Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Hundred & Fifth

[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.]


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…


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!!!















Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Hundred and Fourth

A dark forest sits beneath a starry sky. Creepy black goo drips over the scene. White whimsical letters read: “Fit the Hundred and Fourth: The Crippling Flames of Success.”

[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.]


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!!!!!



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!!!




Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Hundred and Third

A dark forest sits beneath a starlit sky. Creepy Black goo drips down the scene. Whimsical white letters read: “Fit the Hundred and Third: The Fresh Fish of Rock and Roll.”

[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.]


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

























Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Hundred & Second

A dark forest sits beneath a starry sky. Creepy black goo drips down the scene. Whimsical white letters read: “Fit the Hundred & Second: All My Characters Are Thin, Lithe, And Have Limpid Eyes.”

[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.]


Hello, All! Melanie here.

Last week, Writer X and friends started their New Year with a bang, a boom, and then a lot of smoke. Most of this occurred when X accidentally torched Gladys’s house with fireworks.

X is in crisis. While visiting the new department store in town, X saw herself in the dressing room mirrors and realized her weight was the real thing wrong with her writing. She and her new friend, Leonard Biggleton, have started seeing a wellness coach specializing in Internalized Fat Phobia.

Meanwhile, the demon Tryxy wished on New Year’s Eve that his band Demonkitty (a band consisting of one demon on drums and one adorable, deaf kitten on the microphone) would become famous. Wonder of wonders, it seems things are starting to happen. Just last week, the college radio station played their song “Ninevah Burns In My Soul.”

Or maybe it’s a coincidence.

Without further ado…

Subject: I can only be a great writer if I’m THIN, GLADYS!!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

I went power-walking past your house this morning with my new friend Leonard Biggleton and we noticed that your place was still a heap of blackened posts and rubble. Any idea when you’ll get around to rebuilding??? You can’t live in a tent forever!!! Especially in the middle of January!!!!!

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going. Remember that Internalized Fat Phobia Coach I was telling you about?? If I could just get her to help me lose weight instead of except my weight as it is, my writing would be on a WHOLE NEW LEVEL!!!!! But for some reason, my Internalized Fat Phobia Coach seems to be the LAST person to understand how this works!!!

I’m sorry it’s taking me so long to write this email, but I’m typing with one hand. With the other hand, I’m pumping serious iron.

Hang on, Galdsy, that’s Mr. Morgan calling me. BRB!!! (That means “be right back.”)

Okay, I’m back!!! It seems like every time I turn around, Mr. Morgan is under the delusion that he has a chance of WINNING ANYTHING WITH ME!!!!

Just the other day I was at Mr. Morgan’s Food Emporium and Things Nicely Priced and you know what I heard???? Demonkitty’s song “Ninevah Burns In My Soul” was playing in the canned soup aisle!!!!!! I immediately texted Tryxy and let him know and of course he lost his mind and came running over.

I may have also told Tryxy that Mr. Morgan was a huge fan of his and wanted Demonkitty to come play at the grand opening of his new sushi counter. I have no idea why I said it, Gladys, I just want Tryxy to be happy!!!!!

Then, when Tryxy got to Mr. Morgan’s, Mr. Morgan had the nerve to act like he had no idea what Tryxy was talking about and started saying that he wasn’t sure he had “insurance” that would let a musical act perform next to a food prep counter loaded with sharp knives, raw fish, and a risk of Scromboid Poisoning. When I told him that the MUSICIANS weren’t at ANY risk of Scromboid Poisoning, he too failed to see the point.

Don’t you worry, though, Gladys. I’m going to get Mr. Morgan to book Demonkitty for their sushi counter grand opening if it’s the last thing I do!!!!!

Hang on, Gladys, I dropped my dumbbell on my boyfriend’s laptop. Sweat is slippery!!! I need some weight lifting gloves!!!!

What was I saying??

Oh, I was telling you how the key to me becoming the next big epic fantasy writer of all time is for me to become as thin and impossibly beautiful as my characters!!!!! My new friend, Leonard Biggleton, is also seeing the same Internalized Fat Phobia Coach and he’s experiencing similar results. NO WEIGHT LOSS AT ALL!!!!!

He told me that he started feeling bad about his weight when he was little and it made him depressed and being depressed made him eat and then he gained more weight and no matter how happy his love life is, or how magnificent his Deck Building Business is doing, he still feels like a massive failure in life because he doesn’t have a 32” waist.

Gladys, isn’t that RIDICULOUS????? Leonard Biggleton is handsome, kind, passionate about decks AND fireworks, and he’s got a mean power-walking pace!!!!

