[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

THE PROCRASTINATE-A-THON

Hello, All! Melanie here.

Last week, Writer X was met with some strange behavior from her boyfriend and fellow writer, Tod Boadkins. In previous weeks, Tod had promised X a “romantic gift” if she could refrain from defending her BFF’s feelings with violence.

Surprise, surprise! X did this. She was rewarded with a gift and a comment that the gift had been made possible by the money Tod had saved on bail money. It was a pair of hot pink boxing gloves.

X immediately put these to use in settling the score between her and an unpleasant visitor from Massachusetts. That’s when Tod started acting strangely anxious. It turns out the pair of boxing gloves weren’t the present, but served as a sort of “wrapper” for the real present…

Which was a ring.

In the meanwhile, Tryxy the Demon and #bestkitten were flush with excitement from their latest gig. They’re supposed to be writing music and launching a website for their band, but sometimes we don’t do what we’re supposed to do.

Without further ado…

---

Subject: PROCRASTINATE-A-THON

Dear Gladys,

As you know, the town has announced at the very last possible minute that it’s holding a procrastinate-a-thon to raise money to purchase an extra large wall calendar for the town council so that they can see what they should be working on and when it should be done by.

Previously the town would prioritize tasks by rushing off to whatever thing had caught on fire at the moment, but after the grease fire in the kitchen of the parks department, it was clear that new approaches had to be put in place!!!

The extra large wall calendar should fix this, but they have a stretch goal that would allow them to get a large monkey to periodically set fire to the extra large wall calendar as a means of encouraging them to not ignore the calendar in the ways that calendars are obviously designed to be ignored.

I have come up with an incredibly genius plan to beat EVERYONE and raise the MOST money!!!!

The way it works is that participants select a task that they’re going to procrastinate about and get pledges from friends and family. For every hour the participant procrastinates on their task, the pledgers agree to pay whatever amount to the Extra Large Wall Calendar Fund. There are also bonus pledges allowed if the task that is being procrastinated is something you really have no business procrastinating about.

Now Gladys, you can bet that most participants are going to be uncreative. They’re going to procrastinate on all the usual things. Things like cleaning your gutters, or exercising, or doing your taxes, or seeing your doctor about the peculiar smell of pickled mangos that keeps wafting from your feet after you go running which is why you keep putting off exercising. BUT MY PLAN IS AMAZING!!!!!

Oh, and all of my friends at the Ink Black Coffee Club Critique Group have decided that since we’ve all been procrastinating about our latest writing projects, that it made sense to keep doing it for a good cause. Every single one of them has filled out their pledge sheet with the name of their latest work-in-progress. And they’re ALL gloating because everyone knows that writers are professional procrastinators so CLEARLY NO ONE IN TOWN KNOWS WHAT THEY’RE IN FOR!!!!!!!

Taxes??? They’re procrastinating on something as easy as taxes???? No one wants to do their taxes, it’s EASY to procrastinate on doing your taxes. BUT WRITING. Oh, YES, WRITING!!!!! Writing is something literally no one cares if you do and may suddenly get a glazed over expression if you bring it up at parties so the only reason to write IS BECAUSE YOU REALLY REALLY REALLY LOVE IT!!!!!!

And who procrastinates doing stuff they really really love????? WRITERS!!!!!!1

We’re AMAZING.

BUT WITH THIS PLAN I’M GOING TO BEAT ALL THE WRITERS, TOO!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I just need to borrow your dishwasher. If you could just throw it in your car and bring it to me now, that’d be perfect.

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my love life is going.

The ring that my meta fiancé, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins gave me FITS PERFECTLY!!!!!! And of course I said yes to whatever it was he was asking. Which it turns out is to be meta-engaged!!!!! I’m META ENGAGED, GLAYDS!!!!!!!!!

I’m going to be married eventually!!!!!

Of course you probably don’t know what meta engaged means because you’re behind the times and we’re very progressive so I guess I’ll explain. My meta fiancé has had several long talks with his therapist who’s pointed out that he’s afraid to “seriously commit to anything else but writing” and “why does he have such a hard time trusting others enough to express commitment” and “isn’t it time he face this tendency head on?”

That’s when he had the brilliant idea of proposing because we already mostly live together and, according to him, the thought of me marrying him makes him “incredibly happy” about sixty percent of the time and “incredibly panicked” the other forty percent.

And that when he came up with the idea of a meta-engagement. This means that it is probably going to take years for us to actually get married because our engagement is more “abstract” than “concrete.” A meta-engagement is to engagements what metaphilosophy is to philosophy which basically means that you can’t earn a college degree on the topic but you can use it to make people feel like you MIGHT be smarter than them.

In the meanwhile, Tryxy and #bestkitten are in a slump. They were so giddy last week about making a website and writing new music, but now they have what Tryxy is calling the No Upcoming Gig Blues. They SHOULD be working on planning their website and writing new music, but neither of them has the motivation since their festival gig isn’t until late May when New England can be very-nearly-but-not-quite safe from having four feet of snow suddenly dumped on us.

Instead, Tryxy is trudging around the house in his favorite velour tracksuit and matching house slippers, doomscrolling, and drinking coffeemate directly from the bottle with no chaser. The more he drinks, the more sluggish he gets because apparently he needs the stimulation of a weekly gig to plan websites and work on new songs. And #bestkitten is a cat.

Anyhoo, what else was I saying???? Oh yes!!!!

This is how I’m going to win the Procrastinate-a-thon.

I’m not just procrastinating on writing my latest work-in-progress, I’M PROCRASTINATING EVEN THINKING ABOUT WHAT MY LATEST WORK IN PROGReSS WILL Be!!!!!!!

But that’s not all.

The most ingenius part of what I’m doing to win is that the Procrastinate-a-thon OFFICIALLY ENDeD thIS MORNING!!!!!

Yes, Gladys, you’ve read that right. I’m TURNING IN MY PLEDGE SHEET AFTER THE EVENT HAS ENDED!!!!!

I just need you to loan me your dishwasher. It has nothing to do with the Procrastinate-a-thon. It’s just that there’s been a pile of dishes in our kitchen sink that has been there so long, no one can remember who’s turn it was to do the dishes and I’m pretty sure it was Tryxy’s so I need to give him YOUR dishwasher so he can stop putting it off. I DON’t NEED ANY MORE COMPETITION IN THE PROCRASTINATE-A-THON.

As I think of it Gladys, WHAT IF EVERYONE IN MY HOUSE IS COMPETING AGAINST ME??? WHAT IF META-ENGAGEMENT IS Just a way to procrastinate about marriage????

We could be engaged for years!!!! Possibly Even FOREVER!!!!1 This man is truly a genius. And what about Tryxy and #bestkitten putting off making website plans?????

Gladys, do you think they’re participating in the fundraiser too???? I don’t know who to trust!!!! Don’t tell anybody my secret!!!!! And also please don’t put off bringing me your dishwasher, I don’t need YET ANOTHER COMPETITOR!!!!

Pages next week, Gladys!

xox,

X

P.S. Please sign up and pledge to support me as I procrastinate. I’m accepting contributions of $20 an hour or more. THANDK YOU!!!!!

TURNS OUT

I DON’T

HAVE THE

NO

UPCOMING

GIG

BLUES.

THIS IS

MY FOURTH

GALLON OF

COFFEEMATE.

MY DOCTOR

SAYS

I HAVE

TOO MUCH

SUGAR

BLUES.

[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

THE BOXING GLOVES MYSTERY

Hello, All! Melanie here.

When we last left our heroes, Tryxy the demon and his bandmate #bestkitten were booked to play a show at Paul Revere Preschool & Craft Brewery in Boston. There were threats of Cthulhu cultists, talent abductions, misguided GPS directions, and even a ghoul attack, but DemonKitty put on a great show regardless! The band is starting to go places, which Tryxy’s always wished for. 

This gig was made possible by Arnold Rolfson, an A&R rep whose selfishness makes Writer X want to protect her BFF Tryxy’s feelings with violence.

