Thursday means Story time!

I have been on this diet plan for the last year or so and I lost 83 pounds already. Everyone tells me I look great and I look like I've lost a whole person.

The truth is, the compliments bring me down more than being heavy ever did. It just makes me feel like everyone thought I was repulsive before because my dress size was bigger than my age. I wasn't repulsive before - I was fat. There's a big difference.

My face still looks the same, just as gorgeous as it always was. My hair is still long and shiny and straight, and my personality hasn't changed like many expected it would. I looked good before I dropped the weight.

The only reason I've been on the diet is because it's unhealthy to carry around all those extra pounds. I want to live a fulfilling life, and I know I need to maintain a healthy weight and lifestyle to do that.

Thursday Story

A few years ago someone thought it would be funny to go around stealing windshield wipers off people's cars in my area. I was one of the victims.

The problem with a prank like that is that nobody notices windshield wipers, or the lack thereof, until they turn them on.

I turned mine on in the morning one day to get the condensation off my windshield and noticed there were no blades, just the arms, running against my windshield.

Luckily, I was able to get mine fixed before the rain began. But others weren't so lucky. At least four people had gotten into accidents, one seriously injured, because of their missing wipers.

I found out later who stole the wipers off people's cars, but I can't turn him in. He's a family member. I secretly hope someone else finds out and he gets caught and goes to jail, because that was a f***ed up thing to do.

sotry!

Nothing really makes me happy. I have a great life, great spouse, great kids, great house, great cars, soso job, but good $$.

I have been diagnosed with everything under the sun. (I have been in counseling for years and years, and see lots of folks for this.) I can feel the depression pulling me in. One of my children is studying abroad, and it is killing me! I haven't seen him/her in 3 months, and I still have 2 months to go!

I hate change. Can't things stay the way they were? Why must every day be so new and different?

Also, I'm afraid that I'm crazy. Not just "I'm having a bad day" crazy. It's more like "Girl Interrupted" crazy, or "One flew over the cuckoo's nest" crazy.

One thing that has been especially troubling to me - do we as humans waste too much time? What do people do when they can't be seen by their neighbors?

The big fear being, of course, is that I've become my mother.

story time!

I'm going to be honest here, which is weird for me. You see, I lie. I am a liar. I believe lying is an art form, and it's what keeps my life going. I manipulate people and situations with words. There hasn't been a single day in recent years where I haven't impressed myself with a crafty lie that I pull out of nowhere.

I'm a fifteen-year-old girl, a sophomore in high school. I am surrounded by pressures and small situations that I don't necessarily have a problem lying in.

Friends are impressed by my skills, when they see me pull them out of sticky situations. However, if you ask them if I lie they won't realize it; it mostly goes unaccredited. My family has absolutely no idea, and I lie to them all the time. My parents would be horrified if they knew; they would be offended. Surely all that church hasn't gone to waste on me!

I don't cheat. I hate cheaters, and those who don't appreciate hard work that goes into NOT cheating. I don't copy other people's work. I also don't drink or smoke, while all my straight-A-student-friends do. They cheat and smoke and drink. They are cheats; I'm just a liar.

I don't do stuff like that. I just lie. I'm really not a bad person, or I try not to be. I don't hate and I try my hardest not to curse. I haven't had sex and I haven't let guys take advantage of me. I don't get horrible grades, and I don't skip class. I don't hurt anyone, and I do feel guilty when my lies cause chaos or somehow end up making someone a victim, which let me clarify, is RARE.

I never make up things for the heck of it, and I don't plan on lying. I empathize with my friends and listen to their self centered problems. I've helped tons of friends with cutting and one with anorexia. I want to make a positive change in the world one day. So you see, although I'm a liar, I'm not a bad person. I really am not.

You've just become a victim of my lies and manipulation. I just convinced you I was a liar who wasn't all that bad. That in itself is a lie. Everyone knows lying is wrong.

But if you catch me in a great lie, pat me on the back for being so crafty. I'd appreciate it. Keep in mind that I, though I am not a compulsive liar, don't LIKE lying per se.

And because it's so tempting, let me just tell you that this could ALL be a lie; you'll really NEVER know.

Thank you

We just wanted to thank all the people who have recently submitted stories. We are looking forward to the book publishing hopefully by the middle of next year. So please continue to send in your secret stories to dsoalbook@gmail.com. And tell your friends and family to do the same.

