Hope my downer of a post doesn’t scare you haha. I’ll be fine as soon as I see you log on.