Post civil war era (but less serious) incest story needs an editor.

[DiscipleN]

I'm bumping this thread... looking for an editor for parts 2 and 3.

As the title says, I have a 25k story, split into three chapters. It's about a woman who begins a secret group for emotional support of mothers who are dominated by their sons. It's set in the post civil war era, in the deep south. Lots of stereotypes and silliness. So approach it with multiple salt grains.

I think it's a fun story, that has cliches, but is told in a fresh way. While the story occasionally hints as some underage activity. It never describes any of it. All the principle characters are adults or are youths who don't have sex. The domination aspect is seated squarely on the "reluctant" part of the spectrum. The mothers are reluctant submissives.

This is the first time I've sought an editor here. Let me know how I can best find the right person.


thanks,
DN

 

[_Lynn_]

This is the first time I've sought an editor here. Let me know how I can best find the right person.


thanks,
DN

Be sure to turn on Private Messages.

* To switch on your Private Messages, go to User CP (top left of this page), click on Edit Options (in the left hand column), and then tick Enable Private Messaging in the second box down. Make sure that the box titled Receive Private Messages only from Buddies and Moderators is NOT ticked. Finally, click Save Changes at the bottom of that page.

 

[DiscipleN]

Thanks! I enabled them. Had assumed they were the default.

 

[DiscipleN]

The first three paragraphs. The story uses high caste voices for low caste characters. It attempts to sound like a more literary person is telling the tale. It's a legendary tale.


I cannot blame my downfall on the lie I told, just as spring is not at fault for melting frozen rivers. I would have died, possibly killed myself, if my last son had been taken to avenge the Yankee villains who killed his father and brother. So I lied to the man who wore gray rags proudly. I lied to his brave recruits who had lied about their ages, to avenge their families. I told them my boy was twelve. He was sixteen at the time. Neighbors did not betray us. All had lost sons and husbands. It helped that Hortense's stature is slight, hardly taller than myself. When my boy eventually chose to grasp me, two years later, my diminutive build was as much at fault for casting me into mortal sin as was the lie.

Two years later, the Confederacy was enslaved. The black was freed, and carpet baggers cloyed their way into state offices, to intercept the funds of promised reconstruction. Liars lay with lies.

The farm my husband's grandfather had first sown, had become half sty. One strong boy and a strong but small mother could not till nor tend the acres needed to sustain our lives. Pigs grew fat and profitable. Hortense and I could plant beets and squashes and let pigs forage unkempt rows pocked with weeds they ate as readily as the crops. Winters were mild, and there was open country to herd the pigs to, while replanting took hold.

 

[DiscipleN]

I'm bumping this thread... looking for an editor for parts 2 and 3.