This should have been my first blog entry. I was so focused on posting my story I overlooked many of the protocols and customs of BCTS, so sorry about that. But now that I've gotten that ball rolling I thought I'd try and start over again:

I've been a reader here on BCTS for quite some time and have admired many of the authors and their works, some of whom have inspired me to contribute. I used to dabble in the cross-dressing writing genre since my twenties. Some may know me by my nom de plume, Daphne, or perhaps know of Daphne's Secret Garden on Deviant Art and other sites from "back in the old days." My big claim to fame was more than twenty years ago with Lipstick Discipline and the Petticoat Detective series, both written in partnership with good friends who have long passed to the best of my knowledge.

As often happens, life got in the way, blah-blah and I lost my passion. My recent resurgence comes from my approaching oblivion; I'm retired finally and getting old--in my 70s now--and after some health scares I've had time to reflect and write.

The novel Ethan's World is a cathartic release for my damaged boyhood and all of the guilt and depression that came from the past. It is also my love letter to all of those who've blurred the lines between the sexes and genders, either in real life or in their dreams and fantasies.

Ethan's World is completed, so no worries about it not being finished. I'm posting it two chapters at a time until it's done. The story consists of fifty chapters, more than 670 pages and by my count, a quarter of a million words. It may be the last cross-dressing story I ever write. It may not. All I can tell you it is a work of passion and obsession--written during recovery from two surgeries--and is meant to be the best that I can do. I do have ideas for other tales, but my focus has getting Ethan's World finished and posted before I pass. Anything else I do will be icing on the cake.

Thanks to all who've supported me over the years. And for your kindnesses and lovely comments. I hope you enjoy Ethan's World and follow it to the end. If it's not for you, that's fine. To be honest, I wrote it for myself--if anyone else enjoys it that's pure happenstance. I'm pretty happy with how things come together at the end of the tale. I think if readers give it a chance they'll find it worthwhile.

Cheers!

Hello all.

I just posted several chapters to my novel, Ethan's World not realizing that it's considered bad form to post more than two per day. Apologies for that. I got kinda carried away--it's fifty chapters, completed, and I was kinda sorta eager. I've enjoyed so many great stories here and wanted to contribute. I didn't mean to abuse y'all's generosity.

Again, my apologies and thank you for maintaining a great place to read and post our particular kinds of stories.

d.

Character Profile:
DeeDee the Wild Child

 

 
DeeDee is a joy to write for. I love her so much, it’s almost painful for me… and I’ll probably wander off and ramble on too long about her, but eh, that’s what this blog is for, right?

Both DeeDee and Dani are based on some cousins of mine... kinda redneck, blue collar, hard-working girls who outshined—and outlived—their husbands. They were among my favorite role models when I was a kid and as I’ve grown old I’ve come to appreciate them more than I ever let them know, which is sad to say. They didn't call me "Sissy" but they knew I was getting crap from my stepmother (and my passive dad was letting her get away with it) so whenever I was allowed to visit that side of the family they coddled and babied me to some degree. They also gave me grief because I was too sensitive for their liking. (Sound familiar?) I now know that when they were giving me grief, it wasn’t cruel—not like I was getting at home—but it was because they wanted me to toughen up, make me a stronger person. They taught me a lot about life and they protected me as best they could. That was life in my part of the world in the 1960s.

Anywho, I love DeeDee because, like my cousins, she earned her way through life. She’s gone through so much and is in many ways the perfect woman. She’s independent and strong and funny and don’t take crap off anybody; she’s gorgeous and sexy; vain in a self-deprecating way—if that makes any sense—and definitely not afraid of axle grease or sweat; she’s rough and tough, but vulnerable enough to cry when the time is right.

And like Donna Summer, she works hard for her money. She works in a traditionally male-dominated build and kicks ass at it, not because of social politics, but because A) that’s her first job and she found out she’s good at it and B) she truly is a grease monkey at heart and is passionate about cars—her vintage G-500 Shelby Mustang in particular.

Like I said, she’s endured a lot. The sisters’ father is absent and when their mother died Vivian had to step in and raise Colleen and DeeDee (aka Deirdre), setting the tone for resentment and strife between the sisters that lasted for years. Then came a high school pregnancy that produced Dani and DeeDee figuring out how she was going to live her life. Hard work, a little mentorship from Uncle Liam (you’ll find out more about him later) and the O’brien stubborn streak tempered with humor did the trick, apparently.

Ah, DeeDee the wild child–who names a girl like that “Deirdre” anyway? Lol No wonder she rebelled. She doesn’t just smoke–she smolders. She looks like a 1950s pinup model and talks like a sailor. She loves feminine things but works in a man’s world. So many little things about her to love: her voice tainted from smoking too much, her addiction to root beer, her Rosie the Riveter hairstyle and workshirts tied in a knot beneath her breasts.

