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.
My wonderful lover Kelly has made me pregnant. And she refuses to acknowledge it. I feel so violated <sob>
Actually, it’s costume night at Kelly’s Closet dance club tonight. Considering my battles with the Catholic Church I thought I’d take the opportunity to tweak their noses a little.
The oncoming autumn is always a wonderful time in my eyes. The leaves changing, the air cooling. Not so much in the South but still to a lesser degree. In Second Life it was a beautiful afternoon to sit on the beach with my honey and talk serious relationship matters. It is comfortable to have someone to listen to your concerns. And to listen theirs.
That’s all. No great thoughts today. Just content with my life… happy for the first time in quite a while.
Those vampires are at it again. In Mother Superior Book 3: Confrontation they just escape their pursuers, move to another home only to find out they are being tracked. Aurora is teaching her fledgling and lover Diavola how to stalk. Sister Shannon runs into the vampire hunters at a grocery store and rushes to tell Aurora. She has an idea. Can Diavola pull it off?
The vampire family of Aurora, Diavola and Shannon had fled ahead of the hunters of Deacon Rowe. Aurora has the duty of fending off his attacks and providing for their safety, all while training the fledgling Diavola. Could she avoid a confrontation? Or were they destined to meet them head on. When the decisive moment comes a surprising Diavola solves their problem.
This is a 7,500-word book about futa and vampire love. It contains inter-species sex and blood.
The two dark clad figures crossed the deserted road that passed the ancient edifice. They entered the park where Aurora waited, grinning, naked, skin gleaming in the moonlight. Her mate has performed well. Hunting. Stalking. Now procuring her futa feeding. Aurora was pleased.
The meal came to stand in front of Aurora. She presented her neck, pulling aside her cowl to access. Diavola moved to their side to observe. When the vampire’s fangs popped through the skin Diavola felt a surge herself, a jealousy, a sympathetic need to feed. She pushed it aside. Her Maker was paramount.
Aurora’s eyes stared dreamily at Diavola communicating understanding between them. A passion now shared, the feedback grew stronger like bad audio at a rock concert. Diavola sensed the change in herself. Just minutes before there was compassion for the young futa nun. A remembrance of her past life. Now there was just hunger. Even lust. She had come into her own.
As the hot fluid poured down Aurora’s throat she closed her eyes to relish the flavor. Sweet, innocent, pure . . . the blood of a futa dedicated to chastity. As her stomach filled so did her vampire cock. It grew, thickened, lengthened and began a slow throbbing. It reached its limit. Then the futa blood kicked in. As Diavola watched the large erection morphed into a truly gigantic cock with thick ropes of veins coursing around the shaft. Balls grew and dangled.
Diavola’s passion grew strong, threatening to overtake her. Only her steely determination kept it under control. The play of emotions across Aurora’s face drew her to move close . . . close enough to smell the sweet aroma of blood.
Join in the adventure. Pick up Confrontation on Amazon. Smell the blood.