But here’s the twist, last week Tod Boadkins, Writer X’s boyfriend, promised her a “special romantic present” if she could refrain from violence for a whole week. And guess what? She did it! A surprising success, indeed.

I didn’t think she’d make it. Since she’s been working hard to lose weight, X has been punchier than usual. I don’t blame her. Nothing fuels the temper like eating fewer carbs.

Without further ado…

---

Subject: TOURIST SEASON!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

I don’t know how I’m supposed to focus on being the next big epic fantasy writer of all time when spring tourist season is already upon us!!!!

Sure, New Hampshire is a rugged and beautiful land of pristine lakes, angry sasquatches, vengeful ski slopes, and haunted antiques, but why do people from the state-south-of-us-that-shall-not-be-named insist on coming up here and MASS-ing everything up????

It all started when we got back from Boston last week. I needed to focus on next moves for getting DemonKitty out to the world. I also discovered I gained three pounds from when I accidentally drank a guzzler mug full of movie theater butter.

Nothing makes me focus like a good power walk in a new location so I started going down to Tatoskok lake to walk the new paved path on the shore line.

I was getting on some speed when I passed the cabins and that’s when I met that gosh darn kangaroo!!!!!! Don’t you hate it when Franklin Park Zoo lets its animals out on vacation???? Some of those animals are used to being in the spotlight and they have no idea how to interface with the rest of us mere mortals!!!!

Anyhoo, this kangaroo hops out of the larger cabin with a margarita in his paw and starts sucking it through a straw and watching me as I went by with a bored, amused expression on his face.

I was just a couple feet away when he says, “That’s a lot of pink for someone no one wants to look at. Spandex isn’t everyone’s friend.”

It took a second for me to understand him because of his accent and then another whole second for me to realize HE WAQS TALKING TO ME!!!!!

Now Gladys, I bet you probably think that all kangaroos have Australian accents but that’s just an example of stereotyping a species. This kangaroo definitely sounded like he was from the bronx.

I was so upset, I couldn’t concentrate, but I also couldn’t clobber him because I promised my boyfrriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, that I wouldn’t get violent for a whole week and I still had two days to go thanks to a minor setback with a loud cellphone talker in the library.

But I went the next morning hoping for some peace and quiet so that I could create a masterplan for DemonKitty and it was like that kangaroo was waiting at the door watching for me to come!!!!!

“Nice hair curlers. Goes with your huffy puffy look. In fact, that’s what I’ll call ya. Liddle miss Huffy Puffy. How ya doin Miss Huffy Puffy?”

I stopped and shook my fist at him but without the ability to follow it up, it only made him double over laughing at me. You should never get into a bare knuckle fist fight with a kangaroo for obvious reasons, everyone knows that.

Fortunately for me, my week is up!!!! And I woke up to this text message from my boyfriend.

As soon as I figure out how to get my foot out of this tub of diaper wipes, I’m going to run downstairs and open it!!!!!! Everyone knows you shouldn’t attempt going down a set of stairs with a tub of diaper wipes on your foot.

Safety first, Galdsy!!!!!!!!

xox,

X

---

Subject: SWEET REVENGE!!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

Well, I know my boyfriend loves me!!!! Because when I finally got my foot free of those diaper wipes I opened up my special present and found these beauties waiting for me!!!!

How did he know I needed a pair of hot pink boxing gloves?????? It’s like he’s psychic or something, but I know he isn’t because he doesn’t have a certificate like I do.

I instantly texted him and let him know I got his gift and that I was going to put them to immediate use!!!!!

As soon as I finish lacing these up, I’m off to Tatoskok Lake. Let’s see if that bully kangaroo can back up his mouth!!!!!!

This will get me all fired up for our DemonKitty band meeting this evening!!!

xox,

X

---

Subject: THaT sliPpPEry KAGNAROO!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

it’s been several days since I’ve got my brand new boxing gloves and I haven’t even been able to use them!!!!

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going. I’ll have you know I’ve been writing haiku. I’m a well rounded writer. Not everyone can write haiku, you need five syllables, then seven syllables, then five syllables. Even I came to the art accidentally. My first one I wrote this morning when I discovered a haiku hidden in my shopping list. Most of my haiku are “found poetry.” Here’s the one I wrote this morning.

Fat Free Half And Half
Low Calorie Rice Cakes
Vat of Rocky Road

We have had a few productive meetings about DemonKitty’s future. They’ve been booked for a music festival, but what Tryxy and #bestkitten want to do is figure out how we can get more gigs both in and out of New Hampshire using the music festival booking as a way of proving they’re an in-demand band.

First, we decided we needed a way of letting people know that they’re even playing the music festival. Or any show at all. Other than flyers.

Then, we realized that probably we should focus on making people know that the band exists. We came to the conclusion that we need an OFFICIAL DEMONKITTY WEBSITE. After all, this isn’t just a hobby anymore. DemonKitty are professionals!!!!!!!

The only problem is the webdesigner costs real money and so far DemonKitty has only been paid in t-shirts and soggy, unseasoned curly fries so we’re working with a very low budget.

BUT LET ME TELL YOU ABOUT THIS STUPID KANGAROO!!!!!

Whenever I have my boxing gloves on, I can’t find him!!!!! The first time I went with my gloves, he came out, sucked on his margarita and watched me coming toward him.

“Would you look who’s here? It’s liddle miss huffy puffy. How you doing liddle miss huffy puffy?” And then I got close enough and he saw I was laced and ready to go with a boxing glove on each fist!!!!

“Ah shit,” he said. And then he hopped into his cabin and locked the door!!!!!

No matter what I do, if I don’t have my boxing gloves on, he’s picks on me. If I do have my boxing gloves on, he runs into his house!!!!!

I’ve taken to stashing the gloves in a few different locations so that I can whip them out real fast and lay some hurtin’ on that kanga!!!!!!

In the meanwhile, my boyfriend has been acting very strange since I opened my present. He keeps asking me what my answer is and if the present he gave me gives me any thoughts about us. ???? I keep telling him that I’m very thankful for the present but I am completely focused on the kangaroo right now!!!!!!

I don’t know why he’s upset, I use them every day!!!!!!

xox,

X

---

Subject: WEBSITE DESIGN!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

We figured out what to do about the website budget!!!!! I found a free webbuilder service called crappy.web!!!!! At crappy.web, you can design your own professional looking website without having to pay someone who actually knows what they’re doing!!!!!!! I’m going to build demonkitty’s website!!!!!!

Also: i snuck out to the lake last night and while that evil kangaroo was busy partying on his back deck with a couple of sloths and an extremely loud life coach, I slid my boxing gloves into his bushes!!!!!

Just wait til morning!!!!!!

xox,

X

---

Subject: WHY IS MY BOYFRIEND SO MAD?????

Dear Gladys,

I can’t believe I’m writing you this email from Lake Tatoskok in the middle of the night. My boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, got SUPER upset tonight when I came home without my boxing gloves.

At first I thought he was angry that I’m planning to fight that kangaroo, but when he found out the kangaroo calls me Liddle Miss Huffy Puffy, he completely agreed that that kangaroo needs to get clocked!!!!

But he was angry that I left them in the bushes especially since the boxing gloves were “so expensive.” I told him that I would replace the boxing gloves if they went missing and that didn’t console him AT ALL.

So now I’m out here at the lake and the lake monster is making super loud growly noises that keeps creeping me out and I’m digging around in the bushes looking for my gloves because my boyfriend said, “It’s not the gloves, it’s what’s inside the gloves!”

I’m pretty sure I just stepped in wet poison ivy.

Okay I’ve got ‘em!!!! I’m just going to dig one hand around inside and…

oh, there’s something in there.

it’s kinda small and hard.

and cirvular.

It’s a ring. With a white metal band and a pink stone.

Gladys, why would there be a ring with a pink stone in my boxing gloves. Why would my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, give me a ring???

…OH MY GOD!!!!!

xox,

X

sent from my iPhone

DON’T

WORRY. THAT

KANGAROO

WON’T

GET AWAY

WITH

BULLYING

MY BEST

FRIEND. YOU

KNOW HOW

EMBARRASSING

IT IS

WHEN YOU

HAVE A

PAIR OF

SNEAKERS

AND THEY

MAKE NOISES?

