[stmercy2020]

I think the important thing is that you have the boyfriend/girlfriend they should be fulfilling some purpose beyond sex.

Unless, of course, what you're writing really isn't intended as anything more than verbal self-stimulation  ;D  Nothing wrong with that- just keep it in mind.  If you intend to have your story have more depth than that, though, than the SO needs to bring something to the relationship that the protagonist can't readily provide for herself.  That 'something' could be any number of things- a different emotional perspective, understanding, sensitivity, security, vulnerability- whatever it is that the protagonist needs reinforced or provided from an external source.

[stmercy2020]

To the best of my knowledge, there never was a time period in which a woman was considered healthy if she was robustly fit.  In the Victorian age, especially, women were often forced into corsets that prevented them from bending over or even breathing deeply, hence the frequent depictions of women fainting at the drop of a hat.  There was a time when it was considered sexy for a woman to be pale and somewhat fat because, as CP pointed out, this indicated that a woman was rich enough not to have to work in the fields or under the sun.

I think the closest American culture has come to seeing healthy women as sexy was, at least in this country, during and after World War II, with the popularity of Rosie the Riveter.  Generally speaking though, women who have been healthy and sexy in the public eye simultaneously have been the exception rather than the rule.

[stmercy2020]

I wanted to apologize if my previous post seemed a little harsh- it wasn't meant to! 

I understand that this is still a work-in-progress, much as most of the things I post are, to one extent or another.  It is very good- make no mistake about that!  If it wasn't good, I probably wouldn't have commented at all.

My comments were simply intended to help you gain just one more perspective (mine) on the wonderful work that you do.

As you say,
Peace and Love.

[stmercy2020]

I think I understand what happened here- I read this line in your response to one of the comments in Conquest

I take it you read ‘A Love Refined’?  Did you enjoy it?  That story is the final draft, and I truly enjoyed writing it.

and misinterpreted that to mean that Refined had somehow evolved from Conquest, hence my curiosity.  All cleared up now.  Thank you.

[stmercy2020]

This story was amazingly rich and textured.  A real pleasure to read.  Out of curiosity, if you can recall, how did this evolve from "The Taming of Mawiyah"?  I can see how the dance recalls the original passage, but this seems so much richer, especially given that you chose to set it in a modern setting.

[stmercy2020]

Reading over this sample and the responses to it, I was reminded of a line from "One True Thing"- Meryl Streep is explaining to Renee Zellweger about a difference of opinion she has with Zellweger's father regarding communicating to an audience (he's a college professor and a published writer).  She says, "Your father always says, 'Less is more.'  Sometimes, more is more."  I think it's worthwhile to keep that in mind as you write.  Sometimes, the details can get in the way of the story, and other times they are necessary to enhance the story.

The other thing I noticed, and it may be entirely me, is that you occasionally use words that carry a secondary meaning that may not be quite what you intended.  The example that comes to mind is in this line:

there must have been dozens of turgid solid muscles blanketing that arm

the word turgid literally means large or swollen, but it carries secondary meanings that imply rudeness and disrespect.

As I haven't yet read the finished product, I'm going to hop off to do that now.

I lie.  I did read "A Love Refined…" and enjoyed it very much.  The detail was rich and rewarding, but not so dense that it caused the reader to lose sight of the plot.

[stmercy2020]

Mm.  I'll take the one on the left, and the one on the right can take me…  ;D

[stmercy2020]

Okay, the end of Chaper Three.  Things start to get a bit hotter for our heroine, as she starts to make some hitherto unsuspected things about herself…

As usual, any comments about this- content, style, what have you- are greatly appreciated.

