Book Title: Blame it on Meryl Streep
Genre: Women's fiction
Tagline: Sometimes you have to lose yourself in a fantasy to fix your reality.
First 250 words:
I’m Laura M. Sanders.
I’m a TV producer in Los Angeles.
I've travelled the world.
I have a cat named Sartre.
I drive a Horizon Blue Mini Convertible.
I own 108 pair of shoes.
I’m a virgin.
The worst part about my pathetic, sex- and relationshipless life is the constant pretending. Pretending to be normal. Fact is everybody knows the drama of relationships, the passion, the pain. Not knowing makes you an utter and complete freak. At least that's how I feel. Until some years ago I used to be honest and tell friends at some point that I was still a virgin and never had a boyfriend. Someday I’ll tell a stranger that I killed a person. Simply to see if that confession arouses a similar mortified look.
After the look there’s always the pity. And after the pity the good advice.
Good Advice Number One: Be dumb. Men don’t like smart women.
Good Advice Number Two: Be hard to get. Men still think like hunters.
Good Advice Number Three: Be a listener. Men need attention.
After the look, the pity and the good advice, there’s the worst part: the awkward silence. After all, everything everybody ever seems to talk about are relationships. Who they met, who texted or called, or who didn’t, and what either implies. Who broke up with whom, who got engaged, who is pregnant, who had an affair, who is good in bed, who is hot … and of course you need stories to contribute. So I make up stories.