Afterword

Well ... that was fun.

I don't know how many other writers here on Storiesonline.net write an afterword for their stories, but this experience has been so weird that I feel like I need to get a lot off my chest. There are so many ideas and techniques and experiences that occur in the writing process that I feel that by the time the story has ended, the reader has only gotten a small fraction of what went into the story.

I don't normally write stuff like this. Heck, I don't normally write. But this was a strange situation. A little history...

History

In the spring of 2003 I was searching online for good quality smut. I was in the mood to read erotic stories, and not just any stories, but stories that catered to my own particular fetishes. I like stories about busty older women seducing young teen-aged boys. I love the seduction of the innocent, the excitement of exploration, the nervousness of that first touch, that transition from virgin to lover. And I like big boobs. What can I say?

Of course, the trouble with finding such stories is that you need to search on codes like "mF" or "Fm", and all the search engines I could find were all case-insensitive. So any search for "mF" would return all the "MF" stories, as well as the "Mf", and "mf", and that was just a lot to slog through. So it was difficult finding such stories.

But then I found an author named TooMuchTime, and there was great joy. (Yayyy!) He was writing precisely what I was looking for. Busty women seducing teen-aged boys. I devoured all of his stories. And like a good fan, I wrote to him, thanking him for his writing.

He wrote back, and we started a correspondence. And it was a lot of fun. It was the first time I ever felt comfortable talking to someone about sex in this manner. And I know I gave him a lot of inspiration, because his literary output practically tripled when I was writing to him. I gave him some suggestions for stories, and he in turn inspired me. I saw that there were a lot of erotic stories available on the net, and some were pretty good but a lot were pure crap, and I figured, hell, I could probably do this. So I dusted off the word processor, grabbed a couple random names, grabbed a random location, cranked the boobs up to eleven, and started typing, freely associating with no regard to what was going to happen next.

The result of that experiment was Chapter One of The Quiet Ones. "Quiet" comes simply from the fact that it started in a library. And it wasn't Chapter One; That was the entire story. It was supposed to stop there. I sent a copy to TooMuchTime, and he enjoyed it immensely. That inspired me further.

I decided to take one of his stories and write a Part 2 to it. It took me a long time to finish it. It's still sitting in my hard drive right now. No-one has seen it. But when I got it mostly finished I wrote to him again to tell him what I was doing. But the email bounced back. His email address no longer worked. And for five years, I have been trying to get in contact with him, with no success. I figured that one of the following happened: He died, he got a good job which keeps him busy, he had kids, he got married, or he found religion. Whatever it was, I wished him the best.

During the next five years I experimented with a Chapter Two of Quiet Ones, getting as far as Marie gasping "Oh god, I can breathe again!" when Eddie gets her bra undone. And then it sat untouched until June, 2009.

What happened in June, 2009? I discovered StoriesOnline.net through recommendations on the forums for the "Six Times a Day" epic. And as I browsed through the stories, I wondered if TooMuchTime had an author's page. Sure enough, he did. And not only that, but he had two stories which I had never seen before, the latest published only three months prior. This meant one thing. He was still alive!

However, TooMuchTime's account settings do not allow for any contact. No anonymous email, no current email. How do I get his attention?

I thought, maybe if I had an author's account, I would get special communication privileges. So I signed up, using the very stupid pseudonym I came up with when I was writing to him. (I truly hate "Y.A.Titlover", and will eagerly change to something else if I could think of something ... anything! I am willing to take suggestions.) But alas, no special privileges. I was stuck. I still cannot figure out how to contact him.

But now I had an author's account which needed stories, and stories which needed a place to put them. So I figured "Oh well. Why the hell not?"

I dusted off Chapter One, fixed a few details here and there, finished up Chapter Two, and had plans for Chapter Three when I posted the first two chapters. Let's see what happens...

Oh my goodness ... The feedback was incredible! Talk about ego stroking! I haven't been happier in years. To Hell with anti-depressants. I just need to write and hear from fans. Now that's happiness!

Story Evolution

When I started this, I had one goal in mind. "Write the story that I want to read." And the first thing I did was put in all the sex acts that turned me on the most.

But during a break in the action in Chapter One I needed to fill some time, so I had Eddie ask the first questions that were on my mind. How did they get so big, and what was Marie doing in a library? And to be honest, when I wrote those questions, I had no idea what her answers were going to be.

But with that first simple scratching of the surface of the characters, I found something interesting. And that scratch turned into an itch. And the itch turned into a rash.

