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Post by Lee on Feb 15, 2009 11:49:31 GMT -5
I can't tell you how many emails I've gotten from people excited over the idea of the stories page being updated again. Back in the day, I used to get tons of story submissions, enough to update at least once a week, maybe more. Now nothing for two years. So this is a call to get things rolling again! (So to speak) If you have a story, even if you feel uncertain if it's "good enough", send it along. I'll take care of the editing and formatting. Unlike the major publishing houses, I will not reject any stories, as long as they are about disabled men. The stories page gets about 200 hits per day. I especially encourage submissions from new writers... but definitely welcome anything from our old favorites. I know we'd all love to see another story from the author of Skeletons. Once published, your submission will appear here: www.paradevo.net/stories.htmlAs usual, send submissions to paradevo at yahoo.com. |
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Post by devogirl on Feb 16, 2009 19:17:23 GMT -5
Wow! I'm so glad to hear this! I'd like to second the call for stories. This is still one of the very few sites for devotees of disabled men, and it's up to you, yes YOU to provide the content. If you're wondering why there isn't a story out there that speaks to you, well, it's up to you to write it.
Also, I'm not sure how Lee feels about this, but I for one would also welcome stories by our wheeler dude members. Lee, is this ok?
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Post by Lee on Feb 16, 2009 22:22:57 GMT -5
I'm not sure how Lee feels about this, but I for one would also welcome stories by our wheeler dude members. Lee, is this ok? Of course! Actually, there are already several stories posted from wheelers. So far, nobody has sent me anything though. Oh well, no new stories, I guess. |
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Post by Skelly on Feb 16, 2009 23:53:50 GMT -5
I especially encourage submissions from new writers... but definitely welcome anything from our old favorites. I know we'd all love to see another story from the author of Skeletons. I've got an idea in mind that I'll try to commit to over the next few weeks. It's been a while since I've written anything. |
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Post by Triassic on Feb 17, 2009 22:01:52 GMT -5
i could probably write some juicy devolicious stories. maybe whe n i get some voice recognition software...
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Post by Lee on Feb 17, 2009 22:21:05 GMT -5
I look forward to getting stories from both of you.
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amy
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Post by amy on Feb 18, 2009 21:27:56 GMT -5
Maybe I'll work on a new story too. There's an idea I've been toying with for a while.
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Post by Triassic on Feb 19, 2009 0:32:37 GMT -5
i could just recycle some of the stuff tony has told me; 'there was this paralyed guy, see? named, ah...mike. yeah, mike. and he drove around in this big grey van. and way in the back of this van mike had a little blue plush loveseat...'
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Post by Ouch on Feb 19, 2009 9:24:14 GMT -5
I've been contemplating sending something along, but real life has taken the front seat right now...and I have my reasons for not offering my material as well...
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Post by Lee on Feb 24, 2009 9:29:20 GMT -5
Sadly, I have not gotten any new submissions so far. Unfortunate.
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amy
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Posts: 141
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Post by amy on Feb 25, 2009 1:03:17 GMT -5
I've been trying to work on something new too (I wrote The Surgeon about a million billion years ago). I squeezed out about 10 pages so far but I'm so rusty that it sounds terrible and I'm embarrassed to send it to you without fixing it.
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Post by Lee on Feb 25, 2009 10:12:56 GMT -5
To be honest, I probably wrote more than 50% of them, but I don't have time anymore. Too tired, writers block, etc. And the submissions just fizzled out, not sure why. I'd love to get them started again.
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Post by Ouch on Feb 25, 2009 10:44:46 GMT -5
When people out there with material are ready to submit, I'm sure they will; we all know that Paradevo is open to submissions for writing.
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Post by Triassic on Feb 25, 2009 21:17:11 GMT -5
ann glanced up from the screen of the little netbook. it was no longer raining. in fact, some wan sunshine was even finding it's way through the big front window of the cafe. grimacing, she rotated her head first left, then right, to clear the crick that had taken up residence in her neck. she'd been reading and responding to emails for over an hour.
time for one more latte'. standing, she gave herself a good stretch. ann made her way slowly to the counter and ordered her drink. as she waited, she again surveyed the scene outside the window; nothing special, just your typical suburban florida strip mall-a few little stores, an italian restaurant, and this coffeehouse/cafe. but the day outside was shaping up to be a beauty now that the rain was over: warm, but with a light breeze occasionally shaking the wet leaves of the trees outside. it was a fine spring day.
ann decided she must sit outside at one of the little iron tables out front and enjoy this fine weather. when her latte' arrived, she went to her table, gathered up her purse and her computer and took them outside. the table and chairs were a bit wet from the rain, but she had had the foresight to take a bunch of napkins to wipe them down with. that's the kind of girl she was-practical. and she tried to think ahead.