One description of DeeDee sticks in my head… it’s from "Polishing to Perfection" and touches on the conflict 'twixt her love for feminine things and her masculine trade: [Ethan had] never really paid much attention before, but his aunt's hands were not like Colleen's—they were nicked and faintly scarred and strong from pulling fan belts and turning wrenches, but when she held his fingers and cleaned off the red polish, she was as precise and delicate as any ballerina tying a slipper string.

Then she goes on to give Ethan some great life advice: "You'll catch sight of your hands and think, 'Well, hello there, darlings… where have you been all my life?'" She looked up and winked. "Doesn't hurt anything to be pleased by yourself, Ethan. The world will try to take that away. Keep a little for you."

One more example about her being good for Ethan, it’s from the chapter "An Embarrassing Development": DeeDee takes the father’s role in explaining about “the birds and the bees” to Ethan in a way that only she can. I adore that scene, especially when she reveals her own experience and how Dani came into this world. For all of her tough talk and brashness, she opens up about her lowest point in life and how she overcame it. She uses her life experience, not aborting Dani, taking on the responsibility of making her way in the world and raising a baby… tempers it with her unique sense of humor… and gives her confused thirteen year old nephew insights into how to navigate the world that my old man could never conceive.

I also love her references to older pop culture figures like Jane Russel and James Dean and Audrey Hepburn… her affinity for old rock music, risque dancing (love how she teaches Ethan to shoulder and boob shimmy lol!)... all of these little things make her real and they warm my heart…

I could go on and on about DeeDee and the O’brien sisters forever. And I will in future blog entries. I just love those girls, even Vivian… (but more on her later.) It pains me that I’ll never write about them again, not in story form, at least. I think the ending of Ethan’s world sets them up kindly, better than I ever hoped, so their story is done and complete.

If I ever take on another project like this it will be about another boy, with another family dynamic, in a different environment and with a completely different story. But that doesn’t keep me from missing my girls. Or Ethan. Or anyone else in his world.

Stay warm!

d.

Character Profile:
Ivy and Puppy Love and Sherbet

 

 

Okay, so I just posted one of my favorite chapters of Ethan’s World–Puppy Love and Sherbet. And I feel compelled to talk about it. But to whom? I’m lucky to have made a couple of contacts here on BCTS, but I don’t want to wear them out, so I’m just going to throw words into the ether and let them and where they may.

I love this story so much, partly because it encompasses so many of my thoughts and fantasies–and yet, even a few of my experiences as a boy–but mostly because of the characters that came out of it. Ethan, of course, is a reflection of me as a kid, so there’s that… but everyone else from Colleen to DeeDee and Dani and Vivian and Penelope… and with this latest chapter, Ivy… I feel like I’ve known them all of my life.

So, I think I’m gonna tackle these little discussions by focusing on characters,.. because I love them so much.

Puppy Love and Sherbet is special to me because it deals with that whole first love thing. I was the kind of kid who fell in love every time he turned around. And like Ethan, I found myself more attracted to “older women” than girls my age.

Ivy is awesome. Sadly, she’s only in two more toward the end. I regret not writing more chapters with her, but this thing had gotten so large, so burdensome I wanted to go no further than fifty chapters. I suppose I could have combined or eliminated others, but ‘tis what it ‘tis….

There are some who’ll make a big deal about the age difference between Ethan and Ivy, but so what. These things happen, both in fiction and real life. I never claimed to be writing a tale of high or correctness. The fact of the matter is that my wife was seven years older than I was when we married, compared to the four or so for Ethan and Ivy. She was a teacher for most of her life. We met long after I was in school, but we often joked about she could have been my teacher while I was in high school. I took it further and teased her about me being her teacher’s pet. That always made her blush… a fond memory of fine days….

Anyway, Ivy was a happy accident. I wrote the shoe shopping story and she just showed up. All that flirting, I had to do something with her, but she had to mean something. I’d already written other chapters about Ethan dating and even knew kinda sorta how the tale would end. But something was missing. Ivy saved me. And Ethan.

I love the interplay between these two–Ivy’s infatuation with this pretty boy with one foot in the world of girls and girlish things turns into something greater than she expected. First he’s a potential plaything, then he’s a little brother, but then it’s more. Which you’ll discover eventually.

Shoot, I love her so much and what she does for Ethan, I can’t say much more without giving away the whole caboose. Dang it.

A couple of things in this chapter make me emotional. Really emotional. One is when Ivy reveals that she’s going off to college. Like any other teenager, she procrastinates and tells him at the last minute. While they’re parked in front of his house she sees him in the moonlight, and she sees a tear running down his cheek. Then they kiss and Colleen turns on the porch light, blah-blah-blah…

Another is when they're at the nail salon and Ethan is reflecting on the women in the salon, their discussions about men and boys and their solidarity... and how that reminds him of his mother and his aunts (see Secrets Revealed)... and this happens:

... his eyes warmed and his chest swelled. Ivy noticed him sniffing and she shot him an impish wink.

