Friday, July 30, 2010

Waiting for Karl Rove--TEASER

Well, here it is. Our one minute Waiting for Karl Rove trailer.

I want to thank a couple of agents and a publisher who responded to our query with a sense of humor. It's refreshing to know there are some out there who haven't become too precious about themselves. Frankly, that's a real turn off. If you can't summon up a quip or two now and again, I don't want you representing me.

We get that taking swipes at the publishing world might not endear us to everyone, but it's a sure-fire way to weed out the undesirables--and all part of our master plan.

Consider us Snarky Gardeners...

Below are a few of the better responses, with portions redacted to protect the writer's anonymity,

Chris (you know who you are!) had this to say:

Hi Jeni and Kat,

I read the first 40 pages of Waiting for Karl Rove – what a ride. The email exchanges between Kat and Tense are a perfect jab at the publishing industry – if you can’t laugh at yourself… While I have no doubt that the book will – should - be picked up for publication, I’m afraid that it is off-target for our (BLANK) fiction catalog. I ran the manuscript by one of our senior editors, and her comment was, “nice and snarky - and I hate Karl Rove – but it’s going to miss (OUR TARGET AUDIENCE).”

Thanks for thinking about (SO AND SO) Books, and good luck on your trip up the New York Times Bestseller List. I’m sure you will make it. Cheers.


...and Ann...

...Thank you for thinking of me, Kat and Jeni, but the subject matter of Waiting for (that a**hole) Karl Rove didn't grab me the way I would need it to in order to consider representation, so unfortunately I've decided to pass. (I'm more of a thrillers, mystery, & suspense agent now.)

(the ‘that a**hole’ was her addition!) How cool is that?!


An agent that I really, really would like to be MY agent rejected it — but responded with good humor:

1 agent
2 words "no thanks"
1 wish "that you find your ideal agent as quickly & painlessly as possible"

…and in another time and another place, I might have been YOUR agent. But I am overwhelmed. My overwhelmingness appears to be long term.


Thanks M. I'm still holding out hopes for this one. He'd be my dream agent, and if I get an offer on another book at some point, I'm running (not walking) back to him and begging him to rep me.

We’d hoped for some snarky query responses so we could add them to the book, but alas, none yet.

Have no fear--if they do arrive, we'll post 'em!

Tuesday, July 20, 2010

WANTED: A brilliant LITERARY AGENT with size XXL cajones.

Serious inquiries need only apply:

NOTE: Please put Waiting for Karl Rove--Agent Query in the subject line. Queries sent with attachments will not be opened (unless it’s a contract) and any e-mail sent without the above subject heading will be deleted unread.

Please allow 2-4 weeks for reply, as our offices are inundated with agents querying us. Patience is a virtue. No calls, FAX’s or singing telegrams will be accepted—unless the singing telegram in question involves a scantily clad male or large quantities of chocolate —in which case, contact us with the scheduled delivery time at:

Kat Nove & Jeni Decker

Tuesday, July 13, 2010

The Human Centipede

Excerpt from Waiting for Karl Rove

“Jeni, this is the worst idea since I rolled over in bed that night and said to South-of-the-Border. 'Are you gonna marry me or what?'” (1)

Jeni turned on the blinker—about thirty seconds too late in my opinion—and eased off the highway into the rest area. “You are such a chicken-shit. Consider this another adventure.”

“Another adventure? Sure why not? It’s not as if anything exciting has happened to us so far on this trip. I still have most of my motor functions and my spleen.(2)

“Listen, Kat. I can drive in my sleep, but you’re such a whiner about making sure nothing happens to your car, (3) it’s best we stop for the night.”

“I’m not arguing that point. I’m arguing about where you’ve decided to stop.” I looked around at the rest area on the side of the highway where we sat parked next to a large horse trailer hitched to the back of a double-cab pickup. I lit a cigarette off the one I’d been smoking, looked out my window and squinted in the light provided by the squalid mercury vapor lamp attached to a twenty-two foot metal pole. The driver’s side door of the pickup read BAR-NONE QUARTER HORSE RANCH.

“We’re surrounded by truckers, Kat. What could be safer?”

“Gee, let me think. A mall Santa Clause’s lap? (4) My bed at home? A public library? The back seat of a police car?” (5)

She laughed. “You’re funny, Nove.”

“Yeah, I’m funny. And my corpse will be funny-looking once the cops piece it back together. If they ever do,” I added darkly. “Do you watch horror films, Jeni?”

“Not usually. I’m not about to let my kids watch them and by the time I wrestle them to bed, I’m usually too tired to take a shit.”

I winced and ignored her three hundred and twenty-fourth scatological reference.

I rolled my eyes at her and said, “Fine. Let me fish my pepper spray out of my purse. No way we’re entering that restroom this late unless we have a way of defending ourselves.” (6)

“Go on with your delusions, Kat. I find them fascinating.”

