How Cogsworth changed everything.

One of the challenges of writing BIG FAT BITCH was finding a way to incorporate all the things I loved about Beauty and the Beast into a whole new story with a modern slant. I had the usual suspects, with a Beauty and a Beast, we've already talked about them. But the story of B&B itself is told primarily through and facilitated by the supporting characters.

Case in point, the main song itself was sung by Mrs. Potts, who stood as an observer to the action happening around her.



I knew I couldn't forsake any of them. I had to cast and write for them as diligently and respectfully as I wrote for my two leads, or else the whole thing just wouldn't work. Not the way I wanted it to, anyway.

The Mrs. Potts in my story was fairly easy to cast as a nurse who took care of the ailing Rose. She was her guardian and, if need be, her happy little elf moving pieces into their places in order to make a miracle happen before it was too late. This character sprang directly from my work with a hospice. A number of nurses went into developing her. In fact, she was named after one in particular.

Likewise, Lumiere was easy to cast. I needed someone flashy and dynamic, so naturally I reached into Sofie's job to find that person. She's the show runner of one of the hottest TV dramas, so there were plenty of actors and actresses vying for the part. Ultimately I gave it to a plus-sized diva, because it needed to be someone with a little extra pizazz.



Chip and Maurice sort of blended, doing double duty through Fletcher's 12-year-old daughter, Ava. Like Pudgie, she was an overweight preteen who had some obstacles to overcome, but endless optimism to do just that. That she has a supporting, doting dad only made her stronger. Ava is indeed one of my favorite new characters and you WILL see her again.

More importantly, Jonathan Fullerton will get to know her eventually. Keep an eye out for that tale.

The only character that was hard to find room for was Cogsworth. He was Lumiere's spoiler in B&B, and I really wasn't inspired by him because I didn't think that my story required such a character. I stayed stuck in the planning phase for this book for a long time because this was one stray piece I couldn't make fit. It had to be someone in Sofie's life, that much I knew. But what did Sofie need to fill in the blanks of her past?

In the recent live-action B&B, the supporting characters took care of the Beast because of the guilt that they felt. After his mother died, his cruel father basically drove any loving (and lovable) qualities out of his son, and they, as his guardians from birth, felt responsible that they let it happen. For that, they were all cursed.



So, I started to think about what that character might look like for my story. Finally, it dawned on me. I had been so hyper-focused on the relationship between Sofie and her mother, Rose, that I totally hadn't considered the role her father might have played.

Because my own father died when I was eleven, I'm much more familiar with the mother/daughter dynamic. And since this story is so personal to me, almost a love letter (and apology) to my own mother, I hadn't even considered making any room for a dad. It never even dawned on me UNTIL I realized that Cogsworth could be her own father.

Vincent Ducet was born in that thought, because I saw the entire meaning for his existence the second I made the connection. It struck me like a lightning bolt. I knew then the subplot wasn't just about Sofie's "curse,"... Vincent himself had some things to correct.

That meant my book would not only have ONE romance... BUT TWO.

It is that second love story that will touch you the most. Three betas came to me, telling me they were already tearing up by Chapter Six, and I couldn't even remember what I had written. I was so focused on Sofie and Fletcher and getting THEIR romance right, because that's kind of the spine of the story.

Yet, Vincent would not be denied.

He opened my story up in ways I couldn't imagine. He let me know almost from the beginning that he was a crazy Cajun living on a boat in the marina, close enough to his daughter that they could still see each other, but far enough away from the Big City to which he had never acclimated. This gave color and music to my story in a very Beauty-and-Beast kind of way. It also makes Sofie way more human, because there IS someone on the planet that she truly cares about - someone who likewise cares about her.

That helps us love her, too.

He is the thread that ties the stories together. He also gives this tale so much more heart than I ever expected. It may be the subplot, but to me, it's one of the more beautiful romances I have written. It ranks right up there with the B-romance in THE UNDISCIPLINED BRIDE. Y'all know me. I like to tell diverse love stories. You get more freedom to do that in supporting characters, who don't have to do the heavy lifting of making it to the end of the book, riding off in the sunset to a white-picket-fence existence.

In the subplots, you can tell love stories where a happy ending doesn't necessarily include a Happily Ever After. How do you find romance when there's only a few grains of sand left yet to fall?

You love like Vincent Ducet loves.

Sofie boarded The Wilting Rose carrying dinner for two in a large paper bag. Vincent spotted the name of the restaurant printed on the side.

“Barbecue,” he said. “My favorite.”

