Chick Lit

What is it?

This is lots of fun. It’s kind of like my alter ego takes over and these very entertaining characters pop out. The characters are entertaining to me as they are far removed from my everyday experience. It’s like I allow that mischievous part of myself have centre stage.

So chick lit is short for women’s literature. It is usually playful and light hearted writing about the modern woman and her relationships with others, in particular men. 

The exercise below was given to me by Katherine, whom I am co-authoring a novel with. Before we started writing the novel, we had a Skype writing group where we wrote small snippets of stories together. Each week, one of us came up with an activity. Below is her activity.

What you can do

1. Choose three words from thesaurus or dictionary that are unfamiliar to you (you have never heard of, or don’t know the meaning of). 

2. Write down the meanings of these words.

4. Write a short piece in chick lit genre using these 3 words. Make sure the words are interspersed throughout your writing. 

5. Write for 15-20 minutes.

An example 

Words

Effluvium - Exhaled substance affecting lungs or sense of smell – unpleasant.

Solatium – things given as compensation or consolidation.

Inutile – useless

Chick lit writing piece

Pamela excluded effluvium, contorting her face in an attempt to remove the unpleasant smell coming forth from her mouth, invading the air. She began to panic. Brad would be here at any moment and the last things she wanted was the lingering smell of last night’s bottle of wine greeting him at the door. She banged around her cupboards looking for something to cover the taste in her mouth. Unutile. The fridge she thought. A lonely bottle of wine lay on the top shelf. As she pulled the bottle out and unscrewed the lid she thought she really should start cooking her own meals instead of eating take-out every night. 

She took a swig and jiggled the liquid around her mouth like mouthwash and threw her head back to encourage quick relief. That’s my salatium for being single. Stuff the cooked dinners. I like my life. 

The door bell rang. She waved the air about frantically over her mouth as she swooned toward the door. The door bell rang again. “Impatient bugger, isn’t he,” she said to her cat, who had been watching her dutifully the whole time. 

As she opened the door she swung her hair back, titling her head, lips pouted.

“Oh, it’s you.’ Her body relaxed and she grimaced. 'What the bloody hell do you want?”

Alfred was a regular unwanted visitor from the apartment down the hall. He stood in the doorway holding a bottle of Grange and an enormous smile, which only served to annoy Pamela further. Alfred titled his head in a gesture of implied connection. 

“Aren’t you going to congratulate me?” he shouted moving toward her for a hug. 

She put her hand out and pushed his chest back. “What for?”

“I got the publishing deal for my book. Don’t you read the papers?”

Pamela was dumfounded. “On the mating habits of insects?”

Alfred shook his head excitedly like a child agreeing to go on a ride at the fair.

“Wow, that’s great Alfred. Who would have thought?” 

Pamela wondered how he did it. Here she was slaving her guts away at the desk writing her novel on the misfortunes of Daisy Hall and her abominable love life and not a sniff of interest from the hundreds of publishers she sent her work to. Life really sucked sometimes. 

Alfred lifted up the bottle of Grange. ‘Shall we?’ 

Pamela grabbed the bottle. ‘Hell yeah,’ she sighed as she entered the apartment, Alfred, bobbing after her.