Hi everyone,

I've taken some of the feedback and updated this little application of mine. Details and download link are here:

http://www.joannegrrl.com/main.php?section=8&subsection=0&ar...

Yup, it's the only holiday in August, my birthday. :) I don't know how much I'm going to be online today but I hope all of you have a happy, too.

- Erin (Joyce Melton)

Among other placess this weekend, I'll be at the San Diego ComicCon on Saturday. I'm going to look up Dan Shive and stroke his bushy little tale. :)

Hope to see you there. :)

- Erin

Since I spend about half an hour to one hour a day deleting spam comments by unregistered users, I'm going to suspend commenting privileges for unregistered user for the duration of my trip. Sorry about that, I hope to be able to restore such privileges as soon as I return on or about July 6.

A number of readers have noted the similarity of my recently posted tale, "Escape From Harmony," with another author's work. "The Sisters of Athernia" by Diane Christy.

EFH is indeed inspired by Ms. Christy's tale, a fact I do not deny. I enjoyed her story and am disappointed that she never managed to finish it.

Now that Erin has graciously awarded my creation a universe of its own, I thought I might post the rules for writing MIBD stories, just in case anybody would like to try their hand at it. Please feel free to add to the body of MIBD stories. Just do me a favor and e-mail me a copy before you post it. Thanks ever so much!

Wish me luck. :) I'm going to Fontana for 24 hour comic day tomorrow. :) I'll have a 'puter with me but I dunno if they have internet for us. Google for 24 hour comic day if you want to find the place. :) If things work out, by Monday I'll have a 24 page comic done called, "The Secret Life of Roadster T. Rodent". :)

... I've been reading fewer stories here than on other sites.

On other sites my main way of choosing which stories to read is by reading the short synopsis that authors provide. Very few authors do so here, and I'm thus provided little incentive to read unless I'm familiar with the author. Categories alone are not enough.

Just a line or two to introduce myself.

Been reading BigCloset and Top Shelf for ages, and the TG/TS stories in particular.

Reason?   Simply to live my childhood somewhat vicariously through them - since I didn't get to be a girl (physically) til I was 50 - I may one day put in a story, but I am without a plot at the moment - though I suppose I could write an autobiographical one - if you all want boring to death...

Griff and I have been having weekly meetings about cartooning lately. These have been a major help to me in coming out of what now appears to have been a several year long depression. I still miss Jeanne but I'm beginning to take an interest in doing the things I like again. Griff and my other local friends, as well as all of you online here at BC and elsewhere on the net are part of the reason.

Gosh, I can't seem to elicit a comment without bitching.
Maybe I need to write something so filthy and bad somebody will take notice?
What does one have to do to get at least a, 'hey good rewrite,' out of those couple of hundred what is reading my stuffs?

Hi Everybody,

I finished the move but I won't have hi-speed internet till Thursday. After that, things should slowly get back to normal. Thanks to everyone for their patience.

- Erin

Still working on getting things moved, having a yard sale today. If you're in the area, stop by, 7862 Stark St, Huntington Beach, CA. :)

- Erin

Well I have been... well not busy exactly just um well not really with it, done a little bit more work on various stories, currently working on a Health and Beauty website for a (hopefully) paying customer. Spent huge amounts of money recently sorting out my PC so now it runs nicely and looks cool. Thats about it...

And probably right on through Thanksgiving weekend. I have to be out by November 30 and there is still a lot to do. I'm having a big garage sale this weekend and people are coming over to help out.

I'm feeling better today, tired and sad but I can see the fading of pain already.

I called the Neptune Society on Saturday and they will make all the arrangements, including a boat for going out into the channel and scattering the ashes. The price is very reasonable, less than $2000, including $600 for the boat with 20 people in the memorial party.

The hospital just called, Jeanne died this morning at about 12:50 a.m. I had last seen her at about 10:00 p.m. when her other best friend, Sandy, and I left the hospital. We had spent about four hours with her, telling her we loved her and that she had our permission to do what she had to do.

There once was a crossdressing lad from Nantukit
Who hid all of his panties in a bucket
When his mom once threw it all out
He felt forced to cry and pout
for without panties, he had nowhere to tuck it

Another day gone tomorrow the psychologist beckons, we'll talk. I'll come home feeling odd again.

Spent some time tonight on the chatbox thingy, odd software not sure I like it. But chatted away any way.

I went to see Jeanne earlier tonight, I couldn't stay long this time, too painful.

They took the breathing tube out but my love lies there in the bed looking as if she's lost her way. She doesn't speak but she will nod after a bit when asked if she'd like to watch Star Trek: The Undiscovered Country, rather than the baseball game someone had tuned her tv to.

