What would Cher do?

A small painting by Shari Elf sits above my desk and shines down on me everyday. Some days I take its message literally. And on those days I wear lots of feathers and something sparkly and see-thru. But on most days, I take it metaphorically. What would Cher do?

On this night, about 30-ish hours from the launch of my new book, I look up and wonder. What if I fail? What if no one likes me? What if I can’t sing as well as I thought I could? What if both sides really were against me since the day I was born? And I think, so what?

I’ll just keep putting myself out there. Be me as best I can.

Wear as many sparkly things as I can muster.


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From the Preppy Princess herself!

I love hearing from new friends but when I get really busy I forget to let them know how very much I appreciate it. So I got this note from The Preppy Princess (I know her real name but it may in fact be classified information) and I wanted to make sure I made the time to say thanks.

Here’s what she had to say about The Aristobrats:

Where were you when I was a tween and needed this to read?!

Jennifer, it really is outstanding! The story really snagged me, I loved reading about Parker’s trials and tribulations with the mini-newscast she had to do, the cameraman (is he returning in Aristobrats 2?), Tribb, all of the LYLAS.

The descriptions paint a great picture inside the school and out, the whole tale of the assembly and who was sitting in whom’s seats — arrghh, cue ‘Memories’! I felt so sad for little Parker as her mother put the house up for sale.  Now I am going to have to finish it, I became that engaged with the characters.

We are more than happy to recommend it to Princess Moms for their daughters, or any others they may be considering books for!

The Preppy Princess

Many thanks to you, PP! And go visit her for a truly royal prepsta experience. And I always do love hearing from you even if I can’t post all your notes. Feel free write to me or leave a comment and say hello!


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Move over, Massie Block!

Now I love to hate/hate to love Massie Block as much as the next Clique chick, but can’t a popular girl actually be a nice person? Ever since Lindsay Lohan was taken in by “The Plastics” a.k.a. “Mean Girls” and Blair Waldorf planted her pointy-toed Chanel firmly up someone’s nether parts, have we come to equate a popular girl with…well, rhymes with itch.

Are all popular girls uber-mean? Do they all have thick luxurious long hair? Are they all rich? Do they all wear designer clothes? Are there any out there we can admire?


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Middle names I like

I have a dirty little secret. I have no middle name. My mom explains it to me thusly: “My mother, your grandmother, gave me the middle name ‘i.’ which is humiliating. i-what? i-robot? i-likey? No. just i, period. This is why, you, darling, have been saved from the humiliation of a horrible middle name. Consider it a blessing.”

Okay. Got it. But just in the past few months I’ve been coveting. Middle-name-envy, if you will.

1. “Bombshell.” Is this a crazy-great middle name or wha? It sort of sets the stage. Puts it out there. Gives you a goal to reach for. I don’t even think you need all the tattoos to support a name like that. “Bombshell” says all you need to know.

And 2. “The Situation.” I don’t watch the show so I don’t know to what “The Sitch” refers, but I like it! I mean, who doesn’t want to be, not just a, but the situation? It looks like it requires a lot of ab work to be The Situation, but with a middle name like that, it’s worth it. …Jennifer The Situation Solow. I’m liking it!


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Are you like me? Sitting in the library in your JLo’s, not really thinking about much else other than your current manuscript, the fact that your car is parked in the 20 minute zone and you’ve been there for 6 1/2 hours, wondering if the library lady will catch you sneaking Zone Bars and dried apples out of your backpack simply so you don’t pass out from lack of caloric intake, not thinking ONE IOTA about the guy sitting behind you staring at your visible gluteal delineation, aka butt crack?

Well, then this product is for you. A modesty “sticker” apparently, for those who both defy gravity with their pants AND care if someone notices. Me? Well, I prefer the booty to the sticker.


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Am I an expert? You be the judge.

So, it’s been a while since I’ve said bonjour and I wanted to let you know what’s all happening. I was in the middle of my next book and my agent came to me with an idea I jumped on.

Here’s the dealio:
I’m writing a new series called THE ARISTOBRATS.
The first is due out in 2010 and, if I can learn to type a whole lot faster than I do now, I should have another one out about 6 months after that.
It’s about a group of popular Eighth Graders at the prestigious Wallingford Academy whose lives at the top of the populadder are all but ruined when they’re assigned to produce the school’s lame-o webcast.
I’ve been having a marvelouz time writing these girls: Parker, Ikea, Plum and Kiki. I adore them and I hope you will too. Fans of ‘The Booster’ will not be disappointed.

And BTDubs, that’s me on the far right —>


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Who has better shoes? Candace Bushnell or me?

Okay, so Candace has a few New York Times bestsellers…AND a few movies and television shows under her belt…AND she is WAY skinnier than I am…AND married to a ballet dancer with really hot buns…AND maybe you can’t really see it from the photographs, but I am wearing P-R-A-D-A and I think that must count for something.

So seriously, Candace is, as Jane Green says, brilliant, and she cups her buns when she poses, which wins her big points in my book.

If you missed our evening on stage together, tant pis! it was one night only at The Lark Theater.

I’m finishing book 2 and book 3 and my future is in the hands of my capable agent — until then, I will buy no more shoes and finish (I swear) Candace’s new book.


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Life is perfect (for the moment).

It’s that special time in a writer’s life: The new manuscript is done and has been turned into the agent. The agent will not be done reading said manuscript for at least a few days, possibly an entire week!

For these delicious, yet fleeting moments, life couldn’t be better. There are no revisions that need revising, no writing that needs to be written and no sorrows that need to be drowned in Bombay martinis, straight up, VERY cold, extra olives. Martinis need only to be enjoyed, not needed.

I’m going to enjoy these perfect days. Sit in the sun. Try on some wigs. Wrap some boas around my neck for my own amusement. Eat some chocolate.

Ah, if only all of life could be this grand.


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Fresh from the garden

Keep Manhattan Just Gimme That Countryside!

Move over Eva Gabor, Green Acres is the place to be! I’m not sure if this is very cool of me or slightly weird and kind of old-lady-ish, but I’ve taken up all sorts of farm-girl stuff at my new house in upstate Podunkapalooza.

I’m 1. gardening 2. baking bread 3. making my own (yes, for real) goat cheese and 4. wearing Carhartts and work boots and completely ignoring my 5-step Obagi face care routine!

Oh, but check out those squash blossoms. Nice, right?

Do you think I’ll ever recover? Do you think I’ll ever wear my Pucci heels again?


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Does this hat make me look fat?

Every girl needs a break. Mine was Thailand and a yummy little hotel called Sala Samui. It was hot and gorgeous and I braved the beaches in something they call a micro-tini, a thing a woman of my age and buttock jiggle shouldn’t be caught dead in. But that’s me – always pushing the envelope for the paparazzi. But don’t worry, I’m home now…hard at work on finishing not one, but TWO manuscripts. One has gotten very naughty and the other is downright intellectual (if I can spell it) — hmmm…which to finish first?


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