Story # 16

I’m a compulsive shopper, and I’m in way more debt than my husband knows. His name is on a few accounts, so he’s got the debt too.

Ever since I was a teenager I’ve bought things on a whim. It’s not just clothes. It’s everything from books to movies to electronics to shoes and purses to lingerie and everything in between. If I see it and like it, it’s mine.

I have used credit cards to pay off other credit cards. I have transferred funds from our savings to my checking account so I could cover what I had already spent on a pretty new watch.

I take care of all the bills, so my husband has no idea we’re in about $30,000 of credit card debt. If I told him, I’m sure he’d flip out on me and probably leave me. I know it’s a problem, and I still purchase everything I want.

New Story!

I’m an accomplished songwriter, and nobody in my family knows it. They all think that I work my office job and get bonuses for good work, which is true. But, in my free time I do what I’ve always wanted to do, write.

I’ve gotten three songs copyrighted in the last year and one of them sold three weeks ago. I also started writing a book based on a true story this year. It’s going to be a novel about a woman who has the worst 3 months of her life.

Nobody knows I’ve started that or that I have full intentions of getting it published. Of course I’d use a pen name so they think it’s a coincidence, but I’d never admit I wrote it if someone asked.

I absolutely love to be creative, but I just can’t share my work with anyone. I feel so vulnerable showing my work to someone for criticism. It’s easier to just pass it off to someone unknown to publish it or copyright it than to have a family member see it or even compliment me.

Another story!

I have multiple accounts on Myspace for no reason other than to mess with people. It's so easy to make them believe you are someone completely other than yourself.

I am a young female, but I made an account for me to role-play a gay male. I use that one the most. I am really from the East coast, but on this particular account I say I am from Indiana. I talk to the horniest guys ever about three or four times a day and really horny women slighltly less often. They have no idea that I'm not the least bit interested in any of them, or that I'm not even a male.

On another account, I am a sleazy middle-aged woman from the West coast. I constantly chat with guys about anything and everything sexual that you could think of. I send out pictures of women I've never even met to the men I talk to.

And on another account I act as a 16-year-old girl who's bi-curious. I act as though I'm a virgin who's deciding whether or not I'm ready to get sexual with a guy or girl for the first time. I am from the South and very religious.

Update on the project

We are happy to announce that we have a publisher for the book, so what we really need now is more stories. Please tell everyone you know about this site so that we can fill the pages with new interesting stories. We will still publish some of those that have been on the site, but we also want to include different stories that have not been posted online. Share the link to the site (http://dsoal.blogspot.com) and we'll get it published as soon as we compile the best stories.

Another Story

I live in a very typical small town - the kind of town where everyone knows you and your business. I have a 12-year-old son and a husband. I am involved in the PTA and volunteer at the local Head Start.

If you were to ask anyone in this town where I work, they would be able to tell you. I work part time in the local dry cleaners. But, only a handful of people know what I actually do for a living.

I work as a phone sex operator and I really enjoy it! My husband is very supportive, and of course my son doesn't know. We have a home office, and this is where I take calls on the days that I do not work my "vanilla job". I also take calls in the evening once my son is in bed for the night.

I am not sure what would happen if my secret were to get out. But I am pretty sure I would go from "upstanding community helper" to "deviant". So, it stays a secret. Even my boss at the dry cleaners has no idea.

My phone sex job is profitable and fun. I can work in the privacy of my home, instead of commuting an hour each way to the "City". I can set my own schedule. And, since I work for a European company, I get to talk to lots of interesting people.

My only regret is that I did not discover this business sooner. I have only been a phone sex operator for a year. I can see myself continuing to do this until retirement age.

story 12

I sometimes feel there is more than one of me, either that or I don't know who I am. I have several characters, and I become each of them for extended periods of time. It sounds strange, but it’s been a way of life for me since I can remember. I've been diagnosed with a condition, which explains it, though my parents have no idea to what extent I do this.

My main characters at the moment are a kid growing up in a squat in a community centered on an underground music club. Odd as it is, something about that kind of life is fascinating for me. The other is based on the son of a man I admire endlessly, and I can't thank my friend enough for introducing me to him and his music.

I've found the only way to concentrate in school is to become one of these characters, and to invent a scenario where it is important that they focus. It seems to work, since I've recently passed my exams! I realize my behavior isn't normal, and I really hope I grow out of it. But for the moment, thank you to my characters for helping me with every aspect of my life.

story 11

At the age of fourteen, I met a guy. I didn't think the friendship would turn into anything more than what it was. But, only two weeks into knowing him, I found myself obsessing. He was perfect. He was so good looking, just my type, and incredibly funny. He always made me laugh, and one day when I was having a panic attack, he sat with me and made me feel better.

