Friday, June 29, 2012

Sunday, June 24, 2012

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Saturday, June 9, 2012

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Friday, June 8, 2012

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Thursday, June 7, 2012

Have A Helping Of My Novel - Excerpts

DAHLINGS -

I am taking the supreme risk: I am publishing two excerpts from my novel.  "The Abortionist's Daughter" has been selling nicely on Kindle.  So I am sharing it with you, my darling readers.  

Both are from the first section.  The first excerpt takes place after Melanie, age 22, has first met James, at the local ice cream parlor.  The second is a flashback to her childhood.

Study Of A Young Woman
James took a step closer to her, bent slightly, and kissed her on the lips. Melanie froze in confusion. She knew what she was supposed to do—­slap his face and call him names—but that wasn’t what she wanted to do. Not at all.

 ‘How was that?” he asked, dropping his voice. He looked into her eyes.

 “Are you making love to me?”

 "Yes.”

 “I liked it,” she replied, tilting her face up for more, thrilled with her own daring.

 I’m glad,” he murmured.  He kissed her again, his lips soft, his mouth tasting of a hint of split pea soup. He put his nose in the hair just behind her left ear and took a deep breath.  The feeling of the tip of his nose on her skin was electric.  It had been so long—years—since she had felt a man’s touch.  And that had been back at school, before the trial, chastely clumsy kisses in cloakrooms and in stuffy parlors. 

“’You smell so good,” he said, and kissed her again. “I can’t believe I’m doing this.”  He lifted a finger and gently slid it from her chin to the top of her collar.  Melanie quivered.  She was afraid to make a move. She was awash with pleasure such as she had never known. She knew what she was supposed to do.  Melt against him (that was the alternative to slapping his face), but she couldn’t.  Her hands hung uselessly at her sides.

“James, you shouldn’t be doing this,” she whispered.

 “I know.  I can’t help myself.”  He kissed her again, a long, slow, lingering kiss.

 “Please—please stop.”  Her words came out as a little gasp.  She didn’t want him to stop. 

 James took a step back, smiling, holding her arms.  “You are a peach of a girl, Miss Daniels.”
  
 “Thank you.”  Melanie averted her face.  “I don’t know what you must think of me.”  She wanted him to kiss her again!  And again and again.

His left hand ran up and down her upper arm.  She felt as if little shivers of desire were following along with it.  “I think very highly of you.  That’s why I kissed you.”

“You know what I mean.”

“I’d like to see you again, Miss Daniels.  Soon.”  The hand closed around her upper arm.

It was an outrageous request.  He had taken liberties with her.

“I’d like that.”

***************************************************************************************************************

When she was eight years old, one bright late Spring day, Harold Clarice, a classmate, had come up to her in  the schoolyard.  He had an ugly smile on his face. 

“My ma says your pa kills babies,” he announced
.
“Harold Clarice, you take that back!” Melanie demanded.

“Your pa’s a baby-killer,” Harold repeated.

“You clam yourself!”  She felt her face burning hotly.

“Baby killer!  Baby killer!”

“You just clam yourself!”

In a rage, Melanie lashed out at Harold, smacking him in the mouth.  Harold stared at her in shock for an instant, then leapt upon her, flailing with his fists, and they both fell to the ground, biting and punching.  Instantly the other children were around them, screaming delightedly, “Fight!  Fight! Fight!”

“What’s going on here!  Children!”  Miss Chipman, their teacher, stood over them.  Melanie quickly disengaged herself from Harold.  Her white dress was torn, its pink sash hanging in tatters.  Her blonde hair had been pulled from its ponytail and hung loosely at her shoulders.  Harold’s shirtfront was covered with dirt, and blood ran down his chin.  Their classmates hung back, fascinated. 

“She started it!”

“Did not!” 

“Did too!”

 Melanie knew Harold dared not repeat his taunt; he would be punished for using such language. 
Either the other children hadn’t heard him, or didn’t risk saying it themselves.  Miss Chipman made both Harold and Melanie sit in opposite corners facing the wall for the rest of the afternoon.  Melanie was grateful that her teacher didn’t inquire further into what had started the fight.  She had a feeling that Miss Chipman knew.
And there you have it, mon chers.