“You big crybaby,” she whispered happily.

Ivy's not being mean in her happiness, no, not at all—she's just amazed to see this remarkable boy connecting to the world in a way that few boys (and probably not a lot of females) never do. This little bit is important, I think, because it's when she begins to really fall for Ethan. Maybe. You'll have to ask her. ;) I could be wrong.

The other is at the end, when they’re on the phone for the last time. She’s trying to make things easy for Ethan, to let him down slowly, but she’s hurting too. At the end she says:

“Hey, Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“I ‘puppy love’ you.”

His smile was too big to speak. He just nodded into the receiver, knowing she couldn’t see him.

I go back and read that on occasion and I get all teary eyed. Me, a seventy year old man who’s been around the world and seen things, done things, lived a full and crazy life… and that little exchange makes me wanna cry.

It’s because I get him. And her. I’ve been on both sides of that conversation, but in this case I really identify with Ethan and the bittersweetness of her saying that she ‘puppy loves’ him. I can see him... I've been him... on the end of that phone, smiling too big, but wanting to cry because the thing that made me happy was going away and I'd never experience it—or them—again.

Oh, it’s more than that–they both know it–but this is how they handle it. And they both do it better than I did, not just as a teenager, but as a grown man later in life. Way better than I ever did.

Of course, my favorite character is Ethan. He goes through so much in his young life, he learns so much and grows so much in such a short period of time, and he handles it better than most. And better than many readers may think. His greatest tests are yet to come… he’s going to overcome so much, surprise so many people, including his mother and Aunt Vivian and, of course, himself. I told one of my online friends he’s kinda like Frodo or Charlie Bucket (Charlie and the Chocolate Factory),,, or even Napoleon Dynamite (betcha didn't see that one coming, but his one of my subtle little heroes)... Ethan's ultimate success will affect so many in his circle….

This story is hard for me to let go. I began in as a lark–in Vivian-speak–not realizing just how big it would grown, nor what it would mean to me. I now know I’ll never be able to write anything else in this genre that will be so meaningful to me. I may try, but first I gotta get over my little ‘puppy love’ affair with Ethan’s World. Writing on this blog may help. We’ll see.

In the meantime, if you’re reading my story, thanks so much. If you like it, I like you. If you don’t like it, that’s okay. Either keep trying or read on and something that you like better. I’m just glad to have gotten this thing down and found a few who do enjoy and even share in my affection for it.

Just so you know, here is a version of my “mission statement” for what I was trying to accomplish:

“Ethan’s World is the childhood I should have had—one where teasing never wounds, where love always outweighs shame, and where even blushes become a kind of safety.”

Until next time, be safe and be good to yourself.

d.

PS I think I’m gonna talk about DeeDee next. Maybe. We’ll see.
 

Ethan's World: About that ending….

 

 

Okay, so Ethan’s World has been posted in its entirety and, for better or worse, no more will be added to that tale. It’s tempting to go on—I do love those characters so much and I miss interacting with them every day as I did during the months-long writing process, but the fact is that I wouldn’t know where to take up the banner and march on. The ending is the ending, they all live happily ever after (which is a rarity nowadays, or so one would think), so perhaps the thing is best left alone. Anything more and I’d just mess it up and lie in regret, berating myself with “Why did you do that?”

What remains, however, is how much I miss Ethan and Dani and Colleen… and especially DeeDee and Niecy and all of the other characters so much (call it an illness if you like) so I figured why not scratch that itch a bit and talk about them and those parts of the story that make me so happy—writing for me has always been therapy, so there ya go. And rather than just talk to myself, why not put it all out there and share with my readers—and other writers as well!—and perhaps hear what they have to say or think… for better or worse.

Now that I’ve said all that, where to begin? Well, the ending of course…

Ethan’s World began as a collection of little forced femme aka “petticoat punishment” stories I put together for my personal amusement. More on that genre and my affinity for it later. Once I realized that this project was growing into something more than I ever expected, that this was more like a novel than a silly, frilly series of eccentric and en femme “miss-adventures,” I knew I had to start thinking, Where is all of this going? How will it end? What is it really about, other than a reluctant adolescent lad treading in the flustering waters of cross-dressing in uber-girlish attire and assuming subservient behavior.

Well, I knew that above all else I wanted a happy ending. (Not that kind, you perv…lol! Get thy mind out of the gutter. haha!) But seriously, I needed that. This wasn’t Moby Dick or Blood Meridian I was writing (Santo Jesucristo, amiright?) Real life is tough enough—duh—and in my experience the world “closure” is overused and misleading. In real life all things end badly—we all die and rarely in pleasant circumstances or with anything close to dignity. So fuck that. I wanted something… special.

