Pantsing and Stripping Forums

I'll just add, coming back to see a story/chapter is heavily edited (beyond just fixing minor mistakes like spelling) can get disheartening. Coming back to see a story I was in the middle of reading completely gone is really disheartening.

But for the record I wasn’t trolling.

I am not going to debate you, but I want to remind you that of all the lies that are bullshit, that one is the most complete bullshit.


Look at what you did, and learn from it, so you don't come across like an asshole.

I shared a personal anecdote. Most people that do that aren't greeted with a snot nosed twit popping out of the ground instantly to say

"Hurr, of all the things that never happened, that never happened, durkee durkeee....that's not trolling."

You didn't even make it up. You plagiarized it from other trolls. It's a classic troll line to denigrate someone. Someone who was literally asking people to be sensitive and have an adult conversation, and something that literally everyone else COULD DO except for you.

It originated before you were born, most likely on https://www.reddit.com/r/thatHappened/
It was repeated incessantly as a catch phrase like "TLDR" and "You the man now, dog"


You aren't fucking Michel de Montaigne laying out brilliant idioms on the Internet. You are a twit with *NOTHING* to contribute to authors because you've never written a story here. Your advice of "write shorter stories, hurkee durkee" was ignored. I asked you to never contact me again or reply on my threads. You said you would continue to bully and harass me.

So, I will report you to the mods. They may take a while, but I would advise you to at the very least, get the fuck off this thread, stop harassing me, never talk to me. You can't do anything here except troll. So saying you aren't trolling where you aren't welcome to defend a well known trolling line? that's trolling, my dude.

"And then everyone clapped". There is a new one for you, it's probably only 14 years old, unlike your ancient troll "of all the things" line.

Leave me be. Stop replying.

superevil7 wrote: Sat Jun 20, 2026 2:21 pm I'll just add, coming back to see a story/chapter is heavily edited (beyond just fixing minor mistakes like spelling) can get disheartening. Coming back to see a story I was in the middle of reading completely gone is really disheartening.

I am super sorry about that.

As you are an excellent writer, you may be aware that writing is a difficult often lonely process. I wrote the first chapters and I was unhappy with it. It felt too busy. Someone on here said "Like a runaway train" and I can see that in the first version.

I decided (perhaps incorrectly) to start again. I intended to circle back to Sunday with those events from the first draft taking place but first step was to light the fire. Later Chapters for the following day, I'd add lighter fluid. I did share the plot already, so not much mystery to write.

I wanted a slower start but not a boring one and going back three years ago to write a story I've read many times about the naughty brat who is punished and her transition and acceptance was not going to be fun. It would have tired me out before i got to the part I want to write.

Faced with the dillmenna; write the story you want to write that nobody reads, or write what you do not have any passion to write about and hope they don't find a dozen other reasons not to like it. I chose "Put it in the trashcan."

I wanted a normal Saturday for Heather. The kind she's been doing for three years. I understand your frustration but rather than confuse anyone, I felt a rewrite was in order.

That is the challenge of writing a story in total isolation. Do you share it with people incrementally and hope someone offers some constructive feedback that may have helped you in crafting it? Or do you write it all, only to discover you wrote something that wasn't as good?

In future, I will place some tag on it that indicates it's in a rough draft format. Would that work?

If I left it as it was, it would certainly have caused confusion and I can't delete a thread once it's up.

I was going to just post the final bits of the story and then hang up the Eddie spurs here, turn out the light and move on to greener pastures where people might enjoy my stories. It's a short story (which for me is 250,000 words minimum). There were positive remarks and feedback that was helpful and that meant more than I can really express to me.

It seemed like the thing to do would be to try a third draft.

I didn't plan to take some of it "Writer longer stories and write shorter stories" advice is unhelpful. My goal is to tell a story that lasts as long as it should. I don't always do that, but the length is the length. I was generally more interested in plot, plot pacing etc.

There are brilliant stories that go nowhere. I call it "Greek tennis". it's just bop-flop-bop-flop-bop-flop, where the back and forth is monotonous.

I am looking for compelling narrative. I wrote stories I would enjoy reading and there are places where my stories would seem quite tame by comparsion. do tend to amp up things, but I prefer plausible and exciting. Frankly I don't know what to do with a friendly game of tap the ball back and forth. I also don't know how to make a table of contents either, so that cost me a reader there.

It was really helpful in any case to simply know people on here would take a moment out of their lives to talk to me about something i am passionate about.