PERMA-HEXED HIS

LEFT FOOT.

NOW WHEN

HE PUTS

HIS PAW

DOWN, HIS

FOOT

SQUEAKS

LIKE A

DYING

DOG TOY.

[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

PAUL REVERE PRESCHOOL & CRAFT BREWERY

Hello, All! Melanie here.

In previous weeks, our friend Writer X has thrown herself into boosting the music career of her BFF and high-ranking teenage demon Tryxy. When last we heard from them, the band DemonKitty (a band consisting of Tryxy and his adorable cat #bestkitten) had the opportunity to travel to Boston to perform for an A & R rep at a music label.

This is an exciting opportunity for any band, but the music industry is a lot like the publishing industry; it delivers highs and lows, sometimes simultaneously.

Tryxy and #bestkitten’s hopes were dashed when they learned that Arnold Rolfson had no interest in their band but was looking for talented musicians to play his original music.

It wasn’t all bad. Arnold Rolfson later extended the opportunity for DemonKitty to come back to Boston and play for a local preschool. My old music mentor used to tell me, “No matter what happens, always play the gig.”

Without further ado…

---

Subject: DemonKitty is Shipping up to Boston!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

No one was expecting the ghoul attack. In fact, we spent most of the day worried about how DemonKitty’s show at Paul Revere Preschool & Craft Brewery in Boston was going to go. No matter what we were worried about, it turns out we were worried about the wrong thing.

It all started two weeks ago when I got an unexpected text from Arnold Rolfson, the A & R rep for the Yankee’s Suck Label, asking if DemonKitty would be up for opening for local Boston band The Womp Rats at a preschool.

I don’t trust that Arnold Rolfson, Gladys. Not as far as I can throw him. And I’ve been power-walking with weights so I’m pretty sure that’s at least three or four feet. Not that my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, will let me test that theory!!!!!

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going. Lately, I haven’t been writing much fiction, but I have been writing in my journal a lot and doing this thing I call Word Vomit. Basically, I set my timer for twenty minutes and I write EVERYTHING that comes to my mind whether or not it makes sense. So basically it’s like an email.

Back to the Preschool show!!!

So Tryxy was really excited that Arnold Rolfson invited DemonKitty to open up for The Womp Rats. After all, it would be DemonKitty’s very first show NOT IN NEW HAMPSHIRE!!! And when we were in Boston two weeks ago, we drove by a methadone clinic where we saw an elder god administering medication to someone wearing a Womp Rats t-shirt, so this band is FAMOUS!!!!!!

Personally, I was worried about the venue. Arnold Rolfson stressed me out talking about how DemonKitty has to bring their A game.

He said: “These are very discerning three-year olds. They’re tired of Baby Shark. They want something even more distilled. I just so happen to have written a song that I know would kill it for DemonKitty and, if you ask nicely, I’ll let them play one of my originals.”

I was very stressed out. How was I going to keep from sporking Arnold Rolfson in the ear if he keeps trying to bogart DemonKitty for his own stupid music?? And how was DemonKitty supposed to play for a bunch of discerning preschoolers??? DemonKitty’s music isn’t for everyone. It’s only for the most sophisticated and artistic of listeners like myself.

But Tryxy wasn’t worried. “Half of our songs are just meowing, and we have a cat in the band, and we vomit rainbows at the end. If that doesn’t win preschoolers over, nothing will.”

It turns out, I was entirely worried about the wrong thing, and I’m not talking about the Cthulhu Cultist Parade that was all over the news that morning because Boston officials issued a Cthulhu Manifestation Advisory.

We drove down to Boston and dropped my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, off at the John Quincy Adams High School & Cannabis Dispensary because he was asked to host a writing workshop for teens this week. Then, we set off to Paul Revere Preschool & Craft Brewery but GPS accidentally rerouted us to Abigail Adams Middle School & Vape Supply Warehouse.

Tryxy was clutching his knees with anxiety. We had lost an ENTIRE hour with the GPS accident and he was sure we were going to get to the school late and make a very bad impression on the Womp Rats. He had bought a Womp Rats t-shirt for them to sign. Then, to make matters worse, we couldn’t find parking ANYWHERE NEAR THE SCHOOL.

It turns out, there was nothing we could do about the Womp Rats. The second I drove through the gym doors and parked on the indoor play gym, Arnold Rolfson came up to us and told us that the Womp Rats were threatening not to play because they were unhappy he had booked DemonKitty as their opening act.

It turns out The Womp Rats had requested a band called “Lieger Tiger” to open for them. Apparently Lieger Tiger is a high brow free form jazz act that uses only bear horns and fingernails on chalkboards for all their sounds. The Womp Rats thought that if a “bunch of nobodies like a demon and a cat” opened for them, that they’ll stop pulling in better venues.

That was CRUSHING. And when I saw the look on Tryxy’s face, I very nearly kidnapped all three members of the Womp Rats and tied them up in an industrial trash compactor where they  could be crushed for crushing my BFF, but my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, promised me that if I refrain from hurting anyone for a full week, he’s got a romantic surprise for me!!!!

Anyhoo, we muscled through the situation and started setting up Tryxy’s drum kit when the preschool administrator came running into the gym saying that students were being kept in their classes until the Cthulhu Cultist Parade passed by and we could be reasonably assured that the kids wouldn’t be eaten by a god-monster before the busses came.

I don’t know why Boston gets so up in arms about Cthulhu. Everyone knows that Cthulhu rarely attacks Suffolk County. IT’S ESSEX THAT HAS TO WATCH OUT!!!!!

THEN, it turns out the school had to delay the show even more because, after the Cthulhu cultists passed, it was time for the children to attend some special Touch and See craft activity called “How to Grow a Callous on Your Liver and a Chip on Your Shoulder For Young Bostonians.”

So the show was delayed by a whole HOUR. Every single minute, Tryxy got more anxious that the Womp Rats would make good on their threat not to play at all, and he even began to doubt himself!!!!

Sure enough, the clock struck three and about one hundred preschoolers were released into the play gym like a pack of Juicy-Juice fueled piranhas. That’s when Tryxy began to crash his cymbals and beat his drums like he’d never play again.

The CROWD WENT WILD!!!! They sang their hits “Ninevah Burns In My Soul,” “Meow,” and “Meow Meow” TWICE because the kids ate it up. You should’ve seen the little preschooler’s faces light up when Tryxy worked his magic and he and #bestkitten opened up their mouths like they were going to throw up and rainbows of light streamed out of their mouths over the gym!!!!!

There was NO WAY the Womp Rats could follow that.

And luckily for them, they didn’t have to. Because everyone knows that Boston’s problem isn’t with Cthulhu. Boston’s problem is with Ghouls. Ghouls are always taking over the North End and the T. And it just so happens that Paul Revere Preschool and Craft Brewery is near the North End and that’s when about thirty ghouls barreled through the broken gym doors I’d driven through and carried off the Womp Rats and about sixty growlers of Belgian White.

All’s well that ends well, Gladys!!!

Pages next week!!!!

xox,

X

CAN’T

BELIEVE THIS

BUT ONE

OF THE

GHOULS

WAS A

PROMOTER

FOR A

LOCAL

MUSIC FEST.

DEMONKITTY

HAS BEEN

INVITED

TO PLAY

OUR FIRST

FESTIVAL!

[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

AN AUDIENCE OF ONE

Hello, All! Melanie here.

The roads for an up-and-coming writer and an up-and-coming musical act are similar. The highways are abundant with highs and lows, and all its drainage ditches overflow with uncertainty and cast off dreams.

At the start of the year, Tryxy and Writer X wished to succeed in their respective artistic pursuits, and X also hoped to shed a few pounds. Since then, X has been gung ho about getting Tryxy a steady stream of gigs, however humble. But Tryxy has grappled with the herculean task of writing enough original music to fill an entire set.

