Ahem. Announcements and stuff

Guys, here I am. It’s been way too long. I think I was still wearing flannel the last time I posted. We’re stuck in what they’re calling a “heat dome” here in the Philly burbs, so no summer flannel for this butch. 

I’ve been busy, folks. I haven’t been ignoring you because you think Cindy was the best Brady ever. Everyone knows it was Jan. Or because you’re a Yankees fan.

Maybe a crown AND a cape like professional wrestler Jerry “The King” Lawler wore back in the day.

You’re looking at one of the newest authors to sign with Regal Crest, a powerhouse in the world of lesbian literature. I’m sure I’ll get a crown or velvet cape any day now, but it hasn’t arrived yet.

I just finished the manuscript for the new book.  

Remember when you were a kid and you were playing outside and the whiffle ball got stuck in the gutter or the kickball landed in the creek? You always got a do-over.

This book is a lot like that. I had a chance to go through the current version of Leaving Normal: Adventures in Gender and make edits. Tighten it up. Really, that’s every writer’s dream–one more chance to edit. I know, we’re weird creatures. 

Plus, the second edition, which is being billed as an author’s cut, has added content. New stories I wrote this past year specifically for this project. You’ll get to learn more about Middle-age Butch when she was big butch on her college campus and didn’t even know it. And of course, the book will include more of the those butch-tastic tales everyone loves like the hunt for the perfect buzz cut and the time-honored tradition of the clandestine butch nod. If you turned your head just now, you missed it.

My trophy looked like this except it was invisible.

Also, Leaving Normal: Adventures in Gender was short listed for an award in creative nonfiction by the Golden Crown Literary Society. It didn’t win, but I still feel like a winner.

While I’m making announcements, I should mention that I’ve started my next book. The working title is Love Is Like Tiny Cheeseburgers: Essays from a Butch Romantic. Basically, it’s about me and W sitting in a tree and other stuff that makes your heart beat faster.

Hope you all feel like winners these days. Because you are. Big, beautiful winners. Now go hoist your invisible trophy over your head and shout out that you’re number 1!

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Ok, I told you what’s new with me. What’s new with you? Share one new thing. A new movie, a new book, a new place you visited. Anything. Go.

Mandatory post after getting Freshly Pressed

In reality, we are lesbians and not suitcase-toting bears.

W and I have returned from our weekend without kids and cats and chores and the computer.

We had an awesome time.  So awesome, in fact, that I can’t post any of the super-sexy details.

Well, I could.

But I’d have to kill you.  Or, blush a whole lot.

I can reveal that the weekend included good food and good company, a really nice bottle of Chianti and several rounds of shots.  Oh, and our room had a sleep number bed.  We were all Beverly Hillbillies over that marvel of modern technology.  Firm, soft, firm, soft, firm, soft.  You try it, Ellie Mae.

No, but it’s close.

Before we left for the weekend, I got an e-mail from WordPress informing me that I was going to be Freshly Pressed.

I knew from that moment that it was going to be an exciting weekend.

My words on the WordPress homepage for all the world to see.

I’ve only been blogging for a short amount of time, but I’ve written some poignant and heart-felt posts about such tough topics as coming out, depression and being butch.  Really.

And, I get Freshly Pressed writing about fish sandwich-induced trauma.

My friend told me that I should focus on the Fish-a-majig fiasco in therapy instead of my mother.

Could have been me if it wasn’t for my rigid-on-gender-roles mother.

For those of you who are new here, my mother never let me take drum lessons when I was a kid because, apparently, drums are for boys.  This is why I never fronted for a kick-ass all-girls band like The Runaways and grew up to become a lesbian.

That is my story in a nutshell.

Which has now culminated in WordPress fame and glory.

So, newcomers, welcome to The Flannel Files, where I hope to amaze and entertain you with more true tales about my many unique neuroses, unfounded anxieties and cats.

If you’ve been here all along, thanks for your support and for letting me know that it’s not weird to be creeped out by Mrs. Butterworth, the talking maple syrup bottle.  You are good people.