“My point is, that no victim expects to be murdered, just as none of the characters in those movies expected to be stabbed, bitten, run over, chain sawed, decapitated, or torn in half. Otherwise they’d have stayed at home. But the film characters’ misfortune began because they took to the road. And spending the night here with a broken car window, without a sawed-off shotgun and a S.W.A.T. team in the backseat is a terrible idea.”

“You’re overreacting to a hypothetical and highly improbable situation,” Jeni said, trying to fake me out into thinking she’s a rational human being. “There’s no way we’re getting killed by a serial killer because we’re spending the night here.”

“Not just killed. Turned into a human centipede.”

“You keep saying that,” Jeni said, right at the moment the trucker exited the restroom. “What the fuck is a human centipede?”

“A human centipede is three people sewn together. There’s a Dutch director named Tom Six who wrote and directed the most revolting horror film ever made. The Human Centipede. Six is an AK-47 enthusiast who once said he gets a rash from too much political correctness.”

“So do I. What’s wrong with that?”

“You own an AK-47?” I asked.

“No, doofus. I get a rash from too much political correctness.”

“Jeni, you’d get a rash from a baby’s diaper rash cream.(7) Anyway, can we get back to The Human Centipede?”

“Why not?”

“Many horror fans loved the movie.(8) But Roger Ebert didn’t even give it a star rating. Do you know what he did?”

“How could I?” she replied, smirking.

“He told his readers the review was not only a spoiler alert, but a public service announcement. Then he revealed the entire plot AND drew a diagram of the human centipede.”

“Oh, come on. I doubt it’s that bad.”

“Really? He said what happened to the victims is the worst thing he’s ever seen done to human beings.” (9)

“Worse than Hostel?”

“Jeni, the victims in this movie saw Hostel and begged the killer to do the disgusting things in that movie rather than turn them into a human centipede.”

I pulled my notebook and a pen out of my purse and began to sketch a crude drawing. After I finished, I shoved it in Jeni’s face. “There! There’s what’s going to happen to us if we spend the night here.”

She said, “What the fuck is that?”

“That’s what the insane German doctor in the movie created. He kidnapped two young American women and a Japanese man. He was a retired surgeon who specialized in separating co-joined twins. In the demented mind of Tom Six, this doctor had a hankering to attach people.(10)

Jeni peered intently at my sketch. “Am I understanding this correctly?”

“If you think each person is attached by sewing mouths to anuses all in a row, the answer is yes. But it’s worse than that.”

“How could it get any worse?” Jeni said, clearly horrified.

“The psycho doctor also attached their digestive tracts.”


“Yes! So that means the first person eats, then the digested food passes from his asshole into the mouth of the second person, then the third who eventually evacuates.” (11)

“You saw this movie?”

“Hell, no! But I heard it from my corner while playing Peggle on the computer. The Remote Control Terrorist watched it.”

“And you live with this guy?”

“I did ask him after it ended if he got emotionally involved with the characters.” (12)

“What did he say?”

“He scoffed at me and said of course not, it’s only a movie.” (13)

“Why are you telling me this? I might have nightmares,” Jeni whined.

“Because I can’t believe a writer could come up with something so vile out of his own imagination unless he’s creating human centipedes in his garage or attic. Tom Six is douche bag who must be destroyed for thinking up such crap. When a movie is made of our adventures,(14) I shall insist that in this scene he is played by Steven Seagal.” (15)

“Well, that’s a relief. I thought you were really worried about being turned into a human centipede.”

“Of course I’m worried about it. My luck, you’d be in the front and I’d be in the middle. With your ass situation, I’d rather go skinny dipping with Freddy Krueger.” (16)


1. My ex-husband’s family came from Monterrey, Mexico and are millionaires. Know what I got in the divorce? Can you spell J-A-C-K-S-H-I-T?

2. I didn’t expect that to last long the way Jeni drove.

3. Not to mention the aforementioned motor skills and spleen.

4. Unless he happened to be a pedophile and even then what’s he going to do with all those elves as witnesses?

5. Where I predicted I’d soon be sitting because three years ago I made the mistake of joining a writer’s website – It’s frequented by a high number of crazies, Jeni being the Crazy Queen of the Forums.

6. My spur-of-the-moment plan didn’t really include wasting my expensive pepper spray on a rapist or serial killer, but rather shoving Jeni into him and running like Marion Jones on steroids while he bounced off Jeni’s tits into the cinderblock walls. I call this the Trampoline Defense.

7. But I wouldn’t put it past her to mug the Gerber baby if she thought his diaper rash cream might be the solution to her ass issues.

8. I picture anyone who loves this movie never leaving his room in his parents’ basement and looking like Jabba the Hut existing on a diet of maggots and pizza.