So, why can’t I finish one of these stories? Is it because of a curse, or the cat threatening my keyboard? (down, down!) No, I don’t think so. It’s all about discipline.

I like to explore and take a character, usually a form of me, to places and see what I’d do. I put him or her into a situation and let him go. Damned if I know why he does the things he does. Along the way he discovers things about himself and through him, me.

But that doesn’t explain why I can’t end a story. Like I said, it’s about discipline. Darkside took five years to write his 2.6meg monster by outlining the whole thing first, then sticking to his outline. I tried, but I just keep finding new paths. Every scene has a plan, but I never know how, precisely, I’m going to do it until I start actually writing it. Sometimes, to stay true to my character, he or she has other ideas.

The story becomes a juggernaut, rolling a way I sometimes don’t want, towards a conclusion I don’t desire. So, I throw obstacles in its path to divert it towards my planned-for ending. That usually works. But it’s a learning experience. It tells me I need discipline.

Anyway, for anybody who is reading this, I have three stories outstanding — all of which I will complete.

The Warrior from Batuk: A Zhor novel about a warrior who is injected with Ruk’s serum and becomes a serum girl, a beautiful woman with the longings of a natural slave. But she won’t give up her freedom without a fight, battling herself and her enemies in a war to save her city. — 90% complete. (really) About 230K words so far, but the end is clearly in sight.

Sample:

“Now you die,” smiled the guard toothily and moved forward.

I shuffled backwards and the King, still on his back, somehow managed to trip me. I fell painfully and lost the spear with a flick of the guard’s sword. From my elbows, I looked up to a blade hovering above my breasts, and beyond, to a cool confident smile. It seemed that it was not my day. And then, from behind me, a well-thrown long spear flashed, penetrating his breastplate and mail with a metallic ‘snick!’ sinking deep into the center of his chest. The spear’s power compelled him backwards to fall across the shrieking woman on the bed, where he passed from the world with a shuddering groan.

His sword, an instant earlier aligned to invade my heart, merely dropped, cutting a deep gash in the valley between softness. I caught the sharp sword between palms before it could fall further. I reveled in my pain, and paid tribute to the fickle God of Luck with the breath I didn’t think I’d have. I rolled over slowly and crawled to the King on my knees. Yanking the spear from his stomach had done him further injury; it was all he could do now to hold his insides in place, but still, his wound, although very serious, wasn’t necessarily fatal with prompt attention, and I couldn’t allow him to survive. Grabbing the King’s jewel-incrusted sword, I held it under his chin, poised for a thrust into his brain. He was too weak to protest, but he was aware, and I bent to his ear.

“You are a brave man,” I whispered. “You deserve to know why you are going to die.”

He glared at me through eyes glazed in pain. “You Gods-cursed Giovannis came early,” he rasped. “I expected you after the Borodins left.”

I shook my head. Grinning, I met his glare. “I’m from Batuk.” I waited a few inches from his face until I saw the light of understanding, and then thrust the sword upwards. The sharply pointed end, capable of penetrating plate armor, had no problem with soft tissue. He collapsed and voided in death, fouling the air around me.

I stood slowly and leaned against the bloody blade, watching the terrified woman on the bed, a pretty girl with auburn hair and blue eyes. She appeared to regret throwing those pillows at me. I smiled. She cringed.

Sappho: The Lesbian Planet: A scout from the far future lands on a lesbian world where there are no men and men have been written into history as vile animals. Rescued by ‘throwbacks’ (hetero women), he tries to get back to Earth, but he won’t leave unchanged. — 80% complete 55K words so far.

Unity: Houston: A VR world where the brain patterns of people can be preserved in a cube and placed in a VR environment, essentially living forever in worlds both mundane and magical. But are they alive, and who protects them? — 80% finished about 150K words so far.

Settle, thats my closest town BTW. It's in the Yorkshire Dales an area of outstanding natural beauty (well I think so) in northern england. It's saturday so shopping to be done, my mums friend is coming up to stay on the train, so after shopping we will take her home with us....

It's very early thursday morning (UK) it's horrible out but now....

Now I'm okay I'm alive, each time I feel really down like I did earlier I try and analyze why I'm down, I still havn't reached an answer, partly it's the whole gender thing, inside I'm ?????? outside I'm male, I really wish that I was a classic case of Gender Dysphoria then I could say to the pychologists I am a woman trapped in a mans body. But I can't, I don;t feel this way but I know that the person inside me is not male , I'm just not certain she is female either. I do know I cannot bear to see myself in the mirror pictures of me make me feel sick, what is worse my mum keeps on going on about how handsome I am, is she blind?