I told him so and he smiled softly at me and said, “That’s very kind of you, but it’s not how I feel. I just feel like if I lost all my fat, it would go a long way to getting rid of my internalized fat phobia.”

I comforted him by explaining how my situation is FAR WORSE!!!!! I’m supposed to be the next big epic fantasy writer of all time and while my life looks perfect with my pink wardrobe, fantastic collection of disguises, my faberge egg display, AND I’m in a power couple with none other than my boyfriend, award-nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins who is ADORABLE, but I’m not sure how I’m supposed to win awards or write my nine book epic fantasy saga if my thighs jiggle!!!!

Leonard said, “I’m not sure how your weight is connected to your writing?”


I said, “How am I supposed to write with confidence if I’m worried about having a double chin shadow in my author photo, Leonard????”

Then HE said, “What about all the amazing, fat, beautiful SFF writers out there?”


I can’t believe this isn’t obvious to him!!!! It’s not about authors, it’s about CHARACTERS THAT AUTHORS CREATE!!!!!! OUR CHARACTERS ARE HOW WE’RE SUPPOSED TO BE!!!! I channel my internal loathing into creating impossibly perfect versions of me!!!!! My characters are supposed to be tall, waif like, with purple eyes. WHO ISN’T BETTER WHEN THEY’RE TALL, WAIF LIKE, WITH PURPLE EYES?????

Was Bombur not the fattest and laziest of all the dwarves??? Who idolizes Bombur???

Is there a single scene in all of the Hunger Games trilogy in which Katniss dons her mockingjay pin after wrestling into her favorite pair of Spanx?????

Galdsy, I saw you at the theatre watching Endgame with your cousin Blanche. Was Fat Thor called Sexy As Hell even once???? Okay. I’ll give you that. But by anyone BUT me????

Not to worry. I’m going to give my new and naive Internalized Fat Phobia coach a couple more weeks to come around and see the Writing on the Wall. And in the Books. And in the subtext. After that, I should have lost at least ten pounds and should be feeling a lot more like the Next Big Epic Fantasy Writer of All Time!!!!

Okay, Gladys, I’ve written you an email and completed 40 reps with my 2 lb weights. I’m going to be super strong!!!!! I feel thinner already!!!! I have to see what the scale says!!!!!! BRB!!!! (That means “be right back”.)

I’m sorry. You may have been wondering why I disappeared from writing this email for three and a half hours instead of hitting send.

Well, I weighed myself and saw that I had GAINED four pounds since this morning. Then, I lost my mind and fell into a rotisserie chicken and a whole whoopie pie!!!! Then when my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, found me licking whoopie pie crumbs off a chicken carcass, he said that I had left my dumbells on the scale and that was the reason behind my four pound weight gain. So I got on the scale again but I was now one chicken and a whoopie pie heavier!!!!!


Gotta go!!!! Pages next week, Gladys!!!!


















Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the One Hundred and First

[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.


Hello, All! Melanie here.

I hope your New Year is off to a great start. My love and I visited friends in what was one of the best New Year’s we’ve had in a long time.

In true Writer X fashion, it seems she and her friends also celebrated with similar camaraderie and her New Year’s Resolutions started off with a bang.

Without further ado…

Subject: The Biggletons & SOME LIGHT AUGURY

Dear Gladys,

I hope you are off to a productive and prosperous New Year, particularly with regard to decoding the arcane mysteries of your home owner’s insurance policy!!!! I drove by your neck of the woods today and noticed that the smokey tinge hanging over your neighborhood like a funeral pall had mostly, but not quite fully, dissolved.

Anyhoo, I’m sure you’re dying to know how my writing is going and I have to say, I have been thinking a LOT about me and how amazing it is to be the next big epic fantasy writer of all time but, to be truthful Gladys, there are some things deep down inside that I feel I want to change.

FOrtunately for me, those changes will be on the way thanks to our New Year’s Eve celebration at your next door neighbors, the Biggletons. Do you know the Biggletons??? John and Leonard and their pet emu Terrence??? I suggest bringing them a little housewarming gift as soon as enough of the wreckage is cleared. Don’t be a bad neighbor, Galdsy!!!!!!

I have to tell you about the Biggletons and the New Year’s Eve ritual that is about to change EVERYTHING!!!!

It all started when I was checking out the new independent department store in town, Humperdink’s. They had a very nice selection of the highest quality New Hampshire designer clothes, all the haute couture you could possibly dream of in all of New England!!!! They have everything a high-fashion girl like me could want: insulated overalls in at least four shades of camouflage, patent leather-look waders, a full selection of fashionable fishing vests, bright orange lingerie to wear under your hunting gear so that you can be sexy while searching for baers, ubiquitous t-shirts that growl at you about freedom and/or motorcycles.

