Hunter Woods
[email protected]
About the Author
Before I begin I just want to say that for us authors who post these stories at no cost to our readers it is extremely important we hear back from you. I for one respond to all emails sent my way, and it is the only form of payment I receive. Please feel free to comment on any of my stories, chapters, or anything else so long as it is civil and not condescending. Constructive criticism is fine and we all have our differences in the way we view things so I always take things with a grain of salt, but I will not tolerate any rudeness. Often what may appear as something not quiet right may have been done on purpose for the sake of the story. Again, please do provide feedback because it is always appreciated and as authors we enjoy the contact with our readers.
****************************************************************
I was born into a military life so to speak; in other words, a military brat with a father who served thirty years active duty in the Marines and Air Force. When he retired he put in another 15 years civil service with the Army Ranger Battalion. My dad often chuckles and said he drew the line at the Navy because he didn’t care to be stuck in the middle of the ocean in an oversized tin-can. At any rate, growing up I found myself being bounced around from place to place every three or four years living in various regions all over the world. No matter where we moved my mom always made sure my brother and I got to know the culture and the people. It is strange what a person gets used to because many people say they could never travel and move from place to place, but I couldn’t imagine anything greater as a child.
Sometimes I shake my head completely bewildered when I come across people who have lived all their lives in one place and haven’t even traveled outside of their own state or even local vicinity. For me it is something I find would be boring, but again it simply is what one person or another has become accustomed to in their lives.
Growing up and living in different places around the world has sort of given me a different kind of perspective and experience. It wasn’t simply just the country my father was stationed in, but also the other countries and places all around in the area. We loved to travel and camp out as we explored what other countries had to offer. When you are a small boy camping is a blast. Even as a teenager I did plenty of camping and roughing it out in the wilderness, backpacking for weeks at a time with no one else around, but these days when I travel I tend to love my creature comforts so am more apt to do it in condos making me wonder how my parents managed; especially, with two boys attached to their hips creating a fuss one minute while being overly exuberant another moment.
However it is done these days, the traveling and exploring has remained a constant in my life because I enjoy seeing, doing, and meeting people. I suppose this is something I inherited from my mother. She was a true people person and everyone who met her immediately fell in love with her personality. She was never afraid to approach anyone and ask them about something if she became curious. I am glad I managed to inherit part of her outgoing nature.
My dad is a bit more serious about things, but is a wonderful father still to this day. He’s the type of dad anyone would want to have; devoted deeply to his family, and even though a bit on the serious side still has a whimsical nature and personality. I’m sure there were plenty of times though where my mom and I simply drove him nuts because of our more outgoing nature. Still, I tend to find I have some of those more serious qualities about myself as well, which allows me to become very focused on tasks when I need to.
Growing up and traveling the world is something I will always treasure. It is an experience which will benefit me my entire life and something I wouldn’t trade for the world. Although, I have to admit sometimes it can bite, almost literally. I mean living on a tropical island for two and a half years where it is like in the seventies and eighties all year round, and then to get transferred and plunked down in January in the state of Illinois during a winter storm with a biting windshield factor, now that isn’t any fun whatsoever. I mean, I was a frozen Popsicle for like six months and only managed to thaw out about halfway through Illinois balmy and sweltering summer, at which point I promptly began to wilt. On the islands there was always a nice fresh breeze, in Illinois the heat was stifling and just plain yucky.
Mom didn’t like getting plunked down in the middle of wintertime either, and the look she gave my dad at the timing was classic. If Illinois was cold in January, the frostiness of her gaze that she flashed towards my dad was like the North Pole, thirty below freezing. By this time he had more choices and could have extended his tour a bit longer before getting transferred, but such is life for a military family. You knuckle down and adjust to your new life.
I mean even the little military hop over to Korea to pick up warm clothing before getting transferred to Illinois didn’t do any good. It was simply freezing and I couldn’t stop shaking no matter how many layers of clothing I heaped over my body. Although, I do have to admit the trip to Korea was interesting in and of itself. I mean it began at take-off with us strapped into netted parachute seats and the crew handing us wax to put into our ears because of the noise at take-off. Well to say I nearly wet my pants, not to mention spewing other bodily fluids, when we took off would be an understatement. I mean I was only like eleven, just shy of my twelfth birthday and no one deemed it necessary to warn me that the runway where the B-52 bombers took off were technically too short. So the planes literally got enough speed at take-off when the planes plunged off the edge of the cliff with the ocean below rapidly approaching as they descended.
