For most of my life I've lived in a confused sense of my identity. Who am I? What do I want? What makes me happy?
I'm certainly not alone in my narcissistic attitude and I know many people say you should just suck it up and learn to live with the reality of your existence. I've thought that Pink Floyd's song 'Time' has a lyric that states western society's attitude the best - 'Hanging on in quiet desperation is the English way'.
I've always felt darkness sitting on my shoulder, a quiet desperation. Sometimes it sits silent as I pretend to go along with the role I use to blend into society. Other times the feeling is so powerful that nothing else seems to matter as I stare into the abyss.
The funny thing is I don't understand it. It's pretty safe to say I'm depressed but is it something more? Am I bipolar? Is it another type of mental issue? Is it simply because I don't like myself?
I once read a saying that 90% of the people you know don't care about your problems and the other 10% are glad you have them. The saying is a bit pessimistic but I think it is true that most people see themselves as the stars of their own movie. The rest of us are just bit players.
I've never really liked myself but I've never done much to let others accept me. Since I was a teenager I've been a periodic smoker yet I couldn't allow myself to adopt that moniker. It put me in a category I didn't want to accept. For years I smoked in private, hiding it from the world. I'm sure few people cared but I didn't want people to think less of me. It's stupid and I know it's stupid. Imagine how hard it is for someone like that to admit they might be transgendered.
Since I was a kid I knew I had feminine tendencies though I don't know exactly when I realized it. I was a smart enough to know I was different. I was pretty sure it had something to do with a the fact my dad left when I was in 2nd grade. In time I wondered if my mother's overcompensation was at fault. The more I've read, I've learned that doctors don't understand it.
Nature or nurture? What is the source of our behavior? Is it learned or is it innate?
Most studies today find a very strong correlation between genetics and gender issues and that environment has little to do with this behavior. In my teenaged year I knew I liked women and had no attraction to men but I also knew something was blocking me from being like the other guys. Perhaps I was just weird. Like I said earlier, I wass the star in my own movie and no one had told me any different.
I learned to hide myself and never volunteer for anything lest my dark secret be found.
One thing that has never made sense to me is why these feelings even exist. I'm a big believer that anything that happens in today's world happened to our predecessors 1,000, 10,000 or 100,000 years ago. Gender issues really makes no sense how they developed over time. Did ancient gender dysphoric men take secondary roles in the tribe? Wouldn't that mean they were less likely to be the alpha male and less likely to mate?
That only leaves one option in my mind - either the genetics for dysphoria is passed from the mother's genes or something happens in the mother's womb during gestation. Otherwise it seems likely dysphoria (and homosexuality) would have disappeared from the genetic record.
In time I know I blamed my mom for my problem.
During my teenaged years if someone told me they were a woman trapped inside a man's body I would have laughed at them. Like most teenagers I didn't take anything too seriously but I did that mostly to hide my fears. I was scared of the changes in my body. I wanted to let my hair grow but my parents wouldn't allow it. I ran like a girl. I preferred pinks and soft colors.
Another issue is I struggled to know how to act around girls. It was fine with other guys as I could copy them but behind closed doors with girls it felt more like a sleepover than anything else. Every girl I dated said the same thing - 'you act more like one of my girlfriends than a boyfriend'. I kept searching to find a girl that might understand me. My dating life followed a pattern - meet a girl that liked me because I was good looking, talk for a while, decide to go out, date, have sex a few times, grow bored, break up. They wanted something from me I didn't have and couldn't understand. After 5 or 6 real attempts with the same pattern I pretty much gave up. When I gained weight after college I didn't even try anymore. Girls weren't knocking on the door to go out so I became a recluse and continued to put on weight.
I didn't understand my feelings. I tried to ignore them as I knew I couldn't tell a soul. There wasn't anyone out there like me. I was alone. I was a damaged.
Many times in my life I've considered therapy. I know it would help but just going to therapy gives a social stigma and I didn't want to deal with it. The last thing I needed was someone in the HR department to let one of my bosses know which would cause them to get nervous and fire me.
The story I wrote a few days ago was a thinly veiled story of my life. I actually took the trip through the park wearing breast forms and it was an amazing experience. I got surprised by two hikers who certainly noticed them and practically ran from a guy who looked like a redneck homophobe. Most of everything that took place happened in my mind as I barely said a word to anyone over the six hours I spent on the trail.
My favorite part was as it started to get dark. I knew no one would be around and I wore my sports bra without breast forms. The sun had gone down over the mountains and it felt cold in the shade but I felt a warmth I couldn't explain.
Before this week, I'd never worn women's clothing in public. Honestly I usually wear baggy drab colored clothing so I don't stand out. I rarely look in the mirror because I can't stand the sight of myself and it has only gotten worse as I've gotten older. I've had body issues long before I gained weight. I was thin before I got out of college and downright skeleton 130 lbs during my sophomore year of high school. I've always hated to swim because I would never be caught without my shirt. The thought of baring my shoulders was a foreign concept. Imagine my surprise at the smile that wouldn't leave as I trekked alone for two miles wearing only a bra.
I did go out to dinner with my dad that night but it wasn't anything like the story. The only part that was true was a guy made a comment that I couldn't be his son because I was so much bigger. My dad is an inch shorter with a slighter frame but with a gut that falls over his belt. If I had to guess I'd say he weighs about 180 lbs. I'm about 5'10" with a disappearing gut but I'm over 200 lbs. with much broader shoulders. The fat on my body is more equally distributed on a bigger frame and I have more muscle which is what gives me the larger appearance.
That little comment took away all the positive I felt from the day.
It reinforced the thought that I'm too big to transition. I doubt I will ever pass and frankly I'd need to pass as my past history tells me I don't have the inner strength to deal with the haters. It got me to think about all sorts of crazy thoughts. What if I bought hormones and did it in secret to see if I looked ok? So many people I've read say they change things more than you can imagine. Perhaps I don't have enough imagination.
Perhaps I can take enough so it would allow me to live a double life of crossdressing. I could pass when I wanted but deep down I know that wouldn't be enough.
I went hiking a few more times after I wrote the story the last week. One day it was a bit cold and I wore a slight jacket with my bra and breastforms underneath. I developed a trick which was to use the chest strap on my backpack to
bind my 'boobs' to hide them if anyone saw me but I had to be careful as I didn't want to damage
them. That trick gave me the confidence to walk without much fear
though I doubt it hid much. I kept them on for most of the journey the next day and I even passed a few people wearing them bound to my chest. It felt amazing. A pretty girl biker passed and I'm sure she noticed as she turned around and rode back to me in a way that wouldn't make sense otherwise. She smiled as she passed and I said 'hi' in my most feminine sounding voice but I couldn't help but wonder. 'Does she like me?' 'Does she like crossdressers?' I know it was unlikely but it's situations like that where I know I'm definitely attracted to girls as that has never happened with a guy.
Walking that full day felt so good I did it again a few days later. The temperature had jumped so much that wearing a jacket wold be silly but I did it anyway. I needed my safety net. The trails were packed all day. The first couple surprised me and as I wasn't prepared I'm sure the woman saw everything. I gave a shy wave and hurried off. I hadn't even gotten to the halfway point when I'd passed three other groups then saw a group of twenty people sitting at the turnabout. With so many people I found a place to change. I couldn't take it.
Here's the silly part. With all the weight I've gained over the years I've accumulated enough fat on my chest to almost fill an A cup. While I've lost easily 80 lbs in the last few years I still haven't gotten rid of my 'moobs'. The weight loss had made my most comfortable sports bra loose enough that I worried my breast forms would fall out. Instead I used a smaller sized bra that I usually used without breast forms. They worked well with breast forms but what I hadn't counted on was how it would push my looser skin in a way that created two noticeable bumps on my chest..
I didn't notice myself until much later. The sight of my own chest sticking out from the tight fitting jacket made me laugh. I doubt many would notice but the thought of going on hormones to make them bigger made me happy but it wasn't just that. All I really want is enough change to the fat distribution in my body so someone wouldn't notice 'man in a dress' immediately. I knew I'd definitely live as a woman if I could too but I'd give anything just for that small victory.
My legs felt wiped from three long hikes in five days and I knew the last part would take a lot longer than normal so I decided to enjoy it. Few people travel this part of the trail so I decided to go full bore. No jacket. Just a bra with breast forms.
The day had cooled some but it still felt good to take off the jacket. I tied my coat around my waist and began to walk. Three miles until civilization. I kept a wary eye in case someone decided to go this route which took away some of the fun but a slight brush of my chest sent a shiver down my spine. I looked at myself from the outside. Yes I looked like a man in my face but a woman below the neck line. I didn't have the classic curves of a Marilyn Monroe or or the long runway legs of a Gisele but I looked like a woman nonetheless. Wearing just cargo pants, a backpack, and a sports bra with oversized breasts I realized I looked like bigger version of Lara Croft (a video game / movie character if you aren't aware). The idea made me laugh.
The sports bra felt entirely natural. I'd had body issues my whole life and never liked showing my shoulders or stomach but was it possible that all these years I'd secretly felt ashamed of my underdeveloped chest? I felt embolded with every step. That had to be it. It made sense. My body issues in that area hadn't really occurred until 6th grade which is about the time most girls start to develop. Was it possible? I knew only a therapist could help me answer that question but I couldn't do that yet.
