Title: BLAME IT ON MERYL STREEP
Genre: Women’s fiction
Word Count: 97,000
No matter how exciting Laura Sanders’s life may appear - working as a TV producer, living in a luxury condo in Los Angeles and travelling the world - to her it’s nothing but a sham. Laura is a virgin at age 28, and not by choice. She’s resigned to a dull, lonely life in the company of a few friends and her disinterested cat. Then she sees Mamma Mia! The film hits Laura like a stampede of ABBA fans, with Meryl Streep seeming to dance off the screen to show Laura all the joy and passion her own life lacks.
Laura creates a fantasy starring herself as the intern set photographer for Mamma Mia. It gives her a chance to enjoy the fun of Hollywood and access to Meryl’s wisdom and friendship. Back in reality things aren’t bad either. Laura gets a promotion that brings her into Natalie’s and Vera’s orbit. Whereas Laura knows every Danish director of the dogma movement, Natalie and Vera know every variety of vibrator on the market. With imaginary-Meryl by her side, Laura has the confidence to move into their ranks without fear of being caught out as the loser she thinks she is. Laura learns to accept herself. She embarks on a journey to discover her own sexuality and reawakens to the possibility that love awaits her after all.
But Laura also finds her bright daydreams have a dark side. Fantasies are more intoxicating than reality, and Laura is starting to get lost in hers. If she doesn't start taking what she has learned from her imaginary life and using it to connect with real people, Laura is in danger of losing touch with reality permanently.
I’ve worked as a TV producer for the last thirteen years. I’m currently living in Germany as a freelance journalist, screenwriter and photographer.
I’m Laura M. Sanders.
I’m a TV producer in Los Angeles.
I've travelled the world.
I have a cat named Sartre.
I drive a Horizon Blue Mini Convertible.
I own 108 pair of shoes.
I’m a virgin.
The worst part about my pathetic, sex- and relationshipless life is the constant pretending. Pretending to be normal. Fact is everybody knows the drama of relationships, the passion, the pain. Not knowing makes you an utter and complete freak. At least that's how I feel. Until some years ago I used to be honest and tell friends at some point that I was still a virgin and never had a boyfriend. Someday I’ll tell a stranger that I killed a person. Simply to see if that confession arouses a similar mortified look.
After the look there’s always the pity. And after the pity the good advice.
Good Advice Number One: Be dumb. Men don’t like smart women.
Good Advice Number Two: Be hard to get. Men still think like hunters.
Good Advice Number Three: Be a listener. Men need attention.
After the look, the pity and the good advice, there’s the worst part: the awkward silence. After all, everything everybody ever seems to talk about are relationships. Who they met, who texted, called or wrote, or who didn’t, and what either implies. Who broke up with whom, who got engaged, who is pregnant, who had an affair, who is good in bed, who is hot … and of course you need stories to contribute. So I make up stories.