*****

It was still early in the morning when Dicey got up.  She went into the kitchen and started coffee and pancakes.  After a few minutes, she heard Dasia moving around upstairs.  Soon after, Dasia stumbled into the kitchen, bleary-eyed.  “Smells good,” she yawned.  Dicey flipped a couple of pancakes onto her plate.
“Chocolate chip, the way Moms makes ‘em,” she said.
Dasia looked at her.  Dicey didn’t cook, as a rule, and didn’t do mornings as an article of faith.  “What’s up, sis?”
“Huh?”
“Why the sudden bout of domesticity?  You okay?”
“Yeah… Well… I think I really hurt those guys last night, Dasia.  I didn’t think I could do that.”
Dasia cocked an eyebrow, not quite understanding.  “So?  They were trying to hurt-or kill-us.  What’s the problem?”
“I dunno.  I just didn’t think I had that kind of violence in me, you know?  And it’s not just that.  Look at this.”  Dicey tossed the bullet to her younger sister.
“What is it?”
“It’s a bullet.  I got shot last night.”
“What?!  Omigod, are you okay?”
“I’m fine.  That’s what’s freaking me out.  I got shot in my boob, for chrissakes, and all I got was a little bruise.”
“But- that’s so cool!”
“It is not cool!  That could’ve been you- or Ron.  It was just luck that it was me, and I don’t know what it was that I didn’t even feel it until after we got home.”
“Adrenaline?”
“Hah.  Very funny.”
“Okay… So what’re you going to do about it, now.  You can’t exactly go to the cops.  You gonna see a doctor?”
“No, I don’t think so.  If they believed me, they’d only think I was some sort of medical freak.  No, I think… I think I’m going to go to the gym.”