She smiled. “How’s it going, Pop?”

He offered a noncommittal shrug. “Can’t complain.” She spotted one of her mother’s leather-bound journals sitting on the table next to his prized fiddle. As far as she knew, he hadn’t played that fiddle in a good twenty years. She knew better than to ask why he had dug it out now, so she said nothing. “How about you, Sugar?”

She pulled out the plates of brisket and all the southern fixings to go along with it, including the okra her father loved so much. “Can’t complain,” she said.

A month ago, this would have been normal conversation. Now it was just code for the things they couldn’t yet talk about. The silence was heavy between them as neither said much to the other as they ate, focusing more on the food instead.

Looking back, that had been a consistent pattern between them, starting when he moved out onto the boat when she was a teen.

Finally, Sofie pulled the trigger on substantial conversation. “Surprised to see Lougenia has joined us for the evening.”

He smiled absently at the worn instrument. “I dug her out a few days ago. She’s been calling for me.”

“For you or for Mom?”

Their eyes met. “Long time ago that was one in the same,” he commented casually.

She studied his face. She knew his recent visits to see her mother had taken it out of him and it broke her heart. “Why are you doing this to yourself, Pop?”

“You wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me,” she challenged. “I’m a pretty smart cookie.”

“I know you are, Sugar,” he said softly, with love. “But this isn’t about you, or even about your mother. It’s about a man and a woman. This man,” he amended, pointing a finger at his chest. “And my woman.”

His possessive comment took her by surprise. She hadn’t heard him talk about her mother like that in decades. When she said as much to him, he smiled.

“I never stopped loving your mother, even when she made it impossible for me to love her. We stand in our own way of love sometimes. Because of pride. Because of fear. Ego,” he chuckled softly. “Hers. Mine.” He paused. “Your mother has kept me locked out of her heart for a long, long time. Now that door is open simply because she forgot where she put the key. I’ve got a second chance, Sugar. My last chance. I don’t intend on wasting it.”

“What’s the point? No matter what you do, you won’t have a fairytale ending. You can’t have happily ever after without the ever after, Dad.”

He chuckled. “Whether or not I get a happy ending depends on where I decide to end the fairy tale, doesn’t it? And I’m not ready to type The End just yet.”

When I tell you that y'all ain't ready for this new book, this is the reason why. This story will break your heart. It sure as hell broke mine. But I am so, so grateful for it because this part of the story is what makes it everything I wanted my version of B&B to be. Why? Because there's nothing more hopeful than the promise of love... no matter when that particular bird lands on your shoulder.

I didn't just focus on the new couple. I literally aspired to give a HEA to a dying woman.

I can't wait for you to read this book. I'm excited. I'm scared. I'm all the things you should be when you write something that means something to you. But that turned up to eleven the second Vincent tapped me on the shoulder and said, "Hey. I hear you're looking for a Cogsworth."

I turned around and saw one of the strongest, most romantic heroes I have had the privilege to write.

In my mental movie, he looks like this...

And he sounds like this...



And I just really, REALLY can't wait for you to meet him.

Have you pre-ordered your copy yet?

Get to know Sofie Vincent. (Spoiler alert: She's me.)

We're four days from the release of my new book, and of course, you can't have a Beauty & the Beast story without a Beast. As a twist, I made my heroine the Beast, rather than the hero. I wanted to see how a beautiful man might change the life of a woman considered beastly by our society. This is a story I know about firsthand, so I also knew that I didn't have to curse her with the outward appearance of a monster. I simply followed our cultural guidelines of what makes a woman truly monstrous: I made her fat.

She's not THE bitchiest heroine I've written. That honor goes to Peyton from The Undisciplined Bride, who had the special privilege of growing up as the kind of woman that society covets. She was beautiful, thin, rich. She was the very definition of privilege.

Sofie, on the other hand, is the product of steel grit and determination. Where Peyton was my stylish Porche, Sofie is a tank. She'll roll you over if she has to.

It's her world, we merely live in it.

That's not to say she isn't cursed, however. I meant to make her much meaner, but it just didn't work out that way. Unlike Peyton, who became a bitch out of entitlement, Sofie's bitch mentality comes from somewhere else entirely. In the end, I came to love her every bit as much as Fletcher. Not despite her so-called flaws... *because of them.*

How old is she when we meet her?

Thirty-eight. Because the wilting rose in my Beauty and the Beast is an actual person, this required my fairy tale focus on someone at a different point in her life, in this case a grown adult who is about to lose a parent. Also, her age supercharges her DGAF attitude. By the time a woman reaches her 40s, her People-Pleasing gene is worn out. She doesn't have time for your foolishness, basically.

