Category Archives: General

homeless stuff


The author survived Camp NaNoWiMo. Amen.

She got stuck midway through LAC 23, and since the goal was forward momentum no matter what, she started LAC 24. Oh yippee, we now have two half-finished books. She swears, however, that she will head back to LAC 23 and finish the sucker.

To hold her accountable, here’s a solitary swipe from 23…

Chapter 1

“All right, Kate, you need to trust me, a lot,” Claudia said in the midst of a most unexpected breakneck turn.

Once established many years ago, trust in her generally came easily to me. But, not this morning. Not yesterday either. Hell, not for the past weeks.

She nearly came to a full stop in the furniture store parking lot’s flow, and her French braid whipped back and forth as she madly scanned. I was frickin’ confused, to say the least. Why the hell were we stopping to look at furniture? Now? Why now?

This was Saturday morning on our weekend to host the Lesbian Adventure Club. A month ago, she had gotten everyone to agree to give us the weekend although it wasn’t even our turn. Then, she got me to agree to a camping trip, with the destination being her choice, and she would not tell me where. Now, we were supposed to be on our way to pick up Holly and Laura, despite the fact that the car overflowed with gear and food. The artist and the detective would have to be fastened to the nonexistent luggage rack. That’s assuming, of course, that whatever furniture Claudia bought did not end up sitting there. Visions of the Empresses of Ta-Da strapped to a love seat on the car roof messed with my head.

Continue reading Decamped


Still Kicking

Have we been quiet or what? Only here, though. We have been nagging the author, enough that she is doing July Camp NaNoWriMo. At the moment, she is four chapters into LAC 23.

I will keep you posted and maybe swipe something if I can.



Like Hell, Lesbian Adventure Club: Book 22 has been released this morning! You can get it here in our bookstore. It will be available at other retailers and in paperback shortly.

LAC 22 book cover

Blurb: It’s a beautiful April day, and the fools are headed to Holly and Laura’s. Wonder what the weekend will be like.


Another Chapter

Our threat seems to be working. The author is madly filling holes, lest we post them for the world to see. Not at all sure what will happen when we get to the chapters that are nothing but hole. I guess we’ll cross that abyss when we get to it.

LAC 22 Chapter 3

As soon as the vegan rejoined the group, Holly held her cellphone as a reporter would a notepad. Her index finger hovered above it. “Okay, tell me what kind of trees you have.”

We had a Winesap and a Golden Delicious, and Claudia wasted no time telling her so. The professors had gone with pears, and the schoolteacher and the vegan had decided on plums. The copycat massage therapist and yoga instructor brought apples, but at least they were unique in their choice of variety. The artist and the detective informed us that they, too, had a Golden Delicious, and a Granny Smith.

Claudia felt compelled to say, “Only Kate’s tree is allowed to cross-pollinate my tree.”

Laura rolled her eyes. “I’ll put up a sign for the bees.”

Then, Claudia evil-eyed the others. “Kindly keep your pear pollen and your plum pollen to yourselves.”

Susan haughtily shook her head as she held her nose high. “My pollen wants nothing to do with your tree.”

“Chickies,” the madly tapping  artist yelled, “it’s a DWD forest. DWD trees do whatever they want to do, and they help their sisters whether they want it or not.” She dropped her phone to her side and looked at Laura. “Okay, babe, do your thing.”

Continue reading Another Chapter


Thieving Is Believing

Following through on our threat…

LAC 22 Chapter 2

We spent half an hour chatting and nibbling before the artist and the cop herded us into their living room to “get the show on the road.”

They stood in front of the back door as we overtook the couch and the floor.

“First of all,” Holly began after we settled in, “we’re calling our weekend ‘Arbor Earth Day for April Fools.’”

Laura quickly added, “We thought about adding something to do with taxes and Easter bunnies, but we decided to keep it nondenominational.”

We rolled our eyes as we exchanged the mandatory glances.

Continue reading Thieving Is Believing


The Domino Effect

No, we ain’t talkin’ pizza, although we readily could.

I’m talking about someone complaining to asking the powers-that-be about when the next LAC is coming out. The powers-that-be, in turn, struck a match, lit a firecracker, and shoved it up the author’s behind. Can you say ka-frickin’-boom? This, in turn, caused a major rupture in the author’s thick skull, which in turn allowed us finally frickin’ finally to see the light of day and inhale a breath of fresh air. Indeed, we thought we were going to die in here! Thank you ever so much, complainer asker of the domino-nudging question!

