As I mentioned last time, I've finished a draft of my new romantic comedy, Georgette Alden Starts Over. I've spent the past week or so going over the story and polishing it a bit before I send it to a few readers. I've loved spending time with Georgette, who is larger than life and can be quite dramatic. I'm about to go back to my ski story, The Fall Line, and I look forward to spending time with those characters, but I think I'm going to miss hanging out with GA and friends.
The story isn't quite yet ready for prime time, but I thought I'd share the opening with you. These are the first few paragraphs of the story--
Georgette Alden was disappointed at waking up in her own bed the morning after Electra Holmes was killed. She had hoped to wake up in a private suite at St. Luke’s hospital surrounded by massive bouquets from well wishers and a copy of the New York Post left discreetly on the bed table. Not that Georgette gave two cents for a rag like the Post, but it did excel in gossip. In the scenario she envisioned, the paper was opened to the gossip pages and the headline read: Despondent Star Attempts To Take Her Life.
To achieve the desired scenario, Georgette had swallowed down four Xanax with the quarter bottle of Chardonnay stashed in her refrigerator next to a half eaten Portobello burger and the wilted remains of an arugula salad. This was the only food in the refrigerator and also all that was left to remind her of the farewell party at Harvey Bristol’s townhouse. At the party, Georgette had imbibed half a bottle of the Pinot Grigio Harvey had flown in from his vineyard in Italy. Harvey had accompanied her back to her apartment for sex that was sweaty and discomforting. Pity sex, Georgette had thought. It was after this Georgette decided on staging an attempted suicide.
This writing journey, this life, is a long road full of pitfalls and wrong turns. Also, incredible beauty, kindness and friendship with those I've met along the way.I'm so glad you're here to share the road..
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