Then Mr. Rawr reminded me of the downside of being sensitive on the Internet with his "Hurr, of all the things that never happened, you never saw a girl naked" thing was to be quite honest, the last thing that i needed.

I had specifically indicated that I felt quite vulnerable and I really couldn't take any negativity. I also received a nasty gram from the person who told me about this forum basically telling me to stop writing. A completely unnecessary gut punch and then a kick when I was down.

I went back and deleted some of my past stories because I don't feel like finishing them. Why tease you with a story I am never gonna write?

As Rawr and the unnamed former friend of mine probably do everywhere they go, they sucked the joy away from it.

I still recall several years ago, the feelings I had when someone told me to touch grass. They didn't know I am in a wheelchair but I would love to do that. I didn't give them the satisfaction of sharing that they hurt me more than they could have ever realized because that is their goal. It would only please a person like Rawr to know he ruined an enjoyable time or hurt someone. He is clearly miserable, so he must make others miserable.

Mr. Rawr's goal since his life must be pure misery and isolation is the same as the trolls who shit all over my posts back then.

Then I was overwhelmed by the positive responses I received that followed. It wasn't many but it was the fact that someone took the time to tell me some things about their preferences and what they enjoy and do not about my stories in a polite and conversational manner rather than a "Let's shit on Eddie and tell him how he sucks as an author".

I don't suck as an author.

J.K. Rowlings doesn't suck as an author. I hate her with a passion that is deep into my core being, but not because she can't write. She wrote a brilliant series of books that likely plagiarized a bit from other sources but it was able to synthesize all those things a compelling world that I enjoy.

I didn't stop enjoying the world she created. I don't want to contribute to her vast fortune because of what she does it with it to harm trans/gay/bi people. However, I can separate my dislike of this person from her talent as a storyteller and world builder.

People who have chosen to speak up on this board have overwhelming told me they do not like fast paced, jump right into the story narrative.

I call those "No shit, there we were" stories.

Before Rawr jumps in to say this never happen, I'd like to say that of all the things that did fucking happen, my Uncle shaped my ability to tell a good story in my youth. He told me raunchy stories, war stories, sometimes raunchy war stories. He used to say It was "All true, except for the bullshit." At the time, I didn't understand oxymorons but he said that if I ever join the military that I would come to realize that was the standard operating procedure.

Which is why I attempted to write a "Mostly True Bullshit" Story not too long ago that was based on my real life.

All of his stories began with "No shit, so there we were....."

It didn't matter if it was a donkey show down in Tijuana on a three day bender, or in Vietnam. (And Before Rawr denigrates his service record, yes he was in Vietnam, you shit.)

All of his stories began at the most interesting part of the story. "No shit, so there I was with my dick out, a gun in my hand, and I was surrounded on all sides..."

He could catch you up to all the shit that happened before that in the course of the telling.

"No shit, so there we were, three clicks deep behind enemy lines in the heavy canopy of Cambodia, completely cut off from our main element. The XO had ordered us to conduct a standard recon patrol along the river, but routine mission, my ass. This was suicide and he knew that we didn't give a rat's ass about dying. We just wanted to gut some gooks, and Di Di Mao."


Now, before Rawr calls bullshit, I will stop and say that I am paraphrasing from a rusty memory of over 45-50 years ago and I can't remember how all of my Uncle's stories. He'd change details and every time he told it, it seemed like he did more. I don't know how to spell Di Di Mao in Vietnamese or what it means exactly, I suppose I could google it. I can only tell you that to him it meant get the thumb out of your ass and get moving.

Now, my Uncle was in the SCA. He had all these raunchy stories about "Pennsics", which is the big war up in Pennsylvania where thousands of people recreate military battles but fight with rattan swords wrapped in duct tape.

I wrote a story once about a character that is half my uncle and half me, and his stories were larger than life. They were fucking impossible. "Tuchuks" were these Gorean Barbarians taken to extreme parody level. Muscular berserkers that my Uncle could call upon because "I had the best fucking whiskey and a keg of Killian's back at my tent and they fucking knew I'd have smokes and the best Kajira."

Kajira are slave women in Gor and yes, Rawr - some of them were nearly naked at Pennsic, and even skinny dipped in front of men. Scandalous!!

My story telling style probably comes from that. I like to jump in and start at the no shit, zone. I can hear my uncle saying this if someone told him to tell stories that begin at the very start.