Over the past months in this dank place, we have theorized that the Squatter chicks did something to the author’s brain. Just as one of them got trapped in a bathroom, they seemed to have trapped the author somewhere—somewhere far, far away from her reservoir of words, or maybe they drained it. Whatever. But, we have seen her bloody her head, cry, scream, and threaten to jump off her office chair. We’ve watched her slobbishly consume books about writer’s block and burnout, take self-help classes, meditate until her oozing gray matter could have filled a Tibetan singing bowl. We watched her take notes as she scoured the pages of Have I Finally Gone Insane? For Dummies. (I really should check my sources. There could very easily be a book with that title.) She has sloughed off to heal from burnout. She has gone on spiritual retreat to find her writer. She has gone into seclusion. (Need I say because no one could stand to be around her?)

Seriously, is there any worse creature on earth or in mythology than a writer who cannot write? From the characters in her books, a resounding: Oh hell no!

Yet, she has written, just not consistently, and certainly not without agony. In fact, she has most of LAC 22 written, half of 22.5, and even the beginning of 23. (There’s other stuff, too, that has nothing to do with us, so I won’t mention it.)

So… Now, that the Dykes Who Dare can breath again, we realize we have to do something. As you can imagine, our entire existence depends upon doing something. We have an idea.

(Let it be stated that while we are issuing the following threat, I am just stuck doing the dirty work.)

Roz, finish LAC 22, or Kate will steal and post every single word you have written: typos, grammatical errors, holes, warts and all—the stuff that would make our professor of English gasp. In other words, write it or risk public humiliation and the scorn of Ginny.

Here is our warning shot and a thank-you to the complainer asker of the domino-nudging question…

LAC 22 Chapter 1

Spring had finally frickin’ sprung in Granton, which seemed a stupid thing to realize since we had just left its city limits. Okay, to be precise then: Spring had sprung in Granton and its rural outskirts. In fact, the weather guy promised a balmy sixty-five degrees on this mid-April day, and I figured that amounted to a death-blow to a winter that had stayed on its feet far too frickin’ long. I was so ready for spring.

We were on our way to Holly and Laura’s for a Lesbian Adventure Club weekend, and I could not have been more excited. I know: I probably should’ve been afraid of what they had in store for us, but frankly, I really didn’t care. As I just said, spring had sprung, and every tick of the odometer meant I had been sprung, too: from winter, the city, the rat race, school—everything. I just wanted to breathe, kick back, and forget everything. Determined to do just that, I rolled down the passenger window and stuck out my head.
Continue reading The Domino Effect


Happy NBLD

NBLD? What the hell is that? A bad sandwich? A natural blond’s license plate? A refusal to allow bald people to exist?

Okay, so it’s National Book Lovers Day. We could be cheesy and put it all together. It’s a day to take your favorite natural blond fictional character out for a bad sandwich and keep her away from bald people. We could, but we won’t. Simply kiss your favorite LAC book and be done with it.

We are not in the book loving mood anyway. Those damn Squatter chicks have siphoned more than 100,000 from this reservoir of writer words in here. Meaning, she’ll run out, or perhaps worse, we’ll get stuck with the dregs. Let us hope she gets a refill soon, and those other two stop being so damn greedy.



The Squatter chicks are winning the word war in the author’s head. They’ve got a whopping 88,000 while we’re bored as hell—and feeling rather neglected—with a piddling 15,000. Our only hope is that Squatter 3 is almost frickin’ done and she’ll want to let it sit for awhile before even reading the first draft. If she dives right into editing mode, we are, seriously, going to either revolt or hire a ghost writer. Except, that’s kind of what she is right now. How revolting! Damn Squatter chicks!


No Mo’ NaNoWriMo

The author checked out of Camp this morning, a day early, with 50,104 words.

Who won, though? Okay, other than her.

Seems the Squatter chicks benefited the most, getting more than frickin’ half. We pretty much got the rest of it, and at the moment, we are not complaining.

She’s going to get the individual files from the big NaNo file into their respective manuscripts and see how much of a mess she made. We’re hoping that once the dust clears, she wants to work on our book, but then, again, maybe it’s better if she just gets the Squatter chicks out of her system.

Either way, we have words!