What stands out most about him?

Sofie Vincent gets shit done. People underestimated her, but she created a TV empire from nothing but her steel spine alone. She took nothing from no one and forged her future out of sheer tenacity.

I like that. I get that. I've done it.

Nice gal or bitch?

She's not A bitch, she's THE bitch; and it's MS. BITCH to you.

Favorite moment with her?

Okay, so here's the thing. I had some key scenes in mind when I finally sat down to write the book. The one I most looked forward to was The Karaoke Scene. Lemme tell you why.

The root of Sofie's bitch behavior is that she was a laughingstock throughout her formative years. She tried so hard not just to fit in but to come out on top, but often fell flat on her face. Her mother, famed children's author Rose Thibodeau, wanted to help her daughter the only way she knew how: she put it all in her books. Every single failure was documented for the whole world to see. Rose always changed the ending where Sofie came out on top, but the very audience that book sold to was the group who knew Sofie best, her fellow classmates.

So, they knew the bitter truth behind these fairy tales. And, kids being kids, made her life a living hell as a result. This was why Sofie wanted no part of Pudgie, and had buried that identity as far into the ground as it could go. When you're already behind the eight ball, you don't want anyone to see any point of weakness. It's a vulnerability folks like us just can't afford.

My own childhood was filled to the brim with embarrassing experiences from which I could draw inspiration for the Pudgie books. One of the bigger ones involved an unfortunate audition for City Choir when I was in 8th grade.

I'm no Celine Dion by any stretch, but I love to sing. As someone with a moderate singing voice, of course I tried out for choir. That was one class I couldn't wait to take. When I learned that my range went all the way to the top of the scales, getting that validation gave me some encouragement to challenge myself even further. I decided to try out for City Choir, a group of students from all over town who were selected among their peers as the best of the best. I earned my right to audition and my teacher gave me a challenging piece of music (in another language no less,) that I rehearsed for WEEKS to get exactly right.

By the time I went for the official audition, I felt super prepared. I had performed the song daily in class around my other classmates until I knew it was as perfect as I was going to get it. I went to the off-sight campus to audition, where I and others like me performed in our own separate rooms, hidden behind a curtain for the judges.

So, there I am, completely prepared AND I didn't even have to look at the people who might be judging me. Sounds perfect, right?

Y'all... I choked. I opened up my mouth and all sound was strangled in my throat. I face-planted. HARD. It wasn't QUITE the public speaking scene from Life of the Party, but that's what it felt like. I have anxiety to begin with, and social anxiety on top of that. Air squeaked out of me like a balloon and I couldn't sing one fucking word.

After that, I never wanted to sing in public again.

Actually, that's not true. I wanted to, because I love to sing. Like, passionately love to sing. But I no longer could do it if I thought someone else might hear me.

If I'm belting out a song in my car and I ease up to a traffic light next to other people, I STOP SINGING. I don't even want people to KNOW I'm singing, even if they can't hear me.

In fact, this is why I don't dance. I don't do *anything* to draw attention to myself because I can never, ever be center stage like that again.

Oddly, public speaking isn't that difficult, but dancing or singing? Fuggetaboutit.

I realize what a stupid phobia this is, believe me. During a conversation about this very thing with my bestie, I said that if another friend of mine ever knew that this was one of my phobias, he would DRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGGGG me to a karaoke bar and make me confront my fear.

Hence, the Karaoke Scene was born. I *knew* that if I had my hero do this for Sofie, it would be a pivotal moment in her life, virtually reclaiming a victory once snatched right out of her vulnerable, teenage hands.

If I did it right, it could also be a pivotal moment between the two lead characters.

To me, there's nothing sexier than power reversals in relationships. No one person can have all the power all the time, and it is in those moments of submission where we are vulnerable enough not only to love someone else, but to risk being loved in return.

For Sofie, she would have to trust him more than she feared failing. Speaking from personal experience I can tell you that both are equally terrifying. Needless to say, *I* haven't been to a karaoke club, and I made damned sure I never made a peep around any friend who might get the idea to drag me. The thought literally makes me hyperventilate. Balls out terror, y'all. I'm not even close to kidding.