I thought about Nicholas Nickleby and how Mr. Dickens talks about the wants and needs of the Victorians and their habit of rewriting literature to give audiences at the time their happy endings, like when Nicholas takes part in a production of Romeo and Juliet and how Juliet suddenly wakes up from her coma ‘cuz the priest gave her less than a lethal dose of poison and Romeo doesn’t commit suicide and everyone lives happily ever after. (‘Tis but a flesh wound, m’love.) I remember seeing the PBS production of the tale and how that episode made me laugh so hard I got tears in my eyes.

And then I thought about one of my favorite—as Ethan would say—old timey films, Support Your Local Sheriff and how at the end the wonderful actor Jack Elam says:

“Now the way this story ends... is that they get married and he goes on to become governor of the state. Never gets to Australia, but he keeps readin' a lot of books about it. I get to be sheriff of this town... and then I go on to become one of the most beloved characters in Western folklore. ”

And so the die was cast.

Yes, I know for many it comes across corny and cliche and useless and mundane, but I had so much fun writing that last chapter—and putting in all of those little bits and pieces about characters that no one will love more than I—it’s kinda sad how happy that experience was for me. I pictured it in my head like the end of a movie, minutes before the closing credits scroll—or perhaps in the age of post-credit scenes, as a post-credit scene itself. Everyone, even Marcel the photographer and Roxanne the service dog (recently retired, now that Jeffrey’s found new life and purpose) and Tara and Maddy and others get at least a cameo of sorts.

During the celebration I imagined each character on stage getting camera time, perhaps with the actor’s credit superimposed on the screen. From Ricky popping and dancing on stage like a young mutant Donald O’Connor-John Travolta to Ivey and Colleen sitting together gleefully and lovingly watching Ethan and Dani’s dance routine to Penelope blowing kisses to the crowd during Dani’s soliloquy. Everyone got their due, pairs were connected and fates all tied up in a neat little satin bow… not at all like real life, but perhaps as we might wish it could be.

I am especially happy with the epilogue with Dani and Ethan talking to the reader. That, too, was cinematic, in my humble opinion, breaking that fourth wall and all. Some say I copied Shakespeare (again)... I was thinking George Burns—look up his old 1950 sitcom… the man was a genius. I wanted Ethan to have the last words, of course, but Dani had to be the one who laid it all out. She was (is) my Jack Elam, the comic sidekick who stuck by Ethan even when she was giving him grief. In her own words:

“And me? Well, in case you hadn’t noticed, this has been my story all along. No surprise here: I go on to become a legendary Olympic skateboard champion, lead my soccer team to the World Cup, make millions off celebrity endorsements and set up my own custom skateboard line. In my spare time I go into politics and become the first woman president.”

Of course, Ethan gives her grief for once—“Don’t you make me say that word”—and when he announces her destiny we find out she’s more than meets the eye—as are most of us, n’est-ce pas?

More about Dani later in a character profile (when I get around to it).

And finally, lemme talk a bit about Ethan and those final paragraphs. He had to have the last word, of course. ‘Cuz despite Dani’s braggadocio, the tale really is about him, after all. I hope I did him justice. I think I did. I wanted to show how he eventually prevails, beyond his father’s legacy, the scars he bore at the beginning… and later the road that he travels, from his mother’s manipulation and Penelope’s meddling to Dani’s sisterly teasing, Samuel’s bullying and Claire’s betrayal… and let the story reveal to us his subtle strengths, his ingenuity, his generosity and his resilience. In the second half of the novel we see how he grows, and what he’s really made of… but in the grand finale we share in the joy he feels… the satisfaction and sense of accomplishment he reaps as he steps into the adult world as himself… his whole and new self, not just the shell of a boy, or the facade that was Emily, but his true heroic self:

The evening had already done the thing it came to do: prove that families can make a difference and one boy, if he’s strong enough and brave enough—and creative enough—can pull those families together.

He is, as I put it earlier, “Ethan rising.”

So think about that: how Ethan pulls all of those families together. What the hell am I talking about?

Lemme ‘splain.

When I think about story characters and their reason for being, I often think on the discussion about Indiana Jones and the Raiders of the Lost Ark and how if you took Indiana out of the story it would have all ended up the same: the Nazis would have been destroyed by the powers that be… and probably the ark would have ended up in someone’s vast warehouse, or buried in the sands of time, which is kinda the same thing. Whatever. The point is, Indiana, for all of his heroic and admittedly charming efforts, was actually and logically inconsequential to the plot—apologies to Mr. Lucas and Mr. Spielberg for my insolence—though it did make for a grand adventure tale.

