The comments I shared with two different friends, that I share again here, are the following:

1. I was so turned off by this series, especially by the fact that the first book has absolutely no arc, ending abruptly with “end of part 1,” which is no ending at all. I’m so frustrated that I spent any time on that shitacular book. It goes nowhere. You keep reading thinking something is going to happen, so you turn the pages, and don’t stop reading, hoping NOW I will get to the meat, here’s what I’ve been waiting for, some big twist or a tiny detail from the beginning that will reveal something big later on. Nope. Does not happen. Not even a little.

2. Ugh. I wish I had that time back. Any book that ends “ends of part one” without any plot wraps is a complete time suck waste. The sex / power struggle gets so old by the end, and there’s absolutely no surprise or twists. You have to keep reading the other books because in the first one… nothing fucking happens.

Lastly, since I was asked for discussion points, I asked only this:

In terms of a trilogy, what components need to be there in each individual book? Do you think it’s important for each book to have its own complete arc (a clear beginning, middle, and end), with a lingering of what’s to come–and how effective was E L James in satisfying those requirements? Do you believe Fifty Shades of Grey can stand alone as a satisfying read? You already know my answer.

For those who have NOT read on to the second and third books (which people can’t stop emphasizing were so much better), did you hope that something more would be revealed in terms of the plot? Some twist you didn’t see coming? For what were you hoping, aside for the author to put down the thesaurus (“I turn into my pillow and the sluice gates open.”)?

I was extremely frustrated that as information was drip-fed to the reader, it was never blown out. Chekhov’s “One must not put a loaded rifle on the stage if no one is thinking of firing it” wasn’t just ignored by the author; it was never read by the author. For example, the part where Christian “orders up” a gynecologist for Ana, and Ana has seen that all the cars in Christian’s garage are all Audi’s, including the gynecologist. And Christian has bought Ana an Audi… come on. Isn’t that some absurdly obvious clue? I WAS REALLY HOPING the gynecologist was actually the “Mrs. Robinson Character.” A detail like this should have been wrapped up in book one OR it shouldn’t have been included because it’s misleading. Same goes for the whole “every woman he hires is a blond” then in a line, he tells Ana, a brunette, how he loves brunettes, so we HOPE it’s coming, that he’s going to turn her into a blond, just as his “unbinding” contract reads that he may do. Except it doesn’t come, not in book one, and from what I’ve heard, it never happens. And, you cannot blame the editors/ publisher on this one–it was self-published. The whole, “well, it was originally all written as one long book, and it was later sold as a trilogy” doesn’t fly. Know why? It’s sloppy. Each book should be a stand alone story, building on the full stories of the past. Each book needs to be self-contained and satisfying.

Also, looking only at Fifty Shades of Grey, what purpose did Ana’s roommate Kate serve as a character? In a film, she’d hopefully serve to highlight the differences between how she handles things and how our main girl deals, highlighting something we’d be hard-pressed to discover without that sidekick. That, and she’d serve as a way to get the internal thoughts, the judgments, the fears, out into dialogue, avoiding the lazy voice over. Your main character needs someone in whom to bear her soul and innermost thoughts. But in a book, you can have all the internal conflict you’d like. Did you care about Kate’s relationship with Christian’s brother? And did you think anything would be resolved, at all, with regard to her specific sub-plot line?

If this book came with a t-shit, it should read, “I’d rather have spent my time watching Secretary. Or cupping my own sex.”

Also, by “timesheet” I mean twat.

Dominance. It’s been a theme that keeps ringing ’round, turning up at my stoop. To begin, when I first moved to Boca, I was invited to join a new book club that was in its infancy; I missed the first meeting, but I learned quickly enough that the group was eclectic, interesting, nice even!, but especially hardcore. While whips and strap on leather gag balls aren’t involved yet, the group is closed, not open to new members unless someone drops out, and there’s a courtesy gag order designed to discourage side conversations during meetings. It’s not an S&M club; they don’t, for example, permit book selections upward of four-hundred pages (I have a hard time committing to an entire magazine, so it truly would be my petite torture). More members than not will arrive to the meeting often having read not just the selection of the month, but the entire series following.

The book selection this month was 50 Shades of Gray, a Soft Porn “O” Pick (not to be confused with Oprah and her Multiple “Aha Orgasms” or “Aha O’s”, about a woman who chooses a sexual relationship with a man with a predilection for dominance (think of James Spader in Secretary. Also, think of a riding crop smacking a clitoris into submission). There’s also these choice turns of phrase to consider: “the length of him,” “cupping my sex,” and the truly gag-worthy, “I shatter into a million pieces.” The novel is littered with cliched writing, for sure, but the plot pushes you through it, waiting for a surprise, something worthy of the build and text foreplay. My point is, dominance and it’s lady partner submission are top of mind these days. (Now that I’ve finished the first of the E.L. James Trilogy, read my thoughts here)

Next stop: A Dangerous Method, a film about the relationship between Freud and Jung. Keira Knightley, a patient, gets wet at the thought of being caned. Honestly, if only I could matchmaker my way through film and books. That’s not a bad idea actually. I’m going to play at that.

Now I’m off to see Albert Nobbs, hoping to distract myself from my own thoughts of dominance and submission and how they turn up in my own life, over and again.