So, I did what I always do. I put it in a book. As one of the Pudgie stories that Sofie loathes, she tried out for city choir in front of an audience and face planted just like I had. Her mother wrote it a little differently, of course, giving her a much needed happy ending. But her classmates knew the truth. Worse, Sofie knew the truth. And she hadn't yet recovered, just like I haven't. And Fletcher decided he was going to do something about it, to help her claim a victory of our own.

That being said, you'll have to read the book for that whole scene because the scene deserves everything leading up to it to be told properly. But here's a meaty teaser:

He kept her in the dark about where they were going all the way to Long Beach, where he finally pulled into the parking lot of a crowded karaoke bar. “Oh, no,” she said automatically. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“Um, hello? I don’t want to make a fool of myself. Again,” she added for emphasis.

“It’s a bar full of strangers. You’ve never seen them before and you’ll never see them again. What do you have to lose?”

“A little thing called social media. Ever hear of it?”

He laughed. “That’s some ego you have there, Ms. Vincent. You think the whole world is going to stop and watch what you’re doing?”

“Have you read Pudgie?” she countered.

“Have you?” he shot back. “What do you think Pudgie would do if she was in this car right now?”

Sofie rolled her eyes. “Knowing the way my mother wrote her, she’d probably race you to the front door. But Pudgie isn’t in this car right now.”

He leaned closer, capturing him in that gaze that invited no argument. “Isn’t she?” Sofie swallowed hard.

“When are you going to get it through your head? Pudgie doesn’t exist. You’re stuck with Sofie.”

“Yeah, well I got news for you. Sofie isn’t in this car right now. She’s stuck on that stage. Pudgie moved on. You didn’t. And you never will until you face your fears.”

She grew angrier by the minute. “I told you. I’m not scared of anything. You have no idea what I’ve had to face to get to where I am. This town is littered with the corpses of those who thought they were strong enough to take it but couldn’t stand up under the strain. I’m the one that persevered. I’m the one that made it through. Me. Sofie. Fearless, tenacious Sofie.”

“Hum,” he pondered. “Sounds like someone else I know.”

She knew he meant Pudgie. “Oh, my God. Just turn around and take me home. Better yet, get out so I can drive my own damned self.”

“Okay, Sofie,” he relented as he gave her the keys. “But I want you to think about something. You have done nothing but bitch and moan how Pudgie isn’t real. You tell me over and over again her stories were fairy tales. You want to blame Rose for that. But I blame you.”

“I beg your pardon?!”

“Face it. Rose wrote Pudgie to do the things you never had the courage to complete.”

“Fuck you,” she spat. “I created a career out of nothing, asshole. Do you know how hard that was for a woman? Much less a woman who looks like me? I broke down every door they tried to lock me out of. I made it on my terms and did every single thing they told me I couldn’t do.”

“And yet, a bar full of drunk strangers scares the piss right out of you.”

His logic was pissing her the hell off. “I don’t have anything to prove to you.”

“No. But you have something to prove to yourself. And until you do, you’ll never make peace with Pudgie.”

He got out of the car and walked towards the club. She sat in the passenger seat, practically frothing at the mouth. Who did Fletcher Sullivan think he was, anyway? If it wasn’t for her, he wouldn’t have had two dimes to rub together. And he thought he could judge her?

Though she held the keys in her hand, she didn’t move one muscle towards the driver’s side. She sat and fumed, waiting for him to come back to the car so she could yell at him some more.

Only he never came. After about eight minutes (and 49 seconds,) she finally wrenched the car open and stalked towards the club.

The joint was packed. She surveyed the crowd until her eyes finally found the tall pain in the ass currently working as her assistant. He sat alone, but there were two beers in front of him. That arrogant jackass knew she’d come find him.

It only made her angrier as she approached. She opened her mouth to berate him, but he interrupted her calmly. “Oh, good. You’re here. We’re up in ten. After that drunk group of frat boys sing ‘I Want it That Way.’”

“I told you. I am not singing.”

He took a lazy sip of his beer. “You came all the way in here to tell me that?”

She glared at him. “What is wrong with you? I told you. I don’t want to humiliate myself in front of strangers.”

“And I keep telling you nobody cares about that as much as you do.” He pointed to the stage, where a couple attempted a duet very badly. “Nobody in this crowd is expecting Whitney Houston. They simply want to see people have a good time. Believe it or not, Sofie, people default to being on your side.”

She sat next to him. “That’s easy for you to say. Look at you. People want to get close to you. They want to know what you’re about. People have been running from me since I was a child.”

He shrugged as he took another sip. “Might have something to do with that giant, blinking neon ‘Fuck Off’ sign you wear like a goddamned tiara.”