Well, no roller coaster ride ever made my senses reel with the roar of the engines as they struggled or made my stomach lurch and threaten to spew its contents like at take-off on the B-52 bomber. The drop and subsequent lurch and climb was scary enough, but sitting over the wings looking through a small port hole literally had me panicked. I never knew wings were so damn flexible. I thought for sure they would tear apart. One moment they angled slightly like you see them when on the runway, then they suddenly lurch upwards at the eleven o’clock and one o’clock position when we dropped off the edge of the cliff. Then once the plane had enough air speed the pilots yanked on the yoke and pulled for all they were worth climbing out of their decent. Well now suddenly the wings were like at the five o’clock and seven o’clock position and my stomach doing flip-flops with me panicking to no end. Hell, no one told me about this and my older brother was laughing his ass off at my expense.
I did manage to keep my lunch down and not create any mess in my pants; although, it had been really close to me loosing it on all fronts. I mean not only my mouth, but down below on my front end and rear end. I’ve never heard of anyone loosing it in all three openings, but I sure almost had.
Korea was an interesting place and we arrived during some holiday or other and I loved their colorful clothing and all the dancing and carrying on, what a wonderful experience; except for the fact having lived on a tropical island for two and a half years with at least two years of it actually swimming in the ocean or lounging around on white sandy beaches making my hair bleach blonde. In Korea a young boy with blonde hair was good luck and everyone was constantly rubbing my hair. Frustrating to no end may I add.
If this wasn’t bad enough my folks decided it would be a neat thing to go out and see the 38th parallel, the Military Demarcation Line separating North and South Korea, so off we went in a taxi. Along the way we see all these huge billboards dotting the hills next to the roadway that were like four or five stories big. Well being the curious types wondering what these adds were all about my brother and I began to look at them a bit closely only to discover there were like these closed off openings and behind these huge billboards were fortified guns, big ones. Of course we pointed it out to my folks, which in turn got my dad another one of those cold shivering stares from my mom. When we got to the border, more security and guns, and to say my brother and I were intrigued, while my mom was not so much would be an understatement to say the least. In the end though I was glad I got to see what few others get to; especially, as a kid. So Korea was another one of many interesting little side adventures and country’s we got to visit during one of my father’s tours.
All throughout Europe, the states, small tropical Islands including Saipan, Hawaii and Okinawa not to mention Korea were all part of growing up for me. As a child I got to see more than people in an entire lifetime, and I relished every moment of it. The people and different cultures still intrigue me to this day.
Now as an adult this adventuresome spirit hasn’t wavered. Over time some of my interests and hobbies have shifted as they do for most people. Writing is one such thing and as a hobby isn’t something I set out to do, but rather something which sort of happened by chance. It all began when I was doing a lot of reading on other sites involving boys’ coming of age stories which involved them also becoming sexually active with one another. This sort of interaction between boys didn’t upset me, but rather the lack of depth or plot to them. Other than a few gems here and there, most amounted to nothing more than simple jerk off stories.
The more I searched for those little gems, the more I found myself grumbling about the obvious shallowness of most stories I saw posted on some of these sites involving gay sexual coming of age tales involving boys. It came to a point where I actually had to step back for a moment and scold myself because here were people putting forth some time and effort to at least get something out there for people such as myself to read. The more I complained to myself about it the more conflicted I became because I felt it wasn't right for me to grumble and criticize others’ works since I've never put in an effort to produce a story of my own. It was then I decided to give writing a try to see what it is like.
I've never ever written a story before so Stormy Weather was my first attempt. I figured I'd sit down and write one story so I could at least have the right to grumble. To my surprise I literally banged out my very first story in about two weeks and posted it in October of 2012. I had no clue what I was doing or how to even go about writing a story, but once I sat down the words leaped from my thoughts, through my fingers, and onto the pages. Looking back I can see the roughness of my story since I had no clue about continuity, flow, editing, and many other things. I simply sat and wrote making sure to at least have some sort of plot and depth to my characters.