BUT I DIGRESS!!!! I was trying on a pair of patent leather-look waders in the dressing room and glimpsed myself in the mirror and was alarmed at what I saw. I could have sworn I was taller, thinner, and better looking!!!!! How could the next big epic fantasy writer of all time look like that in the mirror???? That’s when I knew the mirrors at Humperdink’s were broken and I marched out to speak to the manager!!!

Leonard Biggleton had beaten me to the punch!! There he was, standing with a pile of fireworks for his New Year’s Eve celebration, giving the manager a piece of his mind while brandishing a roman candle and saying, “DO YOU KNOW HOW MANY YEARS OF MICROWAVED LEAN CUISINES I HAVE ENDURED ONLY FOR YOUR MIRRORS TO TAKE IT ALL AWAY???!!!!”

To which the manager offered a wonderful brochure for a Body Acceptance Coach specializing in dismantling internalized fat-phobia with a fifteen percent off coupon tucked inside.

Long story short, Leonard invited me, #bestkitten, Tryxy, and my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, to their New Year’s Eve extravaganza. They have a fantastic tradition in which everyone lights a firework and makes a wish. The bigger the explosion, the more likely your wish at coming true!!!!

Tryxy wished that his band Demonkitty would take off and get a record deal without compromising his college career at Miskatonic Online University. We all wished together with him.

Then, he lit a Super Sizzler Fast Cracker and shot it into the night. It gave off a brilliant green burst but then went a little weird and slid across the sky and into the lake. All in all, we felt like it was a mostly positive omen.

My boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, made an undisclosed wish and lit a Whooper Whomper. It gave the best explosion of them all—if you’re content with a cascade of your ordinary fire works spray of blue and gold and red.

But Gladys, I’m am proud to tell you that, when I lit a WHO’S YOUR DADDY and wished to change in any way that made me the next big epic fantasy writer of all time FASTER, not only were the initial sparks promising, but when the firework got stuck in that old knob and tube wiring on your roof, the electrical fire that ensued and burned your house to cinders TOLD ME EVERYTHING I NEED TO KNOW!!!!

Big things are in store this year, Galdsy!! Big things indeed!!!

Gotta go!! I’m going to be late for my appointment at the Body Acceptance Coach. Fifteen percent off!!

Pages next week, Gladys. Happy New Year!!!

















Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Hundredth

[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 (temporarily closed for update). Wipe your feet before entering.]


Hello, all! Melanie here.

Can you believe it? Writer X has reached her one-hundredth fit!

Thanks for your continued reading from all of us: me, Writer X, Tryxy, #bestkitten, award-nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, the Ink Black Coffee Club Critique Group, and the town of Cradensburg.

Without further ado…

Subject: These guys are GOod!!!

Dear Gladys,

Have you ever used this new service??? It’s pretty good!! They can even remove were-porcupine quills from your face!!!!

Or at least I feel like they’re good. I’m having a hard time remembering if I’ve ever used them.

Ah well, off to see if you can hug a were-porcupine as research for my next story!!!

Pages next week, Gladys!!!



[Click for larger image.]










Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Ninety-Ninth

[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 (temporarily closed for update). Wipe your feet before entering.]


Subject: ADDRESS????

Dear Gladys,

Do you have the address for the Submission Whisperer?? I want to use her services but she hasn’t listed it anywhere!!!!



[Click for larger image]

Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Ninety-Eighth

A dark forest sits beneath a starry sky. Creepy black goo drips over the scene. White letters read: “Fit the Ninety-Eighth: Enter the Wortex.”

[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 (temporarily closed for update). Wipe your feet before entering.]


Hello, all! Melanie here.

It’s been an eventful NaNoWriMo for Writer X and her friends, although not much of it was spent writing. If you were writing for NaNoWriMo, I hope you had a great month.

When last we left the writers of the Ink Black Coffee Club Critique Group, they were still searching for the missing fantasists of their nemesis writing group, The Fantasy Writers’ Meetup of Brokenheap, NH.

You see, thanks to her love of spying on people, Writer X had discovered that men in blue latex gloves had abducted each of the missing fantasists. Further investigation revealed another character posting clues about the abducted writers’ whereabouts. The poster went by the name of the Mysterious “W.” The Mysterious W informed them that the disappearance was part of a Deep Publishing Conspiracy and urged those looking for the writers to find out what the writers had been writing when they were abducted. Then, they would have to “Enter the Wortex.” 

It turns out that each of the Brokenheap writers had been working on their memoirs when abducted. If that doesn’t send a chill down your spine, you probably need some explanation.

Meanwhile, Tryxy has been stuck in Paris in the year 1789 thanks to his borrowed SpaceTime machine breaking down. X has been kitten-sitting #bestkitten while he’s away, but it’s complicated her ability to throw herself fully into discovering the missing writers.