“Because I don’t want to get close to anyone,” she growled in frustration.

“Then why do you care what they think of you?” he countered. She sputtered in response as the drunk frat boys took the stage. He pushed the beer towards her. “We’re next.”

What do you love about her?

She's a prickly human, much more thorn than rose, but I like that about her. I get it, because that's how I am. When you've been hurt a lot, you put up a lot of walls. That line about the Fuck-Off sign is basically how I live my life. I repel people rather than risk them hurting me. But if you're one of the few people who actually get in, I will move heaven and earth to take care of you. That's Sofie in a nutshell.

What do you hate about her?

That she doesn't jump Fletcher sooner.

If you went out together, where would you go?

Well, it probably wouldn't be a karaoke bar.

Who inspired her?

You're lookin' at her, folks.

Who might play her in a movie?

There's really only one person I could cast in my mental movie for this role.

She's one of the few women of size in our industry for one, but that she makes the kinds of movies I would like to make just seals the deal. From Spy to Life of the Party, she's not afraid to tell Fat Female Positive stories in all their many shades.

It is my hope she'll work with me to make this one a reality. I plan to have a script in hand and pitching her prodco by the end of the year. If you read the book and you love it, and you love Melissa, do your girl Ginger a favor and slide her a copy. ;)

Do you have a special song that reminds you of her?

I mean... come on.





Any "Easter Eggs" planted with this character?

See the karaoke debacle above. Almost every single Pudgie story is a story from my past. Even the release date is a special date for me, because that was when I met my best friend in 1980 and my first husband in 1987. There is so much of me in this girl, it's a surprise her name isn't Ginger.

Where can we find her?



See you back here tomorrow, when we talk about my Cogsworth, who changed the whole story the minute I figured out which character he was going to be. It's a fascinating story. I hope you check it out.

Get to know Fletcher Sullivan.

If you haven't yet checked out BIG FAT BITCH, my version of Beauty and the Beast, allow me to introduce you to my wonderful cast of characters that have been taking up space inside my head for the last two years. I start, of course, with your next Book Boyfriend: Fletcher Sullivan.

How old is he when we meet him?

Mid-thirties.

What stands out most about him?

His humor. Despite his heavy duty job as a hospice nurse, he knows how to bring light into people's lives. He certainly brought it into mine.

Nice guy or douche?

Fletcher is the best of the best, but he also knows how to get things done. Don't discount THIS nice guy. He'll surprise you. There are some that say you cannot have chivalry AND equality. Fletcher's the kind of man who can elevate his woman, because of how secure he is in himself. They're a rare find in this world... but they are world when you find them.

Favorite moment with him?

Oh, so many. SO, so many. He's got both a heart AND swagger, which is a pretty intoxicating combination. He's also a formidable gent. He has to be, because my heroine is a force of nature. Like the song Bitch says, it takes a strong man to take a woman the way she is in all her complexities. Yet, he never lets her run roughshod over him. Despite how beastly she roared, he had to stand strong. Every time he did, it just made me love him more.

“Fletcher, I need to speak to you privately in my office.”

He and Meghan shared a glance before he nodded. He gestured the way. “After you, boss.”

She entered the office first, so he closed the door behind them. “I take it you’ve made up your mind how to handle Martina.”

“There’s nothing to handle,” she said. “She made her choices when she broke her contract.”

He gaped at her. “Seriously?”

She sat at her desk, her throne. Let him dare question the queen. “I appreciate that you are empathetic to her particular troubles, Fletcher, but I can’t afford to be. I have a show to run, and that gets a lot harder when people have no incentive to follow the rules.”

“She’s not some fuckup, Sofie. She’s sick.”

Sofie leaned forward, resting her arms on the desk and linking her fingers together. “She now has a free schedule to get better.”

He walked to the desk, placing his hands onto it before he leaned down to glare at her. “Do you realize that you have your cast so terrified of your bogus rules that they couldn’t even call 9-1-1 for someone who was overdosing? They were more scared shitless of what you would do.”

Her eyebrow arched. “You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

“She could have died,” he growled.

“Her decision to overdose on drugs is regrettable,” Sofie agreed. “But that was her decision.”

He rose back into a standing position. “This isn’t about her at all, is it?”

“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean.”

“It’s about me. And you. And showing me there’s a price for crossing you, which–thanks to the power you seem to wield–is everything.” She said nothing, so he needled more. “Seems like a pretty drastic reaction to me catching you in your robe.”