I did know I felt comfortable in my skin for the first time in a long time. I was making good progress losing weight and the continual depression of the past had turned into ups and downs.
My hike was almost halfway to the spot where I knew I'd have to change when I saw two people in the distance. My disappointment hit me like a truck. I'm not sure if they saw me but I think they did as they turned around. I couldn't see them clearly because I didn't have my glasses but I could tell by their voices it was two women (if only!).
I looked at my chest to see the two large protrusions. Even if the women didn't notice my large chest I'm sure they saw my bra as my bare stomach and shoulders were hard to miss. I stopped, put the breastforms in my backpack, and put on the jacket with the zipper undone so I could still see the bra.
The bra still appeared to hold the boobs of a 12 year old girl as it pulled everything together. I decided I had to catch the two women to let them see me up close. I still have no idea why I wanted to do this.
I'm sure I scared them a little like the bodybuilder had done to me the previous week but I couldn't worry about it. They stopped when I got within about 20 yards.
One lady asked, "Where are you coming from?"
I didn't bother to disguise my voice. I know it's not ready anyway. "I did the full circuit."
"Nice."
"Do you live around here?"
"In the housing development up the road."
"That's a nice area."
They made it obvious they were done talking so I said, "See you around."
They answered, "See you around."
I kept going up the trail. I have no idea what they thought about the guy wearing a sports bra but their gaze didn't even move from my eyes as we spoke. I'm sure it would have been different if it were two men but I know I couldn't have spoke with two men wearing a sports bra. The only reason I think I did it was to feel like part of the sisterhood but these two weren't ready to accept me. Not yet anyway.
As I finished my walk I thought about my progress and it made me think of the game truth or dare.
Do I want to be happy? Truth.
Am I transgendered? Truth.
Have I done everything I can to live with myself without making a change? Truth.
Would I want to live as a woman despite all the negatives? Truth.
Does the pain hurt so much that I'm willing to risk losing friends and family? Truth
Do I want to try hormones? Truth.
Do I want to transition? Dare.
Would it be so bad if I could finally find some happiness?
Two years ago when I started I weighed 308 lbs. I haven't weighed myself for fear of disappointing myself or giving myself a reason to slack off. I just keep working out and hoping my pants sizes will continue to go down. I started at a 48 sized waist and I'm almost at a 38. My goal is a 32 before I weigh myself. That was my waist size in college. If I can get my weight to my high school weight of 165 I'm going to look into transitioning. A therapist can help me figure everything out and if they agree I've got GID then that's a good weight to start transitioning. Hormones will move fat around as I take more weight off as my muscles start to atrophy without testosterone. I just need to stick to a good workout plan and a healthy diet. Will it take six months? A year?
I know it's going to take a lot of work but everyone needs a goal. In the meantime, if you see a man wearing a pair of breast forms walking in a park make sure you say hi. She needs all the encouragement she can get.
Wednesday, November 26, 2014
Thursday, November 20, 2014
A walk in the park
I tied my shoes and hid the secret cargo in my backpack then
locked the door behind me. I could see the entrance to the park in the
distance as I started my hike. Memories of a lifetime filled my thoughts.
****
I remembered many of the adults in my extended family commenting in my youth that I was '14 years old going on 40'. I had thought as a compliment at the time because I was an overachiever but looking back it was probably due to my anxious nature that I thought I hid from the world.
I suppose most kids feel they are different from everyone around them and they learn over time to hide themselves by conforming to the social norms. I worked hard to fit in despite the overwhelming feeling I was different. I think I succeeded for the most part.
I wasn't ever one of the popular kids but I know I wasn’t unpopular either. I was in that second group of kids that most people ignore. My grades were good. I did well in sports. I had good group of similar minded friends. I was too shy to ask out a girl.
Reviewing my yearbooks, I saw a good-looking kid but knew that didn't matter, as my confidence could not have been lower. I didn't feel comfortable in my skin. Most girls saw me as an odd, stuck up kid that did well in sports. I thought hard work would improve things but the harder I worked the worse I felt.
My first cross dressing experience happened when I was 10 years old. I felt an urge I didn't understand. I lied to Mom that I wasn't feeling well and she let me stay home. After waiting a few hours to make sure I was alone I snuck into her room and spent the morning wearing one of her wigs, a bra, and high heels. It felt like a farce but over the next few years, it grew to include my first attempts at makeup and smoking her cigarettes.
I knew something was wrong with me but I couldn't explain it and I know I couldn't tell a soul. I thought I might be gay but I also knew I wasn't attracted to people. It didn't make any sense. The difference between gender ID and sexual attraction were foreign concepts. I had no idea what a transsexual was though I'm sure I would have laughed at the idea if someone explained it to me.
I relived those teenaged years a lot in my mind. I wished there was a way to go back.
I'm sure most people relive the confusion of their teenaged years as that time in a large part forms the adults we become. The hardworking, reclusive teenager I was became a hardworking, reclusive adult. Make that an increasingly unhappy adult.
I started writing to sort out my feelings. Fast forward a few more years and I have a closet filled with women's outfits and a suitcase full of makeup and assorted appliances. I spent entire weeks living alone completely en femme. I was happy but I felt trapped. Everything felt superficial but I knew I couldn't take my obsession further. I couldn't transition. The insecure child inside wouldn't allow it.
TG stories helped me cope but like a sort of drug, it didn't take long until needed something stronger. I moved on to YouTube videos of MtF transitions. My tears fell as I watched men transform themselves into women. Could I do that? Would I be able to pass? I studied medical literature. I read firsthand accounts.
I knew I was transgender. That was true the first time I put on my mom's high heels. It took well over a decade for me to accept that fact but that didn't make acceptance any less of a hurdle. I had a gender identity problem. Was my GID a big enough issue to outweigh the negatives?
****
I made good time as I crossed into the park, my legs felt strong. This would be a long hike. Hiking alone through the wilderness would allow me the freedom to do something I needed to do but only could recently understand.
****
One thing I've always hated is people that say stupid things like 'gays just need to find the right person' or that 'they can change with the right therapy'. A gay friend in college reinforced this belief when he explained through tear-filled eyes that he'd give anything to change his sexual orientation. Would anyone voluntarily choose that lifestyle? Would anyone really want that kind of grief?
I was so far into the closet at the time that I felt joy knowing it was his problem and not mine. If only that statement were true. At least gays feel comfortable in their own skin. At least gays didn’t have to change their appearance. They could blend into society with no one the wiser if they wanted.
The more I studied GID the more I knew the idea fit like a glove. I could hide it from the world but I couldn't hide it from myself. None of the literature can explain exactly why it happens - genetics?, hormones during pregnancy?, upbringing?, a combination of all three? No one knew. I just knew that parts of my brain were more comfortable being female than male and there was nothing I could do to change it.
Could I live with the consequences? Could I transition? My desire depended on the day.
There are many obstacles to transitioning. The older you get the less effective the drugs and I wasn't a teenager any more. My hairline had already moved a little which would only get worse with time. My face wasn't overly masculine with a male nose and a head much larger than you'd find on a female. I had short legs with a long torso which is exactly opposite as you'd find on a girl. I had broad shoulders and muscular legs.
Was I trying to talk myself out of transitioning? Plastic surgery could fix most of those issues. The biggest hurdle was the weight I’d gained while I hid from the world.
For most of my youth, I was skinny. As a 3-season athlete, I kept the pounds off. I remembered weighing about 150 lbs by the time I graduated high school. Transitioning then would have been easy but after college, my depression deepened and I spent night after night at home. Poor eating habits and an agoraphobic-like fear of being outside piled on the weight. I weighed over 300 lbs. when I put real plans together for a suicide attempt. As a last ditch effort I called a therapist who saved my life. We put together a life plan and the first step was to get my weight under control.
I changed my diet and I started working out. My mood swings made progress slow but after two years, the 200 lbs barrier was in sight. I had a long way to go but my progress gave me confidence to try some things I never could have considered as a kid.
****
My plan for the hike was bolder than usual. It had gotten a lot colder so I wore my favorite sports bra under a t-shirt and a sweatshirt. My breast forms lay hidden in my backpack.
I didn't see a soul the first hour of the hike, which gave my plan confidence. The trails wove through hilly terrain growing ever more secluded until you reached to the other side of the park. Many people hiked around the edges but few hiked the interior. I wanted to hike in girl mode and after not seeing anyone for so long I popped my breast forms in much earlier than I planned. Feeling the weight on my chest felt great and I smiled at my own genius.
My legs felt great and I kept a fast pace which meant I the further I went, the hotter I got. My sweatshirt went into my backpack leaving only a thin t-shirt which bulged outward from the the B cup breast forms hiding inside the sports bra. I loved every minute of it.
Was I secretly hoping someone would see me? I was pushing the boundaries of safety and I think a small part of me enjoyed the fear. That didn't stop me from breathing a sigh of relief as I turned towards a long secluded trail that few people traversed. I looked forward to the solitude even though I knew every step took me closer to a turnabout where many people hiking from a local hotel used as a turnabout for an easy 2-mile hike.
****
"Can you help me?"
The man's words brought me out of the dream state where minds go when they aren't paying attention to the task. I'd gone less than a 1/10 mile into the 'secluded area'. Thoughts raced through my head as my mind raced.
I half-ignored the man as I walked past as I considered how to answer when I saw a woman 50 yards up the trail. Having no choice I continued to walk towards the woman while addressing the man over my shoulder. Two days of beard growth betrayed me as male despite the large bulges on my chest.