Without further ado… 

Subject: SECRET Secrets of the Universe – DON’T TELL!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

What I am about to tell you may risk your life. Remember how I told you last week that we took the advice of the Mysterious “W” and discovered that the missing fantasists of Brokenheap WERE WRITING THEIR MEMOIRS???? And remember how I told you that it made PERFECT sense??? And remember how I told you that I would explain it to you some other time??

Please make sure you are sitting down while you are reading this.

Everything in the world is an ILLUSION.

Remember when we were taking tenth grade physics with Mr. Hunky Dunky Anastasio??? And he told us that there are four forces working in the universe: Gravity, Electromagenta force, Strong Nuclear Force, and Week Nuclear force. And remember how I failed physics and Mr. Hunky Dunky said it was because I “never studied” and “never did my homework” and “slept through the final exam???” Well it turns out, Mr. Hunky Dunky wasn’t just a dreamboat, he was also unknowingly in on a global conspiracy!!!!

IT WAS ALL A LIE, Gladys!!! I didn’t fail physics because of something as silly as “homework”!!!!! I failed physics because there AREN’T FOUR FORCES. THERE ARE FIVE.

Gravity. Electromagenta Force. Strong Nuclear force. Week Nuclear Force. And the most powerful FORCFE of them ALLLLLL!!!!


And THAT is why Memoirs make perfect sense.

You see, the marketing forces of the universe have been shaping our existence for thousands of years. Much of what you see and experience in the world is as a result of marketing forces.

If it weren’t for marketing forces, we wouldn’t have book genres, or words like “dependability” and “halitosis.” We wouldn’t have signs that say things like “Act Now!,” “Limited Time Only,” and “Black Friday Sale.” And we wouldn’t have decision fatigue!!!! What would you do without decision fatigue, Gladys?? Your decisions wouldn’t have nearly as interesting outcomes as they do at 7:16 pm when you’ve finally left work and have to choose between leg night at the gym, a clown shoe flash sale, and leg night at KFC!!!! 

But why would Memoirs make the fantasy writers of Brokenheap disappear?? Well I’m about to tell you.

Oh wait. They just called #bestkitten’s name. I’d better act now; the nurse will wait for a limited time only. Now THAT’S Dependability!! It’s a little hard walking with these clown shoes covered in fried chicken grease so Secrets of the Universe are going to have to hold a little longer, Galdsy!!! I’m at the vets and they’re giving #bestkitten a dental cleaning to treat her halitosis.

Secrets later!!!!



sent from my iPhone

From: Bevvy Hart

Subject: Fw: Re: Re: Re: How do we enter the Wortex?

Dear Gladys,

I’m still at the vets!! Will write more about marketing forces later. A sasquatch got loose and ran through the examination room and now we can’t find #bestkitten!!!!




begin forwarded message

Dear Fellow Writers,

I want to repeat that writing a memoir is EXTREMELY dangerous and any of us that engages in such a thing are taking our lives in our own hands. That said, if one of us is going to do something as deadly as write a memoir in hopes the Blue Hands capture us, it should be someone who has enough writing clout. ALL of the Brokenheap writers have publishing credits, and no doubt that has something do to with their abduction.

Ravenhair, I’m sure you’d like to think you’re well known and capable of saving the day, but you aren’t. You don’t so much as a have a short story credit to your name.

If anyone is famous enough as a writer to draw the attention of the Blue Hands, it’s Tod Boadkins.

If anyone is infamous enough, it’s Writer X. 



Bevvy Madison Hart she/her
Wandering Spirit Small Press, CEO
A Vegan Owned and Operated Press

On Mon, Nov 27, 2023 at 9:04 AM  Thomasina Prepper <> wrote:


I trust that you’re the best judge of your feelings, even if I can’t help but feel you have a lot of unexpressed stress. I have a meet up tomorrow with my Perimenopausal Self Defense Shitkicking Group. You’re free to join us if you’d like to blow off any steam.

Ravenhair, I’m blown away by your bravery and willingness to endanger yourself to blow Deep Publishing into the next world and save the Brokenheap writers. Please don’t start anything until we’ve all had the chance to plan our attack.




On Sun, Nov 26, 2023 at 7:14 PM Bevvy Hart <> wrote:


I don’t see what you’re saying. I’m not resentful of Ravenhair at all. I’m deeply supportive, and harbor no animosity toward any living creature. I’m vegan. That means that I am committed to peace with all living things, even if they erringly feel they know the answer to everything.



