… or are they??
website of author Paula Offutt
The Butch Girl books started in a different order than what they will end up being. Wow, that was confusing.
The first BG book I started writing is Nikki’s story.
The second one is Kelly’s story.
The third one is Harri’s story.
Then there are probably 3 others.
Problem is, I finished Kelly’s first and sold it (Butch Girls Can Fix Anything). Then, Nikki’s story (Butch Girls and U-Hauls) kept waffling between two different scenarios so it got put back and I started on Harri’s. Meanwhile, BG4 gets worked on sometimes and so does BG5. BG6, well, I have always planned for it to be last. We’ll see if I stick to that. I actually started it in Minneapolis (when THE Lee Lynch tells you to get to writing, you get to writing!).
Anyway, that’s why Harri’s book is considered BG3.
It now has the working title of “Butch Girls: Stereotype This” or, maybe “Butch Girls and Stereotypes”. I can’t decide.
There is Harri – the butchest of them all so far
and Liz – the frailest of them all so far (frail is not to be confused with fluffy)
Put ’em all together and what have you got? BG3.
She didn’t bother knocking at the open door; it may have fallen down if she did. Just inside and to the left of the doorway was two mismatched Captain seats attached to an axle. On the end hubs, the rims had been beaten so that one part was flat, keeping the contraption from rolling across the room. As if that wasn’t odd enough, on the opposite wall, a van seat had been welded to a trunk lid that was bolted to the wall. The counter was made of station wagon tail gates stacked and welded together. The top was a two inch thick oil stained butcher block.
But the most eye catching of this menagerie was the floor. Pages from various tool company calenders had been glued in place and covered with polyurethane. Each and every page was of half naked women practically making love to whatever was the tool of the month.
She decided to look at the various announcements on the walls, rather then stare at the floor. She became interested in a bike rally in Hot Springs, until she saw it was scheduled for August 5th, 1983.
The woman watched her for a moment, as if trying to decide if Harri was worthy of her efforts. That ticked her off. She hated it when others put her in a box, using looks alone as a stereotype.
“I have pictures, if you think that will help you decide.” The woman pulled a folder from her briefcase.
If the photos were decent, she’d do it. If they were Polaroids, she’d send this Miss Thing away.