The man asked in an almost pleading voice, "Do you know the way back to the hotel? Can I get there from the direction you came?"
As I'd travelled every part of the park during my hikes, I knew the answer. I had to help.
"You are good. Just go straight when you get to the next crossroad. It will wind around but eventually will take you back to the hotel."
The man had stopped walking as I responded and a passed the woman as quick as I could, trying to hide my chest while trying to hide side boob profile from either of them. The woman didn't seem satisfied by my quick response and she followed me the way she had come forcing me to stop for fear of 'outing' myself by continuing to act so odd. I hadn't noticed either of them looking at my chest but frankly, they didn't have to. My chest stuck out so prominently it made the name of the sports team on my t-shirt easy to read. The woman stopped a few feet behind me and I pointed to a far away trail.
"See that trail that runs along the hill over there?"
I was thankful when they did as I asked. At least they weren't looking at me.
"That's your destination. It will go around to the other side of that hill then head north to the hotel. I will be coming around from the other direction on my own hike and will make sure to look for you."
My answer seemed to satisfy the woman who stood two feet in front of me. All it would take is a look down but her gaze never left my eyes.
"Thanks for your help." I watched the two turn and head into the distance.
****
I race walked for a bit gain some distance in case they doubled back then doubled over in laughter at thought of what had just happened. I had no doubt I'd been 'clocked'. Five years before I would have been mortified at something like this but for some reason it didn't bother me. I consoled myself with the thought I'd never see them again after this day.
I did worry that in my haste that I might have given bad directions. Did I tell them to go straight at the crossroad? Panic set in that I might have put them in danger. Deep down I knew I should have told them to turn around, as it was easy to get lost in the park. There were many crossroads and none of them had maps.
Guilt made me quicken my pace. Was it so wrong that I wanted to spend the afternoon wearing my breast forms while I hiked? I had to get to the hotel. The sooner I got there the sooner I could meet them coming up the trail to the south but the thought of the hotel created another issue.
The hotel had a popular 2-mile turnabout, which is where the two people I'd already met came from. Few were adventurous enough as them to do a 6-mile hike into the wilderness without a map but I knew the turnabout was sure to have people in it. I pushed the thought from my mind for the moment as I enjoyed the wilderness surrounding me. For the next mile, it was just me, the bounce on my chest, and a smile that wouldn't stop.
I wished it could have lasted forever but I saw the building that marked the turnabout far sooner than I wanted. I thought about taking off the breast forms but wanted to savor every moment and since it appeared no one was in the building, I decided to enter to change inside.
I didn't see the man until I was two steps from the door. He sat nonchalant in the window ledge, taking in the sights and I'm sure he saw me. I tried to play it off by walking around the outside of the building to make him assume that I had meant to stay on trail. He remembered a spot nearby where he could change without anyone seeing. Every step took me closer to another group walking up the trail.
What I hadn't counted on was the man inside the shelter exiting to follow me 10 seconds after I passed. Had he seen me? Did he want to walk with me? Had he exited because he saw my 'breasts' and assumed I was a girl?
Panic set in but not in the way I expected. Everything felt surreal. I felt like a girl. The guy following me was about 6'2" tall, looked to be about 22 years old, well tanned, and since he wasn't wearing a shirt I could see a muscled body that showed he worked with free weights about every day.
If you looked up the stereotypical picture of assholes that beat up gays or transsexuals, you'd see a picture of this guy. I knew the characterization probably wasn't fair but I also knew I didn't want to take a chance. My hand felt in my pocket for the knife I always carry whenever I hike. I had to figure a way out of this mess of my own making. I increased my speed in hopes of putting some distance between us but I'd already put in well over five miles of hilly terrain at a fast clip and this guy had only done a mile and had a nice rest.
Somehow, I slowly pulled away. I'd always heard the term 'fight or flight' and it wasn't until that moment I understood how amazing the rush of adrenaline can help a person do things they could never do otherwise. I surged ahead to a good lead but when I saw the hairpin turn a quarter mile ahead I knew I had no choice but to make eye contact. We'd have to acknowledge one another. My mind imagined the conversation going something like:
"Do you mind if I walk with you?"
"Ummm... sure."
"Nice tits."
"Thanks."
That was the most positive outcome of the dozens of alternative spinning in my head.
Desperation set in as the turn got closer. I shoved one hand down my bra and pulled out a breast form. It's only a B cup and not that big so I could easily hold it with one hand despite the slight coating of sweat that covered it. I prayed it wouldn't slip as I shoved my other hand in my bra to grab the other one.
Now I was walking down the trail with a breast form in each hand walking in such a way so the guy behind couldn't see my hands as I realized I had no place to put them. I thought for a second about putting them down my pants but I knew they'd only stay there for a short while before falling to the ground. This would have been mortifying but also might have damaged the forms. I knew my pants pockets were too small, which left one option - my backpack.
Putting both slippery breast forms in one hand, I loosened the backpack and pulled it around my body to access the inner compartments. I stuffed the forms inside then pulled out my package of sunflower seeds to show I opened my backpack for a reason.
The whole process lasted thirty seconds but it felt like thirty minutes. As I replayed the events in my head, I couldn't believe what I'd done. Somehow, I'd shielded a guy twenty yards behind from seeing me take off a pair of breast forms with one hand and put them into a pack with the other while my backpack was still attached and did it without breaking my stride.
At least that's what I told myself. For all I knew, the reason he'd lost ground was that he was trying too hard not to laugh.
For the next two miles, I walked as fast as I could to increase my lead as I really didn't want to talk to the guy but adrenaline only lasts so long. He was no more than 15 yards behind the entire way until we got to a large hill that led to the hotel. By the time I got to the top, I couldn't see him.
****
I met the man and the woman just as they were leaving the trail and headed for the hotel. I waved and the woman ran over seeming happy to see me.
I said, "I see you guys made it. I was worried my directions would get you lost."
"Nope. Thanks for the help."
"No problem."
"See Bob! I told you he had a State shirt. Did you go there?"
"Nah. I just like the shirt."
"I see. Well thanks for the directions."
All I that short conversation proved was I'd been 'clocked' as a cross dresser. The fact my boobs disappeared in between our two conversations had no other explanation. The woman had certainly noticed the name of the college the first time we met which meant she noticed the breast forms. Bob had probably only seen my breasts without reading the shirt. That would be just like a man.
The whole situation made me laugh and I couldn't shake my happiness that grew with every step. As I headed back into the park I smiled as I’d already been caught cross-dressing in public at least once and everything turned out ok. This time of day, it would be unlikely to see anyone on the trail. By the look of the sun, I knew I might not make it home before dark but I was having so much fun I decided to take the long trail that none but the foolhardy would take at this hour.
Feeling as if I'd left civilization behind, I took off my shirt leaving only the bra exposed to the wind.
At this point, my legs felt wiped but I didn't care, as mountains were no match for me on this day. The sun fell further in the sky but I knew if I didn't make it in time, my headlamp would show me the way. I had to savor this. It felt so good. It felt right.
The night air felt cold on my skin as I made my way through the park. I barely noticed it. The stars shone down as I hit the final stretch of trail. I didn't want to cover up but I could saw the housing development ahead. The last thing I needed was my neighbors seeing me hiking in only a bra. I pulled on the sweatshirt. I'd taken enough chances on this day.
****
As I walked the final stretch to my house, Dad called on the cell phone.
"What's up?"
"You busy for dinner?"
"Nope but can you give me time for a shower? I just got back from a long hike."
"Can you meet me at CJs in an hour?"
"Sounds good."
The crowd looked sparse as I entered. I saw Dad seated in his favorite booth in the corner. Most of the rest of the crowd had disappeared as its clientele preferred to eat early.
As we waited for our orders dad asked, "Anything exciting happen today?"
"I helped a couple that got lost in the park."
"Hikers from the hotel?"
"Yep."
"One of those days someone is going to get hurt out there."
I nodded at Dad. We'd never been close but as I considered my future, I'd reached out to him knowing that perhaps soon our relationship would be lost forever. Our small talk meandered about meaningless things but I was glad for the company.
What he'd think if he'd seen me in the sports bra? His stance on gay marriage made me think his reaction probably wouldn't be good, that much was certain.
I smiled politely as he gave me a shot for shot recap of his golf match he'd played earlier in the day.
I thought back on my own day and recapped it in my head.
Meeting the woman and man wasn't nearly as bad as I feared even though the woman certainly had pegged me as a cross dresser. Would everyone be that nice? Was it actual relief I felt when I realized she knew and it didn't matter? Was it possible my Dad might feel the same if I told him?
The well-built man who'd given me a scare gave me a taste of something else altogether. Was it fear? Probably. I'd lived my life in a man's skin with all the privilege that came to those of that gender. Women had to be careful and trans-women doubly so. Testosterone blockers and estrogen would sap my strength making me an easy target. Could I live with that? How would I feel living in fear? Attempting to hike alone in the park would be stupid as a trans-woman. Once I started hormone replacement, I would never be able to hide the truth as I'd done that day with the breast forms. There'd be no turning back once the changes took hold. Could I live with that?
Someone approached dad's table and began to speak but I ignored them until I noticed him pointing at me.
"Who's this?"
"My son."
I shook the man's hand.