When last we left Writer X, the demon Tryxy, #bestkitten, and X’s boyfriend Tod Boadkins, Tryxy and #bestkitten’s band, DemonKitty, had a gig at a bus stop. With just five songs, DemonKitty couldn’t fill the hour they had been booked for.

As fate would have it, their set was unexpectedly interrupted by a lost A & R man from a renowned music label in Boston. Yes, A & R reps still play a crucial role in today’s direct-to-audience music industry, much like acquisition editors in the publishing world. This unexpected encounter could potentially change the course of Tryxy and Writer X’s journey.

DemonKitty was invited to Boston this week to play for the A & R rep (named Arnold Rolfson because—according to X—that’s what “A & R” stands for.)

Whatever wariness I have about music labels, I’m excited for DemonKitty. Of the hundreds of thousands of bands out there dreaming of the big time, few will ever get so lucky a break. But there’s also a danger to getting your lucky break before you’re ready for it.

Without further ado…

---

Subject: Cat-urday Comfort Fest!!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

I’m writing to cordially invite you to our Comfort Fest this Saturday. I’ll just need you to bring a few things which I’ll detail later so that you don’t forget.

We are on our way back from Boston. My boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, is driving and Tryxy and #bestkitten are in a ramen coma in the back seat so I’m free to write you.

I am very proud of Tryxy. It has been a big week for him and that’s the most important thing. Today we all learned that playing music is pretty much the same thing as writing SFF except that they are completely different.

It all started on our way down to Boston when we entered gridlocked traffic as soon as we crossed the boundary of New Hampshire into Masshole-landia. It’s incredible how different the two states are!!!!!! On the New Hampshire side of the border, its sprawling highways, pine trees, mooses, and sasquatches, but the second you cross into Massachusetts, BAM! the roads shrink, pot holes mouths open and devour cars at random, spitting out shocks and suspension all over the place, and storm clouds roll in with eldritch horrors flinging madness from the skies.

While waiting for the DOT to clear a misplaced Shoggoth from I-93, Tryxy started fretting again about the fact that he only has five songs and what if that isn’t enough for Arnold Rolfson and he completely blows it??? To make matters worse, he was EXTREMELY NERVOUS about having to play a show for just one person.

It was so bad, we had to let him out of the car several times to upchuck his hot cheetos in a drainage ditch full of natty ice cans, cynicism and broken dreams. 

That’s when my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, decided to give Tryxy a little advice.

“You know, an audience of one isn’t a bad thing, Tryxy,” he said. “In fact, an audience of one is all you need to write a story. Maybe that can be true for playing a show, too! When I’m getting ready to write, I pick one person—just one person—that I’m going to write this story for and then I tell the story in the way I think they would like it. And sometimes that one person you’re writing for can be you.”

“Ohhhhhh, why did you have to bring up writing??????” Tryxy wailed and tumbled out of the car again to make another deposit in the wildlife.

You see, Galdsy, not only has Tryxy been nervous about performing for Arnold Rolfson, he’s also had a bad case of writer’s block. Every time he thinks about writing another song as good as “Ninevah Burns In My Soul” or “Meow” or “Meow Meow,” he gets nauseous.

However, I couldn’t let my boyfriend’s silly advice be the last thing Tryxy heard!!!!

I vehemently disagree with writing to an audience of one!!!!

I mean, if all you ever want to be is an award nominated fantasy writer, maybe writing to an audience of one is enough for you, but if you want to be the next big epic fantasy writer of all time LIKE ME!!!!! you have to write stories that are all things to all people!!!!!!!!

“Tryxy, what you need to do is play for the whole world!!!” I said as soon as he got back in the car and rinsed the bile from his teeth.

“I only have five songs,” he moaned. “I can’t even play longer than twenty minutes.” And he dumped his head in his lap.

“What if you just play the five songs really really really slow?” asked my boyfriend.

We all thought that might be a plan.

Seven hours later, we had crossed twenty miles and finally reached Boston where we drove around in endless loops of one way streets until we found our destination: a squalid little warehouse pitched on some desolate corner of Mass Ave.

Arnold Rolfson greeted us at the door with a freshly waxed handlebar mustache and a cloud of weed. He bowed ostentatiously and told Tryxy how excited he was for DemonKitty to come down and play for him and how his music label could take them places they’d never dream of going—like playing Arkham or Miskatonic University!

“Hey! I go to Miskatonic University!” cried Tryxy.

But Arnold Rolfson wasn’t listening. He was texting someone on his phone. He waved a hand at us for us to follow and we awkwardly shuffled after him carrying Tryxy’s drums and #bestkitten’s microphone. Tryxy tried asking Arnodl who else played at Miskatonic U but Arnold just waved him away and kept texting. Tryxy gave me a round-eyed look of uncertainty.

“It’s fine, it’s fine,” I whispered.

Arnold Rolfson waved us into a little black room with a tiny stage where Tryxy and #bestkitten set up. Then Arnold said, “Just give me a half hour of your best stuff. No need to play too long.”

And Tryxy gave me another round-eyed look and his face covered with a pale sheen of sweat. I was afraid he’d let go of some more hot cheetos!!!!!

But I had nothing to worry about Gladys!!!!!! Because DEMONKITTY PLAYED THEIR HEARTS OUT FOR NINETEEN WHOLE MINUTES!!!!!!!! I’ve never seen them play so good!!!!!! THEY WERE AMAZING!!!!!! Tryxy really took my advice to heart and played for THE WHOLE WORLD!!!!!

But in the end, I wasn’t sure Arnold Rolfson even saw it, he was so busy looking down at his phone, the reflection of blue light shimmering on his waxy mustache.

“What’s your next song?” asked Arnold.

“T-that’s a-all o-of t-them?” mewed Tryxy.

Arnold pulled his mouth and his mustache into a frown. “That wasn’t even twenty minutes and I didn’t hear a single.”

Tryxy was crestfallen.

And then Arnold Rolfson lit up like lightning struck his brains. “HEY! How about this? Tell you what I’ll do. I have a bunch of original material I’VE written on Garage Band. Excellent stuff. All of it slaps. How about DemonKitty switches out and plays MY music? That could be a good deal for you. But I keep the publishing.”

I’m not sure what Tryxy said in return because I had unconsciously picked up a folding chair and was preparing to bring it down soundly on Arnold Rolfson’s head when my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, wrestled it from my grasp and secured me in a half nelson.

Needless to say, the only way to end that kind of day was to drown our disappointments in all the ramen and boba tea we could get our hands on!!!!! Sometimes, it’s just not fair that people don’t get what you’re doing or that they pretend to care but they don’t. But like Tryxy and #bestkitten said after our fifteenth ramen egg, “At least I’m doing it with my friends.”

And that’s when Cat-urday Comfort Fest was born!!!!!!!! It starts at 11:00 a.m. this Saturday and goes to whenever feels nice. It’s taking place on my couch. The whole idea is that we all dress in sweatpants and onesies and pile onto a big couch with our favorite cats and watch movies until the cows come home!!!!!!

Bring a cat, Galdsy!!!!!! And whoever else you want to come!!!!

Pages next week!!!

xox,

X

P.S. Uh oh. I can’t believe this. Arnold Rolfson just texted me and asked if I could get DemonKitty to open for an up-and-coming Boston band called the Womp Rats!!!! I don’t trust that Arnold Rolfson!!! What do I do?????

WE DID

PLAY

REALLY WELL.

BUT THAT’S

BECAUSE

WE PLAYED

FOR AN

AUDIENCE

OF ONE:

OUR

BIGGEST

FAN,

WRITER

X. <3

COME TO

CATURDAY

COMFORT

FEST IF

YOU CAN.

THERE’S

ROOM.

[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

THE THING ABOUT BUS STOPS

Hello, All! Melanie here.

If you haven’t been following along recently, Tryxy the demon’s band DemonKitty had a gig at the bus stop this week! Yes, you read that right: bus stop. We all have to start somewhere. Probably even at the beginning!

Last week, Tryxy was worried that he didn’t have enough original songs to fill the hour long set he was contracted to pay. Alas and alack, this is the common plight of the rookie rock n’ roller. You’ve got talent, you’ve got ambition, but you’ve got no songs!