To my surprise the response was overwhelming and I found other people out there who felt the same way and thanking me for at least adding a bit of meat and potatoes to a story. They begged me for more and thinking Stormy Weather was a fluke I shrugged my shoulders and figured I'd give it another try. Thus Sweet Cheeks was born not long afterwards and I was swamped in emails thanking me once more. It was then I began to focus on writing as a hobby. At first it was fast and furious before I began to slow down a little, trying to pace myself. An obvious style to my writing began to develop the more I wrote. I found myself trying out different things with each story. They were similar in nature, but each story was different. As I wrote I began to figure out techniques along the way which helped improve my skills. Most of it had to do with a lot of prep work before sitting down and actually writing a story. These days I find myself researching aspects to a story such as creating profiles for my characters, different types of sports, illnesses, activities, and looking into the region where the stories take place so I can get things right such as the weather, buildings, and general geographic information. The more I did prep work on my stories the more in-depth they became creating an aspect of realism to them.
With each new story my style became more refined and I found it was exhausting with a lot of time and effort put into each one. It was draining because I literally immersed myself into my characters' shoes feeling the emotions they experienced. At first I banged them out devoting a lot of time and energy in a short period of time. These days I write with a bit more purpose so it is slow and steady trying try to pace myself so I won’t burn out.
It isn’t just the prep-work and then writing out the stories, but also the amount of time I spend in editing my works. Many have offered to help with the editing process and I even tried it, but the problem in this regard is my stories tend to have a lot of secrets, twists, and turns to them along with the roller-coaster rides of emotions as I provide little subtle nudges along the way. This ended up creating more work for me when editors began trying to adjust some of these intricate details during the editing process. Often these little things seem inconsequential and maybe a bit out of place, but later on in my story it all begins to snap together like one of those jigsaw puzzles. Some crumbs along the way don’t amount to anything, only there to help support the story or perhaps even mislead things, while others are very important and innocuous at the time of writing.
The editors simply couldn’t make heads or tails with some of these things and it created such a headache for me because I had to make sure I didn’t accidentally remove something as well due to suggestions from the editors. So it became more work for me having to go through these suggestions with a fine tooth comb editing the editors, than me simply doing my own editing. Of course I’m no great editor and make plenty of mistakes, but I catch enough and I am able to clean up my stories to the point where they are perfectly fine for the purposes of how I am posting them.
I’ve been criticized and told I am doing my readers a disservice by not having an editor, but hey, I am not being paid for these stories and they do not have to be at such a level for professional publishing. If I were getting paid and did this for a living I’d have a hundred editors cleaning up my mess having them first read the entire story before even beginning to edit so they can understand the nuances put in place and how these subtle hints make sense in the earlier parts of my stories. This isn’t the case, so I do my own work from start to finish. It takes more time and effort, but when all is said and done I am the only one to blame from start to finish how my stories come across to my readers.
Again, there are plenty of little grammatical mistakes in my stories and some point them out to me. I take it all with a grain of salt, knowing full well they are there. Most of the time I leave them posted as is because it isn’t enough of a distraction, but other mistakes I will go in and correct because they are big enough to warrant it with things such as getting a name wrong, day or date out of place, or some inconsistency with what was told before being completely out of form with what I have in the story now. These indeed are worthy of correction while with some of the little things not so much. The mistakes are there even though I do go and edit all of my chapters at least twice after writing out my story. So for me there is enough time spent on editing because each chapter and each edit usually takes me between 4-6 hours, which means a total of at least 8-12 hours of editing per chapter. Editing is work and it requires focus so I devote the time to catch some of these mistakes and to make the chapters flow smoothly.
Another issue I have is I’m dyslexic, and my form of dyslexia makes it difficult to distinguish certain words which are similar in spelling. Words such as couch vs. coach, two vs. too vs. to, their vs. there, were vs. where, waist vs. waste, discrete vs. discreet, etc…etc…; they all create issues for me because even though I know the difference and know how they are used in writing I simply do not see the spelling due to my form of dyslexia. As I read my mind simply doesn’t “see” the mistake. Over time I’ve noticed myself getting better at spotting these sorts of errors because I have to focus on it during the editing process and be conscious about it. They do slip through the cracks though and sometimes I will go in and correct them when pointed out while at other times I leave it as is. I suppose it just simply depends.
So these days I find myself drawn to writing as a hobby and trying to balance it out with maintaining a normal social life. At times it becomes overwhelming with trying to keep up with writing, but I do find joy in it so long as I am able to maintain the balance between my social life and other hobbies versus writing. Sometimes they conflict so I have to take a step back, but I have to admit I am enjoying this new hobby and the happiness my writing brings to readers who are searching for the same thing I was in these boys coming of age stories.