She flew out of the chair and rounded the desk. “I don’t know what you think you saw last night, but it changes nothing.”

He studied her for a moment before he stepped closer, closing the gap between them. “No?” he murmured.

It was everything she could do not to step away from him. “No,” she confirmed.

He leaned down. Their faces were inches apart. His dark gaze drilled into hers. “You sure?”

She tipped her chin, which ultimately brought their faces even closer. His gaze dropped to her mouth, which made her stomach clank to her feet. She fought every impulse to clear her throat, lick her lips, stammer or gasp. She would not give one inch. “Positive,” she gritted between clenched teeth.

His eyes met hers. “You really turned out to be a cold-hearted bitch, didn’t you, Pudgie?”

Her hand flew up to slap his face, but he easily caught her wrist. The strength in his hand as he held her took her breath away. She wasn’t used to anyone standing up to her. No one ever dared. But Fletcher Sullivan wasn’t just anybody. He had the ability to tear down everything she had built, and he knew it.

Damn him, he knew it.

Worse, those dark, hooded eyes kept searching for more.

“Sometimes I still see her in there,” he murmured. “That indefatigable little girl, fighting to find her happy.” His thumb absently stroked her skin as he lowered her hand to her side, ultimately bringing them closer. “Why are you so scared to let her free?”

Her eyes narrowed. “I’m not afraid of anything.”

He chuckled as he bent closer, his lips so close to hers that she couldn’t help but suck in a breath. It was such a small white flag, but those eyes missed nothing. He suppressed a smirk when he leaned closer still, planting a peck onto her nose so fast that her other hand swished empty air when she attempted another strike. He strode confidently towards the door. “You keep telling yourself that, Pudgie,” he said. “But I know all your secrets. You might want to think about that before you make that call to PING.”

She sputtered as she stared at him. “Are you threatening me?”

“I’m just saying you have a choice. Certain choices come with certain consequences, right?”

His eyes were hard as he stared at her, every bit as unmovable as she was. Without another word, he slammed out of her office.

What do you love about him?

He's a good man with a good heart, that much is a given. But it is the way he loves his 12-year-old daughter that endears him to me the most. Like Sofie says, he's pure light.

What do you hate about him?

Wow. Hard question. Right now I'm crushing pretty hard on him, so it's difficult to say. If anything, maybe that he's not real? The world could use some more Fletchers right now.

If you went on a date, where would you go?

On a sailboat, dancing under the moonlight, singing wildly off-key.

Who inspired him?

Given he is supposed to be the Beauty in my B&B tale, I had to go with the most perfect physical specimen of man I could find. Shamelessly and unsurprisingly, #1 on the laminated list inspired him, and inspired him HARD.



Who might play him in a movie?

I mean... come on.

Do you have a special song that reminds you of him?



Any "Easter Eggs" planted with this book boyfriend?

All OVER the place, but the one that deserves special recognition is the scene where Fletcher takes Sofie to a karaoke bar. Having been afflicted with horrific stage fright in the past, she is reluctant to take the stage. Fletcher doesn't understand this, because he embraces life in all its many colors. When he realizes that she's been locked up for years behind her irrational fear, he decides to liberate her from it. The scene is one of my favorites in the book, mostly because it was inspired by people outside of it. Aside from having someone in my life who WOULD force me to face my own stage fright, the following line came directly from my husband:

He kept her in the dark about where they were going all the way to Long Beach, where he finally pulled into the parking lot of a crowded karaoke bar.

“Oh, no,” she said automatically. “No way.”

“Why not?”

“Um, hello? I don’t want to make a fool of myself. Again,” she added for emphasis.

“It’s a bar full of strangers. You’ve never seen them before and you’ll never see them again. What do you have to lose?”

Where can we find him?



See you back here tomorrow, when we talk about my Big Fat Bitch, Sofie.

The Bitch is Back, y'all.

When I was a teenager way back when, I uncovered the power of the word Bitch.

Every single girl has been called this at one point or another, whether to our faces (common,) or behind our backs (even more common.) It's an insult slung whenever a woman dares step out of her place, because for some strange reason they think that this particular word is offensive enough to hurt/shame us enough to force us to behave.

I think *technically* they're calling us dogs, or maybe they're reducing us right down to our primary reproductive function, either way: it's been a paintbrush they've used to color all women at some point, generally whenever we step anywhere out of line.

We're supposed to care about such things. We're supposed to WANT to be nice, docile, loving creatures.We're supposed to REJECT anything outside that narrow definition of femininity.

