Pandora's Box

I want to personally thank Judy Blume. I loved her books when I was growing up. My world changed when I stole my mother's copy of Wifey and learned all about sex from it. For me and my girlfriends, this was like a treasure trove of information and we were hanging on every detail. What we thought we knew, was far different than the words on those pages.

I thought about Wifey while I was writing Madhouse. I wanted to "pay it forward", so to speak. There are plenty of books out there boasting the pleasures of Pandora's Box (yep that's what I'm calling it). I cannot help but cringe when I read those romance novels that speak of the cataclismic orgasms young virgins are having their first time out. That is so far from the truth, it's disappointing to readers. I wanted to be truthful, to give young women honesty instead of false hope.

I vaguely remember the feelings of teenage lust. The hours of rolling around kissing and feeling like I could go on forever, I remember the warmth of hands on my body gave. I also remember the total lack of satisfaction from my first encounter.... I was sorely disappointed. My so-called experienced, older (he was 16) boyfriend was so excited to finally be "doing it", that it lasted about 3 seconds. I should have been mad, but I didn't know any better. Of course I told my friends it was wonderful, just as they had done when telling me! Foolish youth, we should have been plotting together on how to get a more satisfying experience from our boyfriends.

So in my writing, I wanted to give boys who may come across my book a lesson in pleasuring a woman, and vise versa...and girls the vision to show them how. I do not think you need to settle for sweaty, awkward encounters just because you're young. Looking back, I now know that I shouldn't have been in a hurry to get the deed done, when there is so much more you can do that actually feels better for the female without the risk of pregnancy!

Some mom's are saying I shouldn't have put sex in a teen fiction book at all..to them I say, be realistic. They are experimenting, they've grown up in a Bill Clinton world where a blow job is common place, and expected according to my young sources. It's a different world out there than when we were young. Victoria's Secret commercials, prime time programming and the internet have made everything accessible to our kids. 

So to my young friends, there's hope for you. Opening Pandora's lid just a little is a better way to go. Who wants to have to deal with mayhem, unless of course he looks like the actor on the All State commercials.

Madhouse in PRINT

Ok, after much, much ado, Madhouse is now available on actual paper!
(To purchase, just click on the BUY NOW button to the right of this post)

I have new found respect for the design people in my life, and thank them tremendously for their help in this endeavor. It's been a long road. Let's see if we can make it on to the next book!

I will keep everyone posted on a book signing party at one of my favorite places (guesses?) where if you bring a copy of Madhouse to be signed you'll get a free drink!

First run is $22.50. It's expensive, but I'm worth it. (LOL)

Thanks to all my great support out there! I love you all.

"The phone"

My original book cover design showed the infamous phone from the book Madhouse. While I went another more bold route for the book design, that phone image is still near and dear to my heart.
Much like teens everywhere,  in the 1980's, I was addicted to my phone. Unlike today's teens, that meant being attached to a cord, a wall jack and seemingly impossible, one place! There were no cell phones, and cordless phones were new and expensive. Our house had two phones in it. One in the kitchen, where my mom could easily overhear any conversation, and one in my bedroom where I had some privacy. I eventually got my own phone line into the house, because my parents realized that was necessary if they were ever going to make or receive a call ever again. By today's standards I suppose it would be the equivalent of my getting a cell phone.
I remember buying my phone. My mom took me to Zayre, a long ago forgotten store much like the Target of today. When I saw the new-fangled, ultra modern, round phone I flipped and knew I had to have it. After only one of my many two hour conversations on it, I realized what a mistake that had been. I couldn't hold it in the crook of my neck and therefor my arm was constantly falling asleep while holding it to my ear. Even the smallest of tasks was impossible when on that phone, which now to me seems ridiculous. When I think about how much I can get accomplished with today's technology, I feel like I wasted years of my life span being glued to that stupid device. I can't tell you the number of times I dropped it either. I'm surprised it lasted as long as it did. I think I had a bit of an engineer in me when I would rig it to hold itself while lying on my bed. I would cradle it in two pillows and then simply place my ear next to it. The cord was stretched out and disfigured by my constant abuse and twirling of it, and the earpiece was a muddy non-color from the mixtures of many different hair dyes that rubbed off on it. It was a sad sight indeed.
Still I look back fondly on that phone, where I received and made many of the undoubtedly most pivotal phone calls of my life. How else would I have lived the adventure that I did. Sure I could've had one of Ma Bell's more boring phones but I've never taken the easy way out. So, while I thankfully still have full use of both my arms and didn't suffer any permanent nerve damage, I smile as I look on the image of my beloved round phone. I'm sure if you asked my old room mate Jody, she'd tell you I loved that phone, even if it did meet its final demise during one of my more heated debates with my mother. Modern or old fashioned, phones just don't do well when thrown against a wall....