"I will catch you up to speed with the details. Details don't fucking matter. Yes, we drove the van, yes we brought the duct tape, yes we fucking set up the camp. Do you want to hear about all that bullshit? or is the fact that i have a camp not enough to know i set it up?"

Is the fact that Heather's life is this way and the family accept it not enough to know it was normalized, and they referenced stories of the early days, so if you trusted me as a story teller you'd know I'd get you that background.

However, so much overwhelming feedback says I have to write Heather's journey from the most boring part of it to now before I can tell the story I wanted to tell that there is no fucking way I am doing that.

So, it's a dead story.

I am going to write another one because I am inspired to try slow, from the story, boring ass build up. That's what I will do, and I guess I will write it in isolation completely before I post it.

SuperEvil, I love your Jarring story. I'd love to have come up with some scenario where the girls are getting a punishment like that doesn't feel quite so bad. There is an almost wholesome quality to the spirit of it all that makes it unique to me.

I think you write well. I think you have so much talent as an author and I've learned a great deal from you. There are times I am like "Dammit, he did that so well that if I ever write a similar scene I am going to feel like I fucking plagiarized it because I can't do it better than that. I'll want to write it in a similar flow. It was genius!"

The Locomotion is one I can't stop thinking about and I am going to put a little dancing in this one. I do need positive feedback. I do not need trolling and negativity in my life. I get too much of that in real life to have to tolerate it here. I've set Rawr to "Foe" but it doesn't stop him from posting 4 posts on my thread after being asked to stop. He wants to prove he is the "Big man" and can go where he wants, when he wants even if he is unwelcome.

He is unwelcome here on a thread about me. Nothing he could say is of value and can only take away my smile today.

His advice was relatively polite at first. It was useless like he is, "Write shorter stories" but I didn't denigrate him or give him any reason to shit on a personal story of mine that I decided to share with people. I haven't seen anyone else share a personal story and be a punching bag to trolls. Why me? easy target, i guess.

He knows I can't reach out and slap the smart ass off of his fat little pudgy face because he is hiding behind a keyboard, so he can be a big man. I wouldn't have to slap him in real life, because I am guessing he is too much of a little bitch to do that in person, and that's why he acts out his power fantasy here. After asking him to stop, being told by him he will troll me if he so chooses, and seeing his three responses above, i reported him to the mods.

Hopefully, they will deal accordingly.

If you have a minute, please click "Report" on at least one of Rawrr's messages and let them know that I asked him to stop replying and he replied three times in a row instead. i have him on "Foe" but that does not prevent him from trolling, just me from seeing him continue to drag me down on a thread where I literally offered that I felt vulnerable/sensitive and asked for no negativity.


Three replies are unnecessary in a thread you were asked to leave. He is not contributing in a meaningful way to this discussion and only adding aggravation.

superevil7 wrote: Sat Jun 20, 2026 2:21 pm Coming back to see a story I was in the middle of reading completely gone is really disheartening.

So question to the author: Does this mean that Summer Vacation and the story set in the 1950's with the twin sisters in it are dead ducks now?

So question to the author: Does this mean that Summer Vacation and the story set in the 1950's with the twin sisters in it are dead ducks now?

Did you enjoy them? I didn't see any interest, so I just tried something else.

If you want to see what I am working on, this is from this afternoon's plan to try the slowest possible build I can muster.

It was raining in Indianapolis at the Greyhound bus station. A mother stood under the awning, protected from the downpour with her son and daughter while they waited for the bus to arrive to take them to visit their Aunt Doris and Uncle Mooney.

Becky Waddell squeezed her son tightly and kissed him goodbye. "I am gonna miss you two, so much!"

Her sweet Kentucky accent sounded sorrowful, but it comforted Grant and his older sister Krissy. Becky was raised to be a bright and cheerful woman. She had been a flyer on the competitive cheer squad at the University of Kentucky due to her slight build, so she knew how to smile brightly even when she felt sad.

She just could not hide the tears in her eyes. They had never been away from their mother for more than a few weeks when they visited relatives.

"You take good care of your big sister now, ya hear," Becky said and held him tightly one last time. She placed her little face next to his chest to listen to her son’s heartbeat.

Becky had complete trust that her older sister Doris would take good care of them. She just knew she would miss them. She was the type of woman that cried during sad movies and when reading a sentimental Mother’s Day card.