Needless to say, I've been saying, "Fuck that," since the 80s.

I learned very early on the true power of the word Bitch, particularly when used as an insult.

It's a feminist war cry.

Whenever a guy wants to tear down another guy, THIS IS STILL THE INSULT HE USES. Toxic men find guys doing anything that are at all *girly* (i.e. submissive/weak) every bit as threatening as a gal doing anything masculine - like claiming total power over herself. Therefore a toxic patriarchy uses it to diminish ANYONE who dares to defy the conventional male/female roles.

I'm a bitch because I'll never be your bitch, but he's a bitch, because - even though he's NOT a bitch - he can be controlled like you want to control all your bitches.

In your impotent rage, you spew the word like it's some kind of venom, but the only people it will work on are the people who are already under your feet.

For the rest of us it's a word all about male control that ONLY works if it controls us - and it so doesn't.

Hence, why you call us bitches.

Back when my kids were young and facing school bullies who would call them names, or worse - call their dead father names - I would tell them there was no sense getting upset over things that weren't true. "If they call you a banana, does that make you a banana?"

My son still remembers this to this day. He will tell you that because I reduced it down to its basic absurdity, he learned how much power he needed to give words. If they're not true, you can dismiss them. If they are true, you can dig deep and find the strength to embrace them.

If you ARE a banana, be damned proud to be a banana. Let that banana freak flag fly. It's you, and you're allowed to be you.

And no one can hurt you with a word you enthusiastically accept as an identifier.

Back in the 80s, girls like me embraced the word "bitch." Someone even created an acronym around it: Babe In Total Control of Herself. I believe I even had a pin.



If a bitch is simply a woman who cannot be controlled, there ain't no shame in that, my friends. No shame at all. That is my fucking objective. There is literally zero sting to the word. Instead, it pumps me up. I'm quite gratified that you noticed. That means I've done my job properly. I want the world to know that I don't WANT to be controlled, so y'all best recognize. I told you about my book of poems being stolen in the ninth grade, coming back to me with "Fat Bitch" (anonymously) written all over it like it was some devastating insult.

Meanwhile, me:



The 80s were a good time for Bitches. Jackie Collins wrote a book about it. Her sister Joan made a career out of it. The end of the decade witnessed the rise of Roseanne. Nuff said.



I really never considered it an insult. It bothered me more if they called me a slut, though that's changed over the years too.



Back when I was in my 20s, I bought a T-shirt that read, "I'm not A bitch, I'm THE bitch, and it's MS. BITCH to you." It was the kind of shirt, along with my "fuck off" personality and "get the hell away from me" size, that parted crowds in front of me like the Red Sea.

Needless to say, I wore the CRAP out of that shirt.



By the 1990s, we bitches even got our own theme song:



"So, take me as I am. This may mean you'll have to be a stronger man."



I embrace the word so whole-heartedly that you can't even offend my sons if you call them a son of a bitch. I told them a long time ago they are, and that was something to be proud of.

They've been taught it isn't a bad thing.

It both amuses me and surprises me that so many people still find it offensive. Many are repelled by the word. It still slaps people in the face a little.

I'm such a bitch, I use that to my advantage. When you're a writer, your weapons of war are your words. You think about what you're going to use and how you're going to use them for maximum effect.

It is no surprise that my book's title is a very abrasive and unapologetic BIG FAT BITCH. There are a couple of things I wanted to address, in a very ME sort of way. I'm tired of living in a society where women are demonized for coloring outside the lines.

There are certain things in this world we women are not allowed to be if we want to be fully embraced by society. We can't be fat. We cannot be a bitch. And we must not, under any circumstances, be a fat bitch. Polite society finds such things to be horrifying. (Hence why my anonymous bully way back when thought calling me such would be so humiliating.)

When I crafted my topsy turvy Beauty & the Beast retelling, it was a no-brainer to cast the "monster" in this story as a fat bitch. She's a size-14 that will tear your life to pieces if you dare cross her.

Sofie Vincent is so self-possessed that if you called her a bitch, she'd take it as a compliment.

Sofie passed Davina’s dressing room on the way out, so she paused to talk to her friend. “How’s it going?”

Davina gave her a rueful grin as she munched on crudités. “Not too bad. Just eating dinner.”

She leaned against the door jam. “Tell me you’re going to eat more than that.”

Davina shrugged. “You know I have to drop more weight.”

Sofie pursed her lips. She knew Davina’s doctor had told her to drop a hundred pounds. That had been over two years before, and she had lost about fifty so far. Since she was a little older, it was taking a little longer than she liked, but Sofie thought she was doing great.

