Well, she got out of Camp NanoWriMo with an extra 5,000 words beyond her goal. She focused mostly on Laura’s book, but the DWD did manage to wrangle some attention out of her. She’s now in Chapter 10, with quite a way to go yet, and I must tell you that it has been hard keeping in at the keyboard when it’s beautiful outside. I think I’d rather deal with her wanting to plant things than being crabby as hell with spring fever in the absence of spring. So, we’ll let her live a little but keep nagging as well—gently nagging.

In the meantime, here’s Chapter 2 of LAC 17. If you haven’t read Chapter 1 or need a refresher, read it first via the post below this one.

Chapter 2

Shortly after ten—hell, longly after ten, I finally heard the sound of a motor up the driveway. Let it be Claudia, I chanted as though a three-year-old moron. I did not want to frickin’ host this frickin’ thing by my frickin’ lonesome!

Ginny and Kris’ van finally came into view, and my heart sank, only to be quickly buoyed by the fact that Laura had said maybe they could swing by and get her. Please, let them have Claudia!

I rushed the van while trying hard not to look as though I was actually rushing the van. I wasn’t at all sure how I did. Probably not very well, for the side door flung open, and Holly stared at me.

“Did you get Claudia?” I asked as I tried to spy through windows made opaque by intense sunshine.

“No!” she shrieked, and I could not have imagined her being quite that upset over her best friend’s absence.

“Sorry, Dilly,” Maggie yelled. ”She’s still at work.”

“And we’re late because Ginny got lost,” the redhead informed, just as the passenger door opened fully.

The psychologist jumped out. Shaking her head, she looked exasperated, but I knew she suppressed laughter.

I called to Ginny, “Claudia and I got lost the first time, too. You should have called me.”

“I got us here!” she replied. “We just took the scenic route. It’s beautiful out here.”

“It sure is,” Kris said.

Those in the back came barreling out, and Holly raced to me and threw her arms around me. She released a godawful sigh just as her head came to rest on my shoulder. Melodrama or what?

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Well, the author went from cabin fever to spring fever. She is miserable, wandering from cold window to cold window cursing ground hogs. We have little choice; we must do something to ensure our survival. So, Monday, April Fools Day, we’re sending her to camp. Yep, Camp NaNoWriMo. The chick needs to write, and maybe if we lock her in a virtual cabin with five other writers, she’ll get moving again. She’s not shooting for 50,000 this time. One complete sentence would be better than she has done lately.

She has a Laura book all ready to begin with its outlines and sketches and maps. She’s in Chapter 6 of LAC 17, and speaking of which… Here’s Chapter 1 of said book, just to prove it exists and to remind her that she needs to get a move on!

Chapter 1

Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Fwip.

Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Fwip.

Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Ba-doom. Fwip.

Rather calmly, I paced. Okay, calmly didn’t exactly go well with paced, but still.

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Lore Mongers survived editing, and as long as life cooperates, it should be released as an ebook in the LAC bookstore next Tuesday, January 22. The paperback should be ready by the end of the month or perhaps around the time when the lazy-ass groundhogs try to predict the future.

This one is the longest of the series, coming in with 9,000 more words than the longest reigning champ, L-Word C-Word. As a huge fan of you LAC fans, I advocate taking the day off of work, putting up your feet, and reading the book in one sitting.

Lore Mongers is complete and on the editor’s desk. I don’t know exactly how long that will take because it is, after all, the product of NaNoWriMo and the longest book in the series. It should be released yet this month. I will let you know when I have a specific date.

Claudia and I are up for next month, and we are thinking really, really hard.

Well, the author’s feeling rather bad that she wasn’t able to release an LAC and its matching “MerryHigh5″ coupon for Christmas or whatever holiday you do or do not celebrate. We’ll forgive her this time and promise to crack the whip after she celebrates her own Christmas.

So, from the ten of us, a Merry High Five with, um, absolutely no monetary value but a hell of a lot of spunk.

And ‘t’is the season for swiping things. Okay, maybe not. Giving then. Giving. I’m giving you the chapter I swiped…

Chapter 4

It seemed merely a moment had passed before I opened my eyes again. The unexpected brightness hurt like hell. I worked to adjust as I stretched to force the sleepiness from of my body. That was when I realized Claudia was not beside me.