"I'm Larry. I golf with your dad every Tuesday."
"Nice to meet you Larry."
I didn't want to engage in small talk. My head was still swimming from the events earlier in the day. What did it all mean? How did I feel?
Larry said, "He's a big one."
Dad beamed as he responded, "My son played three years on the high school football team as varsity cornerback and made all distract on the track team."
Is that how dad saw me? Could he live with something else?
"Are you sure he's your son?"
I didn't respond as the two men entered into series of good-natured jabs you find between guys at any sporting event. Would hormones be able to change me enough? I'd always been big. I knew I loved the feeling as I walked alone through the park wearing only a bra. I knew I was a lucky that no one saw me but every fiber of my being knew that my genetics didn't match my gender. Why did I have to be so different? It wasn't fair.
Larry's comment hit home as it held my biggest worry.
'My he's a big one.'
Hormones could only do so much. If I did transition, could I live with the ramifications? What would I do if everyone around knew I was transsexual at a glance. Could I live with it? It felt good hearing dad's pride as he relived my glory days. Would dad be comfortable introducing me as his daughter? Would we even have a relationship?
The server started to place the bill on the table but dad passed a twenty and told her to keep the change. He always insisted he pay. Was there guilt for his lack of attention when I was a child? Perhaps. We walked out the door together.
"Thanks for dinner dad."
"It was good seeing you son."
I watched dad's taillights disappear into the distance before pulling out of the parking lot. Was I ready to make a decision about hormones? I'd already found a TG friendly therapist who'd already approved them. Was I ready? Perhaps tomorrow I'd take another walk in the park to clear my mind.
****
I remembered many of the adults in my extended family commenting in my youth that I was '14 years old going on 40'. I had thought as a compliment at the time because I was an overachiever but looking back it was probably due to my anxious nature that I thought I hid from the world.
I suppose most kids feel they are different from everyone around them and they learn over time to hide themselves by conforming to the social norms. I worked hard to fit in despite the overwhelming feeling I was different. I think I succeeded for the most part.
I wasn't ever one of the popular kids but I know I wasn’t unpopular either. I was in that second group of kids that most people ignore. My grades were good. I did well in sports. I had good group of similar minded friends. I was too shy to ask out a girl.
Reviewing my yearbooks, I saw a good-looking kid but knew that didn't matter, as my confidence could not have been lower. I didn't feel comfortable in my skin. Most girls saw me as an odd, stuck up kid that did well in sports. I thought hard work would improve things but the harder I worked the worse I felt.
My first cross dressing experience happened when I was 10 years old. I felt an urge I didn't understand. I lied to Mom that I wasn't feeling well and she let me stay home. After waiting a few hours to make sure I was alone I snuck into her room and spent the morning wearing one of her wigs, a bra, and high heels. It felt like a farce but over the next few years, it grew to include my first attempts at makeup and smoking her cigarettes.
I knew something was wrong with me but I couldn't explain it and I know I couldn't tell a soul. I thought I might be gay but I also knew I wasn't attracted to people. It didn't make any sense. The difference between gender ID and sexual attraction were foreign concepts. I had no idea what a transsexual was though I'm sure I would have laughed at the idea if someone explained it to me.
I relived those teenaged years a lot in my mind. I wished there was a way to go back.
I'm sure most people relive the confusion of their teenaged years as that time in a large part forms the adults we become. The hardworking, reclusive teenager I was became a hardworking, reclusive adult. Make that an increasingly unhappy adult.
I started writing to sort out my feelings. Fast forward a few more years and I have a closet filled with women's outfits and a suitcase full of makeup and assorted appliances. I spent entire weeks living alone completely en femme. I was happy but I felt trapped. Everything felt superficial but I knew I couldn't take my obsession further. I couldn't transition. The insecure child inside wouldn't allow it.
TG stories helped me cope but like a sort of drug, it didn't take long until needed something stronger. I moved on to YouTube videos of MtF transitions. My tears fell as I watched men transform themselves into women. Could I do that? Would I be able to pass? I studied medical literature. I read firsthand accounts.
I knew I was transgender. That was true the first time I put on my mom's high heels. It took well over a decade for me to accept that fact but that didn't make acceptance any less of a hurdle. I had a gender identity problem. Was my GID a big enough issue to outweigh the negatives?
****
I made good time as I crossed into the park, my legs felt strong. This would be a long hike. Hiking alone through the wilderness would allow me the freedom to do something I needed to do but only could recently understand.
****
One thing I've always hated is people that say stupid things like 'gays just need to find the right person' or that 'they can change with the right therapy'. A gay friend in college reinforced this belief when he explained through tear-filled eyes that he'd give anything to change his sexual orientation. Would anyone voluntarily choose that lifestyle? Would anyone really want that kind of grief?
I was so far into the closet at the time that I felt joy knowing it was his problem and not mine. If only that statement were true. At least gays feel comfortable in their own skin. At least gays didn’t have to change their appearance. They could blend into society with no one the wiser if they wanted.
The more I studied GID the more I knew the idea fit like a glove. I could hide it from the world but I couldn't hide it from myself. None of the literature can explain exactly why it happens - genetics?, hormones during pregnancy?, upbringing?, a combination of all three? No one knew. I just knew that parts of my brain were more comfortable being female than male and there was nothing I could do to change it.
Could I live with the consequences? Could I transition? My desire depended on the day.
There are many obstacles to transitioning. The older you get the less effective the drugs and I wasn't a teenager any more. My hairline had already moved a little which would only get worse with time. My face wasn't overly masculine with a male nose and a head much larger than you'd find on a female. I had short legs with a long torso which is exactly opposite as you'd find on a girl. I had broad shoulders and muscular legs.
Was I trying to talk myself out of transitioning? Plastic surgery could fix most of those issues. The biggest hurdle was the weight I’d gained while I hid from the world.
For most of my youth, I was skinny. As a 3-season athlete, I kept the pounds off. I remembered weighing about 150 lbs by the time I graduated high school. Transitioning then would have been easy but after college, my depression deepened and I spent night after night at home. Poor eating habits and an agoraphobic-like fear of being outside piled on the weight. I weighed over 300 lbs. when I put real plans together for a suicide attempt. As a last ditch effort I called a therapist who saved my life. We put together a life plan and the first step was to get my weight under control.
I changed my diet and I started working out. My mood swings made progress slow but after two years, the 200 lbs barrier was in sight. I had a long way to go but my progress gave me confidence to try some things I never could have considered as a kid.
****
My plan for the hike was bolder than usual. It had gotten a lot colder so I wore my favorite sports bra under a t-shirt and a sweatshirt. My breast forms lay hidden in my backpack.
I didn't see a soul the first hour of the hike, which gave my plan confidence. The trails wove through hilly terrain growing ever more secluded until you reached to the other side of the park. Many people hiked around the edges but few hiked the interior. I wanted to hike in girl mode and after not seeing anyone for so long I popped my breast forms in much earlier than I planned. Feeling the weight on my chest felt great and I smiled at my own genius.
My legs felt great and I kept a fast pace which meant I the further I went, the hotter I got. My sweatshirt went into my backpack leaving only a thin t-shirt which bulged outward from the the B cup breast forms hiding inside the sports bra. I loved every minute of it.
Was I secretly hoping someone would see me? I was pushing the boundaries of safety and I think a small part of me enjoyed the fear. That didn't stop me from breathing a sigh of relief as I turned towards a long secluded trail that few people traversed. I looked forward to the solitude even though I knew every step took me closer to a turnabout where many people hiking from a local hotel used as a turnabout for an easy 2-mile hike.
****
"Can you help me?"
The man's words brought me out of the dream state where minds go when they aren't paying attention to the task. I'd gone less than a 1/10 mile into the 'secluded area'. Thoughts raced through my head as my mind raced.
I half-ignored the man as I walked past as I considered how to answer when I saw a woman 50 yards up the trail. Having no choice I continued to walk towards the woman while addressing the man over my shoulder. Two days of beard growth betrayed me as male despite the large bulges on my chest.
The man asked in an almost pleading voice, "Do you know the way back to the hotel? Can I get there from the direction you came?"
As I'd travelled every part of the park during my hikes, I knew the answer. I had to help.
"You are good. Just go straight when you get to the next crossroad. It will wind around but eventually will take you back to the hotel."
The man had stopped walking as I responded and a passed the woman as quick as I could, trying to hide my chest while trying to hide side boob profile from either of them. The woman didn't seem satisfied by my quick response and she followed me the way she had come forcing me to stop for fear of 'outing' myself by continuing to act so odd. I hadn't noticed either of them looking at my chest but frankly, they didn't have to. My chest stuck out so prominently it made the name of the sports team on my t-shirt easy to read. The woman stopped a few feet behind me and I pointed to a far away trail.
"See that trail that runs along the hill over there?"
I was thankful when they did as I asked. At least they weren't looking at me.
"That's your destination. It will go around to the other side of that hill then head north to the hotel. I will be coming around from the other direction on my own hike and will make sure to look for you."
My answer seemed to satisfy the woman who stood two feet in front of me. All it would take is a look down but her gaze never left my eyes.
"Thanks for your help." I watched the two turn and head into the distance.
****
I race walked for a bit gain some distance in case they doubled back then doubled over in laughter at thought of what had just happened. I had no doubt I'd been 'clocked'. Five years before I would have been mortified at something like this but for some reason it didn't bother me. I consoled myself with the thought I'd never see them again after this day.
