There’s no sense in being humble– not when you have GREAT. BIG. IDEAS. Having been encouraged to start writing a book, I did it. I started it. Actually, I started four, so I have been busy. I wanted to share the initial vision with you, because you have all stuck by me for so long. You can pre-order these books on Amazon.com as soon as they are written. I’ll keep you posted on that. Let’s not get hung up on details, ok?
Without further ado, here are my four “babies”:
My first, and greatest love, is my idea for Hunger Shames. It’s about a future world where the most shameful desire a person can express is hunger. The penalty for having this desire? Every other year the 11 people who show the most signs of hunger (and are between the ages of 11 and 18), they are sent away to a mythical place called “The Buffet,” where they are pitted against one another to see who has the most willpower in the face of a gigantic buffet from a rotating roster of fast food chains: On the first night of Hunger Shames, all 11 contestants attend their first Buffet where they must see who is the first to succumb to the glistening, authentic platters of food from Panda Express. The first one to cave and eat so much as a cashew or a broccoli floret is doused in fake butter and cheese and sent out into the woods where her entire village will laugh at her over a loud speaker and christen her with a new name like “Stupid Cellulite Bitch,” which will remain with her for the rest of her life.
My most tender and beautifully rendered book will be called Not The Book Thief. It’s not about a little girl who found moments of grace and vitality during the Nazi regime. It’s not about books. It’s not about a thief. Everyone doesn’t die at the end. There are no bombs. It’s uplifting; more character sketch than plot. Guaranteed to make you sob and sob some more.
A slightly racier book I am going to write is called Fiddlesex. It’s a sweeping story that spans three generations and three continents (not sure which three yet). The gist of the story sounds implausible, but in my deft hands, it will be a timeless treasure of American literature. The hero-protagonist is a young man who discovers in early childhood that his penis is actually a violin bow. Understandably, he is quite upset and doesn’t know what this will mean for his future as a sexual partner or a father or an orchestra member (no pun intended). My tale will chronicle his heartbreaking struggle to come to terms with his talents and to embrace a lifestyle in the Deep South, where he explores American folk music in gritty honky tonks, ultimately embracing his penis, not as a violin bow, but as a fiddle bow. You heard it here first: Bestseller.
I am almost equally proud of my idea for a biography of a little known man named Steve Lobs. Have you ever heard of him? No? Good. Then you will need this book. Steve Lobs is a humble man who grew up nowhere near the Silicon Valley. In fact, he’s from Mississippi, and grew up down the dirt road from one Oprah Winfrey (of Harpo Studios fame). Anyway, Steve Lobs invented the practice of throwing red juicy tomatoes during offensive or just plain bad live stage performances. Of course, Lobs is not his real name. He changed that when he began to win acclaim for his work on behalf of frustrated audience members world wide. When he introduced tomato “lobbing” to Germany, there was a riot in Berlin because a ballerina slipped and broke her clavicle on an overripe heirloom. His work deserves to be honored. I am the writer to do it