Maybe a little too great.

Sofie had never planned on transforming her character into someone much thinner. She had hired Davina with a specific purpose: to put someone on TV who didn’t look like everyone else. Much to the surprise of many, her middle-aged diva had managed to steal the hearts of America despite being overweight and over 40.

Frankly, Davina’s losing weight would virtually blow what made their dynamic special. But Sofie could hardly hold a grudge, particularly since it meant so much to her. “How much is left?”

“Forty-seven pounds and two ounces,” she chuckled. So did Sofie.

“Shall I write it in? That you’re trying to lose weight to impress your wandering husband?”

Davina rolled her eyes. “Girl, please. I could weigh 99 pounds and he’d never agree to do a love scene with me. I am not his type.”

They shared a glance. “Thank God.”

Both women were older, had been around the industry a good long while. Men like Gregory Todd were a dime a dozen, and neither of them had the patience to pretend otherwise.

“Fine,” Sofie conceded with a sigh. “I’m gonna go get ice cream.”

She turned before Davina could throw a stick of celery at her. “You’re a bitch,” she announced, but in good humor. That was just the relationship they had. Sofie knew Davina would always keep it real.

“Don’t ever forget it,” Sofie called behind her before heading down the hall.

Hell, she has it on her freaking license plate. Sofie Vincent gives NO fucks.

So, why should I? I don't need to dance lightly around the subject. She's a bitch! That's what made her a whole lot of fun to write. She was empowering. She made a name for herself doing things her way, no matter what anyone else had to say about it.

If she was a man, she'd be president of the fucking United States.

For a female candidate, that's a liability. If you don't believe me, check out the comments for the YouTube vid for Elton John's "The Bitch is Back." MANY commenters made the oh so pithy observation that the song must be Hillary Clinton's theme song.

They skipped the irony of the situation entirely. Hillary is A bitch, but she's not THEIR bitch, and that's they hate her. Empowering that person with lyrics that say, "I can bitch, I can bitch cuz I'm better than you," turns the punchline of their "joke" around on them, frankly. Karma works so much faster when the targets in question are stupid.

Which makes it that much funnier for a bitch like me.

You gotta be willing to face the hate if you do the bitchy thang and speak up for, well, anything. I knew this when I named my book. I KNOW it's going to put some people off, which is a damn shame because the story itself can be universally read by anyone, even my own sons.

My biggest fan was my grandmother-in-law, who sadly passed before this book was conceived. She would have LOVED this novel, and - in fact - it wouldn't have existed without her. Like always, I take on some pretty deep issues despite the trappings of a fairy tale. This story simply wouldn't have existed without the experiences I had when Grandma was on hospice care, which plays to the Beauty and the Beast angle.

BFB's wilting Rose is a real person. And she's really dying, which sparks our whole fairy tale into motion.

This wasn't an easy subplot to write for me after the scary ass year I've had facing off with my OWN mortality. Still, because the tale is so important to me, I couldn't afford to step lightly. I faced, head-on, everything that scared me about it. That's kind of how I'm doing everything now, in a very skydiving, Rocky-Mountain-climbing, doing-2.7-seconds- on-a-bull-named-Fumanchu kind of way.

(Except I'm not doing any of THOSE things.)

On January 4, 2018, I was faced with the possibility that there wouldn't be enough time to tell this story or any of the other dozen stories I have lined up to tell. Once I emerged victorious from that battle, it would have been a slap in God's face to half-ass ANY of it.

I ain't half-assing anything anymore. If someone should call me a bitch because of it...



The very day I finished the book, I went to a local concert where the Bullet Boys sang their version of Elton's Bitchy anthem. I knew then the universe had recognized my boldness. I sang loud and proud, high-fiving God for the cosmic shout-out.

Why, yes I AM back, thank you very much for noticing. This story is full of the pure Ginger magic so many of you have come to love. This is my love letter to you, and my middle finger to anyone left who thought I couldn't pull it off.

That's the beauty of being a Bitch. You get to be full of interesting complexities like that.

And if you can get past the prickly thorns wrapped around the title (and its bitchy heroine,) you'll find the beauty of my fairy tale, I guarantee.

September 25 is only 16 days away. Soon you'll meet Sofie, my BFB, and Fletcher, the beautiful man who is brave enough, and strong enough, to reveal her beauty anyway.

It's the only fairy tale that a bitch like me could write. So, let's fall in love... *our* way.

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