I did worry that in my haste that I might have given bad directions. Did I tell them to go straight at the crossroad? Panic set in that I might have put them in danger. Deep down I knew I should have told them to turn around, as it was easy to get lost in the park. There were many crossroads and none of them had maps.
Guilt made me quicken my pace. Was it so wrong that I wanted to spend the afternoon wearing my breast forms while I hiked? I had to get to the hotel. The sooner I got there the sooner I could meet them coming up the trail to the south but the thought of the hotel created another issue.
The hotel had a popular 2-mile turnabout, which is where the two people I'd already met came from. Few were adventurous enough as them to do a 6-mile hike into the wilderness without a map but I knew the turnabout was sure to have people in it. I pushed the thought from my mind for the moment as I enjoyed the wilderness surrounding me. For the next mile, it was just me, the bounce on my chest, and a smile that wouldn't stop.
I wished it could have lasted forever but I saw the building that marked the turnabout far sooner than I wanted. I thought about taking off the breast forms but wanted to savor every moment and since it appeared no one was in the building, I decided to enter to change inside.
I didn't see the man until I was two steps from the door. He sat nonchalant in the window ledge, taking in the sights and I'm sure he saw me. I tried to play it off by walking around the outside of the building to make him assume that I had meant to stay on trail. He remembered a spot nearby where he could change without anyone seeing. Every step took me closer to another group walking up the trail.
What I hadn't counted on was the man inside the shelter exiting to follow me 10 seconds after I passed. Had he seen me? Did he want to walk with me? Had he exited because he saw my 'breasts' and assumed I was a girl?
Panic set in but not in the way I expected. Everything felt surreal. I felt like a girl. The guy following me was about 6'2" tall, looked to be about 22 years old, well tanned, and since he wasn't wearing a shirt I could see a muscled body that showed he worked with free weights about every day.
If you looked up the stereotypical picture of assholes that beat up gays or transsexuals, you'd see a picture of this guy. I knew the characterization probably wasn't fair but I also knew I didn't want to take a chance. My hand felt in my pocket for the knife I always carry whenever I hike. I had to figure a way out of this mess of my own making. I increased my speed in hopes of putting some distance between us but I'd already put in well over five miles of hilly terrain at a fast clip and this guy had only done a mile and had a nice rest.
Somehow, I slowly pulled away. I'd always heard the term 'fight or flight' and it wasn't until that moment I understood how amazing the rush of adrenaline can help a person do things they could never do otherwise. I surged ahead to a good lead but when I saw the hairpin turn a quarter mile ahead I knew I had no choice but to make eye contact. We'd have to acknowledge one another. My mind imagined the conversation going something like:
"Do you mind if I walk with you?"
"Ummm... sure."
"Nice tits."
"Thanks."
That was the most positive outcome of the dozens of alternative spinning in my head.
Desperation set in as the turn got closer. I shoved one hand down my bra and pulled out a breast form. It's only a B cup and not that big so I could easily hold it with one hand despite the slight coating of sweat that covered it. I prayed it wouldn't slip as I shoved my other hand in my bra to grab the other one.
Now I was walking down the trail with a breast form in each hand walking in such a way so the guy behind couldn't see my hands as I realized I had no place to put them. I thought for a second about putting them down my pants but I knew they'd only stay there for a short while before falling to the ground. This would have been mortifying but also might have damaged the forms. I knew my pants pockets were too small, which left one option - my backpack.
Putting both slippery breast forms in one hand, I loosened the backpack and pulled it around my body to access the inner compartments. I stuffed the forms inside then pulled out my package of sunflower seeds to show I opened my backpack for a reason.
The whole process lasted thirty seconds but it felt like thirty minutes. As I replayed the events in my head, I couldn't believe what I'd done. Somehow, I'd shielded a guy twenty yards behind from seeing me take off a pair of breast forms with one hand and put them into a pack with the other while my backpack was still attached and did it without breaking my stride.
At least that's what I told myself. For all I knew, the reason he'd lost ground was that he was trying too hard not to laugh.
For the next two miles, I walked as fast as I could to increase my lead as I really didn't want to talk to the guy but adrenaline only lasts so long. He was no more than 15 yards behind the entire way until we got to a large hill that led to the hotel. By the time I got to the top, I couldn't see him.
****
I met the man and the woman just as they were leaving the trail and headed for the hotel. I waved and the woman ran over seeming happy to see me.
I said, "I see you guys made it. I was worried my directions would get you lost."
"Nope. Thanks for the help."
"No problem."
"See Bob! I told you he had a State shirt. Did you go there?"
"Nah. I just like the shirt."
"I see. Well thanks for the directions."
All I that short conversation proved was I'd been 'clocked' as a cross dresser. The fact my boobs disappeared in between our two conversations had no other explanation. The woman had certainly noticed the name of the college the first time we met which meant she noticed the breast forms. Bob had probably only seen my breasts without reading the shirt. That would be just like a man.
The whole situation made me laugh and I couldn't shake my happiness that grew with every step. As I headed back into the park I smiled as I’d already been caught cross-dressing in public at least once and everything turned out ok. This time of day, it would be unlikely to see anyone on the trail. By the look of the sun, I knew I might not make it home before dark but I was having so much fun I decided to take the long trail that none but the foolhardy would take at this hour.
Feeling as if I'd left civilization behind, I took off my shirt leaving only the bra exposed to the wind.
At this point, my legs felt wiped but I didn't care, as mountains were no match for me on this day. The sun fell further in the sky but I knew if I didn't make it in time, my headlamp would show me the way. I had to savor this. It felt so good. It felt right.
The night air felt cold on my skin as I made my way through the park. I barely noticed it. The stars shone down as I hit the final stretch of trail. I didn't want to cover up but I could saw the housing development ahead. The last thing I needed was my neighbors seeing me hiking in only a bra. I pulled on the sweatshirt. I'd taken enough chances on this day.
****
As I walked the final stretch to my house, Dad called on the cell phone.
"What's up?"
"You busy for dinner?"
"Nope but can you give me time for a shower? I just got back from a long hike."
"Can you meet me at CJs in an hour?"
"Sounds good."
The crowd looked sparse as I entered. I saw Dad seated in his favorite booth in the corner. Most of the rest of the crowd had disappeared as its clientele preferred to eat early.
As we waited for our orders dad asked, "Anything exciting happen today?"
"I helped a couple that got lost in the park."
"Hikers from the hotel?"
"Yep."
"One of those days someone is going to get hurt out there."
I nodded at Dad. We'd never been close but as I considered my future, I'd reached out to him knowing that perhaps soon our relationship would be lost forever. Our small talk meandered about meaningless things but I was glad for the company.
What he'd think if he'd seen me in the sports bra? His stance on gay marriage made me think his reaction probably wouldn't be good, that much was certain.
I smiled politely as he gave me a shot for shot recap of his golf match he'd played earlier in the day.
I thought back on my own day and recapped it in my head.
Meeting the woman and man wasn't nearly as bad as I feared even though the woman certainly had pegged me as a cross dresser. Would everyone be that nice? Was it actual relief I felt when I realized she knew and it didn't matter? Was it possible my Dad might feel the same if I told him?
The well-built man who'd given me a scare gave me a taste of something else altogether. Was it fear? Probably. I'd lived my life in a man's skin with all the privilege that came to those of that gender. Women had to be careful and trans-women doubly so. Testosterone blockers and estrogen would sap my strength making me an easy target. Could I live with that? How would I feel living in fear? Attempting to hike alone in the park would be stupid as a trans-woman. Once I started hormone replacement, I would never be able to hide the truth as I'd done that day with the breast forms. There'd be no turning back once the changes took hold. Could I live with that?
Someone approached dad's table and began to speak but I ignored them until I noticed him pointing at me.
"Who's this?"
"My son."
I shook the man's hand.
"I'm Larry. I golf with your dad every Tuesday."
"Nice to meet you Larry."
I didn't want to engage in small talk. My head was still swimming from the events earlier in the day. What did it all mean? How did I feel?
Larry said, "He's a big one."
Dad beamed as he responded, "My son played three years on the high school football team as varsity cornerback and made all distract on the track team."
Is that how dad saw me? Could he live with something else?
"Are you sure he's your son?"
I didn't respond as the two men entered into series of good-natured jabs you find between guys at any sporting event. Would hormones be able to change me enough? I'd always been big. I knew I loved the feeling as I walked alone through the park wearing only a bra. I knew I was a lucky that no one saw me but every fiber of my being knew that my genetics didn't match my gender. Why did I have to be so different? It wasn't fair.
Larry's comment hit home as it held my biggest worry.
'My he's a big one.'
Hormones could only do so much. If I did transition, could I live with the ramifications? What would I do if everyone around knew I was transsexual at a glance. Could I live with it? It felt good hearing dad's pride as he relived my glory days. Would dad be comfortable introducing me as his daughter? Would we even have a relationship?
The server started to place the bill on the table but dad passed a twenty and told her to keep the change. He always insisted he pay. Was there guilt for his lack of attention when I was a child? Perhaps. We walked out the door together.
"Thanks for dinner dad."
"It was good seeing you son."
I watched dad's taillights disappear into the distance before pulling out of the parking lot. Was I ready to make a decision about hormones? I'd already found a TG friendly therapist who'd already approved them. Was I ready? Perhaps tomorrow I'd take another walk in the park to clear my mind.