“Claudia?” I quietly called, which I instantly realized was quite stupid. She could not have been anywhere in the tiny room without being seen.

I shot upright, and my eyes sped to the table. Her cup was gone. She and Earl had traipsed off somewhere. I reached for my phone: 8:07. Maybe she had gone to the bathroom. I hoped for her sake it was not the one I had visited last night. Not yet interested in clothing my naked body, I slid back into the sleeping bag, rolled off the air mattress, turned myself around, and slithered to the door. A reach up got me the doorknob, a twist got it open, and a peek through the crack got me nearly the start of my life. There she sat on the tiny cabin’s tiny porch, mere inches from my face. Her knees were up, her arms wrapped around them, and Earl hung onto her hand.

“Claudia?” I called again. “It’s cold. What are you doing out here?”

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Okay, the author’s NaNo manuscript proved to be a bigger mess than she’s used to. In other words, things are progressing slowly. So, I thought I’d swipe another chapter for you because I’m sure you’re just dying to know what happens next.

Claudia hauled ass to our cabin, and I tried like hell to keep up with her. As soon as we got inside, she spun around, grabbed me, and held on tight. It was nice, but at the same time, I knew something was wrong. Before I could even ask, though, she posed her own question, “Honey, would it be okay if we didn’t sleep in the loft?”

“I’m willing to try it,” I assured. Although, truth be told, I’d rather have been stuck in a tent, but still, I knew she was simply trying to spare me. “You don’t have to—”

“I don’t want to sleep up there,” she qualified.

“You don’t?” I admit I wasn’t expecting that. I pulled back and tried to see her eyes in the near darkness. I reached and fumbled for the switch on the wall lamp. “Are you okay?”

“I’m just fine. I just think I’d rather be on the sturdy floor tonight.” She squinched up her eyes. “Is that okay with you?” Once I nodded, she said, “Maybe we can try sleeping up there tomorrow night.”

“Fine by me,” I told her.

With a whiplashing change of subject, she asked, “Are you sure you don’t want to make a run to the bathroom with us? Hot water is a very precious thing when you’re camping.”

“So is coffee,” I replied. “I’ll take care of that and then see about getting us some space down here for the sleeping bag. I’ll hit the cold-water bathroom before we crawl in.”

Her eyes narrowed even more. “You’re sure? Positive?”

“I am. Now grab your stuff and go so you don’t end up walking in the dark alone.”

She planted a sweet kiss on my lips, snatched the duffle bag and the flashlight, and disappeared into the night.

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I swiped the next one…

Our fate? What the hell would be our fate at the hands of these two? That’s what Claudia and I pondered while we changed, and once we headed outside, the looks of utter apprehension on the others made me figure everyone else had done the same. Most dawdled as though procrastinating her own execution. Well, except for Holly. She always seemed eager to be messed with in the DWD way, and I would have bet my life Laura and she never had the mess-with-and-be-messed-with talk.

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Okay, she started going through her NaNo stuff. Pretty damn messy. Big holes. Final chapter not written.

However, she cleaned up Chapter 1, deeming it second draft, not final. I swiped it. Read it at your own risk, or perhaps that’s my risk.

Pedal to the metal, I aimed my car for Granton’s city limits, being extra careful not to spill from my Road Swill cup. The last precious drops of civilized coffee, I figured. No one ever said, “Hey, let’s head out into the country for a cup of coffee.” Rural coffee: There wasn’t such a thing, and I would protect what little I had of the good stuff until the last moment, which would probably be the very second Claudia yelled at me for having coffee so late.

As though she were there, already lording over me, I glanced to my watch: 6:04. Yes, it was far too late for coffee; I risked being up all night. Yet, here it was a Friday night and I was just leaving work, having been majorly waylaid by our stupid-ass governor, whom I respected only in my capacity as a reporter. Kate Q. Public loathed him, and I would not have voted for his sorry ass even if he were suddenly the poster child for gay rights and a dogged proponent of triple pay and automatic master’s degrees for all reporters. Nope. No way.

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