she sat herself down facing the lot, which was by no means full on this mid-afternoon weekday. as she opened up her mini notebook, a car pulled into the lot. ann saw that it was a porsche, but far from new and shiny. this one was at least fifteen years old, and it's black paint was very faded. not only that, but it had several large dents in the side. still, a porsche is a porsche, and the clear, deep rumble of the engine sounded powerful, and well tuned. in fact, she saw the car was a 928s. she'd had a boyfriend once who considered himself an authority on all high end rolling iron, and she recalled him saying that some considered the 928s to be one of the finest production cars ever made.
the area in front of the cafe was a fire lane, so there was no parking. but the porsche pulled into an empty space accross the lane in front of the cafe. the driver shut off the engine.
ann had seen that the driver was male, but could tell nothing more, except that he was alone. so...so, mr. porsche; will you be a 'special' man to match your 'special' car? ann mused to herself. it had been some time since she'd been with a man. and she was a woman who could go for long periods between intimacies, but she had to admit she'd been noticing men more lately. so, yes, she was curious.
the car door popped open, but no one emerged immediately. then ann saw a hand come out and lean two long, shiny sticks against the side of the car. crutches, ann thought, oh. then two feet and legs slid around, and the driver's head and torso were visible. he sat facing outward. his right hand rreached up and grasped the door frame. his left hand remained inside, braced on the seat. he levered himself up quickly, then with a bit of a hitch, stood up straight. leaning slightly against the door he chocked the crutches under his arms, swayed just a bit, then steadied, his weight mostly borne by the crutches. ducking his head, he reached inside the car and took a book from the dash. tucking the trade paperback under his elbow, he hopped away from the porsche and slammed its door. pivoting, the man faced the cafe, gripped his crutch handles, and headed toward the door. to be cont...
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Post by Triassic on Feb 25, 2009 23:27:20 GMT -5
ann was able to observe him surreptitiously. he was about thirty, perhaps a bit older, and wore a dark blue polo shirt, open at the neck, and tucked into faded jeans. on his feet were black high top sneakers. she could see that he was of medium height and a little on the thin side, but with noticeably broad, strong shoulders. his upper arms and forearms looked pretty well-developed too, she thought. well, his mode of locomotion would tend to do that, wouldn't it?
because she could see that his legs weren't capable of taking him too far. they looked of normal length but very thin. and they seemed to be encased in some sort of hardware beneath his jeans. braces, ann supposed. his left leg seemed to be a little stronger than the right, and the man used that one to push himself forward, then catching his weight with the crutches as his braced legs swung forward. repeat and repeat and repeat. his crutches made a fairly loud clicking each time they hit the pavement. he moved at what seemed to ann to be a somewhat slow normal walking pace, but he seemed steady and comfortable enough as he headed her way.
now that the man was closer, ann could see that he was kind of good looking in a semi-bohemian way. his hair was thick and dark brown-a bit too long; and being blown around in the freshening breeze. he had a light growth of stubble on his cheeks and chin. his eyes were a deep, bright blue; from this distance they looked almost like a smear of blue light to her.
he'd come to a stop about fifteen feet away from her table, where the patio-like space in front of the little cafe begun. ann realized what it was; there was a little step up there, maybe three inches high. she saw him look one way, then the other, surveying the curb. no ramp. he lifted his right crutch and placed the tip on the new level. he gave it a tentative push and saw the crutch quickly slide forward a few inches. no good.
again, ann saw the problem. the space in front of the cafe' was tiled in brown ceramic; tile which was still wet from the downpour. she realized that for this fellow, it might as well have been greased glass. the street was asphalt, and the wet made no difference. it still gave his crutches and shoes good purchase, so he'd crossed it easily. she saw that the tiles were drying, but there were still plenty of wet patches between where he was and the door to the cafe.
leaning on his crutches, the man turned his head and looked back at his vehicle-apparantly deciding whether to scrub the venture or not. instead, he moved somewhat awkwardly a few feet down the way, and stuck the crutch out again. this time, he'd hit a drier patch, and the crutch held. satisfied with the traction, he placed his right foot on the step, and followd with his left foot. then he carefully brought his left crutch up and in front of himself. he was up.
but ann could see that his difficulties were far from over. he had fifteen feet of slick tile to cross before he could relax. ann watched him closely, feeling empathy and some tension rise within her. for her graceful, trained, dancers body could almost skip over these wet tiles. she knew that even if she did begin to slide, her reflexes and strength would catch her long before any fall.not only that, but she'd make the slip look intentional, graceful. to be continued.
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