A NOTE FROM THE AUTHOR – Lisette Brodey
October 24, 2011

Hi, Everyone:

Thank you all for being here. Whether this is your first visit, or whether you are a regular reader, I appreciate that you’ve come by to get to know Molly Hacker. This will be Molly’s last regular weekly blog, as I’m working hard to finish edits on my novel, Molly Hacker Is Too Picky! Publication date is expected to be around the beginning of December. I’ve prepared a very special video/book trailer to coincide with the book’s release.

If you’d like to know more about Molly Hacker Is Too Picky!, simply click on the Synopsis tab on the left side of the page. To read the first chapter, click on Excerpt. To find out the latest on the book’s release, please check my Facebook author page.

I have been blogging as Molly since February, so, if you’re new to this site, there are lots of blogs in the archives which are made all the more special by Molly readers’ comments. As many of you know, in addition to this weekly Monday blog, Molly has been interviewing her creative peers every Wednesday. These interviews will continue for several more weeks. To read Molly’s interviews, please click on the Interview tab on the left side of the page. There are lots of great interviews with lots of talented people.

In this last blog (for now), Molly talks about her nemesis, Naomi Hall-Benchley, the she-devil. As I’m sure you can guess, the full story of Molly and the she-devil will be revealed in the novel, and much much more.

And now, heeeeerrre’s Molly!

* * * * * * * * *

Greetings, Cool Peeps:

The first time I met the she-devil, Naomi Hall, I was eight, and she was sixteen. She pushed ahead of my mom and me at the local pharmacy by merely announcing that she was a “Hall.” No more. No less. From that day on, I had a little bitty issue with her.

When I was eleven, she was matriculated into Vassar. The Swansea Herald (yes, my current employer) saw fit to make this second-page news. I had no freakin’ clue what “matriculation” even meant. My cousin Dave explained that it was something you do that makes you go blind.

Fast forward. Moi at sixteen. The town was abuzz with the news that Naomi Hall was to marry Seymour Monitter. First things first. Naomi Hall Monitor. Tell me that didn’t have a beautiful ring and that Seymour is about as unsexy a name as a man can have. But he dumped her. Within six months, she had her claws into Art Benchley, married him in six more, and Naomi Hall-Benchley, the she-devil was officially spawned. Tiny red horns began sprouting from underneath her blond hair, and a pointy red tail began emerging from you know where.

I had no real interaction with her until I was twenty-five, when in my picky quest for the perfect man (for me), I agreed to let her introduce me to Chat Chatsworth. I know, I know! Why didn’t I run in the other direction? Richard “Chat” Chatsworth lived up to his name. C’mon, I don’t need to spell everything out for you. Yes, he was a diminutive of Richard, and he never shut up.

The she-devil always has a reason for manipulating people; her reasons just aren’t always clear. My first date with Chat was at the opening of a new restaurant in town. Little did I know that the “straunt” was owned by a Benchley and that Naomi would be in attendance, like the resident puppet mistress, pulling our strings. Before I could protest, she sent someone over to “invite” Chat and me to a party the following weekend.

That was how I got roped into date number two, a cocktail soirée at the she-devil’s home where I learned, within fifteen minutes, that she was trying to hook up Chat, because his father, her good buddy, wanted him to stop frequenting strip clubs and find a “nice, wholesome girl.” That was supposed to be me. (I think not!)

The moment that gig was up, I told Chat to go get a lap dance and lose my number, both of which he was quite happy to do. I blinked once, and he was gone. I blinked a second time and saw Naomi sending yet another man over to me, a Brioni-suited stuffed shirt with pastry crumbs in his mustache and of all things, ear hair. And why would the she-devil want to set me up with this specimen of gag-me-ness? He was Art’s biggest client, and he wanted a woman.

I told Naomi that night she could pull all the strings she wanted, but this puppet was making tracks. She’s never stopped trying since.

See you soon.

Yours in pickiness,

Molly

Tags: Lisette Brodey, Molly Hacker, Molly Hacker Is Too Picky, she-devil

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