At the risk of bragging, here are some Amazon reviews.  If you don't believe me, go here.

"Don't start reading this wonderful tale if you have anything else to do for a while. It will grab you and keep you enthralled."


"If you liked An Awfully Big Adventure and/or Tipping the Velvet, definitely give this one a shot!" 

"The author's evocation of that time period, the abundant showbiz details, and the personal politics of abortion all made it very rich."

Do both of us a favor and pick up my book at Amazon.  Oops.  Seeing that it's on Kindle, do download my book.  You'll thank me later, and I will thank you now.

Ciao,


Elisa & Fletcher

Wednesday, June 6, 2012

Vintage Clothing and Sex: I Have Written A Novel

DAHLINGS –

You probably do not believe that your faithful correspondent is capable of Deep Thoughts.  (Indeed, some have expressed that in this blog-thing quite loudly).  However, 2011 and 2012 have found me with much on my mind.  Which gives me terrible headaches.

My darling readers have probably been wondering, "What is that fabulous woman doing, that she is not here tending to our fashion and plus-size needs?  Where is she when we need famous people dressing up criticized?"

You may gasp in disbelief, but I have written a novel, "The Abortionist’s Daughter.” Your faithful scrivener was tempted to say that it was written by someone else, but one has to stand by one's principles (and admit that one is a truly amazing writer, as you all know). 

As was said by another, "She who doth not toot her own horn, her horn shall not be tooted." And of course I want my horn tooted.



As you can probably tell from my interests, the descriptions of the clothes are luscious, written by an author with an understanding of Fashion In The True Sense.   Silks, satins, drool-worthy beribboned hats, robes with crystal pleating, cotton voile dresses.  From my own experience as an actress,(something my dear darling Mama did her best to forget), the backstage scenes, populated with delightful characters, have been called "wonderfully entertaining."

Ziegfeld Follies star Dolores, by Geisler
The novel's backstory is: in 1910, Dr. Horace Daniels is sent to prison for accidentally killing a woman while aborting her fourteenth child.  Women had no access to birth control or knowledge about their own bodies.  The only contraception for women was refusing to have relations.  It almost reads like a harbinger of today’s sexual politics and the steady stripping of the rights of women. 

Medical technology has advanced light years, but the morality and small-mindedness of many have not.

Six years later, his rebellious daughter, Melanie was once the most eligible girl in the tiny Adirondack village.  At 23 she faces the prospect of being an “old maid” and spending the rest of her life living with her disgraced parents. The alternative is marrying a younger boy who is infatuated with her. 

In 1916, the notion that a woman could be independent was nearly unthinkable.  When she meets James, a traveling salesman, she allows him to seduce her.  (The scenes were a little graphic to write, but well, modern times and all that. Besides, I discovered the joys of writing smut.) Melanie agrees to run away with him to New York.

Once in New York, Melanie finds that James has other lovers, including a Broadway star, Gladys Dumbrille.  James is not at all what he seems, in fact he is a great deal worse.  Melanie is drawn into a web of intrigue and lies.  She herself lies to get into a show,”Almonds for Clarissa,” that Gladys is in.  The world of the theater is glorious to Melanie, although most of the glamour is onstage.  She becomes a “dress extra,” the term for actresses who wear their own clothes. Melanie befriends Mercedes La Fay (real name: Betty Ogden), a lively chorus girl who “shows her the ropes."

Ann Pennington, dancer
However, no matter what Melanie does or where she goes, she cannot escape her past as the doctor’s daughter.  The tale is filled with tough choices, the personal politics of abortion, and yours truly paints a vivid portrait of the era.  

Always wanting to present my very best for you, I researched this tome at the New-York Historical Society, the Adirondack Museum, and of course my own fashion archives.

It has received wonderful reviews on Amazon, where it is available for sale on Kindle.

You can buy the novel here: The Abortionist's Daughter by Elisa DeCarlo

Ciao,
Elisa & Fletcher
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