Not so with Ethan. He is, unlike the whip-cracking Professor Jones, essential to the outcome of this story. Take Ethan out of his world, or just eliminate his delving into feminine things and helping his mother—take away his purpose, give him back his video games or worse, his father, for heaven’s sake—and the world is a bit darker: Colleen’s Collections would most likely be no more than a blog and a blip on Etsy—Ethan and his mother would still be living paycheck to paycheck—the relationship between O'Brien sisters would have remained fractured… and Niecy and her mom would still be living in “that part of town”... no son for Thelma, no healing moment for her... no big brother for Niecy. Don’t even get me started on how DeeDee and Smitty would never have met, there would be no Liam or Rose… how they wouldn’t have filled that void in Vivian’s heart… how Penelope would have no legacy with the Whitaker Welcome Center much less investing in the old sewing machine factory for Colleen’s Collections… no jobs for Thelma and Marianne… Jeffrey would never have met Marianne… Marianne and Ricky still grieving.

The list goes on.

I mean, who knows where Samuel would have ended up? High school dropout, if he made it that far, no mother, no little sister... or perhaps he'd have gone dark and ended up in jail or dead on the streets. And what about those people he saves that fateful day in Maplewood? Or the ones he saved as a Marine Corps chopper pilot? All. Gone.

So, you might ask: Is Ethan Jimmy Stewart? Is Clarence the angel guiding him through It’s a Wonderful Life? Does it mean every time Ethan washes the dishes an angel gets its wings?

Eh, maaaaaybeeee … lol!

I’ll probably talk about this some more later on, but I had to get that off my chest. In my eyes Ethan’s journey is the hero’s… and it is redemptive… to me, perhaps, more than to him or anyone else in his world. And the end of his story, where he gets the last words… is his reward. He is young and on the verge of adulthood, about to step into a whole new world of adventure… but he is at peace with his past and all of the things that made him who he is.

As he says at the very end:

“And I wouldn’t change a thing.”

Who among us can say that about our own past? Not me, for damned sure. I’m now seventy, recovering from a successful (?) chemo treatment and with more free time on my hands than I ever expected (frankly, I’m surprised to have lived this long considering my own past)... and I often think about the things I wish I could have changed. It’s all vanity and idiocy, of course, but that’s often the fate of old men—and as I’m seeing and hearing, old women, as well. Which is another reason I wanted to write this story. To give a character the chance to overcome adversity and eccentricity and ill-fortune and then look back and announce to the world that those are the things that made me who I am… I’m a better person for having gone through that experience… and I wouldn’t change a thing.

So that’s why I wrote this as I did. And… to steal from Ethan.., I wouldn’t change a thing.

Except for a typo or errant word or two. lol!

No, this isn’t the Odyssey and I’m not Homer (not even Simpson) nor Dickens nor Willie the Shake(speare) nor Tarantino nor McCarthy or Melville. I’m just an old man who had this thing bouncing around in my head and wanting to write one more satisfying (to me, at least) and fun (me, too) cross-dressing story before I croak. Life is short, health is fragile, so you do what you have to do. Or you don’t.

For what it’s worth–and for anyone who’s still following me (thank you very much, by the way)—I intend to post a few more thoughts on Ethan’s World involving the characters, favorite scenes and elements, the whys and wherefores and, yes, even the controversial nature of forced femme in the story. As I said, I love this story so much, I spent so much time and energy into putting it together during a time when I wasn’t feeling so well (multiple surgeries in a short span of time during your seventies is a bee-otch! lol!) … setting it aside isn’t so easy.

I appreciate all of you, each and every view, each and every comment—even those that don’t idolize my work ;)—and each and every message. If I do miss a comment or message, if I don’t respond right away or whatev, feel free to give me grief. I’m old and forgetful, but I’ll do what I can to respond.

So, I am curious... are any other writers out there as obsessed as I am with their characters? I'm sure more than a couple... especially those who've invested time enough to produce more than a few chapters. These stories and the people in them are part of our souls, if not our imaginary family. ♥

Oh, and thanks again to Erin and the BCTS team for a place that allows this kind of fellowship, fraternal or sororal or in between. It’s taken me a while to get my bearings, but it’s been worthwhile, fo’ sho’.

Cheers!

d.

Experiments in art

 

Ivy and Ethan as "Emily" on an ice cream date

So, I've been playing a bit with AI art, specificially OpenArt AI, which has everything from Flux to Nano Banana and SeeDream. They're all pretty amazing and I've learned a lot. But as the old saying goes, the more you know, the less you know. Who says that? Well, me for one. The more I play with AI art the dumber I feel 'cuz there's always some new problem that show up and humbles you. In my case, it's consistent and repeatable characters. I know there's a solution, but I keep messing it up. Or something. I dunno. I'll figure it out whence I chillax and put some real effort into it.