Before I begin I just want to say that for us authors who post these stories at no cost to our readers it is extremely important we hear back from you. I for one respond to all emails sent my way, and it is the only form of payment I receive. Please feel free to comment on any of my stories, chapters, or anything else so long as it is civil and not condescending. Constructive criticism is fine and we all have our differences in the way we view things so I always take things with a grain of salt, but I will not tolerate any rudeness. Often what may appear as something not quiet right may have been done on purpose for the sake of the story. Again, please do provide feedback because it is always appreciated and as authors we enjoy the contact with our readers.
****************************************************************
I was born into a military life so to speak; in other words, a military brat with a father who served thirty years active duty in the Marines and Air Force. When he retired he put in another 15 years civil service with the Army Ranger Battalion. My dad often chuckles and said he drew the line at the Navy because he didn’t care to be stuck in the middle of the ocean in an oversized tin-can. At any rate, growing up I found myself being bounced around from place to place every three or four years living in various regions all over the world. No matter where we moved my mom always made sure my brother and I got to know the culture and the people. It is strange what a person gets used to because many people say they could never travel and move from place to place, but I couldn’t imagine anything greater as a child.
Sometimes I shake my head completely bewildered when I come across people who have lived all their lives in one place and haven’t even traveled outside of their own state or even local vicinity. For me it is something I find would be boring, but again it simply is what one person or another has become accustomed to in their lives.
Growing up and living in different places around the world has sort of given me a different kind of perspective and experience. It wasn’t simply just the country my father was stationed in, but also the other countries and places all around in the area. We loved to travel and camp out as we explored what other countries had to offer. When you are a small boy camping is a blast. Even as a teenager I did plenty of camping and roughing it out in the wilderness, backpacking for weeks at a time with no one else around, but these days when I travel I tend to love my creature comforts so am more apt to do it in condos making me wonder how my parents managed; especially, with two boys attached to their hips creating a fuss one minute while being overly exuberant another moment.
However it is done these days, the traveling and exploring has remained a constant in my life because I enjoy seeing, doing, and meeting people. I suppose this is something I inherited from my mother. She was a true people person and everyone who met her immediately fell in love with her personality. She was never afraid to approach anyone and ask them about something if she became curious. I am glad I managed to inherit part of her outgoing nature.
My dad is a bit more serious about things, but is a wonderful father still to this day. He’s the type of dad anyone would want to have; devoted deeply to his family, and even though a bit on the serious side still has a whimsical nature and personality. I’m sure there were plenty of times though where my mom and I simply drove him nuts because of our more outgoing nature. Still, I tend to find I have some of those more serious qualities about myself as well, which allows me to become very focused on tasks when I need to.
Growing up and traveling the world is something I will always treasure. It is an experience which will benefit me my entire life and something I wouldn’t trade for the world. Although, I have to admit sometimes it can bite, almost literally. I mean living on a tropical island for two and a half years where it is like in the seventies and eighties all year round, and then to get transferred and plunked down in January in the state of Illinois during a winter storm with a biting windshield factor, now that isn’t any fun whatsoever. I mean, I was a frozen Popsicle for like six months and only managed to thaw out about halfway through Illinois balmy and sweltering summer, at which point I promptly began to wilt. On the islands there was always a nice fresh breeze, in Illinois the heat was stifling and just plain yucky.
Mom didn’t like getting plunked down in the middle of wintertime either, and the look she gave my dad at the timing was classic. If Illinois was cold in January, the frostiness of her gaze that she flashed towards my dad was like the North Pole, thirty below freezing. By this time he had more choices and could have extended his tour a bit longer before getting transferred, but such is life for a military family. You knuckle down and adjust to your new life.
I mean even the little military hop over to Korea to pick up warm clothing before getting transferred to Illinois didn’t do any good. It was simply freezing and I couldn’t stop shaking no matter how many layers of clothing I heaped over my body. Although, I do have to admit the trip to Korea was interesting in and of itself. I mean it began at take-off with us strapped into netted parachute seats and the crew handing us wax to put into our ears because of the noise at take-off. Well to say I nearly wet my pants, not to mention spewing other bodily fluids, when we took off would be an understatement. I mean I was only like eleven, just shy of my twelfth birthday and no one deemed it necessary to warn me that the runway where the B-52 bombers took off were technically too short. So the planes literally got enough speed at take-off when the planes plunged off the edge of the cliff with the ocean below rapidly approaching as they descended.
