Emails from Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Twenty-Third

[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.]

Some Dance to Remember, Some Dance and Forget

Hello All, Melanie here.

I’m going to keep this one short because X has sent several emails for this week’s post. If you’re working on a long-term writing project it can be helpful to have contact with it daily. Even if it’s only five words a day.

Without further ado…


Dear Gladys,

It was nice to talk to you even though you are having impromptu emergency surgery to get your elbows removed and put back in again and had to get off the phone in a hurry before you could hear the new pages in my story. You sounded very surprised when I called, but as I told you in previous emails, I used my clairvoyance to guess your new phone number!! Friends forever AGAIN!!!!

In the meanwhile, I have a LOT to tell you. For one, I’m having trouble sleeping after everything that happened with that Fraud Tod Boadkins. I don’t really want to talk about that right now because it still gives me serious nausea, but the good news is that I have about twenty or so new pages in my story and it’s definitely time for a little day retreat from writing after my writing retreat.

The good news is that I now have a SPIFFY RENTAL CAR that I can drive until I find a NEW car after my up-cycled-wine-bottle-water-fountain and homeschooler accident at Hogswatch. 

Tryxy says it looks like a wanking-mobile and we should use it like one. I have no idea what he means but he’s definitely having a hard time so—now that I’m back home, I’m taking extra time to give Tryxy some TLC mostly in the form of speeding the wanking-mobile down dirt roads while topping out the odometer to get maximum hang time whenever we hit a pothole. 

I think we’re doing it right!!!

Although the shocks definitely feel different. Tryxy really wants to “go clubbing” and “feel alive” and I’ve been regaling him with stories of my life at some of New England’s most famous nightclubs where you can dance in one space and read a Brandon Sanderson novel in the next room. He was really blown away and now I think he thinks of me as a mentor of sorts.

Remember all those eggs I had to buy from Mr. Morgans after the whole “I built a fortress with all of the contents of an egg truck and you break them, you bought them” incident???? Well. I forgot to put most of them in the fridge and, when I came home, most of them had gone bad and the smell was UNREAL. 

OF COURSE my EVIL NEIGHBOR A____ had called the town health department to report me but none of them could approach the house so WHO’S LAUGHING NOW, HMMMM???? SERVES HER RIGHT!!!!

Fortunately, I have an EXCELLENT source for de-funking CANDLES. The same candle shop that makes all my spell candles for writing success ALSO happens to make candles that de-funk houses after rotten egg occurrences. I’m pretty sure my eyes will stop watering in a week or two.

I probably shouldn’t take too much time off my writing, but what’s a day???? Things are moving along nicely, I have the perfect amount of flashbacks and a brand new villain. What could go wrong???? Absolutely NOTHING. 

Hang on, that’s Tod Boadkins calling. Not FRAUD Tod Boadkins. The OTHER Tod Boadkins. I have a fragile peace with the OTHER Tod Boadkins considering I suspect that HE’S the one who is also looking for the anti-horcruxes I haven’t been telling you about.


I missed his call while typing all that. 

Anyways, as promised, I will call you back on Wednesday when you’re sure to be home because your horoscope predicts you won’t feel like going out or doing much of anything that day. I should have lots of new pages by then!!!

I’m walking on SUNSHINE!!! Well. Not so much sunshine but mud. Because it’s still winter in New Hampshire. See you Wednesday!!! I can feel it!!!


Subject: NIGHTCLUB????

Dear Gladys,

I know I was supposed to call you today with new pages but I’m writing to let you know that something urgent has come up. I haven’t gotten ANY writing done but I know I’ll be TOTALLY fine. The last time I wrote I know I had a TON of ideas about what comes next!!!! That’s the great thing about being a writer. My brain is FORT KNOXXXX!!!!

I’ll be taking Tryxy out to a nightclub instead. All of my STUPID stories about my nightclubbing days have really got him thinking that clubbing is on his bucket list and now he won’t let me sleep without howling about taking him to the book nightclub I used to go to.

Here’s the thing, Gladys, I didn’t exactly go to the book nightclub. I may or may not have been using some figurative language when talking about all my trips to the library but now I can’t lose face with Tryxy.