DeeDee and her one true love—well, two of them if you count the root beer.
To her credit, she is trying to stop smoking. But there's a lot of drama going on, so who knows how that's gonna turn out.

Also, AI art is kinda like the slot machine at a casino—you never quite know what you're gonna come up with. And sometimes you throw good money after bad to get the tiniest of details fixed. Take this image of DeeDee above: it took me a couple of dozen passes to get her glasses close to what I imagined... and they're still not right. And don't get me started on the rear side window of her Shelby Mustang. And I must admit, she came out a bit sexier than I pictured her, but the other iterations didn't get that subtle smirk, so I stand by my testimony, your honor.

Another caveat emptor: Ethan keeps coming up younger than I liked, but I gotta say, he and Ivy look pretty into it, so I figured I'd just stop there. As I said, slot machine, good money after bad... you can stay up all night if you're not careful. Or just plain unteachable like I am. lol

The thing is, I don't really wanna draw... or illustrate or whatever. I just wanna read... and maybe write something once in a while. In a former life I had to fake it 'til I made it in photography and graphics... and I did all right, got paid for my time, oddly enough. But it became a chore and I lost my enthusiasm for my own personal gratification. Kinda like writing. I had to write so much for other people it wore me out. Now that I'm retired. I'm dabbling in writing again. Maybe I'll do the same for illustrating... and maybe not. Time will tell.

Anywhoooo... I used to draw for my cross-dressing and petticoating stories. Well, kinda. I drew in pen and pencil, traced, scanned, photoshopped, copied and pasted, whatever it took. I consider myself a writer, not an artist, but I was driven to making my own crossdressing art because of—as the kids say today—reasons.

Tony aka "Toni" or "Antoinette" in the Petticoat Detective series from long ago

Oddly, my quaint little scratchings were kinda popular way back then. I still get hits on my old DeviantArt page, after all these years, which is both flattering and weird to me. I leave them up in case someone else wants to enjoy them; but I also hope that others will get inspired to make their own art. And sometimes I get told that happens.

So there ya go.

Tony dabbling in his disguises

Yeah, I know, not everyone is crazy about AI art, or at least the idea of it. I'm not sure what to think about the ethics and all, but it's here and it helps me do amazing things. I'm not capable of drawing anymore... well, I guess I could, but it takes me a ridiculous amount of time to make a single image, it's not worth the effort. So yeah, I've sold my soul to the company store, so to speak, and it's AI art for me.

Tony (in disguise as "Toni") interrogating a suspect

I guess the reason I'm posting this is to let you know that if this is something you're interested in, give it a try. And trust me, if I can do it, so can you. Do I feel guilty about cheating another artist out of a commission? Not really. I wouldn't know who to go to do this kind of art and if I did I couldn't afford them.

Self portrait of the artist as a young'n

I could go into the politics and morality of "stealing another's work" but I've sworn to keep politics out of this side of my life. As I see it, all art is based on other people's art—name me an artist who isn't influenced by either a predecessor or a peer and I'll show you a complete hermit or a rare true genius. Even Michelangelo got ideas and inspiration from the ancients. (Yeah, I ain't no Micky G, that's fo' sho'—I'm not even close to being Mickey Spillane.) But as Willie Shakespeare once said, there's nothing new under the sun, and he got that from Ecclesiastes as I remember—though I've been told that came from an even earlier work.

As the great Billy Preston once sang, the world goes round in circles.

Stay warm, stay safe... and be good to yourself and yours.

d.
 

Ethan’s World: The Musical Soundtrack

 

So, in an alternate universe I would have been a film director… nah, maybe a producer. Or something, anything to do with movie-making. Not necessarily Hollywood, but you know what I mean. Maybe.

When I was a kid movies and TV weren’t just entertainment, they were an escape from my domestic situation, a safe place where anything was possible, far away from the hell that was my homelife.

One of the outstanding facets of movie influence in my life was the music, how it would be part of the story, how it enhanced a scene, filled in the blanks, changed mood or—if you were having trouble figuring out what was going on—served as the narration. Not just Debbie Reynolds belting out “Singing in the Rain,” but John Williams’ leitmotif for Darth Vader (“dum dum de dum, dum de dum, dum de dum”), the sexy saxophone sounds of “Harlem Noturne” introducing us to private investigator Mike Hammer, the brass fanfare accompanying Alec’s triumphant bareback ride along the seashore in The Black Stallion…

The list goes on.

(For the record, if I can't be Ethan, I wanna be Alec on that island with The Black. Carry on.)