Well, no roller coaster ride ever made my senses reel with the roar of the engines as they struggled or made my stomach lurch and threaten to spew its contents like at take-off on the B-52 bomber. The drop and subsequent lurch and climb was scary enough, but sitting over the wings looking through a small port hole literally had me panicked. I never knew wings were so damn flexible. I thought for sure they would tear apart. One moment they angled slightly like you see them when on the runway, then they suddenly lurch upwards at the eleven o’clock and one o’clock position when we dropped off the edge of the cliff. Then once the plane had enough air speed the pilots yanked on the yoke and pulled for all they were worth climbing out of their decent. Well now suddenly the wings were like at the five o’clock and seven o’clock position and my stomach doing flip-flops with me panicking to no end. Hell, no one told me about this and my older brother was laughing his ass off at my expense.
I did manage to keep my lunch down and not create any mess in my pants; although, it had been really close to me loosing it on all fronts. I mean not only my mouth, but down below on my front end and rear end. I’ve never heard of anyone loosing it in all three openings, but I sure almost had.
Korea was an interesting place and we arrived during some holiday or other and I loved their colorful clothing and all the dancing and carrying on, what a wonderful experience; except for the fact having lived on a tropical island for two and a half years with at least two years of it actually swimming in the ocean or lounging around on white sandy beaches making my hair bleach blonde. In Korea a young boy with blonde hair was good luck and everyone was constantly rubbing my hair. Frustrating to no end may I add.
If this wasn’t bad enough my folks decided it would be a neat thing to go out and see the 38th parallel, the Military Demarcation Line separating North and South Korea, so off we went in a taxi. Along the way we see all these huge billboards dotting the hills next to the roadway that were like four or five stories big. Well being the curious types wondering what these adds were all about my brother and I began to look at them a bit closely only to discover there were like these closed off openings and behind these huge billboards were fortified guns, big ones. Of course we pointed it out to my folks, which in turn got my dad another one of those cold shivering stares from my mom. When we got to the border, more security and guns, and to say my brother and I were intrigued, while my mom was not so much would be an understatement to say the least. In the end though I was glad I got to see what few others get to; especially, as a kid. So Korea was another one of many interesting little side adventures and country’s we got to visit during one of my father’s tours.
All throughout Europe, the states, small tropical Islands including Saipan, Hawaii and Okinawa not to mention Korea were all part of growing up for me. As a child I got to see more than people in an entire lifetime, and I relished every moment of it. The people and different cultures still intrigue me to this day.
Now as an adult this adventuresome spirit hasn’t wavered. Over time some of my interests and hobbies have shifted as they do for most people. Writing is one such thing and as a hobby isn’t something I set out to do, but rather something which sort of happened by chance. It all began when I was doing a lot of reading on other sites involving boys’ coming of age stories which involved them also becoming sexually active with one another. This sort of interaction between boys didn’t upset me, but rather the lack of depth or plot to them. Other than a few gems here and there, most amounted to nothing more than simple jerk off stories.
The more I searched for those little gems, the more I found myself grumbling about the obvious shallowness of most stories I saw posted on some of these sites involving gay sexual coming of age tales involving boys. It came to a point where I actually had to step back for a moment and scold myself because here were people putting forth some time and effort to at least get something out there for people such as myself to read. The more I complained to myself about it the more conflicted I became because I felt it wasn't right for me to grumble and criticize others’ works since I've never put in an effort to produce a story of my own. It was then I decided to give writing a try to see what it is like.
I've never ever written a story before so Stormy Weather was my first attempt. I figured I'd sit down and write one story so I could at least have the right to grumble. To my surprise I literally banged out my very first story in about two weeks and posted it in October of 2012. I had no clue what I was doing or how to even go about writing a story, but once I sat down the words leaped from my thoughts, through my fingers, and onto the pages. Looking back I can see the roughness of my story since I had no clue about continuity, flow, editing, and many other things. I simply sat and wrote making sure to at least have some sort of plot and depth to my characters.