Tuesday, February 18, 2014
Using metrics to figure out how to get more people to read my stories
Fictionmania is a weird place and not for the reason most would think. Stories that I love, seem to do well and stories I don't like as much have done better. I love how my latest came out (Mystic Godfather) and while I wish I had explored a few different concepts I'm happy with the result.
After I posted the story I realized that Fictionmania has a 'Details' page and realized it shows pageviews. I had about 2400 page views on the day I posted it, about 3200 after the first week, and about 3500 3 weeks later. My reviews follow that metric as well - 5 reviews the first day and 1 review since. The inability to publicize myself and get good visibility at Fictionmania is one of the reasons I am planning to post my stuff on other sites but before I get into that I'm going to put up a comparison of my stories in the order I posted them. I'm doing this to create a point of time marker to see how many views my stories get in the next six months.
What makes people at fictionmania read a story?
A few things are obvious - All three had between 8000 and 11000 pageviews are about 10,000 words long. I initially planned for Mystic Godfather to be about the same because of their relative popularity but as I wrote the SciFi parts I realized it would be double the length.
Another factor is my least viewed stories are about Crossdressing and not Transformation. I think it is safe to say people are more likely to read that type of story.
There are other factors that get people to read like a good synopsis and those are too much of an afterthought and I needed to address that in the future. People click what interests them and they will never click if you don't hook them with a compelling synopsis.
The only other thing people can see before viewing a story is Rating. I'm currently sticking to the R section as I don't feel comfortable going more explicit (I may try it at some point but worry it would be derivative of other writers). Story Rating isn't a factor between my stories though I imagine X and XXX stories get more views.
Jersey Girls has the most pageviews by far but is also easily my least reviewed work. Why so many reviews? I include smoking in all my stories and all three are transformation stories as I've found crossdressing stories aren't as well received. All three are magical transformations and revenge stories which could be why they are more read but not why Jersey Girls has the most. The main difference is Jersey Girls has a slow transformation while the other two are fast. Other than that it doesn't make sense - Bringing back Isabel has Age regression and Trial of Stewart has Crime/Punishment. The other area is Key Words - Stewart and Isabel only have a few while Jersey Girls has Appliances Attached, Hair Salon, Long Finger Nails, and Very High Heels. Is it possible that is the reason for the extra 2,000 pageviews? If so perhaps I need to focus on accommodating this in the future where it makes sense.
Of course all the pageviews in the world don't mean a thing if people don't like it. The only metric we have to view that is R/PV or review per page view. The thinking is you really have to touch a reader if they take the time to leave a review. Most people don't bother but a lower number of reviews per page view means the story was better received.
The top four are A Brother's Request (331), Small Town Journey (458), Mystic Godfather (634), and The Trial of Stewart (769). That is closer to what I'd expect as it mirrors my own preference. My other well stories have gotten fewer reviews any of the above which could mean a few things - when you go for the masses you won't get as many people to respond. Somehow Trial of Stewart hit a sweet spot (I did a little advertising on the forums last summer which got it another 2 reviews but I assume the R/PV was about the same).
The only difference on Stewart vs my other 'popular stories is it is a body swap story that turns the protagonist into a bimbo and is about her/his struggle to escape. I think that type of story resonates with the core audience looking for kink, and you can capture the more 'literate' group by adding backstory.
I'm not sure what any of this means except I meant this post to pick a point in time to see pageviews. I guess I also learned that stories need to be less than 10,000 words, that transformation stories are more popular then crossdressing, and people like their stories darker (bimbo's and more sex) than I feel comfortable doing at this point.
I knew all of that before doing the metrics but it is nice to see my instincts aren't far off the mark. The biggest key is keeping my stories short which as you can tell by the length of this blog post is something that needs work.
After I posted the story I realized that Fictionmania has a 'Details' page and realized it shows pageviews. I had about 2400 page views on the day I posted it, about 3200 after the first week, and about 3500 3 weeks later. My reviews follow that metric as well - 5 reviews the first day and 1 review since. The inability to publicize myself and get good visibility at Fictionmania is one of the reasons I am planning to post my stuff on other sites but before I get into that I'm going to put up a comparison of my stories in the order I posted them. I'm doing this to create a point of time marker to see how many views my stories get in the next six months.
- Story of a Crossdresser as a Young Man (Rated G - 28.8k - 5,519 words - Crossdressing /TG)- Written as a semi-autobiographical first person story written from the persprective of a future self. Started as a blog post and I shouldn't have put it on Fictionmania without more editing. There's a good story in there but it needed work and I'm glad most ignored it. 1 Review - 806 Pageviews - 806 R/PV)
- The Trial of Stewart (Rated R - 59.6k - 10,893 words - Transformation) - Written in a week as I had writer's block on the novels I still haven't published anywhere. I wanted to go dark with this and used a form of the magic system I developed in my novel. The story felt a little flat and probably was ended too soon. (12 Reviews plus 1 by me - 9230 Pageviews - 769.1 R/PV)
- Bringing Back Isabell (Rated R - 58.0k - 10,732 words - Transformation) - Written in three days as I continued work on my novels. Again tried to go dark and while I enjoyed writing it I chickened out on the darkness. Didn't seem to be well received. (2 Reviews - 8,404 Pageviews - 4,202 R/PV)
- A Brother's Request (Rated G - 9.7k - 1,711 words - Crossdressing/TG) - Written in the middle of a dark night as I considered how I'd like to spend eternity. Very dark. Very focused. Very short. The shortness made the story better and I think it contains some of my best writing. (11 Reviews - 3646 Pageviews - 331.5 R/PV)
- Small Town Journey - (Rated R - 274.2k - 50,845 words - Crossdressing/TG) The first of my 'novels' and possibly my favorite story. It's my goto when I don't feel like writing. I wish more people took the time to finish but fictionmania isn't great for reading that many words. (8 Reviews plus 1 response by me - 3660 Pageviews - 457.5 R/PV)
- Jersey Girls - (Rated R - 41.2k - 11,813 words - Transformation) I really like the way this turned out. I was finally able to go dark but it didn't get a good reception. Probably needed to go more explicit but I really struggle with that. My most read work. (4 Reviews - 11340 Pageviews - 2835 R/PV)
- Mystic Godfather - (Rated R - 113.7k - 21.175 words - Transformation) This is probably my second favorite work as I really enjoyed writing the SciFi aspect. It probably could have used more graphic details as the main character dealt with his issues. If I rewrote it I'd include sections on his date with Tim, the night with Lynn, and a meaningless fling with Lynn after the change. (6 Reviews - 3805 Pageviews - 634.2 R/PV)
What makes people at fictionmania read a story?
A few things are obvious - All three had between 8000 and 11000 pageviews are about 10,000 words long. I initially planned for Mystic Godfather to be about the same because of their relative popularity but as I wrote the SciFi parts I realized it would be double the length.
Another factor is my least viewed stories are about Crossdressing and not Transformation. I think it is safe to say people are more likely to read that type of story.
There are other factors that get people to read like a good synopsis and those are too much of an afterthought and I needed to address that in the future. People click what interests them and they will never click if you don't hook them with a compelling synopsis.
The only other thing people can see before viewing a story is Rating. I'm currently sticking to the R section as I don't feel comfortable going more explicit (I may try it at some point but worry it would be derivative of other writers). Story Rating isn't a factor between my stories though I imagine X and XXX stories get more views.
Jersey Girls has the most pageviews by far but is also easily my least reviewed work. Why so many reviews? I include smoking in all my stories and all three are transformation stories as I've found crossdressing stories aren't as well received. All three are magical transformations and revenge stories which could be why they are more read but not why Jersey Girls has the most. The main difference is Jersey Girls has a slow transformation while the other two are fast. Other than that it doesn't make sense - Bringing back Isabel has Age regression and Trial of Stewart has Crime/Punishment. The other area is Key Words - Stewart and Isabel only have a few while Jersey Girls has Appliances Attached, Hair Salon, Long Finger Nails, and Very High Heels. Is it possible that is the reason for the extra 2,000 pageviews? If so perhaps I need to focus on accommodating this in the future where it makes sense.
Of course all the pageviews in the world don't mean a thing if people don't like it. The only metric we have to view that is R/PV or review per page view. The thinking is you really have to touch a reader if they take the time to leave a review. Most people don't bother but a lower number of reviews per page view means the story was better received.
The top four are A Brother's Request (331), Small Town Journey (458), Mystic Godfather (634), and The Trial of Stewart (769). That is closer to what I'd expect as it mirrors my own preference. My other well stories have gotten fewer reviews any of the above which could mean a few things - when you go for the masses you won't get as many people to respond. Somehow Trial of Stewart hit a sweet spot (I did a little advertising on the forums last summer which got it another 2 reviews but I assume the R/PV was about the same).
The only difference on Stewart vs my other 'popular stories is it is a body swap story that turns the protagonist into a bimbo and is about her/his struggle to escape. I think that type of story resonates with the core audience looking for kink, and you can capture the more 'literate' group by adding backstory.
I'm not sure what any of this means except I meant this post to pick a point in time to see pageviews. I guess I also learned that stories need to be less than 10,000 words, that transformation stories are more popular then crossdressing, and people like their stories darker (bimbo's and more sex) than I feel comfortable doing at this point.