I remember a couple of decades ago when Sony introduced the Walkman—this explanation is geared toward anyone under thirty, BTW lol!—an antique-ish device that played cassettes connected to headphones so you could listen to “the soundtrack of your life” throughout the day. Which I thought was a pretty good salespitch as I was always playing the soundtrack to my life in my car or wherever I went. I remember playing The Doors "The End" during a particularly hairy time in the desert. And one of the other guys cuing up Vanilla Ice’s "Ice Ice Baby" afterward during our dash back to our outpost. Good times. Mostly.

Flash forward to last year and I’m writing away on this little tale without knowing what I was doing or where I was going with it. The deeper I got into Ethan’s World, the more invested I became, I started hearing music in my noggin. That’s where I recognized that Ethan’s story was going to be—for me, at least—something special. I knew it was probably going to be the last cross-dressing story I ever wrote, so I wanted to make sure it would the best cross-dressing story I ever wrote. And that meant putting in some extra effort.

As I’ve said before, I write mostly for myself, to create something that I would want to go back and read again and again—narcissist that I am. And since I am not just a closeted cross-dresser, but a closeted film-maker, why not treat this thing I was making as a film. Or a TV show—whatever.

And so I added the music. As best I could. I think.

For fear of rambling along too much, I’ll just awkwardly drag up some examples and a bit of reflection on why I find all this worth writing about.

The first time we get music in Ethan’s World is during “Polka Dots and Secrets,” where DeeDee catches Ethan in his little polka dot top and panty set singing some nameless tune that echoes the girl groups of the 1960s. I was reluctant to use any existing songs ‘cuz I didn’t wanna draw too much attention (like I’m gonna get sued for this?) so I made up some words and they kinda worked:

🎵 My baby says he loves me, and I believe it’s true… 🎶

🎶 He calls me sugar-darlin’ and says there’s no one new… 🎵

I was thinking The Supremes or the Ronettes or even Martha and the Vandellas. The kinds of things DeeDee and Colleen would gravitate to and a kid like Ethan would find appealing.

Later in the story I wanted to echo that classic song, "Itsy Bitsy Teenie Weenie Yellow Polkadot Bikini" out of respect for the original artist, Brian Hyland (and not the Beach Boys, I have to keep reminding myself) so I fiddle-fudged around to make a semi-respectable clone. It was okay but it looked like I was looking over Brian’s (Hyland, not Wilson!) shoulder during study hall.

🎵 She giggles when they whistle, won’t come when they call… 🎶

🎶 My bikini baby is the belle of the ball! 🎵

Poetry and songwriting are obviously not my strong suit and I had a story to finish, so eventually I gave up trying to come up with something original for the end of the story. I decided to steal some lines from an old piece I love, “You Were On My Mind” by We Five. I fiddled with it a bit, turned the lines into “When I woke up this morning I was thinking of you…” which Ethan sings while he resumes cleaning house, his mother proudly watching on. Ironically, turns out my lyrics are in a hip-hop piece. Still, the melody in my head was from the 1960s, which comprises most all of the songs in Ethan’s World. That was the era that shaped my childhood, after all. For better or worse, I missed out on hip-hop. Think I’ll survive.

So the casual reader may think, meh, somebody put some songs in a cross-dressing story. So what? And to that I say, this isn’t just some simple fetish tale, or a story around trans-whatever. It's a story about a mixed up kid trying to figure his way in the world, discovering who he is and what he’s about, and maybe, just maybe becoming a hero. And us hearing him singing those songs, and listening to and dancing to all that music, gives us insight into who he is—even if he doesn’t know it yet—and how he thinks (ditto).

DeeDee’s dancing influences on him—showing him how to do that boob-shimmy, fer instance—are bonus points that pay off later in "Ethan Takes The Stage."

Speaking of which: For Ethan's scene from The Producers I forwent... forgone (?)... ignored the movie musical version... sorry, Uma, but that song just didn't do it for me. I much prefer the original film so Ethan does his sexy dance to the fictional masterpiece "Bialystock and Blume."

You're welcome.

I also want to add in something else here: there's this thing about the Proustian Effect, like when you add in things like descriptions of smells and sounds and taste and warmth and on and on. I probably overuse this when I mention the smell of lemons and starched cotton... and fear, of course. lol The same—IMHO—goes for sounds and music. In film and video that can be some random but crazy talented kid playing the banjo at a little shack in Deliverance or Howard Shore and his orchestra accompanying King Theoden leading the Rohirrim on the plains of the Pelennor. Again, IMHO.

In our... my?... case it’s not just using music to show how Ethan thinks, but to give texture to the world he lives in. In "Polishing Toward Perfection" he gets to ride in DeeDee’s Mustang (always a treat!) as a reward—and counterpoint—to sitting for his mani-pedi with his mother and aunt. Dani picks out Steppenwolf’s "Magic Carpet Ride," which I can attest to being the ideal piece to play when running over a hundred in a red Mustang on a quiet country road.

