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When novelist Jackie Collins revealed she would self-publish a book for her fans (during a So What Do You Do? interview with Mediabistro), the article generated thousands of responses around the Internet.

Collins herself has written a blog post about the project, reassuring her readers: “I have fantastic relationships with my two publishers, Simon & Schuster UK and St. Martin’s Press US. No juicy story about a tiff or spat between us—we’re good.” At the same time, she offered some advice for aspiring writers:

Publishers are in the publishing business to make money (and that’s a good thing). But remember that their goal is NOT to make your dreams of being an author come true. Their goal is to make money through the careful and thoughtful exploitation of your book. So, you have to fight for what you want. (Even I do.) If you want a full-page ad in People magazine, you have to get it in your contract; otherwise it’s not going to happen, and you’ll hear things like, “it costs too much.”

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Every media professional has his or her ultimate icon. Oprah has Maya Angelou. Tyler Perry has Oprah. For me, that person is mega best-selling author Jackie Collins.

From the moment I first watched the steamy, sudsy 1990 miniseries Lucky Chances, and then begged my grandmother to take me to the nearest town with a Walden Books so I could buy the two novels it was based on, I was hooked. Collins’ patented brand of sexually-charged page-turners, featuring unforgettable protagonists like Gino and Lucky Santangelo in the Santangelo Crime Family Novels; Al King inLovers And Gamblers and Fontaine Khaled in The Bitch, inspired me to write my own stories (More on that in the coming months!).

Ever a trailblazer, Collins recently stunned the publishing world when she decided to re-publishThe Bitch, her 1979 classic about the scandalous, London club scene, as an eBook. The updated version of the tantalizing tome is set in present day Las Vegas (One of Collins’ fave, fictional stomping grounds!) and shows that even after having written 28 New York Times Best-Sellers, Collins remains on the cutting edge!
Here’s what she shared on her blog about her decision to do an eBook:

Let me say up front that I will personally always love physical books. I love how a new book feels in your hands.  I love turning the pages one-by-one as you curl up in a chair and engross yourself in the story.

But I also know that to stay successful, you’ve always got to be thinking two steps ahead of the game.  And by all counts, the book industry is going the way of the CD industry. Almost nobody buys CDs anymore; we get our music fix on iTunes.

And more and more people are opting for eBooks over paper. For example, with Goddess of Vengeance, I think we sold an equal amount of hard covers and eBooks.

And in England, they just bought the digital rights to all my books and Lethal Seduction immediately jumped to #2 on the bestseller’s list. That’s a book that’s 10-years-old! I was quite impressed with that.

To download a copy of The Bitch click here!

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Purchase American Star or Hollywood Kids from the Jackie Collins Store before May 1, and Jackie will personally autograph them for Mom.  A great gift idea!  50% off until May 1.

Get “American Star” Get “Hollywood Kids”

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Little did I know when I gave an interview to Galleycat in February that the press would pick up the story so quickly!  To date, from that one interview, there have been over 120,000 stories and articles posted online about that one decision.

As you might imagine, the buzz has set off a bit of a firestorm of comments, gossip, conspiracy theories and the like about my publishers and me.

• “Did she get in a fight with her publishers?”
• “Did they drop her from their roster?”
• “Is she dropping them from her roster?”
• “Does this mean publishing is dead?”

So I’d like to take a moment to set the record straight.

First, I have fantastic relationships with my two publishers, Simon & Schuster UK and St. Martin’s Press US. No juicy story about a tiff or spat between us—we’re good. I’m currently writing my 29^th book “The Power Trip,” and it will be published by both companies, respectively.

But times are changing, and technology is changing, so I wanted to experiment with this growing trend of self-publishing.

Checking out my new eBook THE BITCH on my iPad

Of course the industry is changing – it ALWAYS is

I’ve been a published author for many years, and I’ve had the good fortune to work with several great publishers, and I’ve seen MANY changes in the publishing industry.

From new printing techniques, to new advertising mediums, to direct-to-fan digital publishing, the industry has always been evolving.  And it will continue to do so.

At the end of the day, it’s about finding the best way to get your content (Hollywood and relationship fiction in my case) into the hands of your fans who are clamoring for it.

My thoughts on eBooks

Let me say up front that I will personally always love physical books. I love how a new book feels in your hands.  I love turning the pages one-by-one as you curl up in a chair and engross yourself in the story.

But I also know that to stay successful, you’ve always got to be thinking two steps ahead of the game.  And by all counts, the book industry is going the way of the CD industry. Almost nobody buys CDs anymore; we get our music fix on iTunes.