With a Little Luck: A Novel by Caprice Crane

Forget luck. My girl Caprice is all talent, and heart… and funny. Romantic comedy anyone? With a Little Luck is available starting today. Nab up a copy and lose (and find) yourself in luck.

Since upgrading to WordPress 3.1 yesterday, all my blog posts are showing up as 404 Page Not Found. “My people” are working on it. God bless nerds.

This isn’t news. I live for the bookstore. I like the eavesdropping, the cafe, and the ability to turn any corner and be inspired. I love that I’m invited to be still and quiet, that they sell organization calendars and Godiva truffles. Shelves upon shelves upon tables and end-caps of cookbooks. Hello.

Is it sick that I want to buy a book just because it has a scrumptious bowl of spaghetti on the cover? I don’t even care what’s inside. Because right there in that image is a promise. I’m buying a feeling. I’m buying cozy and comfort and hope to escape my sore throat and dry skin amid cypress trees and bowls of noodles, with characters that will light me up from the inside. I like stories that nourish.

I also like stories that make me laugh. Except I’m not really big on laughing. I know it’s good for us. I don’t chuckle either. I think I only actually laugh when I’m nervous or when someone is dangerously close to a truth I don’t want to admit. 

“You totally have a crush on him!”

“OMG, I do not!” THIS is where my laugh gives me away. Then I can’t stop laughing. Oh, God, and when someone is absolutely furious, especially when that someone is Phil, I can’t stop. I just laugh. And he’s fuming, and seeing me laugh just pisses him off more, but I can’t help it. I laugh when I’m nervous.

But I adore humor, especially the type of humor where someone is suffering. Torture is good fun. Agony, even better. That said, here’s what’s on my bookshelf this month, and what I’ve already pre-ordered…

And, here’s another note: I truly believe in supporting other writers, helping them sell their books, share their voices, light up other lives. When you pre-order a book, you’re REALLY helping that author out because these best-selling rates and equations look at the first week of sales, maybe the second week. That’s it. If it’s doing well, the publisher will keep spending money to push it. But if people aren’t pre-ordering, the publisher does what they can, then they bow out, onto promoting the next book. So, pre-order. It will make you feel good knowing you’re doing something nice for someone nice.

On my (truly talented and funny people) pre-order list:

With a Little Luck: A Novel by Caprice Crane

It’s All Relative: Two Families, Three Dogs, 34 Holidays and 50 Boxes of Wine A Memoir by Wade Rouse

I have not read these books yet. That’s why they are on my pre-order list. But here’s another that I have read, a non-funny book for the soul…

Epiphany: True Stories of Sudden Insight to Inspire, Encourage, and Transform edited by Elise Ballard*

I guess no one wants their book to be described as non-funny, so let’s see if I can do this last one some justice…

This book is something I savor. I keep it on my coffee table for guests. The stories contained in Epiphany are like little snacks for your soul. They sing to you, make you want to do a jig, make you want to change your life, interact more, be kinder. They made me cry, a lot. But that good cry. The cry you have when you watch Jane Austen movies, where the character finally realizes she’s in love with the enemy and he loves her just as she is. You blubber is what you do. Epiphany will make you blubber in the best possible way imaginable.

This is a book that I will read to my children in time, a book I share with friends now, and a book that makes my inside, deepest self, want to sing and bust out the tap shoes. It’s glorious.

*Oh, and if you’re in AUSTIN, TX, Friday, February 4, there will be a Book Signing with Q&A at 7:00 pm at Book People (6th and Lamar) with Elise Ballard. If I am in town, I will absolutely be there!

The pep-talk I never posted:

I am a nervous wreck. I don’t know what it is! My mouth is all dry and pasty; my hands are actually quivering; I feel like I can’t focus. I am worried about driving to a studio across town, worried I won’t find it in time, circling, with the damn GPS sending me to the wrong San Vicente, not giving myself enough time to get there on time given traffic and having no sense of how long it will take me to get anywhere! Then I needle at my pitch draft, hoping I leave enough time to print a copy… only shit, I don’t have the right driver to work with this printer. HOLY FUCK. It never ends. And um, I so need to shower, is there time?

I can’t sleep. I toss and turn, rehearsing everything in my mind. Then new thoughts come up, and I think, I’ve got to work that in, I better do it now before I forget.

And how exactly does someone walk TV executives through over a handful of character descriptions, the concept for the show, it’s theme, how it’s personal to you in 20 MINUTES? I’ll tell you how: you rehearse the shit out of it.

The only way to combat nerves is to say, “I’m nervous. So what?” Then, get over it and realize that the antidote to nerves is preparation (not to be confused with perspiration). So keep walking through it until you know it inside out. HELLO, it’s a conversation, it’s material you know and live. And they’ve INVITED YOU to share your creation with them. They want to hear from you. They’re lucky to have the opportunity to hear your genius idea. So when you’re hands start to quiver, give them the finger, and say, “Fuck it. I’m just gonna be myself and tell this story the way I’d tell it to a friend at a bar.” And when you’re done with the pitch, no matter what comes of it, you did it. No, you rocked it. (And even if you do stumble over your words or lose your place, IT JUST DOESN’T MATTER, because ultimately, it’s not about how great of a pitch you can give, it’s about the idea. And that’s one thing you’re dead sure about. You go kick some Hollywood ass Ms. Stephanie Klein!