Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Seventy-Seventh

[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. Find her in her virtual home at Wipe your feet before entering.]


Hello All! Melanie here.

Thanks to her boyfriend’s convalescence in her newly expanded home, Writer X has been in the mood to write. With one problem: someone left a lot of Guilt lying around, and nobody had claimed it.

Unfortunately, that Unclaimed Guilt hampered X’s ability to get any pages written. It also triggered an investigative visit from the Warden of the Void of Asheput. If something wasn’t done about the Unclaimed Guilt, the Void Warden announced she might take Tryxy away.

Fortunately, Tod Boadkins recovered from his Second Book Syndrome in time to take responsibility for the Guilt, thus restoring order to the Writer X universe.

And I use the word order loosely. So loosely that you could drive a taco truck full of Sasquatches through it. 

Meanwhile, in Cradensburg, the paths of Writer X and the Mysterious Complex continue to dance with each other but not yet cross. Perhaps one of these dancers will trip over a piece of the stolen furniture decorating X’s house, and we’ll have a collision.

For now, X, Tryxy, and #bestkitten seem to be free to enjoy their new writing wing, dance club/bedroom and luxury cat gym and spa. And who could forget the atrium that houses the malevolent purple leopard?

Will Writer X ever ask her newly-verbal boyfriend to move in with her? Will we see new pages this week? How many gnomes will be exploited in the making of this fit?

You see…I prefer to get my questions out in the open, rather than make people beg for them.

Without further ado…


Dear Gladys,

At first I thought my house ate my boyfriend. He’s only been better one whole day and I had just come home from work and couldn’t find him at all!!!

I checked the vestibule under the porch, the swimming pool in our garage, I checked 12 of the 11 eleven bathrooms, our bedroom, the original kitchen, the unoriginal kitchen…I even went to atrium!!! And then I checked the writing wing and, high on the dias, I found this note.

I don’t like this note at all. Just this morning I left the house imagining how famous I’ll be this summer from the writing that’ll get done now that my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, is going to live with me!!

Tryxy, #bestkitten and I are happy, but things have been even better with him here.

It’s hard to describe. The hundred or so rooms are brighter, the pinks are louder, I even feel more poetic. It’s like my house is a circus and my boyfriend is the world’s cutest clown that makes it romantically complete. Now that he lives with me, all of my writing problems have MELTED AWAY.


Gladys!!! This is the fourth worst night of my entire lifef!!!! My boyfriend isn’t moving in with me; HE’sS BREAKING UP WITH ME!!!!! My only hope is that I can text some sense back into him!!!!




Dear Gladys,

This is the eighth-most horrible morning I have ever lived!!!! And that includes the time when we were peed on by a unicorn. And the time I went to work in a brand new dress but Tryxy threw up on me before I even got out of the car!!!!

I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going, but THIS IS NOT THE TIME GALSYD!!! How can I write when I sent my ex-boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins a mere 147 text messages and he DIDN’T RESPOND TO A SINGLE ONE???!!!

How can I write when I got up this morning and checked my email and there was nothing there but spam from that Craigslist ad I put up last week????

Sure, maybe some writers write by putting one word after the other, but not me Gladys!!!!

He left me that note about good things ending when he was supposed to be moving in; therefore he is breaking up with me.

I can feel it coming. He hasn’t made it official yet, but when you RENOVATE YOUR WHOLE HOUSE so your boyfriend to move in and he LEAVES and then he doesn’t answer any of your 147 text messages, and doesn’t send you a loving morning email, it’s obvious what the next message is going to be!!! It’s going to be the official break up and the writing power couple will be forever over as we know it.

Gladys, Camelot is dead. I can’t take this. I have to do something to brighten my spirits.

Usually when I feel bad, my night vision googles, long range binoculars, and pink ninja suit make me feel a little bit better. Especially when I drive my car out to Bleakwood and park it somewhere on Tod Boadkins’ street and point my googles in the direction of my former lover, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins’ house. But it’s just so hard to see into his dining room with all the tears!!!!

Can you bring me some tissues and some de-puffing eye cream??? I’ve used all mine. You can find me across the street from Tod Boadkins’ house near the periwinkle blue cape cod. I’m under the rhododendron next to a pile of moon pies and crumpled snotty napkins. My heart is floating like a brick over my stomach. Maybe he will feel my loving eyes on him and he’ll suddenly come to his senses. 



sent from my iPhone

Subject: It’s official.

Dear Gladys,

It’s official. We’ve broken up.

I’m under the rhododendron. I can see clear into Tod Boadkins’ living room. He was standing, looking adorable with his red beard and his orange sweater, studying a picture on the wall. It was from our first date at Fish! Fish! Fish!. I had it framed and hung last Hogswatch.

