Category Archives: General

homeless stuff


She’s nearing 25,000 and working on our book! A couple of snippets…

Payback isn’t a bitch. You are. Shut the hell up!

Maybe it’s a lesbian-only thing, but I have always firmly believed that anyone who uses “ejaculate” to describe speech should be drown in a vat of it.

Business as usual, hey?


NaNo-ing No-Nos

Our author is already 10,000 words into this month’s Camp NaNoWriMo. Unfortunately, for us anyway, all those words belong to the Squatter crew and a new kid on the block. We are, however, on the agenda, and our digits remain crossed. Maybe we should start the “Dykes Who Dare” chant we did at Crappie Cabin. Except, that could make her cross. Patience. Patience. Not our strong suit.


Dangerous Ground

So, the author finishes reading all our books, understandably freaks over some mistakes, and passes them on to the powers-that-be. She goes back to work on LAC 22, and we are happy campers.


She gets a reminder that Camp NaNoWriMo is set to begin on April 1st—yes, the day of fools. She signs up, and she thinks in that month she can blaze through the rest LAC 22 and 22.5. Again, we are happy campers.


She reads the shit about plotters versus by-the-seat-of-the-pansters, and she berates herself for sucking in the novel outline department. So, she puts writing LAC 22 on hold, signs up for a class on novel outlining, and begins trying to outline our book. Still, we are happy campers.


She decides we are too unruly to ever abide by an outline. So, she frickin’ starts a whole frickin’ new project! Yessiree, Bub. She makes characters, a world, does research, etcetera, etcetera, etcetera. We are not happy campers anymore.


The project idea needs time to incubate in her weird-ass writer brain, she believes, and may even require the use of a pen name. Too, too much to think about in the middle of a class. Sooooo… She whips out Squatter 3, which she set aside to give us her undivided attention. Her outline grows and grows and grows, and she now has more words in the outline than she has written in the book. We are so not happy campers.


We are flailing our arms in her brain, which has got to be distracting— and, let’s face it, painful. We are being as frickin’ obnoxious as we can be, which I’m sure you know we are quite exceptional at doing. The clock ticks its way to month’s end.

Which book shall prevail?

For the hundred thousandth time in our history with you, we beseech: Cross your frickin’ fingers!


Greetings, Non-Fictional Characters

No, we have not fallen off the face of the earth, although it was touch-and-go there for a spell.

The author has three books in the works—okay, “in the works” as in “chug, chug chug,” but still. Two are ours. The other one belongs to the Squatter chicks, but I think the DWD will get to ride in the front seat. (Can you say “packed like sardines”?)

Anyway, she’s plotting, writing, and doing all-around elf-y things. Life goes on—for her, for us, and we sure as hell hope for you, too.


LAC 21 at 21

Well, the author topped 21,000 words. She’s not cruising along, but baby steps were all we wanted. Even with those, we’re getting there. Amen.

I will slide the goal up to 30,000 sometime when she’s not looking.



She’s plugging along on LAC 21. So steadily, in fact, that her 13,000+ words totally wrecked the Baby Steps widget. Blew it off the menu.

We will not tell her, but I bumped it up to 20,000.


Sunday Hump Day

Yeeeees! She got over “the first hump” by a whopping 18 words!

Second hump, by the way, is mid-book when she declares, “This is the stupidest damn thing I’ve ever written.” That’s always a fun day in here, especially since its our frickin’ life she’s chronicling.

Third hump, thankfully, is, “Oh, okay, I get.”


Front Burner

Okay, now that the Squatter chicks are all quiet in here, the author has returned her attention to us and LAC 21. Halle-frickin’lujah!

I put the Baby Steps monitor back up, but for the life of me I can’t remember what the last count was. Regardless, she’s gotten it up at least a couple thousand in these past days. I’ve set it for what she’s got this morning: 8,437. I won’t change the goal of 10,000, what she generally refers to as “the first hump,” and hopefully she’ll zip right past it and keep going. Literally, our life depends upon it. Frickin’ writers! They drive me nuts. Okay, except for journalists. Okay, except for one journalist. Okay, maybe not that journalist either. Frickin’ writers, every last one of them!

Move, Baby Steps, move!


Gettin’ Gussied Up

The edits of Squatter 2 are complete! Amen. The author’s waiting for the final book files so she can proof. Looks as though it could be released next week. I will let you know.

And then… (everybody bang fists on table) Dykes Who Dare! Dykes Who Dare! Dykes Who Dare!


Stealing, Whoa Whoa Whoa Stealing

Hey, she is clipping through her edits at an amazing pace. We are hopeful she will finally turn her undivided attention to us very soon.

In the meantime, I swiped another Squatter 2 chapter for you…

Chapter 2

A caravan of white trucks pulled into Trinity’s driveway a few minutes before ten o’clock that Saturday morning. Again, her excitement overpowered her dread of the inevitable upheaval.

As though choreographed, each driver went different ways but ultimately ended up with the backs of the trucks fanned out directly in front of the house. Brakes squeaked, engines cut, and doors flung open.

With exuberant steps, Uncle Gene made his way onto the porch to greet her. They exchanged a long hug and a quick kiss before he teased her about taking over a year to decide to let him renovate. Back then, she had urged him to take all his ex-wife’s and son’s belongings, and this was how he sought to repay her for what he deemed a profit—both financial and emotional.

“Are you ready for these yokels to take over your upstairs?” he asked, and when she nodded, he warned, “Just remember that it will look like total destruction before it all begins to take shape. It will all come together in the end. I promise.”

Continue reading Stealing, Whoa Whoa Whoa Stealing