He soon became my boyfriend and for a week, he was the nicest person in the world. He even bragged about me to his friends. But, then his true colors began to show. He would tease me constantly. I knew he was joking, but deep down it actually hurt me. If I got mad at him for something, somehow he would make me feel guilty. Yet, I found myself completely in love with him.

This wasn't puppy love; it was full blown love. He said he felt the same way. He told me before I told him, but deep down I think I didn't believe him.

He continued being mean to me, but I could never be mad. I gave him my virginity and one month later we broke up. I felt as if maybe he had been lying to me the whole time. He never loved me. He liked toying with me. He just wanted to get in my pants. I was so angry. Yet, I couldn't stop loving him. For months, I couldn't stop thinking about him. I was having panic attacks when I saw him and having to leave school early.

By the end of the year, we were friends again. This summer he seems as if he's changed. He seems mature. He says he still loves me. But, then he stops calling.
I hate that I love him. All I want is to find someone else, but I find myself only wanting him.

And I hate it.

Story 10!

The word 'Fangirl' can have many different meanings. You can simply say it means 'a fan who just happens to be a girl', or 'a completely obsessed girl/woman'. The latter is generally due to hormones or large doses of caffeine. I am a Fangirl.

See, when the movie Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl came out, I wasn't interested. “It's a boy movie.” I had said, with a wave of my hand. Several months after it's release on DVD, my friend insisted that I watch it with her. About halfway through, I insisted we turn it off. I just couldn't take it.

About two months later, I watched it again with the same friend, and I kept up a running commentary (“That was stupid.” etc.). While I thought it was a fine movie, I still wasn't really interested.

So, January of 2006 rolled around, and under strong protest, I was going to see Narnia with my Grandparents. So, there I was in the movie theater, munching popcorn and watching previews. I guess you can guess which preview came on. Yup, Pirates of the Caribbean: Dead Man's Chest. And I was captivated. Amazed. Wowed. Suddenly, a desire to watch the first movie came very strongly, and the minute I got home, I insisted on buying the DVD with one click on Amazon.

So it began, this hunger that I could never seem to satisfy, for Pirates of the Caribbean. Everybody at my church knew I was obsessed, and to this day, people still ask me: “How many times have you seen Pirates of the Caribbean, now?”

I downloaded every picture I could find. I Googled, and Googled, and Googled almost every hour. Oh, I guess I forgot to mention that before Pirates of the Caribbean, I was cradling a three-year obsession with Harry Potter. But, that all went down the toilet, and I've never looked back.

I bought a towel, two plastic wristbands, a puzzle of Jack, a blanket (more Jack), a T-shirt, a very embarrassing wallet that said 'I Love Jack', a pillowcase, and books. I printed out pictures and stuck them on my wall. I even got two very large posters, which I actually kissed once.

So, with the theatrical trailer of Dead Man's Chest released, that's just about all I did all day until July of '06. Everyday, I'd turn on the computer, and watch, and watch, and watch. I could recite the entire trailer. Actually, I hurt myself acting out the scenes along with the DVD (I fell off the couch on purpose). I could name every scene, and if somebody asked me about a certain part, I could tell him or her which scene name and number exactly.

I went to see Dead Man's Chest the day after it was released. Since I didn't want to look too obsessed, I wore my Matrix t-shirt. As for the movie, I was not disappointed. When my friends brought up the critics' reaction, I said, “Screw the critics!!!!” I know, very mature.

It was released on DVD December 5th. I went to Blockbuster and bought it and watched it every morning, sometimes more than once. My mother threatened to take away my laptop if I didn't stop watching. Then I started writing FanFiction. It was kind of short-lived, because at the time I was involved in a writing group with girls several years younger than myself. They hounded me the one time I wore my Pirates of the Caribbean shirt.

They had trivia questions for me, and they insisted that I name my favorite scenes. Finally, I told them Pirates of the Caribbean wasn't my favorite movie (what a hunk of a lie).

But, I really was loosing interest in Pirates of the Caribbean. Not the movies themselves, exactly, but the whole franchise.

