I've just posted the 15th chapter of "Sisters Are Doin' It For Themselves." In this episode, our plucky heroine finds herself on the other side of the globe, Berlin, Germany to be precise, planning to spend three days shooting a music video with Trent Foster while he's on the first leg of his European concert tour. There's bound to be much singing, cavorting, sight-seeing, and moments of self-reflection. The cavorting might come as a bit of a surprise though. IJBOL. No, really. And spilled my coffee all over the table.

I hope my fan(s?) enjoy it.

So, the other day, my brother-in-law politely asked me to leave his house.

My editor has been working on her own projects (as long as it's on her own time, I don't mind). The latest one she showed me piqued my interest. She's always trying to come up with money-making ideas, that feline.

She thinks the time is right for a radical reboot of Star Trek. When I told her that - fat chance - Paramount owns the rights, she spit up a fur ball and told me she has a distant cousin who is Chat du Maison in Bob Bakish's household (the President & CEO). They use a lot her programming tips, my editor tells me.

Merry Christmas! Happy Hannukah! Happy Kwanzaa! Happy Festivus for the rest of us!

Spending Christmas Eve with my sister Erica at her home on the north shore of Long Island (yes, she calls it Long Guyland). She owns the biggest firickin' cat I've ever seen. It's a Maine Coon cat...the only domestic cat breed native to the U.S. Melissa had thirds of the sweet potato casserole. Darn that cat!

Hugs of the season,

Sammy

It's going well. We seem to be on the same page...er...screen. We'll have something to post very soon.

Hugs,

Sammy

I've been having thoughts about my existential relationship with writing TG fiction. Yes, I feel blocked of late, unable to progress on the projects I have on deck. Illness, depression, what have you intermittently plague me. It's even disturbed my normal sleep pattern. Now, these are signs of problems that extend further than my writing. I'm aware of that. But, still I ponder the need to write. Not that I would stop writing for my own sake. I guess I would continue to drabble about to amuse myself as I've done off and on for most of my adult life.

You try so hard to make proper ladies out of them. So hard. And this is what you find when you wander in from a long day of sweating over a hot laptop.

There are days when it's just not worth the aggravation. It's Netflix, I tell you. Such a bad influence.

Things are moving slowly on my entry in the Christmas Story Contest. But it's not my fault! My editor is taking her sweet time going over the text as I write this blog. I'd be really upset but she's told me the story is just purr-fect. She'll say anything to get more Temptations cat treats.

If you're familiar with the jazz singer Ute Lemper, you might have heard her interpretation of the Danny O'Keefe song, "You Look Just Like A Girl Again." Although written about a cis woman from the viewpoint of an admirer, to those of us of a certain age who may have missed out on that stage of our lives, it elicits an emotional frisson. Because in the mirror we hold within us, we can see the girl we might have been...again.

You Look Just Like a Girl Again