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EXCITING BLOCKBUSTER NOVEL THAT WILL MAKE DEIRDRE A LOT OF MONEY. (less desperate title on publication)
Hello future agent and or publisher. I am working on an EXCITING new project and I wanted to share this, THE VERY FIRST DRAFT with you. I haven’t even spellchecked it yet. This is like RAW. RAW TALENT. (ooh! Title idea.)
RAW TALENT BY DEIRDRE SULLIVAN
Fox Maison assessed her looks in the mirror. Five foot three of sun-kissed, toned perfection. People bandy the word flawless around a lot she thought, which sadly cheapens things for women who look like me. Flawless women. Flawless. Like a big diamond. Only small, not big. Big is for diamonds. Pretty women should be small of waist and big of dreams. And medium of boobs, lest it confuse matters.
Fox Maison was pretty deep. She pulled on a pair of high-waisted jeans that cost more than a primary school teacher earns in a fortnight. “Primary school teachers don’t earn a lot of money” thought Fox Maison “Not like socialites. They should all write blockbuster novels about flawless women leading exciting lives. Perhaps with jewel thieves in. This could prove a lucrative second income”
People underestimated the intelligence of Fox Maison, because of how beautiful and privileged she was. The daughter of a Baroness by marriage and the worlds’s hottest music producer, Carlow Van Cleef, she had wanted for nothing as a child. Except unconditional love. The kind where you can crash your daddy’s silver Ghost and don’t need to blame it on the maid because that kind of thing doesn’t matter.
Fox had loads of things. She bought tops that cost way more than ten euro. Like, add several zeroes to the end of what you normally spend on tops and that was how much Fox could spend if she wanted to. She normally didn’t have to spend that much though. People had an adorable tendency to give her stuff for free. It looked so good on her, and so terrible on most everyone else. Fox made beauty seem ugly and pretty seem like a word used for describing planks of wood with mould on. She had a kind heart and was secretly vulnerable. And she wasn’t racist or anything. Just going to put that out there.
Fox slipped a simple sheath of emerald blue over her shimmering tresses. It fit like a bespoke glove. She applied a small amount of make-up. She didn’t need it, but she was very good at applying it. She could do contouring and everything. Not that she’d ever need it IRL, because her nose and everything were in perfect proportion. She should have been called Fibonacci Maison, she sometimes thought. Her mouth was a perfect, lush pillow of a thing. Her face was the best face you have ever seen, but more. She had the shoulders of someone who was great at sex. You know the kind. You rascal you.
And she had never been in love.