To my surprise the response was overwhelming and I found other people out there who felt the same way and thanking me for at least adding a bit of meat and potatoes to a story. They begged me for more and thinking Stormy Weather was a fluke I shrugged my shoulders and figured I'd give it another try. Thus Sweet Cheeks was born not long afterwards and I was swamped in emails thanking me once more. It was then I began to focus on writing as a hobby. At first it was fast and furious before I began to slow down a little, trying to pace myself. An obvious style to my writing began to develop the more I wrote. I found myself trying out different things with each story. They were similar in nature, but each story was different. As I wrote I began to figure out techniques along the way which helped improve my skills. Most of it had to do with a lot of prep work before sitting down and actually writing a story. These days I find myself researching aspects to a story such as creating profiles for my characters, different types of sports, illnesses, activities, and looking into the region where the stories take place so I can get things right such as the weather, buildings, and general geographic information. The more I did prep work on my stories the more in-depth they became creating an aspect of realism to them.
With each new story my style became more refined and I found it was exhausting with a lot of time and effort put into each one. It was draining because I literally immersed myself into my characters' shoes feeling the emotions they experienced. At first I banged them out devoting a lot of time and energy in a short period of time. These days I write with a bit more purpose so it is slow and steady trying try to pace myself so I won’t burn out.
It isn’t just the prep-work and then writing out the stories, but also the amount of time I spend in editing my works. Many have offered to help with the editing process and I even tried it, but the problem in this regard is my stories tend to have a lot of secrets, twists, and turns to them along with the roller-coaster rides of emotions as I provide little subtle nudges along the way. This ended up creating more work for me when editors began trying to adjust some of these intricate details during the editing process. Often these little things seem inconsequential and maybe a bit out of place, but later on in my story it all begins to snap together like one of those jigsaw puzzles. Some crumbs along the way don’t amount to anything, only there to help support the story or perhaps even mislead things, while others are very important and innocuous at the time of writing.
The editors simply couldn’t make heads or tails with some of these things and it created such a headache for me because I had to make sure I didn’t accidentally remove something as well due to suggestions from the editors. So it became more work for me having to go through these suggestions with a fine tooth comb editing the editors, than me simply doing my own editing. Of course I’m no great editor and make plenty of mistakes, but I catch enough and I am able to clean up my stories to the point where they are perfectly fine for the purposes of how I am posting them.
I’ve been criticized and told I am doing my readers a disservice by not having an editor, but hey, I am not being paid for these stories and they do not have to be at such a level for professional publishing. If I were getting paid and did this for a living I’d have a hundred editors cleaning up my mess having them first read the entire story before even beginning to edit so they can understand the nuances put in place and how these subtle hints make sense in the earlier parts of my stories. This isn’t the case, so I do my own work from start to finish. It takes more time and effort, but when all is said and done I am the only one to blame from start to finish how my stories come across to my readers.
Again, there are plenty of little grammatical mistakes in my stories and some point them out to me. I take it all with a grain of salt, knowing full well they are there. Most of the time I leave them posted as is because it isn’t enough of a distraction, but other mistakes I will go in and correct because they are big enough to warrant it with things such as getting a name wrong, day or date out of place, or some inconsistency with what was told before being completely out of form with what I have in the story now. These indeed are worthy of correction while with some of the little things not so much. The mistakes are there even though I do go and edit all of my chapters at least twice after writing out my story. So for me there is enough time spent on editing because each chapter and each edit usually takes me between 4-6 hours, which means a total of at least 8-12 hours of editing per chapter. Editing is work and it requires focus so I devote the time to catch some of these mistakes and to make the chapters flow smoothly.
Another issue I have is I’m dyslexic, and my form of dyslexia makes it difficult to distinguish certain words which are similar in spelling. Words such as couch vs. coach, two vs. too vs. to, their vs. there, were vs. where, waist vs. waste, discrete vs. discreet, etc…etc…; they all create issues for me because even though I know the difference and know how they are used in writing I simply do not see the spelling due to my form of dyslexia. As I read my mind simply doesn’t “see” the mistake. Over time I’ve noticed myself getting better at spotting these sorts of errors because I have to focus on it during the editing process and be conscious about it. They do slip through the cracks though and sometimes I will go in and correct them when pointed out while at other times I leave it as is. I suppose it just simply depends.
So these days I find myself drawn to writing as a hobby and trying to balance it out with maintaining a normal social life. At times it becomes overwhelming with trying to keep up with writing, but I do find joy in it so long as I am able to maintain the balance between my social life and other hobbies versus writing. Sometimes they conflict so I have to take a step back, but I have to admit I am enjoying this new hobby and the happiness my writing brings to readers who are searching for the same thing I was in these boys coming of age stories.