I knew all of that before doing the metrics but it is nice to see my instincts aren't far off the mark. The biggest key is keeping my stories short which as you can tell by the length of this blog post is something that needs work.
Thursday, January 30, 2014
A very cool thing happened today
My last two blog posts shouldn't be online. I know the best thing I could when I post a story is to walk away for two to three days.
I didn't.
I obsessed the last two days. I posted my fears in two blog posts. I hit refresh on my story knowing full well that if I'm lucky maybe 10 people will bother to leave a review in the next few weeks and then the story will fade into fictionmania's vast stack of old stories that no one reads anymore.
By noon, I had 2 reviews. I got another in the afternoon and another after dinner. Four reviews on the first day! Wow. The story is twice as long as I originally intended and I didn't expect a quick response as 20,000 words take most people 1-2 hours to finish.
Then I saw I had another review. I opened the link and it floored me. Here it is:
About ten years ago I was having some issues with a girlfriend who told me she thought I was gay. I'm not effeminate in a stereotypical Hollywood sense so her words confused me. She explained that in our relationship she felt she was the guy and I was the girl.
It bothered me but I shouldn't have been surprised. My whole life I've struggled with my identity and back then I didn't know that sexual orientation and gender identity were two separate things. I knew I wasn't gay as I liked girls. A lot. How was it possible that I was a girl?
I couldn't ask anyone about it so I went to the internet. I found a website that had tests to tell you if your brain is male or female. Over time I found there's lots of bias in the tests themselves but the site had lots of other stuff on it too.
I think the website's purpose was to get women to sign their boyfriends up for hypnosis and do real live forced feminization on them. I'd post a link but some pages have nudity and I don't want to get myself in trouble (if you really want to find it google - hypnosis and wishes. The site will be one of the top answers but it is definitely NSFW). I'm not sure how legitimate it was but I had fun going through all the links and trying to use the internet hypnosis on myself.
Now I'm not a believer in that you can force people to do stuff against their will using an internet flash program but I do think that over time a person can learn to get comfortable with things they don't want to accept about themselves. I had crossdressed in little since I was in middle school wearing mom's wigs and high heels, smoking her cigarettes, and putting on her makeup. When I got out of school I had kept a few pieces of clothing I'd gotten from a few girls I'd dated while I still snuck putting on makeup when the occasion allowed.
The internet site let me feel ok to push it a little further. Luckily my job responsibilities had changed and I was travelling a lot for work. That meant I'd never get surprise visitors as I was staying in a different hotel room just about every night. That gave me the confidence to fill my suitcase full of makeup, wigs, dresses, panties, heels, along with a ridiculous amount of makeup. I found I loved every minute of it.
I realized I wasn't gay but I am at least 50/50 where gender ID was concerned. I found by ignoring it I was hurting my ability to interact with other people but in our society you can't cross dress all the time and keep a job. I needed another outlet and I found it in TG fiction which is where Maggie comes in.
The hypnosis website had lots of stories of forced feminization which really aren't my thing. There was one series called "Heaven and Hell" that was different. The stories had good characterization, great pacing, and well developed scenes. It was essentially professional writing and they helped me find a part of myself I'd never really known before. Of course you've probably guessed by now the author's name was Maggie Finson.
I must have read the Heaven and Hell stories on that site about 20 times each and I needed to find more. I was searching for more of Maggie's stories when I found her stuff on fictionmania. I didn't know there were entire websites dedicated to TG fiction. The rest, as they say, is history.
That brings us back to the present.
A day ago I was obsessing in fear that my story was terrible. My exact quote was:
I didn't.
I obsessed the last two days. I posted my fears in two blog posts. I hit refresh on my story knowing full well that if I'm lucky maybe 10 people will bother to leave a review in the next few weeks and then the story will fade into fictionmania's vast stack of old stories that no one reads anymore.
By noon, I had 2 reviews. I got another in the afternoon and another after dinner. Four reviews on the first day! Wow. The story is twice as long as I originally intended and I didn't expect a quick response as 20,000 words take most people 1-2 hours to finish.
Then I saw I had another review. I opened the link and it floored me. Here it is:
Maggie Finson -
A very nice, and poignant story, Sarah. Change is necessary in life, but with every chage something is lost to offset the gain. That was shown very well with Sams 1,2,and 3 and their efforts to make things better for James and Lynn. I really enjoyed this one.Ok she spelled my name wrong but she also misspelled the word 'change' too. Who cares? It was Maggie Finson!!!! When I saw this I ran around the house beaming like a little kid with a secret. Her name might not mean much to many people but it does mean a lot to me. To explain I have to give some backstory.
Maggie
About ten years ago I was having some issues with a girlfriend who told me she thought I was gay. I'm not effeminate in a stereotypical Hollywood sense so her words confused me. She explained that in our relationship she felt she was the guy and I was the girl.
It bothered me but I shouldn't have been surprised. My whole life I've struggled with my identity and back then I didn't know that sexual orientation and gender identity were two separate things. I knew I wasn't gay as I liked girls. A lot. How was it possible that I was a girl?
I couldn't ask anyone about it so I went to the internet. I found a website that had tests to tell you if your brain is male or female. Over time I found there's lots of bias in the tests themselves but the site had lots of other stuff on it too.
I think the website's purpose was to get women to sign their boyfriends up for hypnosis and do real live forced feminization on them. I'd post a link but some pages have nudity and I don't want to get myself in trouble (if you really want to find it google - hypnosis and wishes. The site will be one of the top answers but it is definitely NSFW). I'm not sure how legitimate it was but I had fun going through all the links and trying to use the internet hypnosis on myself.
The internet site let me feel ok to push it a little further. Luckily my job responsibilities had changed and I was travelling a lot for work. That meant I'd never get surprise visitors as I was staying in a different hotel room just about every night. That gave me the confidence to fill my suitcase full of makeup, wigs, dresses, panties, heels, along with a ridiculous amount of makeup. I found I loved every minute of it.
I realized I wasn't gay but I am at least 50/50 where gender ID was concerned. I found by ignoring it I was hurting my ability to interact with other people but in our society you can't cross dress all the time and keep a job. I needed another outlet and I found it in TG fiction which is where Maggie comes in.
The hypnosis website had lots of stories of forced feminization which really aren't my thing. There was one series called "Heaven and Hell" that was different. The stories had good characterization, great pacing, and well developed scenes. It was essentially professional writing and they helped me find a part of myself I'd never really known before. Of course you've probably guessed by now the author's name was Maggie Finson.
I must have read the Heaven and Hell stories on that site about 20 times each and I needed to find more. I was searching for more of Maggie's stories when I found her stuff on fictionmania. I didn't know there were entire websites dedicated to TG fiction. The rest, as they say, is history.
That brings us back to the present.
A day ago I was obsessing in fear that my story was terrible. My exact quote was:
...it's left a bad taste in my mouth. Combine that with the few grammar errors and I can't read my story. My anxiety is too high and I now feel the story is bad. I know this is irrational but I took some chances this time as I wanted to try to write a story in 1st person instead of my normal 3rd. The only thing I see now is a story written too passive (told not shown) with lots of formatting issues.
A day later later Maggie Finson says she likes my story.
I can't stop smiling and it just proves my old girlfriend was right. Sometimes I am a girl.
Wednesday, January 29, 2014
Editing problems!
Yesterday I posted a note about my fears as I had just published a story I really liked called 'Mystic Godfather'. It's been posted (I've added the link the my stories here too) and already gotten a review that was lukewarm favorable which is certainly better than no response.
I am having trouble reading it for a few different reasons. The first I discussed yesterday. The other makes me mad every time I put a story up.
This is my 7th story on fictionmania. You'd think I would have figured it out by now but perfection in posting a perfectly formatted copy still alludes me.
The biggest issue is fictionmania as their posting process drives me nuts! I write my stories in Microsoft Word's *.docx format which is the defacto standard as Word dominates the sector. I actually write in LibreOffice and save in *.docx but the problem is fictionmania prefers *.rtf files using a character set from 1990. They accept an older version of *.doc files but I've tried that before with unpredictable results.
Every time I've posted I think I've finally got it figured out only to be denied.one more time. Last time I used LibreOffice and Notepad but still had a few weird characters in my story. This time I wrote in LibreOffice, edited in NotePad++ as NotePad++ has more options than plain NotePad. I used a plugin to save in *.rtf, and then pulled the file up in both NotePad (in *.rtf format) and WordPad (in *.txt format) to see how it looked. After that I sent it. During this process I noticed a few small mistakes and I corrected them (verb tense, 3rd vs 1st person, among others). They weren't huge errors so I fixed them and moved on. That was a mistake.
Whenever you change a story, no matter how small, it is important that you reread it to make sure the sentences surrounding the error make sense and you've added back all the words you needed when you rewrote the sentence. This was a bit tougher because of the translation process. Notepad++ doesn't use margins and is hard to read but I didn't want to send it back to LibreOffice and start the process over. Instead I decided to do a final look through in NotePad but by that point my frustration was getting high as I had spent about two hours formatting and translating so after a cursory review I sent it in.
That was a mistake.
When the story posted last night I started to read it. I found a grammatical error in my very first sentence. I continued and found another in the 4th sentence. I was only reading to make sure the formatting looked good so I stopped proofreading (it was too late anyway) and looked for odd characters. I found about 5 instances where I had a '-' that had turned into something like a '&7'. It's an issue with NotePad++ that I need to work on for the next time I post.
