Total Deadheads

Was there some symbolism we missed in the author’s naming of our last book, Living Dead(heads), and then leaving us to languish? If there was, it went over my frickin’ deadhead; yet, here we are.

She went from having too many projects in the works to getting totally fixated on one. The Squatter sequel has 78,000 words. Now, she’s stuck on the ending so she’s looking for diversions she can justify. Oh gee, the Lesbian Adventure Club crew! How you chicks doin’? Okay, she doesn’t exactly speak to us like that, but the message is the same.

So, what do we do? Continue to be deadheads? Become highly uncooperative? Make her pay for her utter neglect? Or, quietly and gently slip an arm around her and bring her back into our world where we can totally take advantage of her need to do anything but look at that other manuscript?

Let me ponder that.


Authors Are Not Octopuses

Our author, however, likes to think she is. She is working on numerous books all at the same time. A little here, a little means she’s writing, but not one of them nears book-length.

Let’s see… She has started LAC 21. She’s been working on an LAC backstory, which I’d rather she not, that would be LAC 21.5. She’s making decent headway on a sequel to Squatter. Then, there’s Laura’s fifth mystery, which has remained a mystery to her for well over a year. And, we mustn’t forget the in-the-works short story collection entitled Upend. She’s been completely baffled by its final short story that refuses to end properly. Upend could easily be her Undoing.

Let’s see… That’s 1 … 2 … 3 … 4 … 5 works-in-progress, which, I guess, renders my post’s title incorrect. It should be “Authors Are Not Pentapuses,” but that sounds like a vulgar term or maybe a Bond movie played only in little booths in the back of Peter’s Palace. Okay, how about “Quintpuses?”

Maybe, for the moment, I should just leave the writing (and the poor English language) to her. Why, she’ll have pentabooks done in pentayears! No high-penta for that one.

Jesus, shut up, Kate.

Okay. Okay.


Halloween Squatter

The author had every intention of releasing her paranormal mystery, Squatter, next month. With a big ol’ duh, she sees Halloween on the calendar. Yep, we all rolled our eyes at her. So… It will be released Friday, Halloween, but only in our bookstore. Plus, if you use the coupon code boo2you on Friday, you’ll get a 15% discount on it. It’ll be released to the retailers and in paperback next week.

Squatter book cover

Blurb: For Trinity MacNeil, life and its people are overwhelming and intrusive. So when she inherits her aunt’s house, she seizes the opportunity to escape her life, saddened only to surrender her job as librarian. In the country, a mile outside the small town of Hillmon Point, she hopes to create a self-sustaining existence—a dream come true.

She’s quick to realize, however, that the house is an unwelcoming mausoleum: her aunt’s hospice setup still there, her cousin’s room the same as the day he died nearly twenty-three years ago. Caring deeply for both, she finds it difficult to remove the last reminders of their existence and simply avoids the upstairs.

But, when a figure begins appearing in her cousin’s playroom window, that becomes impossible. Whoever—or whatever—is upstairs is pulling her attention there, and as the activity increases, she realizes she is being led somewhere.

But, where?

And, by whom?

With nowhere to go and no one to turn to, she must reach inside herself to find the power to deal with the unearthly, and outside herself to let people near enough to help.


Swiping What Isn’t Ours

Okay, this does seem weird to be swiping chapters of a book that has nothing to do with the DWD or our favorite dick. Regardless, for your perusal, the first two chapters of Squatter follow. If you read it, you hereby vow to donate to the Get Kate Out of the Pokey Fund, if needed.


Chapter 1

Trinity MacNeil scolded herself for feeling so excited, and yet, she could not stop the smile spreading across her freckled face. Seizing a deep calming breath, she dropped her leather satchel onto the porch, and then, her trembling hand aimed a silver key at the front door’s lock. A twist, a pull, and a timid push brought a creak that punctuated the moment, this new beginning.

Her smile widened even further when she made her first steps into the house. She spun in a circle, her eyes taking in the huge foyer. Then, she plopped onto the second last step of the staircase and released a tremendous sigh.

This was hers. All hers. Despite its drab walls and lusterless woodwork, it looked luxurious to her, the proverbial dream come true. While it hadn’t cost her a cent, it came at a very high price.

Instantly, her excitement dissipated, and sadness rushed over her. Her aunt Ronnie had died here just three weeks prior. She was her mother’s sister, and now, they were both gone. Trinity hadn’t been that close to her aunt, or maybe her regret made her believe that. They had regularly exchanged long, handwritten letters and sent birthday cards. On holidays, they had talked on the phone. Yet, she had declined her aunt’s every invitation to visit, and now, she had to live with the fact that she hadn’t seen her since the day she graduated from college, nearly six years ago. The time before that was at her mother’s funeral, only months earlier. She believed that not being a physical part of her life had a consequence: Her aunt hadn’t even told her she had ovarian cancer. The lawyer said that by the time she got diagnosed, they had given her six months to live. She chose the treatment-less route and made it barely two before she died—in this very house, this house that was now Trinity’s.