My deadweight heart began to pound. I wondered if he was thinking of me and regretting that he left. It was time to strike with the perfect text message!!!

The notification showed that he READ IT. And then you know what happened, Gladys????? He took the picture off the wall!!!!! I saw it with my very own binoculars (which I got for an amazing price, pristine magnification!!!)

Tonight is the first night we’re supposed to go our critique group meeting together!!!! How am I supposed to show up for that now that I’m puffy-eyed, covered in grass stains, and smell like the bottom of a bush??

A day ago I was half of the greatest writing power couple of all time. Now I’m just a lady with a pair of binoculars under a rhododendron. All my best years are behind me.

I’m not immature. I know when it’s time to pack up all your customized spying equipment and go home. I don’t even know if I should go to the critique group. They’re more his friends than mine.

I feel so used, Gladys!!! AFter all I did for him. I nursed him back to health!!! I wiped the drool from his adorable beard!!!! I bought him pajamas with little boats!!! We were moving in together and then he just cuts me off!!! I bet you he heard from his ex wife. He never got over her. Sometimes he would talk about her leaving him. He felt like she just discarded him. 

Now my books will never get written.

Gladys, can you come and get me out of this rhododendron??? I think I got myself stuck again.

No, really. I’m stuck!!! You know the coordinates!!! Come get me!!!!

Oh, and can you pick up some allergy medicine for Tryxy??? I promised him I’d get him some on my way home and by the time you get me out of this bush the pharmacy will be closed!!!!



sent from my iPhone

Subject: First day of my new awful life

Dear Gladys,

So it turns out the writing group meeting wasn’t yesterday night, it was tonight. My ex boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins hasn’t responded to any of my text messages and hasn’t written me any emails either.

I talked to Tryxy. He’s forgiven you about the allergy medicine. He’s as confounded as I am. He said, “I thought you thed he wath moving in.” And I said, “I know, right???”

We both thought we were starting our lives with my boyfriend living with us. I told Tryxy I wouldn’t go to the writer meeting because they were more Tod Boadkins’ friends than mine. He told me I shouldn’t do that. He said I needed to keep my support network strong at times like this. He also said I should dress up and remind my ex-boyfriend what he’s missing out on.

Tryxy and I picked out a hot pink gown with a slit and then he did my makeup. Only my eyes are all swollen from all the crying and when he put on my eyeliner, my eyes looked like two coin slots. So we covered them up with these mysterious sunglasses.

All dolled up and mystified, I drove down to Ink Black Coffee Club, my heart in my throat, ready to face the man who had left me.

Everyone else was there.

He wasn’t.

I didn’t have much to say. Everyone talked about their writing and I just sat there in my best leggy gown and sunglasses and thought about award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, my not boyfriend.

Afterward, I didn’t feel like going home, I wasn’t ready for yet another place he wasn’t. Instead, I went for a walk in the town green to clear my thoughts and look at the gnome hole. It’s too bad the police still haven’t found the culprits that robbed the Mysterious Complex. It reminded me how dark this world has become.

I looked into that deep, empty hole and felt like I was gazing into myself. I don’t want to become as dark as that hole and as bitter as my exboyfriend is about his exwife. So I prayed to the writing gods for one glimmer of hope in my—

Hang on, Gladys.

I just spotted a gnome casually strolling by the gazebo. I wouldn’t have thought anything of this gnome strolling by the gazebo except that he WAS CARRYING AN iPHONE. How many gnomes do you know that carry iPHones, Galdys???? They all carry Androids!!!! And if I’m not mistaken, I recognize the crack pattern on the screen.

Hang on Gladys, I have to hitch up my gown and get ready for a gnome tackle!!!!

Okay, I’m back. The gnome freaked and tried to give me the slip, but just before he could dart off in the direction of the library, I tore the skirt off my dress and flapped it around, confusing him. I wasn’t gonna let him get away!!!!

While I confounded him, I slipped off one shoe, wound up my arm, and then hurled it. The shoe sailed across the dark town green, a streak of glittering pink rotating through the air in the lantern light. The gnome gaped at it. I gaped at it. The shoe struck the gnome cleanly in the tooth.

Nothing makes a gnome angrier than getting hit in the tooth with a shoe!!! “Hey, lady! What’s your problem?” he shouted indignantly, thumbing his upper lip and checking for blood.

That’s when I threw my skirt over him, tackled him to the ground, and wrestled the phone out of his hands.

It’s exactly as I thought, Gladys!!!! THIS GNOME HAD TOD BOADKINS PHONE!!!! I even see my text message that this gnome read and didn’t respond to!!!!!

Gotta go, have to hog tie this gnome and take him back to my interrogation chamber!!!!























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