Fictionmania also has another little quirk. When the site was developed in the 90s they set it up to be viewed in DOS (Windows didn't gain popularity until Win95 came out). DOS only allowed a fixed number of characters per row and at the time the most common format was VGA. VGA gave the user 75 characters per line and so files uploaded to Fictionmania have a soft page break whenever a line hits 75 characters. Twenty years later and that is still the limit. That means there will be many times where you post a file with careful space to make things easier to read but you ended up with a mess with page breaks where you didn't expect them.
Add the character translation issue with the line return issue and you can get a mess. It isn't a problem for 99% of the characters and I'm sure most people don't even notice or even care.
I do.
I decided to get a little fancy this time as I was sure I'd figured out their posting format. At one point in the story I posted a chart of the changes happening to my character. I used exactly 75 characters per line as that is what the system allows. I know this. I counted. So I made my charts exactly 75 characters long only to find out that it will put a soft return in at 73-74 if the work is long enough. So all my charts are messed up.
Like I said most won't notice but it's left a bad taste in my mouth. Combine that with the few grammar errors and I can't read my story. My anxiety is too high and I now feel the story is bad. I know this is irrational but I took some chances this time as I wanted to try to write a story in 1st person instead of my normal 3rd. The only thing I see now is a story written too passive (told not shown) with lots of formatting issues. I know the story isn't that bad but this is why I wait so long to publish stories that I really care about because if I feel this way for a story I worked on for 2 weeks, imagine what I'd feel for a story I'd written for two years.
In the end I need to keep reminding myself that I write these for me to cope and I had fun writing 'Mystic Godfather'. In the end that is all that matters.
I am having trouble reading it for a few different reasons. The first I discussed yesterday. The other makes me mad every time I put a story up.
This is my 7th story on fictionmania. You'd think I would have figured it out by now but perfection in posting a perfectly formatted copy still alludes me.
The biggest issue is fictionmania as their posting process drives me nuts! I write my stories in Microsoft Word's *.docx format which is the defacto standard as Word dominates the sector. I actually write in LibreOffice and save in *.docx but the problem is fictionmania prefers *.rtf files using a character set from 1990. They accept an older version of *.doc files but I've tried that before with unpredictable results.
Every time I've posted I think I've finally got it figured out only to be denied.one more time. Last time I used LibreOffice and Notepad but still had a few weird characters in my story. This time I wrote in LibreOffice, edited in NotePad++ as NotePad++ has more options than plain NotePad. I used a plugin to save in *.rtf, and then pulled the file up in both NotePad (in *.rtf format) and WordPad (in *.txt format) to see how it looked. After that I sent it. During this process I noticed a few small mistakes and I corrected them (verb tense, 3rd vs 1st person, among others). They weren't huge errors so I fixed them and moved on. That was a mistake.
Whenever you change a story, no matter how small, it is important that you reread it to make sure the sentences surrounding the error make sense and you've added back all the words you needed when you rewrote the sentence. This was a bit tougher because of the translation process. Notepad++ doesn't use margins and is hard to read but I didn't want to send it back to LibreOffice and start the process over. Instead I decided to do a final look through in NotePad but by that point my frustration was getting high as I had spent about two hours formatting and translating so after a cursory review I sent it in.
That was a mistake.
When the story posted last night I started to read it. I found a grammatical error in my very first sentence. I continued and found another in the 4th sentence. I was only reading to make sure the formatting looked good so I stopped proofreading (it was too late anyway) and looked for odd characters. I found about 5 instances where I had a '-' that had turned into something like a '&7'. It's an issue with NotePad++ that I need to work on for the next time I post.
Fictionmania also has another little quirk. When the site was developed in the 90s they set it up to be viewed in DOS (Windows didn't gain popularity until Win95 came out). DOS only allowed a fixed number of characters per row and at the time the most common format was VGA. VGA gave the user 75 characters per line and so files uploaded to Fictionmania have a soft page break whenever a line hits 75 characters. Twenty years later and that is still the limit. That means there will be many times where you post a file with careful space to make things easier to read but you ended up with a mess with page breaks where you didn't expect them.
Add the character translation issue with the line return issue and you can get a mess. It isn't a problem for 99% of the characters and I'm sure most people don't even notice or even care.
I do.
I decided to get a little fancy this time as I was sure I'd figured out their posting format. At one point in the story I posted a chart of the changes happening to my character. I used exactly 75 characters per line as that is what the system allows. I know this. I counted. So I made my charts exactly 75 characters long only to find out that it will put a soft return in at 73-74 if the work is long enough. So all my charts are messed up.
Like I said most won't notice but it's left a bad taste in my mouth. Combine that with the few grammar errors and I can't read my story. My anxiety is too high and I now feel the story is bad. I know this is irrational but I took some chances this time as I wanted to try to write a story in 1st person instead of my normal 3rd. The only thing I see now is a story written too passive (told not shown) with lots of formatting issues. I know the story isn't that bad but this is why I wait so long to publish stories that I really care about because if I feel this way for a story I worked on for 2 weeks, imagine what I'd feel for a story I'd written for two years.
In the end I need to keep reminding myself that I write these for me to cope and I had fun writing 'Mystic Godfather'. In the end that is all that matters.
Tuesday, January 28, 2014
The fear before the storm
Edit note: I have included the story I'm talking about in the link section of this site. It's called 'Mystic Godfather'.
---------------------------
I haven't posted much lately and its mainly because I've been travelling but I've also got a bad case of 'I-dunno-when-its-finished-itis'. When I started I had two stories I was working on and now its grown to three. I like all of them in separate ways and the funny thing is I started on all of them before any of my published work. The only published worked I put as much time into as any of these was 'Small Town Journey' (which I desperately want to rename Small Town Boy).
I think this is common for most writers as the more time you spend with something the more you love it and the harder it is to let go as it no longer is a living/growing thing but has been released to the wolves of readers who you fear won't like it nearly as much as you. They might even hate it.
I had inspiration last week and wrote at 20,000 word story that I just released to fictionmania. I will probably post later when I get the link but I was able to envision, write, edit, and format the whole thing in about 20 hours of work (that's close. I wasn't really watching a clock.) I don't know if 1,000 words an hour is fast or slow for a story of that length/complexity but I was mostly happy with the finished result. I'm sure I will go back later and pick apart scenes that are worded weird or wish I'd added a few comments to give added depth that few will care about but I've released my child to the world and it is up to them to fly.
The site I am posting most of my stories to these days is pretty gentle on writers as the readers desperation for good content won't allow many to criticize and those that do get shouted down. It's a nice safe womb for a nervous writer to post their works before they take the anxious step of a wider audience. Even then, I get nervous as I wait for the reviews to come in and that assumes anyone will even read it. 20,000 words is a lot for a site that doesn't allow for easy downloads to an e-reader and I may get no response. People may hate it.
When you write a story it becomes part of you and it is hard to let go. I'm sitting on three that I need to kick out of the house but they aren't ready. Not yet.
Fictionmania stories only get readers during the first week they are posted and then get lost in the electronic maze that I think some feel is a feature of the site. I hope a few people read my stories and post a nice review. It might help me let go of things I've held onto for far too long.
PS - The story is called 'Mystic Godfather' and can also be found under my name 'Sara Keltaine'. I think it's a good read. I liked writing it and I liked how it came together. That doesn't happen too often.
---------------------------
I haven't posted much lately and its mainly because I've been travelling but I've also got a bad case of 'I-dunno-when-its-finished-itis'. When I started I had two stories I was working on and now its grown to three. I like all of them in separate ways and the funny thing is I started on all of them before any of my published work. The only published worked I put as much time into as any of these was 'Small Town Journey' (which I desperately want to rename Small Town Boy).
I think this is common for most writers as the more time you spend with something the more you love it and the harder it is to let go as it no longer is a living/growing thing but has been released to the wolves of readers who you fear won't like it nearly as much as you. They might even hate it.
I had inspiration last week and wrote at 20,000 word story that I just released to fictionmania. I will probably post later when I get the link but I was able to envision, write, edit, and format the whole thing in about 20 hours of work (that's close. I wasn't really watching a clock.) I don't know if 1,000 words an hour is fast or slow for a story of that length/complexity but I was mostly happy with the finished result. I'm sure I will go back later and pick apart scenes that are worded weird or wish I'd added a few comments to give added depth that few will care about but I've released my child to the world and it is up to them to fly.
The site I am posting most of my stories to these days is pretty gentle on writers as the readers desperation for good content won't allow many to criticize and those that do get shouted down. It's a nice safe womb for a nervous writer to post their works before they take the anxious step of a wider audience. Even then, I get nervous as I wait for the reviews to come in and that assumes anyone will even read it. 20,000 words is a lot for a site that doesn't allow for easy downloads to an e-reader and I may get no response. People may hate it.
When you write a story it becomes part of you and it is hard to let go. I'm sitting on three that I need to kick out of the house but they aren't ready. Not yet.
Fictionmania stories only get readers during the first week they are posted and then get lost in the electronic maze that I think some feel is a feature of the site. I hope a few people read my stories and post a nice review. It might help me let go of things I've held onto for far too long.
PS - The story is called 'Mystic Godfather' and can also be found under my name 'Sara Keltaine'. I think it's a good read. I liked writing it and I liked how it came together. That doesn't happen too often.
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