Well, Madhouse is now for sale on Amazon.com

http://www.amazon.com/Madhouse-ebook/dp/B0041OT1U6/ref=sr_1_fkmr0_1?ie=UTF8&m=AG56TWVU5XWC2&qid=1283521753&sr=1-1-fkmr0

This is kind of reminding me of when I had my kids....all that effort (not that I minded) and when that little stick you pee on says your pregnant, you are excited, scared, nervous and nauseous all at once. You think now what do I do? Only the thing is that there's nothing you do. That's when nature takes over.

So I will keep dreaming up my marketing plan...which right now is simply emailing all my family and friends to tell them where to go buy Madhouse, I'm left with a feeling that now I'm in the hands of some force of nature. I hope it's a kind force and that my written word and my ego will not be torn to shreds by readers.  However, I know I'm tough, and what doesn't kill me only makes me stronger....

A bit about Madhouse...

My name is Elizabeth Carter. I go by Bette because my mom has a fascination with Bette Midler. It’s kind of grandma-ish but it’s different so I like it. (Please don’t tell my mom I said that! In fact, don’t tell my mom that anything makes me happy.) I’m in a place right now, after 17 years of watching this woman try to live out one fairy tale after another, where I want to be a surly teenager. For one more year at least, maybe more.

My goal in life is to move out of my mother’s house. Well, it’s not her house- it’s just the house of her latest husband. See my mom is a chameleon and changes to please her man. Of course, that doesn’t last because eventually she gets bored of her new persona and goes back to being plain ole’ Marie. Then starts looking for the next man! I vow to never be like her. I will never be anyone other than myself and will not let my life revolve around someone else. Anyone else. No matter what! (Ri-ight…)

So here I sit in suburbia, dreaming of the emerging punk scene and dreaming of my exit strategy. I am about to start a new high school, where to my utter amazement, I discover a group of friends like me. Not that I’m not unique, don’t get me wrong. I have a box of Manic Panic hair color in my closet just to prove how totally different I am. (LOL) I change my hair color to match my mood. I know how to do this, because I am in a program that allows me to go to beauty school, while still attending high school. See I’m smart, that is how I will make my escape!

My new group of friends tells me about a nightclub that will be opening soon in Chicago; it’s called The Madhouse. It’s a dance club for young adults, finally somewhere for us to hang out and be ourselves! The problem is you have to be 18 to get in, and I’m only 17! This is how my life usually goes. I am drawn to the city with all its bright neon and cool indigenous people. I long to be a part of it. Kristen, my new bud, who is the coolest of the cool, lends me one of her many fake ID’s so I can go to the club! As luck would have it, Kristen’s family is rich and she takes many vacations where she amuses herself with finding people’s lost identification. Hurray for Kristen! Kristen’s only problem is that she drinks like a fish, and I’m not talking about milk. She always has a silver flask on hand, and unfortunately she uses it often. I’m not a prude or anything. I just don’t see the point in drinking. I don’t like to feel out of control.

The Madhouse is so amazing! Really off the charts, unlike anything I’ve ever seen. I am amazed at all the people who look like me, I mean, aren’t I an original? I bet they all think they are original too. But here we are, all looking the same and dancing our hearts out to music imported from exotic lands. Ok, so England is not that exotic, but in the 1980’s it seems as though everything new is happening over there. I’ve browsed through dozens of hair magazines looking at the amazingly colorful and unruly hairstyles they are creating. This new cable station called MTV is also showing us how to look amazingly different from other teenagers in America.

I’m in a voyeuristic heaven and I see the most beautiful guy walk in! Wow, I mean HELLO young god. He’s amazing to watch. He has a girlfriend, or so my pal Kristen informs me when she catches me watching him with my mouth agape. (Yeah, I was staring) Of course the girlfriend is gorgeous. Looks like a pixie, all the things that I am not. Petite, long flowing hair, and exceptionally hip. I leave the dance floor in utter gawkiness to go scope the scene on the upper floor. After peeking in the different rooms and orientating myself to the floor plan, I settle down in a room full of TVs to watch some music videos. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch the god and the pixie fighting. Well, not really fighting. She’s begging, or so it looks and he’s ignoring her. I try hard not to watch, but can’t really help myself. Unfortunately for me, I’m busted. When she finally gives up her quest for… whatever, I find myself in a conversation with Mr. God, and I’m amazed at how he makes me feel. A bold new woman emerges from inside my head and actually holds her own. (I hope she’s sticking around). Much to my chagrin, two of my friends come to find me right in the middle of my profundity and drag me away from my new, well I don’t want to say love, because that would be too much like my mother!

Will I ever see him again? I wonder.....

Madhouse...here we go!

So I'm sitting here, about to watch Amazon put my book up for sale and I'm thinking..really? Is it this simple? There must me a catch...oh yeah, getting readers!

I am hopeful that through my network of family, friends, acquaintances and voyeurs the book will catch on and become so successful that a giant publishing house will want to pick it up and print it, along with my second book when it's finished.

For now, pipe dreams aside, I will sit and watch, blog and market and see what happens. If nothing else, I still feel a sense of accomplishment for finishing the book in the first place. Everything else is just gravy!