In February of 2007, a year after I had officially announced my obsession, I just threw in the towel naturally. I still like watching the movies when I'm sad, because they're like comfort food, but I manage to stay detached.

Incidentally, I did see At World's End the day after it was released. I did enjoy it, and I do plan on buying the DVD the day it's released. Because, despite saying that I don't like him just because he's cute, Johnny Depp really is hot, and he is so worth the twenty bucks.

story 9

I feel like nobody ever wants to listen to me. It’s a problem. I never want to speak because I feel like it’s a waste of time. I mean my whole life it’s really been this way. I was never able to learn conversational skills.

I learned to save my breath and my emotions. It hurts a lot to know that what I say is not nearly important enough for anyone else to pay any attention to.

I talk the most to my sister when she’s around because she feels the same way. We listen to each other for hours at a time sometimes, because we have that much to say. I never have trouble holding a conversation with her.

My friends, however, are a different story. They change the subject as I’m in mid-sentence, or they turn away to look at something else or talk to someone else. I’ve told them about it and nothing has changed.

Even worse than that, my boyfriend just falls asleep as I am talking to him. He asks how my day was, and then I start telling him. The next thing I know, he’s snoring right next to me.

I’ve told him numerous times that it kills me when he doesn’t listen to me, and he has expressed his interest in changing his ways. He has disappointed me in that area.

I have heard somewhere that all people really want is someone to talk to. That’s close. I think that people want someone to listen to them, not just someone they can talk to. I can talk to my wall if I wanted, and that doesn’t really help. To have someone really listen to me is the best feeling.

Story Time

Faith has never been my forte. All through my life, I've been plagued with doubts and cynicism. I think too much; I know that.

What’s the reason for my depersonalization symptoms, my obsessive-compulsive disorder, clinical depression, and possibly even my obstinate agnosticism? I have trouble believing.

I've never believed in a God, nor have I ever not believed in one. I have trouble placing the bets in anything. Friends, family, doctors; they've all labeled it different things – a disorder, disturbed self-image, maybe even just my personality. But how wrong does it feel, knowing you cannot even staple down the simplest thing in your life? I cannot describe my personality, whether it is cheerful or sad, or social or lonely, or optimistic or pessimistic, or blue or red.

I've often envied other people for their so-ready faith. I used to pity them – ignorant fools; why couldn't they see there was no proof? I always wanted it, yet a part of me claimed it was better to have doubt.

A severe hypochondriac as a child, rather than go to the doctor's, I'd stay away –if I didn't go, if I didn't have the disease confirmed, it mightn't be there, might it? This doubt was all I clung to when things got wrong.

If I didn't believe in Heaven or Hell, I had no worries when I disrespected my mother or my father, or lied or cheated, beyond those that I would be punished in our very own realm.

Of all the aspects of my personality, I've hated this the most: my ability to analyze things, my inability to let go. I would consider it my biggest flaw, the most hidden aspect of me, apart from what the people around can observe from their points of view. And, strangely enough, of all my characteristics, it is the most prominent.

Why hide such a thing? In the simplest terms, it leaves me detached. I search through life like an old miner, pinning the tiniest things to my forehead, and wandering around for a mirror. I can't let go. I can't believe.
Faith has never been my forte.

Sample Story 07

Today was the first time in years that I can remember sitting down to eat dinner with my family at home. Before today, we only eat together as a family at restaurants on special occasions.

I never knew how much I missed eating with them as a family at our own dinner table in our own dining room with food we cooked together.

I know we’re all busy and all, but we don’t even try to get together anymore for dinner. We go our own separate ways to do whatever fits in our schedule.

I am beginning to think that what “fits in our schedule” is just the excuse we use for not trying and not caring enough to work at it.

We should eat dinner together at least once a week. I’m sure we can all set aside one day, the same day, to have a nice meal together. I can’t be the only one in the family who misses those dinners.

I just wish we would stop making excuses for why we can’t get together and actually just do it once in a while. I don’t want my family to be distant. I want it to be close-knit like it was when I was a kid and I had to ask to get up from the table. Those really were the days.

Sample Story 6

Sorry I missed Thursday's post, I had a lot of other stuff going on. But here is sample story 6, I hope you like it.


I have the urge to bite people when they sit next to me. Usually it's only when someone I know is sitting next to me, but sometimes it's when strangers sit next to me, too.

I don't know how to control it at all. What’s worse is I'm too embarrassed to tell anyone about it to get help. I don't know if there is any help that can be offered at this point.

