May 2012. ….is in my apartment in Barrio Norte. I host a handful of mis chica’s for a private presentation. I pick chapter sixteen, a passage that includes graphic sex, my big ego, and public humiliation. After three months of writing, there are almost thirty thousand words. I am nervous, but optimistic – and I can’t wait to hear what they think. Sí! Ay dios! Dime, por favor! I become an actor, bringing the text to life, as the story rolls off my tongue and into the room. Fifteen minutes later, I look up from the page and into the glow of their unanimous response – “Sí! Vicki Marie! When is the Spanish language edition available?” Subscribe to The Bachelor Blog and never miss a post.
May 2012. …she’s been baptized! The Bachelor Chapters, has been lifted from a revelatory scene in chapter twelve. A re-purposed mortuary, a strikingly handsome French cowboy, and a double martini contribute to this literary milestone. Chapter twelve. Hot, hot hot! You’re going to like it. Cheers! Subscribe to The Bachelor Blog and never miss a post.
April 2012. ….the rooms in the city that rent by the hour. There are more than one hundred fifty in Buenos Aires, and it’s a mainstream business. I applaud a hospitality niche that normalizes desire. I’ve re-energized my urban lifestyle, and added comedy, salsa, and the fabulous puerta cerrada private chef dinners. My dating scene is tragically comic, but I score big time when I become friends with smart, sexy and adventurous women. We are everywhere. Subscribe to The Bachelor Blog and never miss a post.
April 2012. ….because I sit. A lot. There’s a chair in my Spanish class that holds my stressed bum for five hours each day, and that’s after three hours of laptop action with the writing. My days are full and I’m slow to socialize, but I find a jazz bar that’s a short walk from my apartment. Thelonius has live music and a retro-New York vibe. I’m there every Thursday, and most Saturday’s. The bartender’s know my name, and, of course, my drink. I forego the stool, lean into the bar, and give my backend a break.
March 2012.…where the story grows. I decide to write a thousand words a day, early in the morning, while the city is dark. The book is a memoir, but it’s bigger than me. Sex is the big star of this story, but so is liberation. I commit to a page-turner with no censorship. I eat well, see the sun rise, and nail my goal everyday.
March 2012. In February, I left a twenty-five year business career and moved to South America to learn Spanish. I started putting my story to paper, and a month later I called myself a writer. In Spanish they say, “soy escritora.” I am chick writer.