Today is the day to check if your refrigerator is running.
Enter any bookstore and it's right there near the door, possibly so we can save time and go right back to shopping or sipping Cosmopolitans. It's the FemBook Table. You'd recognize it from a mile away, as the primary color on the FemBook Table is bright, scorching hot pink. These are books penned by authors who want to jump on the Bridget Jones' Diary, 4 Blondes, Good in Bed, The Devil Wears Prada, Nanny Diaries bandwagon. These books are juicy, flirty, guilty pleasures and while some are not bad, the rest I can only assume (that's right, I haven't read them all) are of knockoff quality. While books are books and you can only say so much bad stuff about the written word, it is a little disturbing that what are essentially magazines or "Sex and the City" are making it into book form. It's more disturbing that authors are making money off these whereas most of the female I writers I know are still toiling at day jobs.
So, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em, I say. Below you'll find an excerpt from my upcoming FemBook. How hard can it be? And you lady readers, I'd like you to send some in, too. A sentence, a paragraph, a chapter, what have you, and we'll run them next week. Send your submission to me with the subject line reading "Pink Cover." We're all going to be millionaires. See you at Jimmy Choo's! ********************************************** Natasha walked into her apartment and threw her shopping bags on the table. How was she able to afford this apartment, her shopping, her nightlife, and her daily brunches with her girlfriends on her measly paycheck? Who knew. Was it really important? What was important was that she was fabulous. And had fabulous friends.
But then there was Johnny Boy. Sure, he was rich, good-looking, snappy, and only showed up to take her to fancy dinners and to bed, but Natasha was sure there was something wrong with him. There just had to be! Natasha huffed to the kitchen and devoured an entire Hershey's Kiss. When she realized what she had done, she ran to the bathroom and vomited it up.
The telephone rang and Natasha ran to pick it up. Who could it be? Victoria? Vanessa? Veronica? Jennifer?
Yay! It was Natasha's totally extreme, fabulous gay friend Arnold.
"Omigod, Arnold! I just ate an entire Hershey's Kiss!"
"Oh no you didn't! We don't need you blowing up to Catherine Zeta Jones size!'
"Arnold, you're so crazy!"
"So give me the details."
"Oh, I just worry sometimes that Johnny Boy is a little too perfect for me. And that something has to be wrong."
"Hmm. That's too bad. But I bet a mojito will make you feel sooo much better!"
"You're right! So what's new with you?"
"Oh, well. I'm okay, although I got beaten up the other night in a men's bathroom because I--"
"Oh Arnold! You so crazy! I'll meet you down at that fabulous bar we always go to in five. Bye!"
Only in New York! Well, more specifically, only in Manhattan!