I have not ever given in and bitten anyone yet, besides people I've dated. It takes a lot of self-control, though. The other day I was struggling not to bite this one man. He had on a tank top and it exposed his shoulders. They were tan shoulders. They were perfect for biting.

I don't discriminate, either. I desire men and women and people of all colors. This is nothing sexual, as far as I can tell. I just have this urge that I can't get rid of.

Sample Story 5

I am secretly jealous of moms. And not because I can't have kids or anything like that. I can, but I'm not ready to. I am jealous of women who are so free with their daughters that they can do anything in front of a crowd of people without a care in the world.

What’s that like?

I was at a park not far from where I live last Independence Day and I saw a woman dancing with her daughter while they were standing in line for the porta-potty. The woman was far from a good dancer, but she and her daughter kept at it, dancing the night away.

I will never forget the ear-to-ear smile on the woman’s face. She was in pure bliss doing nothing spectacular.

I sat there with my nephew in my arms, sitting on a blanket, wondering what that feels like to be that happy. I feel like I am a happy person, or at least a very content person. But I can’t remember ever having as good a time as that woman looked like she was having.

Just once I want to get on a dance floor and just dance with no inhibitions, no fear of what anyone else thinks of what I look like, and with a partner who’s having just as much fun doing the same.

Now, I say I’m jealous of moms because I’ve never seen a dad do what this woman, whom I secretly envy, was doing.

I have seen moms go all out in various ways to show their kids a good time and look like goofballs doing it. But it’s never just the kid enjoying the play. The mom usually has an even bigger smile than the kid she’s trying to please. I want that feeling just one time.

4th Sample Story

My father has a difficult personality. As I write, he has chosen to move 1900 miles across country to where he will live just blocks from my house.

My sister, who lives in another part of the country, calls my answering machine repeatedly. She laughs maniacally, and hangs up. These calls are sympathetic.

A Master's degree has not insulated my father against what I suspect to be early Alzheimer's. When the time comes and he needs to be institutionalized, I will shove him into the foulest nursing home I can find. There he can sit in soiled diapers, bite his feeding assistants, and scream vulgarities at people cleaning his bedsores.

Because neither my brother nor I will visit him; there will be no slow to his decline.

It's not like they could sue me for neglect.

Sample Story 03

I'm a very secretive girl. I'm very deceptive and get what I want. I have been hurt many times by guys in the past, but the truth of it all is one simple fact: I always win. There is never a time that a guy could lie to me and me not know about it. I may not have spoken up about it, but I kept it locked in my memory. Then, I stay with him to find out more information and get him to get himself into more trouble, and when the time is right to have the talk, I deceptively pretend it never bothered me.

Months later something goes wrong and he gets caught in some kid of lie. That's when I begin to bring it all up. But I lie about it. I lie about how I got my information, I lie about how I can't believe he would have done that to me, and I play a huge guilt trip on him. Eventually, he confesses. But not only does he confess, he gives me everything I want in return: he starts paying attention to me. And by paying attention, I mean he begins to want me back more than anything in the world, and will do anything for me to get me back...and I let him.

These months that go by with him showering me with attention are the greatest ones of our "relationship". You see, I get to watch this slimy man take every ounce of dignity he has left in himself to confess all of his mistakes and the guilt never leaves him. I sympathize with him and give him another chance. Then, I suddenly up and leave him, leaving him hurt and confused, which is exactly what he deserved. I know that months or years down the road, he will look back and say, "Wow, I can't believe I messed that up".

I win.

Second Sample Story

This secret I’m about to tell has been a major weight on my shoulders for a few months now and I just can’t wait to get this thing off my chest.

I’ve been having an affair.

I never wanted for this to happen. I am very much in love with my wife. I’ve been committed to her for all 15 years of our marriage and 3 years of dating before that.

Now, I don’t know what I was thinking.

It all started about three to four months ago. I felt sick so I didn’t go to work. I took the day off and my wife said she’d try to get home early to take care of me. I’m a pretty big baby when I get sick.

Anyway, I started to feel better as the afternoon rolled around. I called my wife and told her she didn’t need to come home early. An hour later I felt so much better that I noticed how sexy my housekeeper could be for the first time. It was something in the way she bent over to dust the coffee table right in front of me.

After that, when I had sex with my wife, I fantasized that I was doing it with my housekeeper.

It got to be too much for me after about a week. I faked being sick so I could take another day off. It was a day I knew my wife couldn’t come home early because she had a meeting after her shift.