The University of Michigan North Campus Recreation Building was on the North side of town, just a bit Northeast of a couple of nice parks and fairly isolated.  The building itself officially opened at 9:00 on Sunday mornings, but, fortunately, Drifter had a key and was willing to let her in, provided she promised to be careful and not strain herself.
“Hey- not a worry, man.  I’ve just gotta work off some nervous energy, you know?  I’ll be good, and I’ll holler if I have any trouble.”
“Good girl.  This place is pretty dead Sunday mornings, in any case.  I’ll be out in the front office if you need me.”
Dicey went into the locker room and stripped down to her sweatpants and a sportsbra.  A little snug across the hips, she grimaced, and my boobs don’t seem to be shrinking any, either…
The weightroom itself was a good sized room on the first floor.  Huge mirrors covered two walls, and the weight machines were arranged to accommodate quite a few people at once.  Dicey knew there was a heavy weight room upstairs, although she had never been there.  The stairway leading there always smelled powerfully of men’s sweat and the disinfectant cleaning product they used on the mats and pads for the machines.  The free weight bars and weights were neatly racked along the far wall of the room, and Dicey figured there were probably several thousand pounds of weight in the free weights alone.  What kind of monster needs a heavy weight room with this much weight lying around in here, she mused.  Dicey was familiar with the operation and use of the various weights and machines from her previous athletic endeavors, and knew that she had been fairly strong even in high school.  She was out of training, now, but she figured that her day-to-day life with the band probably kept her from losing too much muscle mass.
She started with some simple stretches, remembering that her coach used to warn her that the majority of sports injuries happened because a muscle wasn’t properly warmed up before being stressed.  Some lunges, some calf extensions, butterflies, and then she dropped gracefully into a side-splits.  I’ve still got flexibility, at least, she grinned, enjoying the sensation as her muscles started to respond to the exertion.
She turned and lay her chest across her knee, then flat on the floor, then again on her other knee.  Placing her arms one in front of her and one behind her butt, she lifted her weight off the ground and changed her position to a scissors-splits, then dropped her chest forwards again, then to the sides, and finally arched her neck and back to the rear until she could touch her heel.  She carried on in this manner for a few more minutes until she started to feel just a little bit of warmth in pretty much all of her major muscle groups.
Getting up, she went over to the scale to weigh herself before starting.  Now that can’t be right! she thought.  She hadn’t actually weighed herself since her last medical checkup, over a year ago, and she had felt that she was a bit heavy then, at one ninety, but this scale had her up to almost three hundred.  She’s have to tell Drifter about that…
Sighing, she went over to the free weights, figuring to start with squats, as she used to do when training for ballet.  Her max at that time had actually been 200 pounds, something she was quite proud of, given that many of the young men in the gym with her hadn’t been able to handle that much weight, and hadn’t been able to squat it the way she had.  She loaded up the bar with two 45 pound plates on each side, then, breathing deeply, cleanly lifted the bar up, over her head, and rested it on her shoulders.  That wasn’t as hard as I expected, she reflected, settling into her squat.  She used a modified squat that her coach had taught her in order to increase her jumping ability, starting out in what was referred to as the ‘ass-to-grass’ position and standing all the way up, then jumping into the air at the apex of the squat.  After 10 repetitions, she realized that she wasn’t really feeling much strain at all.  In fact, she was feeling more energized, more vibrant than when she started.
Given how easy the squats had been, she decided not to reduce the weight at all as she moved into military presses.  Bringing the bar back over her head, she rested it for just a moment on her chest before knocking off ten more slow repetitions.  She felt these a little bit more than she had the squats, but she was quite certain she could lift more- much more.  Gently setting the bar back on the rack, she tensed her arms.  Immediately, the round, softness that had characterized her shoulders disappeared to be replaced by hard angles.  Her deltoids and triceps leapt into sharp relief against her otherwise supple flesh.  “Unreal…” she breathed.
“Damn, girl,” came Nicole’s voice from the doorway, “I didn’t know you worked out…”  Nicole was standing in the doorway of the weight room holding a gym bag, her long, honey-blond hair tied up in a ponytail.  Nicole was shorter than Dicey- not really a surprise, since nearly everyone was- and had the kind of beauty that looked as if it was a gift from God but which required, Dicey knew, hours of work to maintain.  Flawless skin, sea-green eyes, and a round, pixie-like face with the most incredible dimples when she smiled or laughed.  Dicey had been deeply envious when she first met her, but Nicole’s depth of character, her capacity to genuinely care about other people so much more than herself, had soon won Dicey over.
“I actually haven’t worked out, really, in a long time,” Dicey explained, “but, after last night, I just sort of felt the need.”
“Well, hey, you want a partner?  I was only going to do a light workout today, but I can spot you, if you want.”
“Sure.  I’m actually lifting kind of heavy, but I wouldn’t mind the company.”
As Nicole went back to the locker room to change, Dicey went back to the bar to add more weight.  Deadlifts, next.  She figured that it wasn’t too unreasonable to double the weight on the bar, especially given how easily she had handled the other two exercises.
Nicole came back into the weight room just as Dicey finished locking on the end caps for the bar.  “That much?” she asked, wonderingly.
“Yeah, I think…” Dicey started, turning.  Nicole in her workout togs was simply breathtaking.  “Oh my…”  Nicole clearly spent quite a bit of time on her body- not building mass, but sculpting her form.  As Dicey looked her up and down, she noted the shapely calves, the tight, toned thighs, and the flat stomach.  Nicole’s physique wasn’t hard and angular, but rather smooth and firm.  That gentle curviness disguised muscles in her arms and legs that were rather larger than average on a girl her size.  Dicey knew that Nicole had done some modeling early in her college career, before meeting Drifter.  Evidently she hadn’t given up on her workout when she gave up on that career.
Noticing Dicey’s obvious interest, Nicole blushed slightly.  “Well, okay, if you think you can handle it, but be careful.  Don’t hurt yourself trying to impress me, or something.”
“Yes, coach,” Dicey smirked, then smoothly lifted the weight clean off the ground to mid-thigh.  After holding it for a second, she squatted back down and set the weight on the ground.  Nicole was about to step in when Dicey lifted it again.  And again.  After about six reps, she was just starting to feel a tingle in her quads.  After eight, the muscles were actually starting to feel warm, but not intensely so.  Dicey seemed to remember that her workouts in school really made her muscles burn, like hot coals inserted under her skin.  This was nowhere near that intense.  She continued for two more, then racked the weight.
“Okay,” Nicole murmured, “that’s impressive.”  She reached over and placed a hand on Dicey’s outer thigh.  That sudden touch startled Dicey much more than she would have expected.  It wasn’t unwelcome- far from it- but it was a complete surprise.  She gasped, amazed at how deeply pleasurable the sensation was.  Suddenly, the hand was gone.
“I’m sorry,” Nicole gasped.  Dicey had virtually turned to a statue when she touched her, her quads huge and unbelievably solid.  Nicole had seen Dicey nearly naked before, in changing rooms when they were getting ready for a show, and she had thought she was sexy as hell, but she had never realized just how muscular she was.  That leg completely filled the leg of the sweatpants she was wearing.  There simply wasn’t room for further expansion.
“No, s’okay,” Dicey managed.  “Feels good…”  She hadn’t realized just how horny she was until now, and suddenly it didn’t matter that Nicole was a woman, or even that Nicole and Drifter were dating, and they were both her friends.  She took a step towards Nicole, but Nicole quickly backed up a step.
“Uh-uh, girlfriend,” Nicole said, arching an eyebrow.  She had never realized that Dicey harbored any lesbian tendencies at all.  Whatever had happened last night must have been intense.  “You’re not going to do something that we’d both regret, later.”
Dicey gathered herself for a moment, panting slightly.  She closed her eyes briefly, and when she opened them, she seemed to be back in control of herself.  “Right.  I have one more exercise to do in this circuit, then I think I’m gonna go for an ice-cold shower.”  She bent down and picked up the bar again, not stopping to change discs on the bar, then smoothly brought it up to her shoulders.  As she lifted, she felt her sports bra get suddenly tighter as her traps expanded into huge wedges connecting her already large shoulders to her thick neck.  Without stopping, she quickly knocked out nine more reps with perfect form, than racked the weight.  She was sweating, now, but it wasn’t from the workout.
Nicole watched her silently, than reached over again, her fingers feather-light against Dicey’s hard flesh.  This time, Dicey wasn’t surprised, and she didn’t freeze, but instead gently flexed her arms and shoulders under Nicole’s tender fingers.  Nicole reached behind Dicey’s head with her left hand and roughly pulled her face down to her own.  “You are so beautiful,” she murmured, then kissed her on her hard on the lips, holding her there for a couple of seconds before letting her go and sauntering off to start her own workout.

