Letters to the Editor
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Oh, look. A celitbutante.
I am so tired - so exceedingly tired - of this sub-sub-genre of relatively intelligent, adequately talented, undeniably attractive young women writers who insist on using their sexual allure to bludgeon the world with tales of their unrestrained naughtiness. They appear oblivious to the fact that the topics they choose (sex! how I lost my virginity! my all-powerful blowjob technique! did I mention sex? well, then - how about light bondage? how very saucy I am! want to see my knickers? wait; I'm not wearing knickers!) effectively land them in the sewer of Cosmo freelancers.
They're the writerly equivalent of the obnoxiously loud, overly-made-up, sun damaged, drunk, wannabe Housewives of Orange County that show up at even the best parties. They're the women that make men uncomfortable and other women embarrassed, the ones who think they're still skating through life on assets that actually crapped out on them a decade or so ago.
It's ugly. It's tiresome. It was ugly and tiresome when Erica Jong did it; it's only grown uglier and more tired since then. Sex and the City ended, women. It ended about three years after it had peaked, but it did end. You wriggling tarts are starting to look as dated as a Girls Gone Wild video from 1997.
It disgusts me to think that so many women are out there crusading against the exploitation of women while people like Sloane "Look at me, I'm SAUCY!" Crosley get rich by exploiting themselves. Way to represent the sisterhood.
Why do this? Why become the Paris Hilton of the literary set? You women have talent; why prostitute it for a few moments' notoriety in the more easily titillated sectors of the internet? Why settle for being known as a celitbutante?
Take a clue from Diablo Cody: quit stripping and make some art.