Then I made passes at the housekeeper. She shrugged them off at first and then scalded me because I was so wrong. But when she realized I was a resilient man, not to be knocked off my track by a mere scalding, she started to give in to me.

She took me by the hand and led me to the kitchen and we had the best sex of my life. Nothing with my wife has ever felt that good.

We’ve gotten together a few more times since then, and I crave her when I can’t be with her.

I know it’s wrong, and I want to stop this whole thing, but she makes me weak. She’s like an addiction that I can’t handle.

Honey, if you’re reading this, I love you and I am really going to need your help and your forgiveness.

More Info

Did you know that you can subscribe to an RSS feed for updates on this blog? Scroll down to the bottom of the page, and the link to subscribe is there if you use Atom.

Or, if you use Google Reader, you can sign in and click "Add Subscription" and type in this address, which is http://dsoal.blogspot.com and it will keep you updated in real time.

Here's another bit of information you may be interested in: We plan to post a new sample story every Thursday. If that changes we will let you know. So check back each Thursday or sign up for RSS to get your fill of anonymous secrets.

Feel Free

Now that you can see what this project is all about and a sample story that was sent in and approved for publish, please feel free to leave comments.

We'd like to know what you think of everything that's posted here. Anyone registered on Blogspot may leave a comment on the entries here, and you can choose to leave your name or to do it anonymously.

There's also a small icon under each entry. If you find anything particularly interesting or something that someone you know may enjoy reading, you can email that part of the blog to anyone by clicking on the small envelope icon.

First Sample Story

I resent my husband. And, if I told anyone, everyone would hate me for it. He hasn’t done anything anyone else would consider “wrong,” but I certainly do.

He enlisted himself in the US Army. He quit his job and decided that he had a calling, and that calling was to protect his country from terrorists. He said he was ready to give his life for his country.

This was 8 months ago.

To everyone reading this, I’m sure you think that I am crazy and that he is a very strong, courageous, and patriotic man. “He should be celebrated for his valiant decisions,” my mother-in-law said to me at his going away party as she wiped away the proud tears rolling down her face.

Now I want to let you know how it really is.

His calling wasn’t to protect his country, a very noble thing indeed. His calling was his fear of being a father.

I am sitting here alone with my one-month-old son, who I refused to name after the coward he has for a father. That’s what my husband wanted, but I named him after my father instead. My father was a real man.

If my husband makes it back from Iraq alive, I’m sure everyone in town will cheer him on as a local hero. And I will act like I agree with that sentiment. But I know that he is no hero. After all, what kind of hero walks out on his own kid?

FAQ about this project

"Deep Secrets of Anonymous Lives" is the working title of a book that is being worked on. It is like an extension of the popular PostSecret books.

Basically, people send in their secrets, but instead of putting just a few words on a postcard, they are sending in stories, through email. Only stories with at least 3 paragraphs can be considered for publication.

What's the point?
We believe that it is going to be a very interesting read. And, we thought it would be a good idea for people to really share their secrets with details instead of just writing a couple words.

How can I be a part of this?
You can send your stories, as many as you like, to dsoalbook@gmail.com. You may submit them anonymously. That is how they will be printed, anyway. If you include any names in the story, they will be changed to a random, made-up name to protect the privacy of everyone involved.

You can also tell your friends and family members about this site and encourage them to submit something.

If I choose to submit a story, what should it be like?
It should be at least a few paragraphs in length. And, it should be a secret about yourself (a secret joy, envy, guilty pleasure, event, wish, dream, goal, love, etc.) that you want to share. It should not be made up. And, it should be interesting. Best of all, you don't need to be a great writer to submit a story. Everything will be edited for grammar and spelling before publishing.

So what's the status on this book?
As of 7/5/07, there have been a six stories submitted and approved, and there are about 15 more people who have displayed interest in submitting a story but who need some time to write them. This project will probably take another year or so until it is completely compiled. But, when it's done, it will be a huge success.

Do I get anything for submitting a story?
Unfortunately, there is not enough money available to pay for stories. Submitting stories will be strictly on a voluntary basis. No compensation should be expected from anyone who submits. However, you may get the gratification of having your story potentially read by thousands of people and of possibly having touched one or two people in the process.

Can we see examples of stories that have been approved?
Absolutely. As more come in, more will be published right here on this Web site. Check back often to see more new stories.