[stmercy2020]

Dammit, Jeremy, you keep interrupting my attempts to write my own fiction with the incredible stuff you write.  ;D  I've been a fan for as long as you've been posting at Paul Smith's eXtreme Strength site, and I was thrilled to see that you had started posting your stories here.

You keep writing 'em, I'll keep reading 'em.  Thanks!

[stmercy2020]

Thank you very much for your comments.  The only way I'm likely to improve is with feedback from readers.

I enjoyed how you started to paint the landscape of the characters.  Very well done.  The only thing I would suggest is take the time and elucidate their emotional state of mind too…  but that's a detail that may or may not be necessary depending on what you want to achieve in your story.

I've been pretty spare in directly stating characters' emotional states.  Too spare?

I'd add more atmosphere… pretend you're telling a blind man the story.  Don't be afraid to use colorful words too.  If you use Word, the Thesaurus feature is an amazing tool.  I often use that and http://thesaurus.reference.com to help use words that may not be well known, but reads effortlessly.  A good understanding of the words you use is so incredibly important in telling a satisfying story.  That's why good novels made into films often leave the viewer wanting more elements and details to the story.

This is a very good point.  I sometimes forget that not everyone is familiar with the atmosphere of, for example, downtown Detroit.  I'm a little concerned because my tendency years ago (when I actually studied creative writing) was to add far too much atmosphere at the expense of both realism and character development.  I will work on this for future updates.

Compel the reader… leave us breathless, and wanting more.  Motivate us, inspire us.  Although I’m not a female muscle expert (or claim to be one), I do know that a woman of power and grace IS inspiring… seeing a woman of magnificent strength and colossal muscles are what inspired artists and writers thousands of years ago.  Keep in mind that language and words can be used as powerful weapons of seduction.

I am also not an expert in female muscle- I'm a fan, but most of my expertise is limited to English (which I teach) and martial arts (which I also teach).  This means that I am working well outside of my areas of expertise, so any ideas you have to help me improve are greatly appreciated.  Believe it.

On that note, two further questions: Is the dialogue reasonably believable to you?  I've always hated writing dialogue, but it seems like such an essential part of any story in which the goal is "show, not tell"- i.e., any exposition really needs to be covered either by dialogue or by things that the characters could conceivably and believably perceive.

Second question: the internal thoughts that Dicey, Dasia, etc. have.  I have no difficulty with the men, but I want very much to write believable thought processes for the girls and women in the story as well.  For example, Dicey is, at this point a little frightened about what's happening to her.  She's old enough to recognize that the things she's done are not normally possible, even if you take into account adrenaline and excitement (and, I should point out, I've used very little metaphor or exagerration at this point…)  Dasia, as a fourteen-year-old, I figure to be pretty self-absorbed.  The world still rotates around her, and she's mostly concerned with how changes are likely to affect her, personally…

Be inspired, sweetie…  you are writing about something very special to all of us.  You’re on the right path.

And, on that note, I've nearly finished with a sequence that has Dicey starting to really experiment at the gym…  I hope y'all like it.  I'll be posting it sometime later this evening…

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