Bevvy Madison Hart she/her
Wandering Spirit Small Press, CEO
A Vegan Owned and Operated Press

On Sat, Nov 25, 2023 at 10:17 AM Ravenhair Silkenwind <> wrote:

If that’s what has to be done, I’ll do it. I’ll write my memoir. I’m single and no one would miss me. Except my mom.

But how would we do this? Would you all come to my house and watch from hidden locations? How long should I attempt memoir writing? Is there any information out there that shows how long a memoirist has to live once they start their memoir?

-Ravenhair Silkenwind

On Sat, Nov 25, 2023 at 9:13 PM Thomasina Prepper <> wrote:


There’s no getting around it. If Deep Publishing is behind the Blue Hands that X described, we have to get abducted by the Blue Hands to get to the bottom of this. The only way we’re going to enter the Wortex that the Mysterious W wrote about would be for us to write OUR memoirs. If the Wortex or the Mysterious W exist at all.

Everything I know about Doomsday, the Illuminati, and the DaVinci Code tells me that THIS IS ALL TRUE. I can feel it in my prepper bones.

Bevvy, I don’t mean to pry, but I noticed that you seem to have a lot of resentment directed at Ravenhair over the last few weeks. Is everything okay?




Fw: Fw: Claim #66678PXTU

Dear Gladys,

I’m still at the vet’s office which is why I haven’t told you more secrets of the universe. But it’s gotten very interesting here. After that sasquatch completely wrecked the exam room and stole all the ancient magazines in the waiting room, the vets had some trouble finding #bestkitten so came out to enlist my help. 

We searched and searched and found her in the break lounge. She was napping peacefully on top of a laptop keyboard one of the technicians had left open.

On the screen there was a new document file with a poem written that the technician swears they did not write.

“Friends are all there is,
in a world full of striving.
Friends are all there is,
when you gonna start thriving?
Friends are all there is,
so put your ego down.
Friends are all there is,
bSIH q8yq=30th=q0e”

Gladys!!! Is it possible #bestkitten can write things with her butt????

In the meantime, I got this from Tryxy. Things are not getting any better for him in Paris of 1789. I’m not sure how I’m supposed to write a memoir and get captured by the Blue Hands while I’m still kitten-sitting!!!



begin forward message







On Mon, Nov 27, 2023 at 7:34 AM  Spacetime AAA Claim Support <[email protected]> wrote:

Dear Claimant,

Thank you for your patience. We are working to resolve your claim. Please know that our rescue and repair department is short-staffed. We have been unable to assign an agent to your claim.

The SpaceTime machine HK007 models that have service issues frequently require a specific sensor light to be replaced. That sensor light is only made by a company located in 2914 on Betelgeuse. Our next shipment of sensor lights should arrive in 4 to 6 centuries.

You are a valued customer. Thank you for trusting SpaceTime AAA for all your spacetime traveling needs.


Agent 33867

Subject: We lost

Dear Gladys,

I’ve been meaning to write you about the secret secrets of the universe, but I’ve been very busy.

Once we all agreed that my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, should be the one to write his memoir and lure the Blue Hands into a trap, we all loaded up on shots of espresso.

As you may remember, Gladys, the Blue Hands make you drowsy when they kidnap you. Bevvy Hart had the most espresso, about nine double shots in all. Then, we met at his house and hid under his bed and in the closet. Mark and Thomasina Prepper both have martial arts training so they took the spaces closer to my boyfriend so that they would be free to attack.

Sure enough, no sooner had my boyfriend written the first three sentences of his memoir, a swirling blue circle appeared behind his chair. Out stepped a big burly guy in suit, sunglasses, and blue latex gloves.

Mark and Thomasina moved from their hiding spaces in the closet, but to everyone’s surprise, Bevvy Hart leapt through the air with limbs flying like a yowling cat. She was a flurry of rage as she bowled the Blue Hands over and proceeded to beat him with her writing journal as she yelled: “How dare you write no words for NaNoWriMo!! Some of us struggle to write! You think you know everything?? You think you know everything??”

We all stood in shock until Bevvy straightened herself and took a cleansing breath. Then, we dragged the unconscious Blue Hands into the Wortex with us, but not before we deleted my boyfriend’s memoir file and narrowly avoided a moose stampede!!!!

When we got to the other side, we were standing in the barracks of a secret publishing compound of a corporation called Kindlespark – A Memoir Publishing Specialist. Fortunately for us, they had just called everyone into their latest marketing meeting so there were only a few guards posted around for us to fend off. Bevvy Hart had really gotten into expressing her artistic frustration through violence, so most all of them ran off.

Unfortunately, the secret publishing compound was very large and we got lost several times in the cafeteria and child care center. But then Ravenhair spotted a sign that read “This Way to the Missing Fantasy Writers’ Meetup of Brokenheap, NH.”

