mary-masked

Speakeasy Cinderella is finished!

Published: September 9th 2016, 3:28:44 pm

I finally wrote a satisfying ending to my Cinderella novel (though I'm still not sure about the title) Now I just need to get it proofread and send it off to some agents. Once I do that, it's out of my hands and I need to work on something else so I don't obsess over whether or not anyone will want to buy this book. I've gotten good feedback so far so hopefully someone will want to publish it. If not, I can go the self publishing route. Either way it'll be OUT THERE, which is the most important thing for me (though it actually making money would be really great!)

The chapters I wrote are kind of only effective as a resolution to the rest of the novel so I don't think posting anything from them will do much for you guys. Instead, I'll post the prologue, which I'm particularly proud of.

"I lay out my weapons; Lipstick, rouge, powder, kohl. I sit in the room that I rent, at a vanity I don’t own, skin bare on the old leather. I brush a sheen into my black bob. I powder my skin rice flour white. I brush my brows black and sleek. I smoke my eyes thick with kohl. My painted lips make my hard teeth shine. While I work, I think about the men I’ll see tonight. I think about the looks I’ll give them, the smiles I’ll share, who likes it haughty, to whom I should be kind. I run flirtation drills in my head.

I slip on a step-in, a wisp of silk and lace left behind by another girl. I cover it with a gown, my own making, modified from one of my mother’s, and pearls, a gift from a client. I run the pearls over my teeth to remind myself that they’re real. The impression of wealth is in the accessories.

Rouge on my knees, heels on my feet, stockings rolled up just enough to pique some interest. In the mirror I’ve transformed into something striking. In my pale face my dark eyes glitter, red mouth hard as a brass knuckle’s shine. Being gorgeous isn't just my job, it’s my armor, my hard hat, my uniform. I’m not ready to work until I’m downright devastating.

In the mirror I see the illusion of myself, the fantasy I become. I am not the girl I woke up as. I am not the girl from the slums. I am not my lack of money. I am not my doubts, my fears, my raw and gnawing need.

My name is Cinderella. And I have probably fucked your husband."