Reasons why Fran weeps into her pillow at night
Something that never happens to me:
No one ever comes up to me in the street and says, 'Hey. You realise Kate Moss is getting on a bit now. Fancy doing a photo shoot on a beach in Cuba for the cover of Vogue?'
Something that is much more likely to happen:
Someone comes up to me in the street and says, 'Hey. You realise Kate Moss is getting on a bit now. She needs someone to model beside her so that she continues to look good even as her body turns to loose hanging flesh and her face falls in so it resembles a cat's anus. Are you looking for a job?'
Something else that never happens to me:
No one ever rings my doorbell and says, 'Hey. Are you Fran Hill? Here's a giant bouquet of flowers sent to you from a secret admirer.'
Something else that is much more likely to happen:
Someone rings my doorbell and says, 'Hey, the old lady next door with the hooked nose and piggy eyes and thirteen rolls of fat around her hips is out, but someone sent her these flowers. Could you take them in for her?'
Something else that never happens to me:
No publisher ever rings me to say, 'Hey, are you Fran Hill? Someone told me about you and I wondered if you'd like to sign this three-book deal for a million pounds. Can I pop round now so we can seal the contract?'
Something else that is much more likely to happen:
A publisher rings me and says, 'Hey, are you Brenda Smith? No? Do I have the wrong number? I'm so sorry. I was after Brenda Smith who has written the most cracking debut novel and is about to become a mega-star on the strength of it. She is going to win the Booker prize, Orange Prize and the Every-Other-Bloody-Prize-Going Prize and buy a private island in the Caribbean to which she will retire to drink Pimms and eat olives fed to her by an oiled native with a six-pack to die for. But never mind. I won't bother you any longer. Bye.'
No one ever comes up to me in the street and says, 'Hey. You realise Kate Moss is getting on a bit now. Fancy doing a photo shoot on a beach in Cuba for the cover of Vogue?'
Something that is much more likely to happen:
Someone comes up to me in the street and says, 'Hey. You realise Kate Moss is getting on a bit now. She needs someone to model beside her so that she continues to look good even as her body turns to loose hanging flesh and her face falls in so it resembles a cat's anus. Are you looking for a job?'
Something else that never happens to me:
No one ever rings my doorbell and says, 'Hey. Are you Fran Hill? Here's a giant bouquet of flowers sent to you from a secret admirer.'
Something else that is much more likely to happen:
Someone rings my doorbell and says, 'Hey, the old lady next door with the hooked nose and piggy eyes and thirteen rolls of fat around her hips is out, but someone sent her these flowers. Could you take them in for her?'
Something else that never happens to me:
No publisher ever rings me to say, 'Hey, are you Fran Hill? Someone told me about you and I wondered if you'd like to sign this three-book deal for a million pounds. Can I pop round now so we can seal the contract?'
Something else that is much more likely to happen:
A publisher rings me and says, 'Hey, are you Brenda Smith? No? Do I have the wrong number? I'm so sorry. I was after Brenda Smith who has written the most cracking debut novel and is about to become a mega-star on the strength of it. She is going to win the Booker prize, Orange Prize and the Every-Other-Bloody-Prize-Going Prize and buy a private island in the Caribbean to which she will retire to drink Pimms and eat olives fed to her by an oiled native with a six-pack to die for. But never mind. I won't bother you any longer. Bye.'
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| Fran sent her best photo into Vogue but is still waiting for a reply |
Aside from the Kate Moss references, I could cry over many of these things also.
ReplyDeleteOh, let us weep together, my friend.
DeleteThis was SO funny!!
ReplyDeleteIn a dark, bitter kind of way, yes, perhaps ....!
DeleteIsn't that Miss Havasham in the photo? I hope I spelled her name correctly. My phone has rung much more today than usual. I've only accepted one call -- from Middle Child. I didn't recognize any of the other numbers so I blew them off. The callers probably included a kind, handsome man who's in love with me; information on how to collect the 20 million dollars I won in a contest even though I never entered; and the pharmacy saying they've filled my prescription for the new pill that allows me to eat anything I want and stay skinny. Oh, and I've won the Pulitzer Prize for poetry.
ReplyDeleteLove,
Janie
SO many missed opportunities, Janie! Answer the damn PHONE!
Deletewe all appreciate you Fran !
ReplyDeleteThank you, BP. That almost makes up for the lack of oiled natives with six-packs. Almost.
DeleteBrenda Smith was going to be my nom de plume. Honest.
ReplyDeleteWas this for a career as a Mills & Boon romantic novelist?
DeleteYes, but my debut novel Orgasma The Vicar's Wayward Daughter didn't tickle their fancy.
DeleteI'm sure I know that old lady that lives next door to you. When she sucks a slice of lemon, the lemon pulls a face!
ReplyDeleteThat is one good test of ugly!
DeleteThe French understand the appeal of the older women so much more . Our time is yet to come ...
ReplyDeleteThey do? I'm booking a flight.
DeleteFran, it would have been polite to ask before you used that photo of me.
ReplyDeleteAnna May x
Yeah, I know. Sorry. But no one looks good on their 21st birthday, don't be ashamed.
DeleteSo funny! If it didn't have such a familiar ring to it, I might've laughed harder. As it is, my M&Ms and I are now going to go have a pity party ;)
ReplyDeleteGreat Vogue photo btw, I'm sure you'll be contacted very soon.
They rang this morning, actually. They said they had no room for new models at the moment but would be happy to give me the number for the British Medical Journal who needed models for their magazine. Cheek.
Delete