…This is also the common plight of the rookie writer; talent, ambition, a magic system, but no pages. Funny how those pages don’t magically write themselves.

Without further ado…

---

Subject: Walpiskiddy Springs!!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

Once upon a time, I took a bus in Boston. Like everything else in Boston, it was the strangest thing!!! First of all, there were multiple buses, each going to different parts of the city with multiple stops between. And they ran on Time instead of Whim!!!! Some people have no imagination. Regular transportation that takes you to where you want to go????? It fill me with a cold and desperate shudder!!! Who would want that????

Fortunately, bus stops in New Hampshire are much better and better still in Cradensburg. First of all, you don’t have to worry about something as restricting as a regular bus schedule with pick ups every fifteen minutes to half hour!!!!! I know that people THINK they want to get from Farm Hill down to Mr. Morgan’s for groceries and not spend all day waiting for a bus that may never come, but think about all the GRIT they’re missing out on gladys!!!!!

Writers need grit. We are gritty gritty people. We grit our gritty teeth down to smooth mounds and grit our way through a short story that we know may never see the light of day, even if we ARE the next big epic fantasy writer of all time. And for some stupid reason, when we write it, it has to actually be GOOD, even if we KNOW it will never see the light of day!!!!!!

Then we send our story off to an editor to be fed to spam wolves for nineteen months, and when the spam wolves are done tearing the encryptions to shreds, the editor sends a form rejection by email that STILL MANAGES TO BE COVERED IN COFFEE STAINS AND KETCHUP!!!!!

HOW DO YOU EMAIL KETCHUP, GLAYDS??????

Anyhoo, what was I saying??? Oh yeah, you need grit if you’re going to sit down and write ANOTHER SHORT STORY that may or may not see the light of day. Sheer grit. And you’ll need grit to eat the congealed ketchup off your emails because it’s just disgusting.

No really, what was I saying??? I thought I was talking about something else when I started this email. Let’s see, we’ve covered ketchup…grit… OH RIGHT THE BUSES!!!!!

Come to think of it, Cradensburg bus routes have a lot in common with being a writer, too. When you go to Boston, you get on THIS number bus at one particular time to get to THAT particular location by another particular time. BUT THAT DOESN’T PREPARE YOU FOR YOUR WRITING CAREER, DOES IT GLADYS?????

Here in Cradensburg, our bus stops emerge out of thin air. They tap you on your shoulder and then clothesline you when you turn around. They moon you when you’re minding your own business. They may wipe boogers on your shirt, Galdsy, but they’re the only thing around. That means that when they appear like a shimmering oasis on the horizon, you break a sweat running for it!!!!!!

Sometimes, a bus stop appears—and there’s even a bus!!!! And you get on it!!!!! And four days later you realize that it’s never going to stop going circles around that new statue they put up of the Mayor and his husband discovering pulled pork sandwiches for the first time this summer at the town barbecue.

And sometimes, you end up on a bus that says it’s taking you to Walpiskiddy Springs and the bus driver is an angry Djinn, but that’s not really why I’m writing you. Well, it is, but there are other things, too!!!

It all began last week when I discovered churros. Now, I know that you think you’ve eaten churros, Gladys, but you haven’t eaten churros until you’ve eaten parking lot churros sold by a tiny old lady with a one-eyed dog and a cooler full of hot heaven!!!!!! One bite of those churros and you will have churro brain!!! And if you don’t have churro brain after one bite, YOU HAVEN’T EATEN CHURROS. And if you don’t know what churro brain is. YOU HAVEN’T EATEN CHURROS!!!!!

As you know, Tryxy has been very anxious about his gig at the bus stop. After the fiasco playing all DemonKitty’s songs just 19 minutes at the tractor haul show, Tryxy was really worried that he and #bestkitten wouldn’t be able to write enough new music before the big bus stop show to fill the HOUR he’d been booked for. The anxiety was killing him!!

(Between you and me, I caught him with a voodoo doll of himself, sticking himself in the thigh so that he would get a charley horse and wouldn’t have to play drums and could back out of the gig. But don’t tell him I told you!!!!!)

Then, when my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, dropped us off at the spot that LOOKED like a bus stop but turned out to be an atm machine, Tryxy was giddy at the thought that there wasn’t a bus stop after all, and hence he wouldn’t have to play his 19 minutes of music.

But it was not to be!!! I realized that I had mistaken a tall skinny man flipping me the bird for the bus stop!!!! We gathered up the drums and #bestkitten’s cat carrier and microphone and marched across the street to the ACTUAL bus stop that was wearing fishnets and showing a little leg.

No sooner had Tryxy and #bestkitten started playing their show, a flaming #666 bus came to a screeching halt in front of them and—you’ll never believe this Galdsy—but off the bus fell a singed and bewildered A & R rep who had been riding circles around the statue of our mayor. He’d been trapped in a bus full of tipsy fire dancers for three weeks straight!!!!

He was so overcome with joy at his escape, he invited DemonKitty to come down and play for him in Boston next week!!!!!!

GLADYS!!!! It’s Tryxy and #bestkitten’s first big break!!!!!!

We needed to celebrate right away AND impress the A & R rep, so I told Tryxy and Arnold Rolfson (that’s what A & R stands for) to talk amongst themselves and of course I went looking for the churro lady in the parking lot but there was a line!!!! Wouldn’t you know, no sooner had I gotten to the churro lady, a bus pulled up and I thought I saw Tryxy, #bestkitten, and Arnold Rolfson get on the bus!!! SO I Threw a hundred dollars at the churro lady and stole her cooler and broke for it.

She immediately tackled me and her one-eyed dog bit my shoe off my foot.

Sure enough, the bus was pulling away!!!

I threw another fifty dollars at the old lady and she and One-Eyed Rover laid off me. I started running after the bus, dragging the cooler behind me, but my speed was hampered since I was running with one shoe!!! Fortunately for me, ANOTHER bus pulled up beside me. I looked at it long enough to see that it was heading for Walpiskiddy Springs.

“AFter that bus!!” I yelled to the Djinn bus driver and threw a handful of churros at him (I had given the churro lady all my money.)

It’s now been three days. I finally picked all the churros out of my ears thanks to Mr. Temper Temper (that’s the bus driver) and I’m all out of food.

Here’s what I need you to do Gladys. Get in your car and follow the churro crumb trail out of town. I’ll need a ride home from Walpiskiddy Springs!!!!!

And then we can throw a party for Tryxy and #bestkitten!!!!

Pages next week!!!

xox,

X

THIS IS

INCREDIBLE.

SO LUCKY.

STILL HAVE

ONE

PROBLEM.

WE ONLY

HAVE

FIVE

SONGS.

HOW ARE

WE

SUPPOSED

TO IMPRESS

ARNOLD

ROLFSON

WITH

JUST

FIVE

SONGS?

[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

MICROSTORY. GO!

Hello, All! Melanie here.

When last we left our heroes, Writer X was busy figuring out how to fit an entire epic fantasy story into just five hundred words for the Ink Black Coffee Club Critique Group’s Microfiction. She wasn’t the only one busy writing, Tryxy the demon has been trying to write more songs so that he and #bestkitten’s shows go longer than fifteen minutes.

Sometimes, you need less words. Sometimes, you need more. Sometimes, the story is in what you don’t say.

Without further ado…

---

Subject: How many words is in an an hour????

Dear Gladys,

I am a writer. I know you don’t know a lot of writers because we are so incredibly rare, EXTREMELY RARE. How many Brandon Sandersons do you know??? SO RARE.

But anyway, I was at the town’s monthly chamber of commerce networking event and I was talking to the seventy-six other writers there pushing their latest books and we were discussing how important word count is and how you have to be extremely economical with your words!!!! Us writers don’t just throw words aroound willy nilly!!! Words aren’t spaghetti!!!!!

I would have liked for the conversation to go on longer, but then came the portion of the event when we all throw around spaghetti, thanks to that no-good local Italian restaurant that caters. The worst food!!!!!

