The Randy Romance Novelist(55)

Rosie: Miss you. Can we have a date night? Maybe a little cuddle on the couch with some curry?



I put my phone in my purse, just as it buzzed back with a text message. I searched the entryway for Wolf Fleece Wendy, but didn’t see her, so I quickly read the text back from Henry.



Henry: Hopefully I can get out of here on time. Love you.



I refrained from throwing my phone at the man next to me, who found scratching his crotch something to perform for the elegant customers of the Park Hyatt.

What was I thinking? Of course Henry wouldn’t be home later. I didn’t text him back because if I did, I would lose it on him. Instead of freaking out like my entire body itched to do, I took calming breaths and looked around for Wendy.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw her approaching, wearing another wolf fleece. Her collection was impressive, and I think subliminally, she was turning me onto wolf wear. When I was pinning the other day, I came across some wolf T-shirts that I was tempted to check out, but refrained. Wolves were Wendy’s things. I didn’t think it would be polite to copy her, even though the wolves looked so powerful, so . . . sexual with their fangs and howling. I wondered what wolf sex was like; did they have spiky penises like cats? I made a mental note to do some research, but then checked the crazy at the door and realized what I was telling myself.

No, I would not research wolf sex. I was losing my mind, but not that much.

“Rosie, I’m so glad you’re here!” Wendy pulled me into a hug, and I didn’t balk at the new development in our relationship. I embraced it.

“Hi, Wendy. What are we doing here?” I looked around, taking in the exuberance of the hotel.

“Well, since you finished your book, I thought I would bring you to your first book signing, as a fan. You can meet some fellow authors and get an idea of what it’s like to be in this world, because believe it or not, you were born to be a part of this community.”

Emotions took over me as my tears welled up. “You really think so?”

“I do,” Wendy nodded. “I loved your book. It was unique, relatable, and sweet. It was a little crass at times, but then again, that’s comedy.”

“You didn’t think it was too much?”

Wendy nodded her head. “At times, yes, but then again, it’s fiction comedy. The way I see it, you have to look at other forms of comedy. For instance, take Friends as an example. The antics, the experiences they face wouldn’t normally happen to people like you and me every day, but if we wrote about our everyday lives, would it really be that humorous?”

“No, it would be kind of boring at times, but there are some instances in the book that are real life experiences.”

“Yes, exactly, and as an author of comedy, it’s your job to take that funny experience and embellish it. You did that in your book, you embellished and pushed the limits of ‘is this really possible.’ My favorite example to use is the episode of Friends when Ross makes himself a pair of paste pants out of lotion and baby powder. No one in their right mind would ever do that, but if the writers just said he wrapped a blanket around him and went home, it wouldn’t be nearly as funny. Instead, they turned an awful situation into one that is so funny, you can’t help but laugh and feel for the man. As writers, that’s what we need to do. In comedy, we need to make the readers laugh, we need to make them feel awkward and uncomfortable, and we need to make them relate in some way. If we are making readers experience emotion, good or bad, then we did our job at the end of the day. They might not agree with our humor, but if we made them feel, that’s all that matters.”

I felt like kissing Wolf Fleece Wendy. She was so empowering. She made me feel like I could tackle anything. She was a mentor I couldn’t have even dreamt of.

“Thank you so much, Wendy. You’ve been such an inspiration to me. I don’t know what I would do without you.”

Wendy cupped my cheeks and spoke with sincerity. “You’re a beautiful young woman with a huge future in front of you. Now, tell me, what is the title of your book?”

“I’m not sure yet. I’m still trying to figure it out. I want something unique. I was thinking of something like, The Chronicles of Meghan. What do you think?”

“Hate it,” Wendy laughed. “It doesn’t speak of the book. Let’s keep working on it. In the meantime, let’s go meet some authors.”

I couldn’t contain my smile. I linked my arm with Wendy’s, and I let her lead me to the elevators and the ballroom. The entire ride, we spoke of Wendy’s favorite parts in the book, the waxing scene being one of her favorites.

“Where did you even come up with the idea of the redbrick road?”

“I didn’t have to come up with the idea,” I chuckled. “That was all from experience. I itched for days!”

Wolf Shirt Wendy tossed her head back and let out a giant guffaw. “That is fantastic. I’m glad I’m old enough not to have to even worry about getting waxed.”

When the elevator doors opened, we were greeted by giant signs for the event: Authors in the Big Apple. There were hundreds of women walking around, carrying books, stacked up in carts and tucked under their arms. There were tables after tables of authors signing books with their banners up next to them, displaying their logos.

I was in book euphoria. Swag was everywhere and my little paws itched to scoop it all into my purse. Chap Stick, condoms, pens, bookmarks, bracelets, and pins. I wanted it all. I wanted to wear every single pin, I wanted to apply every Chap Stick, and I wanted to decorate my fingers with condoms.