I should probably tell you more about the secrets of the universe, Gladys, or else you might be REALLY confused.

Once upon a time, there were very few people who could read and even fewer people who could write Memoirs. This meant that memoirs were extremely valuable with many selling long after the writer’s death. With the invention of public education, social media, and a five day work week, a lot of other people began to want to tell their own story. Many of these were famous people or people who had contributed something to larger society, but a lot were not.

As a result, the market became FLOODED with memoirs by people whose only contribution to society was their memoir, thus driving down the value of the memoir genre with many writers giving away their stories for free on amazon. There was an imbalance in the marketing forces of the universe.

That’s when the marketing forces kicked into gear. Since there were so many people writing memoirs, the marketing forces worked to make those memoirs more valuable. Remember when I went on that Writing Retreat a couple years ago and over thirty memoirists went missing??? That’s an example of the marketing forces at work. One of the best ways to have a memoir from someone you don’t know become valuable is for that person to die AND THAT’S WHAT THE UNIVERSE STARTED DELVIERING!!!!! Not every writer knows this which is why so many can be fooled into WRITING THEIR MEMOIRS!!!!

That’s when Deep Publishing began. A small collection of memoir publishers came together and started luring small and medium famous people to write their memoirs, offering huge advances paid on publication. Then, they abducted the writers into the Wortex—a place where the laws of physics don’t always reach. Then, the writers would finish their memoirs where they were safe from marketing forces. When they emerged from the Wortex, they had finished memoirs and were immediately killed by a falling anvil, or a rogue lawnmower, or a freak moose stampede, leaving Deep Publishing free to forgo an advance, and sell a book that has increased in value BECAUSE THE WRITER DIED IN A FREAK MOOSE STAMPEDE!!!!!

Back to our rescue attempt!!!!!

We found the Brokenheap writers in their own comfortable cells, each sitting at their assigned computers, typing away. The blood drained from our faces as we realized what they had done. You see, Gladys, if they wanted to survive our bringing them back to the real world, they would need to immediately delete their memoirs or else risk Deep Publishing releasing the memoirs in retribution and killing them!!!!

But to the horror of our writing group, the Brokenheap writers HAD NOT BEEN WRITING THEIR MEMOIRS. Instead, they were protesting their abduction by switching back to their NaNoAnimal novels. Seeing as they had nothing to do for an entire month BUT write, they had collectively written over 567,000 words. Meanwhile, we had written just over 160,000 words. This means that, if we rescued them, we would succeed in thwarting Deep Publishing, but we would also lose NaNoPour Some Sugar On Me.

So we took a poll. In the end, we narrowly passed the vote to rescue them after four or five recounts. I also had the chance to explore the complex and discovered the year 1789 packed away in a closet somewhere in HR. There I retrieved Tryxy and now everything has been restored back to our nice, usual normalcy!!!!!

When we got home, I found #bestkitten asleep on my desktop keyboard and a note from the Mysterious W on the screen.

“Congratulations. Sometimes losing is winning.”

Well, another NaNoHit Me With Your Best Shot is behind me. That means I’m free to start writing again!!!

Pages next week, GLadys!!!!
















Emails From Lake Woe-Is-Me — Fit the Ninety-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 (temporarily closed for update). Wipe your feet before entering.]


Hello, All! Melanie here.

NaNoWriMo is still underway. For the very first time, Writer X and her friends appeared to be winning their annual word count competition against the Fantasy Writers Meetup of Brokenheap, NH. And this was in spite of the fact that Writer X has written exactly zero words so far!

Unfortunately, the only reason why the Fantasy Dream Team of Cradensburg is winning this year is because the writers of Brokenheap have mysteriously gone missing.

And that’s not the only mystery. A clandestine figure named “W” has appeared on the town’s NaNoWriMo Discord chat hinting that something called “Deep Publishing” has to do with the disappearance of the Brokenheap writers. “W” advised the curious to look at what the missing writers had been writing if they wanted answers as to what happened to them.

This week, the Cradensburg writers have been looking into the identity of this mysterious “W.” They don’t want to break into missing writers’s houses without knowing exactly who told them to do so.

Meanwhile, X’s best friend and high-level demon, Tryxy, had been time traveling to visit historical figures and take better pictures for their Wikipedia profiles. Writer X has been kitten-sitting while he’s away.

Tryxy’s latest trip was to hang out with the Marquis de Condorcet in Paris of 1789. His spacetime machine broke down and he’s been stuck in revolutionary France for nearly two weeks.

Turns out, Tryxy’s extended stay has gotten him in deeper trouble and it could impact the whole investigation.