Developing the story and the characters did two things for me. First of all, it fell into my rule of "Write the story that I want to read.", and second, it made an attempt at clearing up this awful embarrassment I had over all the big-boob emphasis. I mean come on, how shallow can I possibly get? Don't I know that every inch of a woman's body can be erotic? Don't I know that a woman's personality, desires, energy, style, and substance can be erotic? Well, yes I do, but good god I love big boobs!

Now maybe I'm just overreacting, but when I started this, I realized that I had basically confessed to the world that I am this breast obsessed pervert, and once I had done that I felt this incredible desire to prove to the world that I'm really not all that perverted. I do have deep thoughts occasionally. I can be a pretty intelligent and thoughtful guy when I'm not fantasizing about shoving my dick in some cleavage. And I'm sure that this is an ancient conflict felt by many men; On the one hand we have these base primal and primitive desires, and on the other hand we can be these sophisticated and intelligent renaissance men. I have a hard time reconciling these two sides.

So a lot of the character development came from my personal desire to prove to the world that I am not just some breast-obsessed pervert. I mean, I AM one, but I am so much more than that.

Jazz Improvisational Writing

When I decided to write this essay, one of the things I wanted to point out was the fact that I really didn't think of The Quiet Ones as a story. It's more of a sketchbook, a writing playground, or a literary sandbox. Specifically the way the story grew was I wrote Chapter One with no idea where it was going, or that it was even going anywhere. In Chapter Two I had a vague idea of what was going to happen in Chapter Three, and in Chapter Three I had an idea for Chapter Four. By the time I had Chapter Four done, I had no clue what was going to happen next.

This lack-of-planning tormented me. I didn't know where it was going, and didn't want the story to crash and burn under self-contradictions or repetition. So that's why I thought of it as not a story, but a sketchbook. I'm just trying out ideas here folks, and trying halfheartedly to put them together into a cohesive fashion. But I knew from the start that this was not the way to write. I had no plans, no overreaching arc, no theme, and no direction. And it really bothered me that I didn't plan anything out. This is not the way art is supposed to be produced.

And then I realized I was wrong. There is an art-form that works like this, where you just start performing and continue with no plan as to where you are going, and discover where you are going along the way. Jazz Improvisation does that. So that's why I call this Jazz Improvisational Writing. In Jazz Writing you just start writing with no regard to where it's going, and trust your instincts and trust the fact that as you travel you will find things along the way that you did not expect to see.

Comforting thought, not only from the point of view that I was actually doing a somewhat respectable form of performance art, but also from the realization that I had just had this incredibly deep idea that had nothing to do with huge breasts. But I also realized I didn't want to do Jazz Improvisational Writing. So after publishing Chapter 4 I spent a solid week planning out the next three chapters, and as I wrote these chapters ... I also plotted out another book from start to finish.

So the big secret about this story is this: The Quiet Ones is what I come up with when I have no idea what I'm doing. But in the next story, I DO know what I'm doing.

Reverse Dialog

I love writing dialog, but sometimes it's difficult to do because there is a particular place I want it to go, and the subjects kind of meander around this way and that, and occasionally the conversation flows in the wrong direction. That happened when I was writing the conversation between Eddie and Donna in Chapter 5, and it was hard to keep them on track.

So I did something weird. I started writing the conversation backwards. I wrote the end of the conversation first. I wrote something that Donna said, and then wrote above it something that Eddie said that Donna was reacting to. And the I wrote above that something Donna said that Eddie was reacting to. And I continued until I managed to meet a point that I had gotten to in the traditional Forward Dialog attempts.

Just wanted to share that with you, in case you are doing some writing.

Marie

Marie started out as the total fantasy girl, and she remains that. She is everything that I would want in a girlfriend: Smart, funny, witty, sexy, beautiful, talented, wealthy, unattached, sexually free, caring... (She's a lot like my wife except for the wealthy part.) When I write a character, I put up a picture next to the word processor window just to inspire me of the character. Marie is directly inspired by some older pictures of B.B. Gunns (pre-cornrows). And I have to say that I rarely find the perfect picture of any woman to match my characters; there are always some differences. As much as I like B.B.'s body, she doesn't exactly match my internal picture of Marie. Marie is a bit thinner, taller, has dark hair, and dark eyes. But I use B.B. because there is something about her face that just fits and summons Marie's character perfectly. She has this wonderful quality of Girl-Next-Door-Gone-Wild.

In the movie "As Good As It Gets", Jack Nicholson plays a romance writer. In one scene a gushing female fan asks him "How do you write such compelling female characters?" Jack's answer is classic. "First I think of a man. Then I remove all reason and accountability."

This is my primary inspiration for all my female characters. I make sure that they are built upon the solid foundation of a contradiction in terms. Marie is strong, yet beaten. She appears confident, but hides a deep fear.