Believe it or not, I wasn’t there to push my own writing, even though I am the next big epic fantasy writer of all time. I’m a horse of many colors!!!! I was there in my role as the manager for Demonkitty, the next big epic demon and cat led musical act of all time!!!! Particularly to confront someone about a disagreement over a bale of hay.

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writintg is going.

I’m am still working away at my completely epic story that will be all things to all people, have magic, and battles, and love triangles, and also be under five hundred words.

Bevvy Hart has informed me that I have until the end of today to get my story finished so that it can be included in the microfiction anthology that our writing group is putting out. Because I am just so incredible with my attentiveness to words and do not waste a SINGLE ONE, I have been able to write something AMAZING. Every word is perfect. It was extremely hard to pull off, but I don’t know if I’ve said this before, but I am the next big epic fantasy writer of all time and of course I have been up to the task. Not wasting any words!!!!!

But that’s not why I’m writing you. I’m writing you because I need to know how many words are in an hour. Tryxy and I agreed that you would probably know. You see, he’s been having a bit of a hard time.

Last week was his show outside the tractor haul and their set only lasted nineteen minutes!!!  And that was with their two new songs, Meow! and Meow Meow!, AND with the crowd pleasing barfing rainbows act!!!! The agreed upon artist fee was two baskets of curly fries and a bale of hay but that was for A HALF HOUR SHOW!!!!!

When Demonkitty couldn’t play for the full thirty minutes, the promoter gave them two soggy baskets of unseasoned curly fries and said he wouldn’t cough up the hay bale if I stuck a fork in him!!!! IT absolutely crushed Tryxy’s self esteem. I know that he may be four thousand or so years old, but he’s an adolescent demon!!! His brain’s not even fully developed!!!!! 

THERE WAS A LOT RIDING ON THAT BALE OF HAY, GALDSY!!!!!

Tryxy and I did the math, and even if we include ALL the meows in his songs, they have 750 words and that isn’t enough to fill the hour long set I booked for them next week at the bus stop!!!!!! If they don’t play a full hour, then they won’t receive the agreed upon artist’s fee of

I apologize for my extended absence from writing this email. Usually I tell you when I have to stop writing my emails and do something else, but I got an AWFUL text message from Bevvy Hart.

SHE CUT MY WORD COUNT DOWN TO TWO HUNDRED AND FIFTY WORDS!!!!!!

I had to stop writing this email WRITE AWAY and go work on my story which has now been completely mauled by Bevvy’s miserly word count allowance!!!!!!

Hang on, Gladys, the tractor haul promoter is asking me to lower him a sponge soaked with water. PEOPLE ARE SO DEMANDING!!!!

But none of this is important write now because I need you to take a look at my new version of my story. I had to cut out a couple scenes with mushrooms, but otherwise, I managed to keep everything mostly the same.

---

UNTITLED EPIC MICROFICTION

by Writer X

Orphan. Village. Old grandma. Prophecy. Cabbages. Troll Invasion. Where did grandma go? With the trolls! Adventure: GO!

Orphan girl: Beautiful. Rogue boy: Hot. Fangs for some reason. Knight boy: troubled. sexy dad bod. Oh look, they’re looking for grandma. Oh look, they don’t get along!

Suddenly: THRUPPLE. Whooo yeah.

Somehow an army. Knight boy joins but to avenge his sister’s death by killing commander. SO THAT’S WHY HE’S TROUBLED. Orphan girl and rogue boy: betrayed and abandoned. But enjoying extra space in bed roll.

KIDNAPPED BY TROLLS. Oh, there you are grandma! Grandma, why is your face gone? The rage! The horror! Suddenly magic powers activate! FLASH OF LIGHT! TROLLS: DECIMATED.

Knight boy sees light from yonder valley. Misses Orphan Girl and Rogue Boy ‘cause they give good lovin’. Commander knows prophecy. GO TO THE LIGHT, MEN!

Orphan Girl: What’s wrong with me? Why did I kill all those trolls? Who am I even anyway?

Rogue BOy: You’re a monster like me. That’s why Knight boy didn’t want us.

Orphan Girl: I have to keep believing.

Rogue Boy: Don’t stop believing. It’s what I love about you.

Orphan Girl: Grandma! You’re alive? But your face!

Army closes in. Want Orphan Girl’s power! Knight boy stalks Commander. Trolls descend. Epic Battle: GO!

Grandma screaming on the mountain. The words of the prophecy! The trolls are the good guys! No one’s listening! Knight boy stabs commander. Is stabbed too! Oh no! Will he die?

Stay tuned. Part Two next anthology. Read it!

---

Well?? What do you think??? I keep feeling like it’s missing something. Maybe the mushrooms. Oh well, I just have to trust the fact that everything I write is brilliant and hit send!!!

Pages next week, Gladys!!!

xox,

X

DON’T

KNOW HOW

WE’LL HAVE

ENOUGH

SONGS FOR

NEXT WEEK

SHOW. BEING

FAMOUS

IS HARD.

FORTUNATELY

HAVE THIS

BALE OF

HAY TO

HOLD.

DON’T WANT

TO DO

COVERS.

DON’T

STOP

BELIEVING.

[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

CRAMMING THE MACRO INTO MICROFICTION

Hello, All! Melanie here.

Last week, we learned about Demonkitty’s long anticipated show at Mr. Morgan’s new sushi counter. With Writer X’s focus on boosting Demonkitty’s burgeoning music career, there’s been little news of any writing getting done!

Without further ado…

---

Subject: MICROVACATION, HERE I COMES!!!!!!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

I am writing to ask that you water my exploding gerbils while I’m away, but watch out for Miffy, she bites.

Since Demonkitty’s show last week at the sushi counter was an unparalleled success, my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, and I are taking what’s known as a Microvacation to celebrate before Demonkitty’s big show at the tractor haul next week. We’re going to a ghost hotel in Bleakwood for the night!!!! This is going to be so relaxing!!!!

I have so many things planned: water aerobics, bowling, astral massage, and a special tuba playing workshop for the undead!!! Just some light activity for the first two hours after our arrival. You see, it’s a microvacation, Gladsy, you have to fit MORE in less time.

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going. Well, I went to a meeting of the Ink Black Coffee Club Critique Group and it turns out no one in our writing group has gotten any real writing done since NaNoMochaChocaLatte.

After some reflection, we all discovered that we’re feeling very unrecognized for all our hard work as writers. See, that’s the thing about writing Galdsy, you can pour hours and hours and HOURS into a half finished rough draft and no one throws a parade!!! The conditions under which writers must toil before anyone says boo are ABSOLUTELY INHUMANE!!!!!

But I digress. We’ve all decided that the thing that will give us both the writing recognition we feel we deserve AND give us motivation to write is to release a microfiction anthology.

Now Gladys, I know you’re not a writer and the ways of writing are very hard for nonwriters like yourself to decipher—hang on, Miffy is chewing off her brother Milton’s ear.

As I was saying,

Well. There went Milton. Just a pile of ash. Good thing I still have Miffy, Gordon, Mango, Mitsy, and Jordan Peterson’s Ego!!!! And even better that you’ll be coming over to keep them watered while I’m away living my best life for the next 20 hours!!!!!!

As I was saying. The ways of writing are hard for nonwriters to decipher and so I’m sure you have never heard of microfiction. Microfiction is a form of flash fiction that ranges from 100 – 500 words. This means it’s EXTREMELY EASY to write and I already know I’m going to be AMAZING at this.

Usually when I write a story that’s long, I run out of ideas about ninety pages in. BUT since our critique group has set the limit to 300 words, this is going to be a WALK IN THE PARK.

Hang on. Mitsy has set fire to my suitcase and three of my duvets. No one could have seen that coming!!!!!!

…Probably shouldn’t let the exploding gerbils run around on our bed. 

Anyhoo, where was I? Right!!!! 300 words is going to be incredibly easy and I have NO SHORTAGE OF IDEAS. This microfiction is going to be all things to all people!!!! It’s going to have high magic, betrayal, vampire sex, AND the sudden revelation that an orphan is the child of the prophecy. IT’s going to have thrilling dialogue, at least twelve elves, an epic battle, and a scene in a fishing village that will REALLY drive home my theme about the human connection to our grandfathers.