One of my favorite images from this whole story is Ethan sitting in the back seat of the Mustang, buckled in and seated-dancing to "Magic Carpet Ride," head bobbing, rabbit-ear bow bouncing, his face smiling so hard it hurts, Dani doing much the same, and the camera pulling back to show the red GT-500 speeding along, the V-8’s roar competing with psychedelic guitar riffs in the starlight.

Another similar scene takes place in The Day Everything Changed when DeeDee slams in a Beach Boys tape and takes the kids on an ice cream run in the Mustang. The image of them all singing “Go granny! Go granny! Go granny go!” as they fly past Smitty’s speed trap (because you know he’s gonna try to catch DeeDee, right?) makes me smile so hard my cheeks hurt as bad as Ethan's.

Steppenwolf makes a comeback in the final episode "All Things Come Together" when Ethan and Dani take the stage, performing the climatic dance sequence to "Born to be Wild." Dancing with the Stars be damned—every time I hear that piece on my car stereo I can see those two storming the stage, shaking their respective boobs and booties, Dani doing her acrobatics, the bright lights, crowd cheering, bringing joy and life and energy to everyone around them.

On a less dramatic note (pun not intended)... pop music isn’t the only way to make a point. When Vivian shows up to investigate this phenomenon called “Emily” in "Auntie Vivian, Part Deux," I wanted to give Ethan a secret weapon. Not something to destroy The Judge, but to throw her off balance and change her perspective—and eventually her opinion of him. Thus came Eric Satie’s "Gymnopedie."

I first heard that piece, ironically, on a Blood Sweat and Tears album, when I was about Ethan’s age. I was at orchestra camp and this quiet, subtle number burned itself into my little brain so much so that I still get the chills whenever I hear it. BS&T did it with flutes and brass, but if you lookitup on Youtube (I've provided some links) it’s usually on piano. Which made it (im)perfect for Ethan’s impromptu recital for his judgmental auntie.

When I go back to that scene it only makes more and more sense: Vivian the All-Powerful, The Judge, the eldest O’Brien sister, the Iron Maiden and steel-bladed stiletto wrapped in crimson silk… gets thrown off by her cross-dressed oddity of a nephew, nervous and vulnerable, quietly playing a modest, almost frail little melody composed by an eccentric French ne’er-do-well-in-his-lifetime artist who was about as messed up as Ethan thinks he is. Vivian has already got her verdict in hand, but upon hearing those first few notes, she’s in awe, her mental computer rebooted… and she’s forced to find a glass of brandy and reassess her vision of the world.

Off camera—so to speak—this piece has a special, secret value to Vivian, one which I suspect Colleen is privy to and uses to her and Ethan’s advantage. I sometimes think it might have something to do with Vivian’s deceased husband… or perhaps a lover in law school. Or even an errant career choice. Who knows?

Anyway, that, to me, is the power of a simple little piece of music. Even if it’s not actually heard, but read about on the written page. It adds more possibilities, fills in the blanks in the story… and maybe even raises more questions.

Go back, if you have the time, or inclination or curiosity, cue up Satie’s "Gymnopedie No. 1" and re-read that chapter. And let me know if I’m mistaken. Or just crazy. Or maybe both.

Whatever you think, I won’t disagree with you.

A few other fun pieces I put at the end of the novel: "Reach Out of the Darkness" by Friend & Lover (I think it’s so groovy now/that people are finally gettin’ together) and Louis Armstrong’s "What a Wonderful World," and Chuck Berry’s "You Never Can Tell" (stolen from the movie Pulp Fiction). The images those pieces evoke in me, the women and girls (and some boys) on stage, celebrating Colleen and Ethan’s new business venture; Niecy and the ballet dancers gliding across the stage like a flock of butterflies in pastel; DeeDee and Smitty living out their rock-a-billy dream; Ricky, of all people hamming it up like John Travolta and Uma Thurman’s spastic, joyful ginger lovechild.

Yeah, I like it. Don’t know if it works for anybody else, but it does for me.

So what about you, dear reader? Or, better yet, fellow writer? Does music (or the suggestion of it) on the written page add anything to these stories? Or to your own? Do your stories have a music soundtrack? Or maybe your life does? I am truly curious. This is my first time mentioning music in a story and it satisfied. Methinks that if I ever tackle another story or novel I’ll do it again. To me it’s no different than describing the sound of thunder, or a waterfall… or the smell of cookies baking… or the odor of something burning… aviation fuel (for DeeDee’s Mustang… lol!)... or your mom’s vintage perfume.

Okay, that’s enough for today. I’m getting tired and I want to start work on another essay tomorrow. I’m feeling better, still sleeping more than I used to. My wife used to tease me about staying up late and taking afternoon naps… now I’m going to bed early and still taking naps. But I’m getting better, for what that’s worth.

Thanks again for all your support. Cheers!

d.