Grant wiped off his mother’s kiss without her noticing because he stood a full head taller than both women. He reached five feet six inches during an early growth spurt, but he remained lanky because his frame did not fill out yet.

Waddell women were traditionally slender with youthful faces, and most never grew taller than four feet six inches. People often mistook Becky for a student at the school where she taught because of her freckled button nose and adult braces.

"Look at you, Grant," Becky said and smiled up at him through bittersweet tears. "You are so tall and lanky. You are just shooting up like a weed in Spring. I swear that one day you are gonna be recruited as a blue blood and play basketball for the Big Blue Nation!"

Becky always dreamed of sending both Grant and Krissy to the University of Kentucky one day. She met their father on the campus in Lexington back when he played basketball for the Wildcats, a true elite blue blood of the program, while she spent her seasons in front of the crowds as a flyer on the competitive cheer squad.

Grant stroked his mother’s brown hair and looked down into her pretty green eyes and pixie face. "I don’t want to go. I want to stay right here with you and Dad."

"Your father and I have some things to work out, and your Aunt Doris will take real good care of y'all," Becky said to the two of them. She poked his tummy with her finger and flashed him a wintry smile. "Don’t you worry about any old thing, Grant. Your Aunt Doris and Uncle Mooney are real good people. They don’t put up with monkey business, though. They are old-fashioned and believe in washing before supper, minding your elders, and warming a boy’s buns to help him learn to listen."

Grant pulled back and his face went red. "They better not try it. I am too old for that, and you and Dad never laid a hand on me."

Becky chuckled softly and poked his chest. "Oh, you are a big boy, Grant. My momma once told me that you are never too old for a spanking! But I will let you in on a little secret," she leaned and whispered loud enough that Krissy could also hear it. "If you don’t want a spanking, then don’t go giving your Aunt Doris a reason to give you one."

"Who would want a spanking, Mom," Krissy pouted. She was shorter than her mom, and with braces and a baby face she looked much younger than she was.

"It’s a figure of speech, darling. You grew up in the city and never got to meet your grandmother. She believed that when somebody starts mouthing off and getting a bit too big for their britches they must want a spanking, because we all knew she’d give us one if we did."

Becky hugged her daughter and gave her a goodbye kiss. "You’ll get to learn all about where I grew up in Russell County. There isn’t going to be a lot to do, but I don’t have a lot of choice in the matter. I need to stay here and work some things out with your father. Will you look after your brother?"

"Yes, Mom!"

"Good, you’ll like your Aunt Doris, I am sure. I spoke with her on the phone and she was thrilled to have you. She nearly talked my ear off trying to catch up with me."

"How come you haven’t kept up with her, Mom?"

"My parents had nine young’uns, and I was a baby when Doris was in her teens. The last time I saw my sister Doris she was getting married to your Uncle Mooney and I was still in diapers, but she’s delighted for you to stay with them. She has two girls a little younger than you, and a son that’s your brother’s age."

"She got married in her teens?" Krissy asked and scrunched her nose.

"You are going to find that out in the country they do things a lot differently than they do in the city," Becky said and stroked her daughter’s blonde hair lovingly. "Country folk start families early out in the country and they are very old fashioned about things. Please don’t make that funny face every time you hear something that isn’t how you are used to doing things."

"What does Aunt Doris do? Wash her clothes in the stream on rocks, and walk around pregnant and barefoot?" Krissy chuckled.

"I grew up in a house with no electricity, and the only water we had we had to pump by hand in the kitchen sink. We washed our clothes by hand, and we dried them by putting them on the line," Becky explained to her daughter.

"Wow, no electricity?" Grant said. He thought that was ludicrous. "Were you poor?"

"That’s a good question, Grant. We had fried chicken on Sunday, and enough to eat through the week. I wore hand-spun hand-me-downs that were passed down from my older sisters, and they probably got them from my mom and her sisters before that."

"Whoa, those were probably super old!" Grant was astonished.

"Oh yeah, we wore lacey peter pan collars on our dresses, and shoes that rarely fit because they were hand-me-downs. My momma didn’t believe in bras for girls. She considered them naughty brassieres, and lingerie for the bedroom."

"Sounds barbaric!" Krissy observed.

"I wasn’t allowed to wear shorts or pants," Becky said and laughed about how strange it seemed now. "It was considered scandalous! But the boys didn’t have it much better. They didn’t even have zippers on their pants. They had waist-buttoned knickerbockers and dungarees that had a flap in the front and a flap in the back."