Gladys, I’m so excited!!!! This is going to be my next published work!!!

Goodbye, Mango. You lived as you loved; pooping uncontrollably and chewing through discarded paper towel rolls.

To celebrate my coming success, I’m going to add hang gliding and learning German to my microvacation. There’s absolutely nothing that can rain on my parade!!!!!!

Miffy just bit off Jordan Peterson’s Ego’s tail.

Eh. He didn’t need it.

Now I just have to figure out two things: how to fit my hang gliding equipment into my carry-on suitcase AND how to fit an epic battle into three words!!!!! EPIC BATTLE TAKES TWO!!!!!

You’re coming to the show at the tractor haul, right????

Pages next week, Galdsy!!!!! KEEP A CLOSE EYE ON YOUR FINGERS!!!!!

xox,

X

WROTE

TWO NEW

SONGS

THIS

WEEK.

THAT

WAY

WE’LL

HAVE

MORE

THAN

THREE

SONGS TO

PLAY

AT THE

TRACTOR

HAUL.

ONE’S

CALLED

“MEOW”

AND

THE

OTHER

ONE IS

“MEOW

MEOW.”

“MEOW

MEOW”

IS

GENIUS.

[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

ROCK THE SUSHI SHOP!

Hello, All! Melanie here.

When last we heard from Writer X, she had successfully terrorized Mr. Morgan of Mr. Morgan’s Food Emporium & Things Nicely Priced into booking the band DemonKitty for the grand opening of the new sushi counter.

There’s an old joke in the music world. It goes like this…

Q: How do you get a musician to complain?

A: Give them a gig.

Regardless that the sushi show would fulfill one of Tryxy the demon’s musical dreams, when confronted with success, some of us panic like so many writers confronted with a blank page. Rather than practice, Tryxy spent most of his time finding literally anything else to do as the date of the show clipped toward him. Writer X and Tod Boadkins, two writers deeply familiar with avoiding writing, looked on in horror.

Without further ado…

---

Subject: IT CLEARLY SAYS TO TASTE THE RAINBOW!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

All I can say is that things didn’t go as planned!!!! Last week, Tryxy and #bestkitten didn’t practice for their show at all. To be fair, that wasn’t #bestkitten’s fault. She always shows up for practice, but Tryxy is the one that’s a whole #MOOD.

Finally, the night before the gig, but BEFORE we learned that our internet had been intercepted by gophers, the writing appeared on the wall. That’s because Tryxy is a high level demon from the Void of Asheput and can make his calendar reminders appear on the living room wall. There it was, written in a demonic scrawl over my case of faberge eggs:

It was CLEAR that it was time to get down to business and defeat the Huns, but even then, Tryxy dragged his feet.

“It’s fine,” he said. “It’s not like there will be anyone there!”

That’s when I showed him the poster I hired some gophers to make to promote the gig!!!!!

THAT was the writing on the wall he needed!!! I should have showed him the poster a week before!!!!! Tryxy went into a cold panic. How was he supposed to get months of practice in on a single night?? I told him that, if anyone could do it, a demon could, but he wasn’t consoled.

That’s when he and #bestkitten concocted a WHOLE NEW PLAN to deal with the fact that they hadn’t practiced any of their songs in months. No, it wasn’t to borrow another time machine from the library, go back in time and practice. You know how long the waiting list is for those time machines!!! And no, it wasn’t to load up on vitamin B12 and espresso shots and practice all night. It wasn’t even to hire a bunch of gophers a session musicians!!!!

Ultimately Tryxy decided they could take one of two paths. Either they could do any of the things I’ve listed above ORRRRRR they could host a skittles mukbang on their YouTube channel.

The logic went like this: “We COULD practice and still be not so good because we haven’t practiced in several months. OR we could make our fans love us so much that, no matter how bad we play, they’ll think we’re cool.”

Everyone knows that fans love nothing more than a good band mukbang. So Tryxy and #bestkitten hot-footed down to the store to buy several pounds of skittles.

It was about that time that the gopher incident happened. I WILL ABSOLUTELY NOT GO INTO THE GOPHER INCIDENT. THERE’S NO TIME, GLADYS!!!!!

Okay, I will. It went like this: I owed the gophers money. NOT from the poster, but for the faberge egg I bought off one of their facebook marketplace ads. I didn’t pay them. They ate my internet.

Tryxy and #bestkitten set up their camera and each ate two bags of skittles and talked about how amazing the show was going to be and how they were counting on everyone’s support because it’s been a lifelong dream to play at a sushi counter. Then they discovered that they hadn’t been recording.

So they did it again. But felt too scripted to repeat the stuff about counting on everyone’s support, so they ate two more bags of skittles and talked about how they had come to be best friends. Then, they discovered that #bestkitten had a piece of toilet paper sticking to her left whiskers the whole time and had to scrap and record again.

Four or five attempts later, when they were both slightly green, I gave them the great news that the internet had been restored!!!!!

The next morning, my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, and I had to carry the two of them to the sushi counter on a stretcher. Which was fine. They only had to play for fifteen minutes but they also only have three songs which they finished in eight minutes. That’s when they decided to do a “jam session,” and in a twist no one saw coming, both of them got sick. Fortunately, Tryxy is a demon so when the upchuck started chucking, he magically turned the sick into streams of rainbows pouring from their mouths AND THE CROWD WENT WILD!!!

They have a gimmick!!!!!!! Now we just have to make sure they eat at least ten pounds of skittles before each show.

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going but right now I am up to my ears booking shows for DemonKitty!!!!! I’ve got all the best venues lined up!!!! I booked them playing Senior Night at the Bingo Emporium, the bus stop outside the tractor haul the next night, and the launch of the new bathrooms they installed at the Gas and Guzzler in Bleakwood!!!! We’re going places!!!!

Pages next week, Galdsy!!!

xox,

X

GLAD THAT

EVERYONE

LIKE OUR

VOMIT

RAINBOW,

BUT I

HOPE THEY

INTERFACE

WITH THE

MEANING

OF THE

SONGS.

[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

THE CRIPPLING FLAMES OF SUCCESS

Hello, All! Melanie here. 

It’s been a busy few weeks for our friends in Cradensburg, NH!

Thanks to a charm offensive involving a truckload of hot pink stabilizer balls, Tryxy the demon (and lead songwriter of the music duo Demonkitty) finally has the opportunity to fulfill his musical dream of playing at a grand opening of the sushi counter in the local grocery. The only trouble is, now that he’s got the gig, he’s acting strangely.

Meanwhile, X is pursuing her dream of becoming the “next big epic fantasy writer of all time” by forgoing writing. Instead, she’s furthering her writing career by focusing on self-care. Namely, X wants to dismantle her internalized fat phobia. She’s doing this about as well as the rest of us: through cycles of stress eating and self-loathing.

This is to say that we manage to be our own stumbling block in pursuing individual happiness.

Without further ado…

---

Subject: Watch out for the stumbling block, Gladuys!!!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

I need you to come over to my house write away and evaluate Tryxy. Since I booked his gig for the grand opening of Mr. Morgan’s new and newly rebuilt sushi counter, I think…well, I think Tryxy has turned into a writer. I don’t know how else to explain the strangeness of his behavior!!!!!

Your cousin Blanche says you’ve been busy rebuilding your house that burnt down New Year’s Day, but I told her you could probably squeeze in the time to drop everything and come over with some emergency raspberry whoopie pies and AS MANY HAZMAT SUITS AS YOU CAN SPARE.

My diet is doing fine. Why do you ask?

The only thing is that you need to watch out for the new stumbling block by my front door. It’s gotten everyone lately; the mailman, the process server, the mailman again, Tryxy, me, a free-range neighborhood chicken, Mr. Morgan, basically EVERYBODY.

I would remove the stumbling block, but with Demonkitty’s BIG SHOW in just eight days, I need all of my attention on figuring out what’s going on with Tryxy. I have to help him turn back from being A WRITER!!!!!

