Francesca Bossert's Blog, page 41

MAGIC

You dismiss my magic.

 

You make light of it.

 

But it is my medicine.

 

Just know that I would never give you a taste

Of your own

Medicine.

 

 

It would be a waste of my magic.

Also, I’m far too nice.

 

 

 

WEATHER FORECAST

 

This morning the sky wears a mysterious smokey grey,

With delicate hints of lemon and Wedgwood.

 

Sprinklers add interest.

 

Sunscreen de rigueur.

THE SHEET

 There is something to be said

About not running past your head.

When our brains rush past our feet

We often end up in the sheet!

 

Pardon my French but seriously,

(And I say this quite frankly),

There’s no point in being first;

We all end up with the worms!

 

So, hug your trees, talk to the cows,

Let the world fill you with wows,

Slow right down, read good books,

Enjoy the bubbles in your tub!

 

TIME

 

I find it quite strange

Really,

That time runs out.

An alternative would be

Appreciated as

I simply don’t have time to be out of time.

 

Also, I’m a girl. Girls need options.

 

 

 

 

ROMANTIC COMEDY

 

A few weeks ago, I sent my romcom, Just Like A Movie to quite a big Bookstagrammer who clearly leans towards reading more literary fiction. But I noticed she’d reviewed a couple of lighter books too, so I asked her whether she’d be interested in reading mine, and to my delight she said yes.

Of course, no sooner had I sent her the book that she reviewed something intensely sad and poignant… I began to sweat, my heart pounded and I thought, oh my goodness, what on earth was I thinking?! My book is the polar opposite of what she appreciates! So for the following weeks I began secretly hoping she’d forget all about it, or do the kind thing and simply gift it to someone who enjoys lighter reading. 

And that would be the end of that.

The thing is, a while ago, I was left rather traumatized when a friend who hadn’t even read my book told me to my face that she only read good fiction…which I know (or hope?!) came out wrong, and what she really meant to say was that she simply preferred literary fiction to lighter reads. But as Julia Robert’s says in Pretty Woman, it’s the bad things that we tend to remember the most. So, although it seems as though everyone who has read Just Like A Movie has really enjoyed it, I suddenly wondered whether I hadn’t shot myself in both feet with a bazooka by sending it to someone who clearly reads mostly literary fiction, too!

So, imagine the state of my stomach when I woke up this morning and saw this serious Bookstagrammer had posted something about Just Like A Movie on Instagram before I put my glasses on. I almost didn’t want to look.

And then I put my glasses on and grinned. She’d enjoyed it! My book did what it is supposed to do. It made her laugh. It made her smile. She had a lovely time!

What a relief!

While on the subject of lighter reads, I’ve been listening to one of my favourite podcasts this afternoon (The Shit No One Tells You About Writing) where they were discussing book comps. I always find it terribly difficult to find comps for Just Like A Movie.

While the theme is similar to Robinne Lee’s The Idea Of You (a pop star and an older woman), the flavour is very different, because mine is a comedy, whereas Lee’s is what I would call a romance. Otherwise, there’s Romantic Comedy, by Curtis Sittenfeld. Again, a similar theme (the rock star and “normal” woman, whatever normal means), but again I wouldn’t say Sittenfeld’s really is a comedy. I enjoyed it, but it didn’t make me laugh. Older comps I’ve used are How Stella Got Her Groove back, by Terry McMillan, which is a lovely romance between a mature woman and a younger man. But as far as the flavour goes, I truly have a hard time comparing my book. In film there is obviously Notting Hill. I would also mention Mamma Mia, for its colourful, giddy flavour. Or even Crazy Stupid Love, for the romance and the fun factor. 

Does anyone who has read Just Like A Movie have any other suggestions? Or even if you haven’t, what might you suggest?

Let me know!

Thanks! 

Francesca xx

 

THE ART OF POTTERING

What a treat to potter in peace,

Perusing pretty things,

Caressing cottons,

Smiling at prints,

Twisting in mirrors,

Mulling over possibilities.

We are well practiced in the art of pottering!

We leave our men at home!!

THE PROJECT

I intend to make a shawl,

For my school reunion ball.

I bought some variegated yarn,

In bright colours, super fun!

 

I picked out an orange dress,

Hermes orange, not EasyJet!

With the shawl it will look great,

Problem is, I started late!

 

Recently my crochet hook,

Has quite rarely been picked up.

I got side-tracked I suppose,

Playing with my funky prose.

 

Now I’ve suddenly become aware,

That I’ve only weeks to spare,

And my shawl won’t hook itself,

Unless I kidnap an elf…

 

So, I’ve got my crochet on,

And I’m burning up my yarn!

It’s looking dicey I must say,

The ball’s just three weeks away….

 

Yikes!!

 

Wish me luck!

 

WARM FUZZIES

Fuzzy Wuzzy wasn’t really a bear

Fuzzy Wuzzy had plenty of hair!

Fuzzy Wuzzy was so warm and fuzzy

That he skipped around

Spreading warm fuzzies

To all the other Wuzzies.

 

Be like Fuzzy Wuzzy!

Spread warm fuzzies!

SPARKLES

They walk in

And our home sparkles with love once again.

Our wonderful children!

My perfect sparkles!

NIGHT VISITORS

 Sometimes I feel like blowing a fuse,

People appear, I can’t refuse.

They pop in at inopportune times,

With crazy ploys that blow my mind.

Who are these people you might ask?

Just kick them out, you silly lass!

Don’t put up with such lunatics,

With insane thoughts and evil tricks.

 

The problem is, dear concerned friend,

I enjoy being driven around the bend!

These people have such intense lives,

They’re simply not like you and I.

Their problems don’t involve their weight,

Or whether they watched telly late!

Their issues are so glamorous,

They’ve had affairs and want Oscars.

 

It’s not just smooth sailing I’ll have you know,

These glamorous people deal with stuff!

Their closets rattle with old bones,

Their Louis Vuitton trunks are full of woes.

I’m nice you see, and this is why,

I open my doors to them at night.

And night it is from what I see,

I bet my husband’s fast asleep.

Yet here I am, I heard them knock,

I hope it’s not more you know what!

It’s much too late to write sex scenes,

Unless it’s in a limousine…

 

Now they’ve gone quiet, they must have heard,

And thought I was being most absurd.

But they’ll be back, they’ll bring champagne,

They always do, from their “domaine”!

And now my mind is tangled up,

In far too many juicy plots.

This brain spaghetti feeds my fun,

Tell me I’m not the only one?