"That’s so weird," Krissy said.

"I don’t know. It’s kinda cool. If you want to take a poop, you just flip it and sit down," Grant said. His laugh sounded more like ridicule than admiration.

"I didn’t even have a bathing suit when I was growing up," Becky admitted.

"You didn’t get to go swimming?" Krissy said. She thought that was absurd because she was on the swim team at her school.

"Oh yes, I swam like a minnow chasing a cane pole. We skinny-dipped in the creeks and streams. All the kids did. They would have looked at you weird if you had a swimsuit, back then."

"Naked?" Krissy’s voice rose, and her mother hushed her but confirmed it.

"Yep, it was a different time, Krissy. Girls had to dress conservatively in church, but they didn’t have any modesty at bath time. We took baths four to a tub, so we all knew what each other had and it never seemed weird or sexual to any of us."

Krissy’s eyes went wide in shock, but Grant smiled devilishly. He had just started noticing girls were not yucky cootie-filled disgusting snot monsters, and he had become a bit of a pervert rather quickly.

"It wasn’t like that, Grant. It was just fartin' around with our bare feet in the mud and clay down by the river. I mean, when I was your sister’s age I used to go to some parties down on Harmon Creek that were a little wild, but those days are long over now. I doubt they’d let people go skinny-dipping out there. Your Aunt says that its all built up and developed now."

It sounded outlandish to the two of them. There wasn’t much time left to continue the conversation because the bus to Jamestown pulled into the station.

"All I can say is it may be a good learning experience for you, but be respectful. Don’t judge your Aunt’s way of life and tell her how you do it in the big city."

"I know, Mom," Krissy said.

"Honey, look at me. Do not roll your eyes with your Aunt. She’s doing me a big old favor and I don’t have anyone else that can take you two. Understood?"

"Yes, I am sorry."

"When I grew up, my parents believed that they were doing us a favor by spanking our butt or putting soap in our mouth. They didn’t want us to grow up to be brats, and if I rolled my eyes at my momma then I wouldn’t have sat down for a week."

"That sounds awful," Krissy said.

"What about if you rolled your eyes at our grandpa?" Grant asked.

"That’d be about like looking into the sun, I’d imagine. I can’t say for sure because the thought would never have entered my mind. I suppose he’d have sent me outside to cut a switch off a willow branch and whooped me outside. They didn’t spank us out of cruelty. My momma once told me that she was raising us how she was raised, and just trying her hardest to do it a little bit better and help us go a little bit further than she did."

That was touching to them. They both hugged her again tightly.

"Okay now, get going before you miss your bus!" Becky said. She did not want to let the two of them go, but she had to.

She imparted one last choice piece of country wisdom as they waved their goodbyes and waited to show their tickets over to the Greyhound driver.

"We had a roof over our head, and each other. We didn’t have much but it was all we knew, so we didn’t know we were poor. It was just the way things were and all the other kids on nearby farms had the same as us. It seemed normal at the time. Promise me that if Aunt Doris still does things the old-fashioned way that you won’t complain or tell her how super old or super weird it is?"

"Yes, Mom!" they assured her.

Grant had to help his big sister with her bag. She didn’t want his help, but let him carry it for her after it proved too difficult to stow by herself.

It was about seven hours from Indianapolis straight down the I-65 corridor. The siblings talked about nothing in general while Krissy tried to read a paperback she brought with her. Grant mostly talked about wishing he had a handheld game to play. They laughed a little about their mother’s stories of the past and wondered how much of it was true.

“Can you imagine mom swimming naked?” Grant asked.

“You don’t have to sound so excited to be imagining it, you perv,” his older sister half-joked as she imagined her mother's flat chest and narrow hips while she tried to avoid everyone pointing at her and laughing. Then she realized she was imagining herself in that position.

“Do you think they still do it?”

“Do what?” Krissy sounded annoyed as she looked up from her dog-eared copy of Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone. She loathed J.K. Rowling but she loved the book.

“Skinny dip?” he smiled lustily.

“If they do, that’s fine for them. I won’t be a part of that,” Krissy assured her.

“You promised Mom that you’d do whatever Aunt Doris tells you, and you need to practice for swim team next year!”

“Grant, you aren’t going to see me naked if that is what you are getting at,” his sister assured him with a confounded look on her face.

“I have already seen you naked,” Grant said.