Hold me, Galdsy, I’m scared I may be too late!!!!!!! Will write again soon!!!!!

xox,

X

P.S. Really need those hazmat suits!!!! Can you make mine pink?????

---

Subject: What does this look like to you?????

Dear Gladys,

I’m afraid that living with two writers has caused Tryxy to become infected with our disease. With just five days left until his show at Mr. Morgan’s, he SHOULD be devoting all his time to practicing but he hasn’t gone ANYWHERE NEAR his drum kit.

The last three days he’s spent most of his time doing the following:

1.) He’s taken up Extreme Canning as a hobby. If you’re not familiar with Extreme Canning, it’s when you try to fill your basement with a pickled version of at least one of every food group. Our kitchen is a disaster.

2.) He told me he was going to practice all yesterday afternoon, but when I checked on him, he had downloaded that new Quaint Cabbage Farmer™ game and spent most of the evening watering digital cabbages on his homestead while Golden Girls played in the background. When I asked him about practicing he said, “I’m sure it’s fine. Everything’s fine. It’s all fine. This is fine. Practicing. Yes. It’s fine. It’s not like I’ll have an audience.”

3.) When he isn’t canning or playing Quaint Cabbage Farmer™, I’ve found him crying in the bathroom as he watches Lil Nas X’s latest video and saying that “he’ll never measure up.”

The worst happened just this morning. As I’m sure I mentioned WHEN I ASKED FOR THE HAZMAT SUITS, a sentient black mold named Bruce has moved into our breezeway. This has made getting the mail very complicated as Bruce is aggressive and tries to poke us with a stick whenever we pass. As you know, Tryxy isn’t very fond of doing housework that requires being in an unheated room like the breezeway, but as soon as he heard that Bruce poked the mail carrier in the eye, his face lit up and he volunteered to singlehandedly eradicate BRuce.

My boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, and I looked on in horror as Tryxy merrily donned rubber gloves and took up a flame thrower and skipped out into the freezing cold breezeway.

As the roar of flames and Bruce’s screams filled the air, my boyfriend whispered to me: “My god, he has one job: practice. But he will do literally ANYTHING else but that. I’ve never seen anyone who isn’t a writer task avoid and procrastinate so fast and so hard. Do you think we’ve…infected him somehow?? I feel like this is somehow our fault.”

I don’t know what to do, Glayds!!!!  

How am I supposed to get any writing done when I can be worrying about whether I’ve infected Tryxy with my task avoidance????!!!!!

Pages next week, Gladys!!!

xox,

X

THIS IS
ALL
FINE.
I HAVE
PICKLED
EGGS,
PICKLED
JALAPEÑOS,
PICKLED
PICKLES,
PICKLED
BRUCE.
IT’S
FINE. IT’S
NOT LIKE
THERE WILL
BE AN
AUDIENCE.

[Introduction: Melanie Stormm continues her humorous series of posts about the misdirected emails she’s been getting. Stormm is a multiracial writer who writes fiction, poetry, and audio theatre. Her novella, Last Poet of Wyrld’s End is available through Candlemark & Gleam. She is currently the editor at the SPECk, a monthly publication on speculative poetry by the SFPA.]

THE FRESH FISH OF ROCK AND ROLL

Hello, All! Melanie here.

When last we left Writer X, she was trying to lose weight to help her meet her writing goals. She also was trying to get her demon BFF Tryxy’s band booked at the grand opening of a grocery store sushi counter. If she succeeds, this would go a long way in fulfilling Tryxy’s dream of playing at a sushi restaurant.

Without further ado…

---

Subject: Can you bail me out of jail in five minutes or so???

Dear Gladys,

Every time one of my stabilizer balls explodes, I get this obnoxious ringing in my ears!!!! I can’t remember if you told me your new phone number ended with a seven or an eleven so I’m sending you this email instead.

My boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, just sent me these screenshots of his conversation with Mr. Morgan and I think I’m finally making some headway in getting him to book Demonkitty for the grand opening of his new sushi counter!!!!

Either that, or I’m going to jail, so stand by!!!!!!

Here’s the screenshots from my boyfriend!!!

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going. Well, I’m in the third week of working with my Internalized Fat Phobia Coach and I still haven’t lost ANY WEIGHT!!!!! This was a significant set back in my writing-related weight loss goals and provoked a lot of stress eating. If my Fat Phobia Coach just spent a little less time talking about me loving my body unconditionally, we could do a lot more conditioning of my core!!!!

Hang on, Gladys, I accidentally bounced into the fish case and now there’s farm-raised salmon and ice chips everywhere. I filled this ball up with extra air so that it’s SUPER BOUNCY. MORE BOUNCE MEANS MORE CALORIES!!!!!!

BUT my boyfriend’s not much help with my weight loss goals. He keeps telling me that he’s attracted to me just as I am and that maybe I should start writing characters that look more like me as an exercise in self-love but I can love myself WAAAAAAAYyYYYYYY better when I’m thirty pounds smaller!!!!!

I’ve had to take things into my own hands. I replaced my daily writing time with keeping a strict calorie counting journal. But it’s calories in, calories out, Galsdy!!!! I have to burn as many calories as I eat, so I needed new ways to get in some extra exercise. Cars are a road block to burning calories so when I drove mine off the bridge again last week, I took it as a sign from the universe!!!!!

Then, I ordered a truck load of these beautiful hot pink stabilizer balls. I got rid of ALLL the chairs in my house and I’ve just been bouncing on these balls everywhere and so far there hasn’t been any downsidddddddthnspei

Hang on, Gladys, I got a little of that ice underneath me and just careened fifty feet across the store and collided with a display of mixed nuts.

As you know, I’ve been working on Mr. Morgan to book Demonkitty for the grand opening of the sushi counter and Tryxy and #bestkitten have been practicing nonstop since I told them that I absolutely have the gig in the bag and hung up posters promoting the show!!!!

So I stopped in to see if Mr. Morgan’s come to his senses yet and you know what I found out???? He’s opening the sushi counter TOMORROW!!!! This is fantastic!!!! Tryxy has off of work AND school tomorrow!!!!

Hang on. I think I have a honey-roasted cashew in my ear.

But Mr. Morgan doesn’t seem to see the logic. He says it’s “too late” the “health inspector’s coming tonight” and “cat around fresh fish” and “scromboid poisoning.” He was in the middle of hanging a giant squid shaped paper lantern over the fresh fish case when I accidentally bounced his ladder out from underneath him. Then he had to “go to the back” and “get first aid” and “check on his lawyer” and the fish counter person told me that “check on his lawyer” is either code for “call the police” or “take three or four lorazepam and a bottle of red wine.”

Which is why I’ve decided to write you!!!! Because I am SO close to making this happen. 

Hey Gladys, have you ever noticed that when you bounce over something ppointy your stabilizer ball makes this weird “peeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeen” sound??? Or it goes “peen! peen! peen!” with every bounce!!! Fortunately I brought my bicycle pump with me in case I lost any bounciness!!!! I even know how to pump and bounce in tandem!!! One calorie burned per bounce when you work both your arms and your core!!!!!!

I have to say that Mr. Morgan has done a really good job setting up this new sushi counter!!! The paper squid lantern is a nice touch. And the torii gate!! And the delicate little ceramic fish hanging everywhere. And the grand opening sign with the shiny gold leaf Japanese characters that probably say “Year of the Goat” or something!!!!! And the counter staff in fresh white aprons and hats looking nervously at me as I bounce towrad that

[hinb’sEb’uEO{GTO:WEL””BGNT:LNG”WLSGBNU psengto

sent from my iPhone

X KEEPS

CALLING

AND

HANGING

UP BECAUSE

SHE CAN’T

HEAR ME.

MANAGED

TO MAKE

OUT THAT

SUSHI

COUNTER

IS OPENING

AS SOON AS

IT’S

REBUILT

AND

DEMONKITTY

IS OFFICIALLY

PLAYING!

SO EXCITED!

SO NERVOUS!

WHAT IF

I MESS UP?