September 10, 2004

Hints for real men from the literary new world of 'chick lit'

Andrew Scot Bolsinger

I heard a new phrase today, which for a rap-listening-movie-watching parent-of-two-teenaged-daughters kind of guy, is relatively surprising. I thought I had heard it all.

The phrase: Chick lit.

It's short, I presume for the phrase "chick literature," or more specifically, books by and about women (I didn't want to seem so unhip, and so incredibly … well … male, as to ask for confirmation).

The whole thing comes as something of a shock because any commercially published author knows all too well that women, by an overwhelming majority, are the ones who buy and read books.

Suddenly, I know why my first novel's sales were so paltry. Women, it seems, are shopping from a different shelf. A story largely about men, written by a big hairy guy is about as far from "chick lit" as you can most assuredly get.

The same can't be said for Suzanne Schlosberg's first humor book, "The Curse of the Singles Table." This book is so "chick lit" that a divorcee wrote the author and said he read the book to learn a thing or two about women.

"It's entertainment, not information," Schlosberg says with a derisive laugh.

How many nights?!

The book isn't a novel or necessarily an autobiography, though it certainly is a novel way to tell one's own story. The subtitle reveals much: "A True Story of 1001 Nights Without Sex."

"I started counting the streak somewhere in the mid-600s I think," Schlosberg says. "And the streak had this sort of cult following among my friends, who said, 'you have to write this up.'"

Forget narrative form, conflict or character development, this suddenly successful book is the simple creation of a "Streak" that in its pure, truest form, is simply funny.

Schlosberg, a freelance writer who makes her living as a fitness writer of books and articles, is determined to succeed in this genre of funny chick lit.

"What I really enjoy is the humor side of things," she says.

In addition to "The Curse," Schlosberg has other contributions to the chick lit lore, including a story in a compilation of stories by fellow chick lit-ers called "Whose Panties Are These Anyway?" The book - which will be the subject of a book signing at Bloomsbury Booksellers Tuesday night, where Schlosberg will join book editor Jen Leo for the event - is the sequel of the critically acclaimed first book, "Sand in my Bra."

For any men reading this column: First, I commend you. Apparently as a species we struggle to finish an ESPN the Magazine photo essay, much less an actual news column of more than 600 words. Second, the entire aforementioned paragraph is apparently pretty big stuff to people who follow the chick lit scene. If nothing else, name drop some of the above titles and you may just get past the first drink on the next date. Finally, I have no idea of the veracity of anything I just wrote, but women who seem to know everything tell me it's credible.

I digress. Schlosberg's "Curse," released in June by the former native Californian, recent Bend, Ore. transplant, is touching both the funny bone and the nerve of women everywhere.

"When I talk about the book I tell my story," Schlosberg says, "and I see women nodding their heads. Afterwards, they come up all the time and tell me, 'you think you had a streak.' I got all these funny streak stories."

So far the book is the pick of the week in US Weekly, and the subject of a September write-up in People Magazine. It's been translated into Romanian, Dutch and German and "I think I sold the Portuguese rights yesterday," she says. She is headed to Australia next month to promote the book. Apparently this chick lit gig has it perks. The hit of my big male book was Winchester, Va. No comparison.

Tricks to the trade

Apparently you don't go 1,001 nights - actually 1,358, but you have to read the book to find out how the streak ends - without sex and not pick up some very important tricks to the trade. Schlosberg compiled some of those tricks into an advice page on her Web site that lists eight tips for women and nine for men, on Internet dating. Men, she says, need more help. Newspapers are writing about them and chick lit groupies are hitting the Web for them. Amazingly, a woman whose claim to fame is bad dates and an utter absence of sex for three years is becoming a guru about relationships.

Again, a digression for the guy readers (reader?) of this column. The advice you are thinking (All she had to do is go up to any guy in a bar and say, "wanna have sex," and the streak would have been over) is definitely not the stuff of chick lit. As for the women readers, it's all too sad a statement about men that you probably will love hearing Schlosberg's talk at Bloomsbury Books on Tuesday, and will likely read the book and really connect with the story.

As for me, I will begin with a begging plea to the Fab Five to come metrosexualize me, make me sensitive and hopefully find a muse who can teach me to write like women, and I mean that in the best chick lit sense.