Of course, this means we’ll have to drive around New Hampshire until we find one but Tryxy has been very nervous that his time here on earth is coming to an end or something. While I’ve assured him that NO ONE is going to take him away from us, he’s certain that there are some “high-level Sumerian demons” or something that have “condemned him to spend two eternity’s in the void of Ashiput” or something and he wants to check off all the items on his bucket list which includes dancing until the sun comes up in a real live club like in the videos he watches on YouTube AND HAS HEARD ABOUT IN MY STORIES. 

I need you to tell me what it’s like to go to a nightclub because I’ve never been to one and I’m not sure how much writing or reading you get done in a place like that. Also, I need you to tell me where I can find a nightclub that has a Brandon Sanderson and J.R.R. Tolkien reading section and I also need you to contact whoever the boss is there and tell them to greet me like an old friend and keep saying things like “those were the days weren’t they?” Free drinks would also be appreciated.  

But I digress. Tryxy’s covered himself with glitter that makes him almost not see-through and I’ve loaned him my biggest pink boa and now we’re off to party.

Please text me with the relevant information.


P.S. I saw Fraud Tod Boadkins’ face in my bathroom mirror today and I nearly threw up, I was so nauseous. Shifter Suds does AWFUL things to people’s faces, Gladys!!!

P.P.S. Tryxy has informed me that both the nausea and the Fraud Tod Boadkins’ sighting was a hallucination brought on by the egg fumes but I disagree. The eggs, for one, have gotten a LOT better.

P.P.P.S. I might miss your text. I have to switch out my wanking-mobile with another wanking-mobile. This one’s shocks are cheap cheap cheap!!!

Subject: It’s Fighting-Weather in Boston

Dear Gladys,

Well it’s Thursday and I still haven’t gotten any writing done but I’m sure I’m fine. I feel like I deserve this little break away from my writing. I feel pretty professional especially since I’ve been writing full time now for several weeks and have pretty much gone pro. I’m at that level where what’s a few days off??? I’m sure Stephen King takes time off from writing so why shouldn’t I???

I TRIED to go to a club in New Hampshire last night but Tryxy wasn’t buying it and I ALMOST blew my cover. (It’s all pubs and craft breweries and libertarians who yell at you about the time their off-grid toilets exploded back at their anarcho-capitalist community up north.) Tonight Tryxy’s insisted I take him to a REAL club like they have in Miami or NYC where he can dance until the sun rises so that means we have to go to BOSTON.

Unfortunately, I installed the Boston Fight Weather App on my phone and it says there will be roving cyclones of fistfights touching down throughout the city thanks to new road work on Mass Ave. Tryxy isn’t having it. He says he has to go NOW and he won’t settle for anything less than a venue with at least one person dancing in a fur diaper and stripper shoes.

ANyways, you’ll just have to be patient. I will DEFINITELY call you tomorrow with new pages and more new pages because I AM A PROFiSSIONAL.


P.S. Oh, look! Other Tod Boadkins is calling me again. That’s so interesting. I’m just staring at his name on my phone screen but don’t really feel like picking it up. 

Aaaaand he’s gone. Oh well. So close yet so far away.


Dear Gladys,

No amount of makeup with cover up these black eyes. Fortunately for me, I don’t plan to go out of the house over the next week. I am going to take advantage of being able to see a little out of my left eye to GET CAUGHT UP ON WRITING. 

For the record, last night was definitely worth it. Tryxy and I never found a nightclub with a reading area in it, but we did get R___ to come with us on our adventure down to Boston and we DID find a club that had a person in a fur diaper and stripper shoes and flashing lights and bubbles and OH


SILVERFOX!!! (One of the furries from the “Writer’s Retreat”!!!)