“When?” Krissy’s face turned red, and the hairs on the back of her neck stood up, and Grant wasn’t sure if she was blushing or furious. Krissy was a bit of both.

“When you changed into your swimsuit that time at Michelle Tomasino’s house? You were in her room and I accidentally walked in?”

“You didn’t accidentally walk in. You knew we were changing and walked in and I screamed and you slammed the door.”

“Yes, but it was an accident that I saw you and not Michelle,” Grant snickered. She punched her little brother’s arm but only managed to hurt her own hand in the process.

“You are such a pig, Grant!”

“That makes you the sister of a pig,” Grant teased playfully and oinked a few times.

“You might look older than me, but you act like an immature perv,” she said as she shot him a sullen look of disdain and stared through him with her pretty green eyes.

“I am not acting,” he teased back in a sing-songy-mocking sort of way.

The pair were used to teasing each other like that, but they also deeply loved and supported one another. Krissy hated to accept that she was jealous that everything seemed to come easy for her little brother.

He could reach high shelves, and he had a handsome face that people trusted. He was goofy and yet he seemed to stumble into success at everything he tried.

Krissy used to not be so resentful that her genetics kept her shorter than other girls her own age. That was until most of them started to get their growth spurts and not only got taller but got a full chest. She would have been happy for any boobs at all.

Her brother didn’t even work out, and yet he seemed to have natural muscles that made him stronger than her, faster than her, and he didn’t have to wear braces like her, because his teeth were perfectly straight.




does that sound interesting at all? it's super rough draft.I was going to do the meet with Aunt Doris shortly. It's been a bit tedious to write, but I am trying to take some of the feedback and incorporate it. i wanted to do a femdom father's day story but I wont have enough time to finish.

EddieDavidson wrote: Sat Jun 20, 2026 9:20 pm

So question to the author: Does this mean that Summer Vacation and the story set in the 1950's with the twin sisters in it are dead ducks now?

Did you enjoy them? I didn't see any interest, so I just tried something else.

If you want to see what I am working on, this is from this afternoon's plan to try the slowest possible build I can muster.

does that sound interesting at all? it's super rough draft.I was going to do the meet with Aunt Doris shortly. It's been a bit tedious to write, but I am trying to take some of the feedback and incorporate it. i wanted to do a femdom father's day story but I wont have enough time to finish.

Ok so I don't claim to be any kind of literary critic and I'm usually content to sit back and let the creators create. As far as this one goes I'm happy that I know the main characters well enough from that introductory chapter and I'm ready for the pace to start and pick up in the next one. The idea of nudity has been introduced so I would be expecting Krissy to go through a totally shocked and horrified reaction to being expected to strip but get to like it as she goes along. Meanwhile, her brother talks big at the moment but he might not be quite as brave when it's time to get his own kit off, especially if Aunt Doris does to him what someone in a true story I read on Quora several years ago said happened to him - the aunt had him stripped naked outside for a communal mixed gender bathing session alongside some younger female cousins. The aunt had insisted on soaping all the kids herself and after leaving him until last used him as a live model for an impromptu anatomy class for the others even down to making him masturbate to a finish in front of everyone.

So I would be prepared to give this one a chance, it just depends where it goes genre wise. I personally find BDSM stuff a turn off, for instance, but others might be into it.

On the earlier Summer Vacation one, from the bit that I did read I had identified with the male character who got the inappropriate erection when hugged by busty aunt BJ. All the women had noticed his erection and I could imagine them getting him naked often and he ends up having some kind of sexual contact with all of them individually or collectively before the holiday was finished. Sadly now we'll never know.

As for the 1950''s twin sisters "Stepford Wives" one I didn't get to see it at all but the premise sounded good when you brought it up on an earlier reply on this thread.

As for lack of reaction, I have posted a couple of my own true stories. I would have liked to have received a few more thanks and questions but that's the way the cookie crumbles. At the end of the day I wanted to get my experiences out there after reading about others and that's good enough for me. Anything else is the cherry on top of the cake.

Personally, if I did try to weave a fictional story out of my experiences, I would just go ahead and finish the bloody thing and not be bothered if there wasn't an instant response. Somebody will eventually come along and read it, same as I had started to engage with Summer Vacation last week after months away from the forum. I imagine some people check it out weekly, monthly, or at long random intervals. It also depends on how and when they can access this. For instance, if my wife was to catch me on here there would be hell to pay...