Tag Archives: chicklit

The Shy Erotic Writer (how do you explain to your mother that it might be best to skip a page?)

23 Nov

Monday was a very exciting day. A box of my new book ‘Sex, Lies and Bonsai’ arrived on my doorstep. So excited, so very, very excited. I felt like a kid on Christmas Day. And – this is probably going to sound a little pathetic – I took myself off to bed to read it. Yes, I have read it before… But not in a book!

 

So, there I was in bed, happily reading away until I got to page 34. And then I encountered a word that stopped me in my tracks. Here is the strange thing, the whole time I was writing the book, and even editing it, I somehow managed to convince myself that no-one else was ever going to read it. It’s funny the games your mind plays.

 

Because if I’d been thinking of all the people who might potentially read this book, I never would have left the ‘c’ word in. Yes that word. Only once. On page 34. And there is a context – it’s not gratuitous. But still.

 

And now, of course, I am thinking about my mother. And my mother-in-law. And all my mother-in-law’s friends who are going to get a very poor impression of me because I used that word. Not to mention the neighbours. And my kids’ teachers…

 

I’ve had a few people tell me that my last book ‘Liar Bird’ was a bit raunchy. That worries me because if ‘Liar Bird’ was raunchy, that would make ‘Sex, Lies and Bonsai’ the new ‘50 Shades of Grey’. Which it totally isn’t  Really, there’s just the odd bit of sex here and there and it all advances the plot. As much as I might like to get on the erotic fiction bandwagon I think it’s taken off without me.

 

I’m open to suggestions from anyone as to how to tackle this delicate issue with regard to my mother and my mother-in-law. I could:

 

a.. pretend that the book never got printed due to tough economic times.

b. get out the whiteout, or

c. add a note with an apology from my editor, explaining that she made me do it…

or perhaps

d. flee the country never to return.

 

What do you think?

PR queen takes a dive

15 Dec

 With only two weeks until Liar Bird is published, I thought I’d share another short extract. If you missed the last one, it is here. City PR Queen, Cassandra, has taken a dive and is considering her options…

I needed to get away for a while; act like it was my choice, return refreshed, revitalised and triumphant. What I needed was another job – some place they’d never heard of Cassandra Daley and her astroturf. Somewhere Sydney people would never find me.

Ant was still sitting on the end of the bed, doggy eyes following my every move.

“For Chrissakes Ant, stop watching me. Get me a coffee…and a fresh muffin from the bakery. Will you, snooks?” That would keep him out of my hair for a bit.

As he left the room I grabbed Alice from my bedside table. ‘You look a little shy, let me introduce you to that leg of mutton,’ said the Red Queen.

Ha.  I would be lucky to be introduced even to a leg of mutton if I stuck around here. A pathetic, friendless loser, that’s what I’d be.

I opened the jobs section. There were lots of PR jobs, but all in Sydney. I kept flicking, there at the end was a small box – Public Relations specialist for wildlife agency, north coast – Beechville.

Beechville? I shuddered. There were good parts to the north coast. Come to think of it, one good part – Byron Bay. Byron was tres chic – most of Balmain was there in summer. You had no trouble getting any sort of latte in Byron. Somehow I suspected Beechville wasn’t like that. It sounded like the kind of place where Instant Roast and teabags were the order of the day.

Getting out of bed, I pulled my road atlas from the shelf. There it was; Beechville – a small dot near the Queensland border. Why on earth would they need a public relations specialist there? What could happen in a country town like that? Something about that appealed though. I’d had enough action for the time being.

I pictured myself in a rocking chair on a wide verandah – maybe strolling in to work to have my photo taken with a koala or on a rainforest walkway…

At least it wasn’t too far from civilisation – if you could call Surfers Paradise and Brisbane civilised. Anything north of Hornsby was the wilderness as far as I was concerned, but, given the circumstances, you take what you can get. It would be quiet, boring maybe, but quiet. I’d have time to plan my comeback; recuperate my energies for a big re-entry.

Wazza would take me back; he’d never find anyone else as good as me. No, stuff Wazza, I’d set up in opposition to him. I might find my reputation to be an asset; in fact I’m sure I would – once people had the chance to reflect on it. It showed I’d go the extra mile. Clients liked that.

The good part was, Beechville was north coast and Rainforest Runaway was south coast. Separation of these two places could only be beneficial.

The door clicked as Anthony let himself back in. Ripping out the ad, I placed it in my top drawer.

Beechville. I felt half-asleep at the thought of it…

Hope you enjoyed that. And for anyone who happens to find that too much ‘Liar Bird’ is never enough – here’s a link to the Varuna Blog where I read a couple of pages.

Down the plughole

2 Nov

It being November, there are now only eight weeks to go until Liar Bird hits the shelves. In celebration, I thought I would share a short extract.

Chapter One: Down the Plughole

If it wasn’t for the long-footed potoroo, I might never have heard of Beechville. But I suppose I can’t entirely lay the blame at the potoroo’s door – Warren Corbett must also take his share.

There have been many influential figures in my life, people who have opened doors at the right time, given words of advice, turned me on a path I might not have taken. Of all of these, Warren Corbett looms largest.

Wazza, as he’s widely known in PR circles, was my first boss. More than that, he was my mentor. Do what it takes, girl, but don’t let them catch you, was his favourite saying. Second was, When in doubt, deny, deny, deny.

He’s old school, Wazza. PR Ethics hadn’t been invented when he made his first million. It was my luck – some would say karma – that I ended up at Winning Edge Public Relations still wet from my communications degree. That was when the learning really started.

Wazza taught me everything I knew – how to set up ‘grassroots’ front groups which look and act just like the real thing; how to infiltrate real groups if need be and, most importantly, how not to let your conscience stand in the way of your career. He said it was important to look ethical; actually being ethical was optional and probably unwise.

He was the learned master and I the eager student. I sucked up his wisdom as thirstily as any magician’s apprentice. Good old Wazza, he’s still there, doing his thing. God knows there’s no shortage of clients ready to fork out for his golden touch.

Out of all the graduates who applied to his company; fifty or so, he picked me. Why?

“I trust my instincts, Cassandra.” He’d leant over his massive glass table, a whiff of cinnamon aftershave drifting towards me from his shiny cheeks. “In this game, you have to. And you… I can sense something. You’re smart, but they’re all smart. You look good, but they all look good. You’ve got something different though.” He’d placed his hand-rolled cigar in an ashtray and pointed his immaculately groomed, gold-ringed, finger at my chest. “You are hungry.”

He was right.

He told me later – only half joking – that he’d been worried I’d leap over the desk and sink my teeth into his jugular if he’d knocked me back. I’d laughed politely, showing just a hint of fang to keep him on his toes.

To be continued…

Is there anyone who doesn’t love to see a PR girl take a dive?