9. And he watched Hannah Montana: The Movie so he should know.

10. A little hobby to pass the time in his retirement. More creative than crossword puzzles and less tedious than gardening.

11. Who knows where. Under these circumstances, it seems a toilet would be difficult to manage.

12. Keeping my fingers crossed he wouldn’t tell me he wished he could be more like Dr. Crazytown.

13. Same thing he says about romantic comedies.

14. Alternative title – Waiting for a Plot.

15. Check out my Steven Seagal rant on

16. Not-so-thinly-veiled reference to Jeni's 'roids, which she talks about ad nauseum.


As it turned out, we did run into some trouble that night, in the form of Gollum the rest-stop masturbator yanking his way to crazy-town on the hood of Kat's car. But we got the upper hand. The police later found him bound with duct tape and a little message written across his chest in lipstick.


Don't screw with a menopausal woman and her erratic sidekick... Just sayin'.

Sunday, July 11, 2010

Waiting for Karl Rove (and for Kathy Griffin)

Today a Special Treat--guest blogger: Kat Nove

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I wrote a scene for Kathy Griffin in Waiting for Karl Rove because she’s my role model. When the movie comes out, I won’t sign any contract that doesn’t include Kathy Griffin playing herself in that scene.

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A couple of years ago I went with Moses (my own personal gay) to watch her show in San Antonio. She was fantastic – what I could hear of her. For weeks before the show, I’d fantasized about sitting next to a hot gay MALE Kathy Griffin fan. Imagine my distress when my seat mates turned out to be two chatty lesbians instead. These women wouldn’t shut the fuck up so I could hear Kathy.

Then I ended up falling asleep for a few minutes due to the fact I suffer from sleep apnea and never get more than four hours sleep a night. I’m certain drooling and snoring were involved and I’m so grateful Jeni Decker, my co-author of Waiting for Karl Rove wasn’t’ there to film it. Other than those two incidents, it was a wonderful evening.

On August 6, I’m going back to see her with my two gays, Moses and his boyfriend High IQ. I’ve only met High IQ once, but I get to claim him as my very own gay because at that time he gushed about what a wonderful human being I am. He’s right. It’s strange how evangelical Christians, Tea Party members and/or wealthy white Republicans don’t get that about me.

I only have two gays, while Kathy Griffin has millions, but someday I hope my gays will number in the double digits! All you gays out there can help make this happen by getting on Twitter and twatting about Waiting for Karl Rove and how much you want to see Kathy Griffin playing herself in the movie. Bless your hearts!

For more about Waiting for Karl Rove go to the website.

Visit Kathy at her website.

You can find out more about Moses by clicking the link. He’s really cute!

And if you’re the type who likes to mock computer end users – mock away. While trying to imbed the links, my monitor shouted – FORBIDDEN! Then it spit rattlesnake venom in my eye. I’m finishing this post while wearing an eyepatch. I’m certain that’s what Kathy would do.

Wednesday, July 7, 2010

Waiting for Karl Rove

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It was an inspired idea. All I had to do was convince Kat.

“So, what do you think about packing up and heading out to visit Karl Rove?”

Thus began a road trip that started with two separate terrorist incidents at the San Antonio Airport—both attributed to us—and ended with an FBI interrogation.

Most of what happened in between is a hazy horror-show that we’d both sooner forget. Unfortunately, my predilection for always having a camera handy assured every humiliating detail would forever be captured on film.

When I dreamed up this little scheme to find Karl Rove and throttle an apology out of him, I did not count on being accosted by Junior Hillbilly in an outhouse, chased by Geraldo Rivera, ...or witnessing Gollum the rest stop masturbator jerking his way to crazy town. Kat got tasered (twice!) and humped a Teabaggers leg at the Alamo, I stripped at La Teta Pequeña, and one of us woke up in bed next to an Elvis impersonator after a long night of drinking on the Vegas strip.

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Then we wrote a book about it. And now we’re ready to publish.

Our ultimate goal: Appear on The Daily Show and make ridiculous sums of money after selling the movie rights to Harvey Weinstein.

Oh shit…I think this means I have to compose a query letter.


I don’t suppose the following will suffice?

Waiting for Karl Rove is…

75,461 words
629 footnotes
351 pages
2 authors
1 good fucking book

If you become befuddled by the first person perspective told from the point of view of dual-protagonists, you’re probably just stupid. That’s a personal problem as far as we can see; yours, not ours.

We are two writers on a wild road trip to the top of the New York Times Bestseller List and this book is blatant self-promotion.

And what is this titillating tome about, you ask?

Think Thelma and Louise—only Thelma’s menopausal, Louise is an erratic big-mouth with a penchant for discussing her hemorrhoids, and they’re on a road trip to wrestle an apology from Karl Rove by any means necessary.

That’s really all you need to know.