pittwitch

Oh BW – I am so sorry for your loss.  

One of our members, and a personal friend of mine, passed away this morning after a long illness.
Anesor is one of the people who encouraged me to write, and while the first thing I ever posted isn’t up any longer, she never hesitated to offer support, advice, and friendship while I tried my best to hone my craft. We wrote together, beta-read for each other, and even indulged ourselves in some private commentary on some of the more florid fan fictions in our favorite fandoms.
I got the chance to visit her in-person once, and I’ll always cherish that day. It was like sitting down with a family member, because we knew each other so well by then. Her family was warm and welcomed this online stranger with open arms, just like Anesor did when she wrote the first review on my story, and asked me what happens next.
I will miss her voice, and her strength, and her sheer determination, but I will always hold our friendship close.

A long, long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I wrote a tribute piece for a dear friend who passed away.  The piece was for publication in the flyer for his memorial race.  Yesterday, his son, now my neighbor, stood in my yard, with tears in his eyes, thanking me for writing the piece, capturing what that part of his dad’s life was all about.  I didn’t sign the piece.  He just knew it was me.  He says he goes through his dad’s scrapbook every year, takes out that flyer, and smiles.
So for those of us who write, alone in the dark, with no idea who is reading, keep writing.  If your words only touch one person, you have succeeded!  Keep writing!

Great story BTW

Is it Remorse by Ms_Figg ?

You can’t buy the site. You have to be given the ceremonial dildo by the Lady of the Lake. It sounds bad, but it’s better than the old method of having to pull it from the stone.
You ever hear stone moan? It’s horrific.

2

Bronx is the boss.  

But what if I have a hungry heart? During my glory days people said not to feed me all the time. In the end I came up with a Brilliant Disguise.
...oh, right the other troll. Well, I was born to run so I’ll get outa here.

Since you don’t seem to understand this – JayDee was being sarcastic.  Google Bruce Springsteen.  Bronxwench is the final authority for  your questions or issues.  You have the email to reach her.  Cut out this nonsense, NOW.

Since you don’t seem to understand this – JayDee was being sarcastic.  Google Bruce Springsteen.  Bronxwench is the final authority for  your questions or issues.  You have the email to reach her.  Cut out this nonsense, NOW.

Bruce Springsteen?

It was more than three years ago. It was bad enough that the site owner, the head administrator, and the archive moderation staff collectively agreed that it was possibly The Worst Idea EverTM and would never be repeated at AFF. 
And just because I am an absolute glutton for punishment, I have to ask. What in the Nine Hells are “Satoshis” and who do you think would actually pay that proposed $0.69? We are a free archive. We don’t make any money running this site, so we’re certainly not going to pay anyone.
Seriously, even my publisher doesn’t pay me by the word.

A long, long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I wrote a tribute piece for a dear friend who passed away.  The piece was for publication in the flyer for his memorial race.  Yesterday, his son, now my neighbor, stood in my yard, with tears in his eyes, thanking me for writing the piece, capturing what that part of his dad’s life was all about.  I didn’t sign the piece.  He just knew it was me.  He says he goes through his dad’s scrapbook every year, takes out that flyer, and smiles.
So for those of us who write, alone in the dark, with no idea who is reading, keep writing.  If your words only touch one person, you have succeeded!  Keep writing!

A long, long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I wrote a tribute piece for a dear friend who passed away.  The piece was for publication in the flyer for his memorial race.  Yesterday, his son, now my neighbor, stood in my yard, with tears in his eyes, thanking me for writing the piece, capturing what that part of his dad’s life was all about.  I didn’t sign the piece.  He just knew it was me.  He says he goes through his dad’s scrapbook every year, takes out that flyer, and smiles.
So for those of us who write, alone in the dark, with no idea who is reading, keep writing.  If your words only touch one person, you have succeeded!  Keep writing!

A long, long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I wrote a tribute piece for a dear friend who passed away.  The piece was for publication in the flyer for his memorial race.  Yesterday, his son, now my neighbor, stood in my yard, with tears in his eyes, thanking me for writing the piece, capturing what that part of his dad’s life was all about.  I didn’t sign the piece.  He just knew it was me.  He says he goes through his dad’s scrapbook every year, takes out that flyer, and smiles.
So for those of us who write, alone in the dark, with no idea who is reading, keep writing.  If your words only touch one person, you have succeeded!  Keep writing!

A long, long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I wrote a tribute piece for a dear friend who passed away.  The piece was for publication in the flyer for his memorial race.  Yesterday, his son, now my neighbor, stood in my yard, with tears in his eyes, thanking me for writing the piece, capturing what that part of his dad’s life was all about.  I didn’t sign the piece.  He just knew it was me.  He says he goes through his dad’s scrapbook every year, takes out that flyer, and smiles.
So for those of us who write, alone in the dark, with no idea who is reading, keep writing.  If your words only touch one person, you have succeeded!  Keep writing!

A long, long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I wrote a tribute piece for a dear friend who passed away.  The piece was for publication in the flyer for his memorial race.  Yesterday, his son, now my neighbor, stood in my yard, with tears in his eyes, thanking me for writing the piece, capturing what that part of his dad’s life was all about.  I didn’t sign the piece.  He just knew it was me.  He says he goes through his dad’s scrapbook every year, takes out that flyer, and smiles.
So for those of us who write, alone in the dark, with no idea who is reading, keep writing.  If your words only touch one person, you have succeeded!  Keep writing!

::hugs her Witch:: Love you, lady!   

That is so beautiful. Thank you, pittwitch. 

A long, long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I wrote a tribute piece for a dear friend who passed away.  The piece was for publication in the flyer for his memorial race.  Yesterday, his son, now my neighbor, stood in my yard, with tears in his eyes, thanking me for writing the piece, capturing what that part of his dad’s life was all about.  I didn’t sign the piece.  He just knew it was me.  He says he goes through his dad’s scrapbook every year, takes out that flyer, and smiles.
So for those of us who write, alone in the dark, with no idea who is reading, keep writing.  If your words only touch one person, you have succeeded!  Keep writing!

A long, long time ago, in what feels like another lifetime, I wrote a tribute piece for a dear friend who passed away.  The piece was for publication in the flyer for his memorial race.  Yesterday, his son, now my neighbor, stood in my yard, with tears in his eyes, thanking me for writing the piece, capturing what that part of his dad’s life was all about.  I didn’t sign the piece.  He just knew it was me.  He says he goes through his dad’s scrapbook every year, takes out that flyer, and smiles.
So for those of us who write, alone in the dark, with no idea who is reading, keep writing.  If your words only touch one person, you have succeeded!  Keep writing!

i honestly don’t know… i’ve been dictating stories in my head as long as i can remember.…. i was shipping quietly before i even new it was a thing, using characters to learn how to draw and write my own… and writing better endings to works i found needlessly bleak or self defeating. at some point… i just went looking for more stories. it just seemed so natural, like slipping into a familiar road. it was webcomics and images before out-and-out fanfiction though… that i remember.

Kudos for an inspirational teacher!

Kudos for an inspirational teacher!