We managed to stay clear of most of the fight tornados because we smell like those eggs, but then Tryxy asked me if all my “at the club stories” were really just me at the library but luckily that’s when a Lil Nas X remix came on and Tryxy LOST IT and started CRUNKING and accidentally knocked this woman’s drink in her face and then next thing we know a fight tornado touched down and her boyfriend started swinging. Before I knew it, R____ and I were sucked into the cyclone of fists and blood swirling around Tryxy (who was just singing along to Industry Baby in all his glory) and just when I got my arm wrapped around the bouncer’s neck, this octogenarian go-go dancer JUDOED me in the FACE!!! 

Then the clock struck 2 and the sidewalks literally rolled up off the ground and all the lights and music disappeared and the nightclub hocked us up onto the street like a gooey loogey and we had to pick our way over all the broken glass and spit out teeth to find our car.

Unfortunately, we parked about 32 blocks away and that’s when we were accosted by this one-legged harpy who wanted us to give her a ride to some illegal package store down in Roxbury so that she could get some nips. But it all worked out. We got her down there and the next thing I know we ended up at an abandoned Circuit City in Dorchester throwing candlepin balls at the cement with a bunch of delinquent med students because it felt good.

And that’s when Silverfox told me something really amazing. He said that “Writing is an act of finding your way through chaos and nothingness” but somehow when he said it, it gave me a lot of hope and it didn’t sound so bad. I think I definitely don’t have chaos, I’m just lucky like that, for instance, I have taken a number of days off from writing because I’ve gotten pretty professional at this and some of us just have it like that but I didn’t tell Silverfox that because I didn’t want him to feel bad.

But some nights you really have to live, don’t you? Or what would you have to write about?

I think that’s what is going on with Tryxy. He’s going through demon puberty and he’s living in a new world and he has to find out who and what he is and I guess you only do that by living and getting your friends into fistfights. He blubbered the whole way home and said a lot of incomprehensible stuff about dark lords chasing him and using his powers on a boat but I think he was just trying to say he was really happy.

ANyway, I’m just sending this email to let you know I probably won’t be calling you until later tonight. I hope your elbows are healing nicely. Better go, Gladys, the next best epic fantasy saga won’t just write itself!!!!


P.S. Oh there’s Other Tod Boadkins’ calling me again. And also the detective who arrested Fraud Tod Boadkins has called and left a message. SOme people are THIRSTY!!!!


Dear Gladys,


The last time I wrote in my story I had all these ideas in my head about what comes next but go partying with Tryxy for three little days and what happens???? GONE!!!! It’s A CONSPIRACY!!!!!

At first, I thought “Well, I’ll just check my notes” but all my notes say are stupid little things like “Blue” and “Tie into next scene” and “Make Fenchin another waougesnbopg” (I couldn’ read that last one.) WHO LEAVES NOTES LIKE THIS FOR THEMSELF?????

It’s just GONE. POOF@!!!

I asked Tryxy if he knew any way of recalling things forgotten and he said that he did but that I really didn’t want to live with an elephant trunk growing off the side of my head for the rest of my life. 

I even tried going through the notes I stole from Tod Boadkins’ secret room but I could barely get through them with my stupid phone ringing off the hook!!!! Other Tod Boadkins won’t let me be!!!!

This is just terrible. I watched two hours of YouTube videos on improving your memory (mostly it was for language learners) and I now speak a little Polish but nie pami?tam mojej historii!!!!!

And I am VERY AFRAID this is going to come down to me having to READ my pages to try and figure out what comes next but I don’t want to read my old pages, Gladys!!!! Not without an audience!!!!!

Besides, I think my old pages are haunted. None of them look as great as they felt when I wrote them.

What good is emailing going to do in a time like this????? I need to complain to someone’s manager. Someone is in charge of this. IT should be that when a writer is working on OH I DON’T KNOW ONLY THE NEXT BIG EPIC FANTASY SAGA OF ALL TIME that we shouldn’t FORGET OUR IDEAS after THREE MEASLY DAYS of NOT WRITING!!!!

I wonder if I could cover up the elephant trunk with a hat?











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5 thoughts on “Emails from Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Twenty-Third

  1. Lenore is what I usually go by, but either is fine. Nori was my little sister’s name for me when we were small, so using it is kind of a nostalgia thing. We were living in Japan then, and Nori is a lot easier to pronounce than Lenore.

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