Without further ado…



Dear Gladys,

Will you please go to my house and look for #floofybaby??? I checked Tryxy’s sock drawer in his abyss in the basement, and it’s not there. I’m on my way to the flea market to see if my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod BOadkins, hasn’t taken it with him.

We haven’t slept in four days!!!! Meanwhile, Tryxy’s going from one crisis to another!!!!! He could be gone ANOTHER THIRTY DAYS!!!!! How am I supposed to solve our NaNoMystery without sleep???????

You should leave now because THE TRAFFIC IS HORRIBLE!!!! Everyone’s out holiday shopping!!!!!



P.S. Will catch you up on NaNoHoobastank later. Right now, things are not looking good for our writing group!!!! We are no closer to finding the missing writers and I CAN’T DO EVERYTHING, GALDSY!!!!!

begin forwarded message
















From: Bevvy Hart

Fw: Re: Re: Re: Re: Who the hell is “W”?

Dear Gladys,

Still at flea market. No sign of #floofybaby ANYWHERE. I just got this email from Bevvy. I wonder if she knows that a group of our writers carpooled over to Brokenheap with a trunk full of disguises this morning to beat the traffic. I got a text about a half hour ago reporting that no one could get past the crime scene tape and that they’re currently regrouping at the gas station outside Brokenheap to cobble together a Plan B!

No idea how they’re going to get into those houses, Galdsy!!!! I think I’m going to have to call in a flavor from you!!!!!

I wonder why Bevvy isn’t in the group texts? Oh, well.

I’m going to keep shopping while I”m here at the flea market. After all, Hogswatch is right around the corner!!!! What I could use is a good, old-fashioned Plot Device to solve this mess, but it’d be worth a fortune!!!! You never know what you’ll find at a flea market!!!!!



begin forwarded message

Dear Fellow Writers,

I hope you don’t mind, I took the night to think about our conundrum more deeply. We can’t be hasty about a situation like this. 

The best information we have on the Mysterious “W” tells us that they post at odd times. Discord tells us nothing about their location. The only thing I’ve noticed is that “W” posts whenever X is away from home, and when she has a viable alibi.

As much as I hate condoning the insanity, I loathe us falling further behind on our word count. I can’t believe I’m saying this, but I agree with X. We’re going to have to bite the bullet and find a way into the homes of the Brokenheap writers. 



Bevvy Madison Hart she/her

Wandering Spirit Small Press, CEO
A Vegan Owned and Operated Press

On Fri, Nov 24, 2023 at 7:19 PM Writer X <> wrote:

NO ONE WOULD BE ARRESTED IF YOU JUST WORE THE DISGUISES I’VE PROVIDED!!!!!!!! I would assist in the investigation more, but I am currently in the middle of a #bestkitten emergency and if I don’t find her #floofybaby, I MAY NEVER SLEEP AGAIN.




P.S. Has anyone seen her #floofybaby???? It’s a bedraggled blue floofy thing about the size of an apple.

On Fri, Nov 24, 2023 at 7:14 PM Thomasina Prepper <> wrote:


Wish I had your confidence, but did you see the latest news from Brokenheap? The writers have been reported missing and police are conducting an investigation.

Following your advice would mean collectively breaking into several writer’s homes—which are now all crime scenes—and leaving our fingerprints on EVERYTHING. That’s a fast way to become Persons of Interest.

What the heck is a Wortex? Is that like a Vortex? But with Words?



On Fri, Nov 24, 2023 at 7:00 PM Ravenhair Silkenwind <> wrote:

Not so sure it’s a prank, Bevvy. Did you see the latest post? According to the Mysterious “W”, the only way we’ll find the missing fantasists is by entering “the Wortex.” The only way to enter the Wortex—apparently—is to find out what the missing writers had been working on.

If we keep searching for the identity of W instead of discovering the documents, we’re going to waste more valuable NaNoWriMo time. At this point, I don’t care about the competition, per se, but I do care about neglecting my WIP for too long.

-Ravenhair Silkenwind

On Fri, Nov 24, 2023 at 6:08 PM Bevvy Hart <> wrote:

Dear Fellow Writers,

Here are our latest numbers. Since we’ve begun our search for “W,” we’re aren’t making as much progress. I must remind you that, last year, Brokenheap writers wrote a total of 154,227 words. It’s after Thanksgiving, and we aren’t even close to that. What if they’ve continued writing wherever they’ve been squirreled away? We’ll lose again!

Am I the only one who’s considered the possibility that W is not a prank, but that a certain someone within our group is feeling insecure about her word count numbers and wants to make herself feel better and so has come up with a missing writer conspiracy meant to draw the rest of us away from our hard work?