Continue reading Swiping What Isn’t Ours

From Living Deadheads to…

Remember that book the author started writing when she was supposed to be writing Living Dead(heads)? Well, she finished it—the first draft anyway. It’s entitled Squatter, and it’s a paranormal mystery. Nope, no Laura. Instead, she’s got a whole new cast of characters. I will let you know when/if it’s ready for reader consumption. While it’s not in our series, I’ll see if I can swipe a chapter or two, just ’cause I can.

In the meantime, she editing it and jotting down ours ideas for LAC 21. It’s a Ginny and Kris weekend. Theirs always make me nervous.

Oh, and she says she won’t be doing NaNoWriMo is November, that there’s no need for any whip-cracking. We are pleased, to say the least. She turns way cranky. Rest assured, though, that we will crack our own whips if she starts slacking off.


Living Dead(heads) ready to stand

Woohoo, the author has completed the first draft of LAC 20! Now, she goes back to word one, but she usually busts butt to get it to third draft. That said, I suspect it will be ready for public consumption by mid-September. Then, she can take care of these wandering characters in here who are in desperate need of closure. Pity for them. Elation for us.

I will keep you posted!


Can you say ‘sidetracked’?

So, the author was blazing along with our book, and with her other hand, she was playing with some ideas for a new totally unrelated book she was going to use in November for NaNoWriMo. Then, she gets frustrated, claiming that you really cannot adequately flesh out a character without hearing her voice. So, she stops work on our book and starts writing the other one “just to get a feel for the protagonist.” Uh huh, Roz. And now 38,000 words later, she has two frickin’ books in the works.

Needless to say, we are feeling a bit neglected here, and, if truth be told, a bit crowded, too, with all these new and very fleshy characters in here. They seem nice enough, though, and I hope there will not be hell to pay when we do our best to wrangle the author and get her back to our book. Jesus, the things chicks have to do.

Whisper-chant with us: LAC 20! LAC 20! LAC 20!


Swipe Complete

It is astounding how swiftly authors can get on the stick when you insinuate that their writing is unreadable.

Here’s Chapter 1 from Living Dead(heads), freshly second draft…


Chapter 1

The Murder

“Claudia, I have to work late,” I lied, and it made me sick to my stomach.

“Oh, really? Any idea how long?” the green-eyed inquisitor asked.

This time, at least, I did not need to lie. “I’m not sure. It shouldn’t be too long.”

“Okay. I’ll see you soon then, honey. I love you.”

I returned the sentiment and thought for sure I’d hurl. I disconnected, threw my phone to the passenger seat, and hit the gas.

A few moments later, I eased into the drive-thru lane at Road Swill’s biggest competitor. After a two-car wait, my eyes frantically scanned the overwhelming menu. Road Swill’s was simple and to the point, and it sure as hell didn’t have sizes in Italian sounding words. This was goddamn stupid, and when the crackly voice on the speaker asked what I wanted, I said, “Latte, medium.” She translated my emphasized word into pseudo-Italian as though I were a moron, not a rebelling traitor trying to make a point.

 It didn’t take long to make it to the window where a gaudy cup was presented to me. As I waited for my change, I glanced at my watch: four-thirty five.

With fifteen minutes to kill, I took a spot in the parking lot, cut the engine, and lit a cigarette. A rolled down the window halfway, and January rushed in as though welcome. I was nervous, frickin’ nervous. Pacing would have helped, but that was close to impossible in a car’s front seat.

Now don’t go thinking I was simply being my wussy self. You would have been nervous, too. At least, I hope you would have been. It was not everyday you loitered in a parking lot until it was time to go murder someone. Seriously, that was exactly what I had to do and why the hell I had lied to Claudia. Seeing myself as neither murder nor liar, I was in way the hell over my head. And to shove my head under even further, Alison was my intended victim. Alison! Jesus, I’d rather murder myself than even say an unkind word to her, but here I was.

Continue reading Swipe Complete

Long Time No Hear

No, we have not fallen off the face of the earth, nor have we been banished from the author’s brainpan. We are very much alive and mostly well.

We’re about halfway through LAC 20 at Alison and Janice’s, and its title is Living Dead(heads). Needless to say, it has not been a nice relaxing weekend at the mayor’s mansion. It never has been, and it’s probably safe to assume it never will be.

I will do my best to swipe Chapter 1 for you as soon as she bumps it from first draft to second. Trust me: You do not want to read it before then anyway.