Fantasy Writer’s Meetup of Brokenheap, NH:

7,675 total words written

Ink Black Coffee Club’s Fantasy Dream Team of Cradensburg, NH:

73,230 total words written

Bevvy Madison Hart: 7 words written
Tod Boadkins: 10,600 words written
Edwína Tómas: 2,004 words written
Ravenhair Silkenwind: 1,578 words written
Thomasina Prepper: 2,323 words written
Mark Prepper: 1,956 words written
Writer X: 0 words written


Bevvy Hart

Subject: A MAJOR WIN, GLADYS!!!!!!!

Dear Gladys,

Please apologize to your cousin Blanche. I accidentally rear-ended her car while I was pulling out from the flea market parking lot. I’m sure she’ll be comforted to know that her crumpled back end wasn’t for nothing!!!

As I skidded out of the parking lot in reverse and plummeted into Blanche’s car, the force of the impact sent everything that had slid under my seats out onto the dashboard!!!! Once my airbags deflated, there was #bestkitten’s #floofybaby on the dash!!! It was under the driver’s seat all along!!! Every cloud has a silver lining!!!!

Of course, I knew that miracles would happen once I activated the plot device I found under a broken baby basinet in a novelty toy booth at the flea market, although when I first found it, I wasn’t so sure it would work at all!!!!

What is a plot device???

Well, a long time ago, in NaNoPoodleSkirts gone by, many writers wrote novels by the seat of their pants. They would wake up every NaNo Morning and plug away, blindly typing one word after another until they found themselves 50,000 words into a story, but at the precipice of a GIANT PLOT HOLE or an IMPASSABLE PLOT WALL. What would they do???? How would they solve this without losing all their hard work????

This happened so frequently, that NaNoNymphomania became known as the place where novels go to get half written and then neglected in your hard drive. Of course, this was very bad. So the NaNoHouseofPancakes met with some Wizards of Writing to invent a magical device that could help writers fix their plot hole problems and save their novels!!!!!

Enter the Plot Device!!!!!!

Thanks to the Writing Wizards, a writer could simply enter in the specifications of their plot hole, and with the help of six D batteries, the Plot Device would get to work fixing things!!!! A simple click of the button created another plot device WITHIN THE PLOT that resolved the plot hole.

For example:

Say you’re a writer who has placed the thing the main character is seeking behind a ridiculous arsenal of dragons and high-powered wizards and needs something that believably allows the main character to overcome the problem. You could make it so that the cloak the main character is wearing happens to be resistant to dragon fire!!! BUT, that means you’d have to go back to all your earlier pages and write in the details foreshadowing the cloak or else risk a Deus ex Machina!!!!!

OR, you could use a PLOT DEVICE which will automatically generate the solution AND retroactively make sure it appears earlier in the story saving the writer from continuity errors, drafting time, and embarrassment.

And a Plot Devicve is JUST WHAT I FOUND!!!!! Once I found the Plot Device, I purchased it for six dollars and powered it up!!!! I entered in the following scenario:

Writers unable to enter missing writers’s houses and find out what they had been writing thanks to closely guarded crime scene because none of them have the courage or disguise skills of WRITER X to bypass investigators but I can’t bypass the crime scene guards because me and my boyfriend, award nominated fantasy writer Tod Boadkins, have been unable to sleep because #bestkitten yowls until one in the morning because she’s looking for Tryxy, who might be stuck in the past for ANOTHER MONTH!!! And THEN she climbs on our faces at three in the morning and kneads our foreheads until we wake up again.

Then, I left the plot device to work wonders!!!!! I jumped into my car to beat the traffic leaving the flea market!!!

Who’d have thunk that a momentary decision to gun my accelerator into reverse to beat a line of pick up trucks exiting the lot would send me flying into your cousin Blanche’s car, thus freeing #floofybaby from its hiding place under my seat, but also sending me on a county wide police chase fleeing the authorities????

Next thing you know, Brokenheap’s police force was called in for back up to form a blockade on the bridge, stopping me from leaving the county but also suddenly leaving the writers’s houses unguarded and allowing OUR writers to don their disguises and enter the homes to discover the next key in finding the missing fantasists!!!!!!

Gladys, brace yourself because you’re NOT going to believe this.

The missing fantasists weren’t writing novels at all. Prior to November, all of them had received an exclusive invitation to WRITE THEIR MEMOIRS.

THEY WERE ALL WORKING ON THEIR MEMOIRS!!!!!!!!! This is all making so much sense now!!!!!

And of course, I’ll explain why it makes sense, just as soon as you hop on down to the county jail and bail me out. The police separated me from my plot device or else I’d do it myself!!!!



All correspondences sent from this device are subject to review by law enforcement and can be used as evidence in a court of law.