And more and more people are opting for eBooks over paper. For example, with Goddess of Vengeance, I think we sold an equal amount of hard covers and eBooks.

And in England, they just bought the digital rights to all my books and Lethal Seduction immediately jumped to #2 on the bestseller’s list. That’s a book that’s 10-years-old! I was quite impressed with that.

Always ask questions about the numbers

I’ve always been involved in the business side of my career.  Even in the very beginning, I realized I had to double-check the things my publishers were doing.  (After all, no one cares more about your career than you do.)

When it came to advertising, I remember hounding them about what they were going to do for me once the book finally came out. What promotions are they buying? How long is the ad campaign?  Is there a co-ops and author tour involved?

Most first-time writers when they finally get their book published, throw a big party, and then scratch their head in bewilderment when they can’t find their book in the bookstore.

So they go to the clerk and say, “Oh, my book’s on the back shelf? Can you get it on the front table?”

They don’t realize that their publisher hasn’t paid for the front table display.

So, there’s a lot to learn, and I’ve learned much of it over the years, but I’m still learning. There are still things that I don’t know that I find out with each new book.

Be prepared to fight for what you want

Publishers are in the publishing business to make money (and that’s a good thing). But remember that their goal is NOT to make your dreams of being an author come true. Their goal is to make money through the careful and thoughtful exploitation of your book.

So, you have to fight for what you want. (Even I do.)

If you want a full-page ad in People magazine, you have to get it in your contract; otherwise it’s not going to happen, and you’ll hear things like, “it costs too much.”

If I were starting again…

If I were starting out in the business today, I don’t think I would change anything. But, I was extremely lucky because my first book, “The World is Full of Married Men,” was accepted by the first publisher I sent it to, and became an instant bestseller.

Today, if a publisher isn’t interested, you have options.  You can sign up with Amazon KDP or Barnes & Noble Pubit or Lulu or SmashWords or CreateSpace or a host of other helpful sites.  Google it.

There’s no substitute for hustle

I was thrown out of school for poor grades and playing truant, although I always came in top in writing class.  Everybody told me I couldn’t be a writer unless I studied more and went to college.

I said, “No way, I’m following my dream. Writing is my passion.”

Turns out, people don’t buy books because you went to college.  They buy books for the characters and the story.  (And dammit, I can tell a great story!)

Looking back, being stubborn and tenacious and constantly asking questions has worked out OK for me.

If you believe your stuff is great, then don’t let anyone tell you that you’re not good enough.  Pick yourself up and make some more calls.  Network with as many people as you can in the industry.  And sweat.  Sweat a lot.  And keep writing!

Also remember, when it’s time to publish, you’ve got options.

Follow your dream. I always say, “Girls can do anything.” (And so can boys, for that matter.) Put your mind to it; follow your dream, and keep learning and growing.  Don’t stagnate.  And most of all – love what you do!  Writing is a joy – enjoy it!

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Rewriting my early novel The Bitch was a labor of love.  I have always enjoyed writing the character of Fontaine Khaled, the jet-set nymphomaniac with a penchant for wildly attractive, sexy rich men.

I first introduced Fontaine in my early novel The Stud, which I produced as a movie starring my sister, Joan Collins.

Well, Joan did such a fine job playing Fontaine in the film that famed Hollywood producer Aarron Spelling viewed The Stud and immediately decided that Fontaine was such an iconic character he would change her name to Alexis Carrington and star Joan in Dynasty playing her.  Alexis/Fontaine.  Same character.  Read The Bitch and see!

Anyway, Fontaine was so much fun to write, that I couldn’t resist revisting The Bitch and revising it for your pleasure – I hope!

In The Bitch, you will not only meet Fontaine and sexy womanizing gambler, Nico Constantine – whom Fontaine eventually hooks up with.  But you will also meet a cast of fast-talking interesting characters ranging from Hollywood Princess Susanna Brent – daddy is superstar singer, Carlos Brent.  To Dino Fonicetti – playboy son of the infamous gangster, Joseph Fonicetti.  And Cherry Lotte – a gorgeous naïve girl with big Hollywood dreams.

The Bitch is set in L.A., London and Vegas.  And the action is nonstop.  Fontaine sure knows how to have a good time!

I do hope you will enjoy reading The Bitch as much as I enjoyed revising it!

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The best-selling novel by Jackie Collins is back, and fierce as ever!

Las Vegas. A carousel town set in the middle of the desert. Blazing neon signs promise all the vices known to man, and then some. Devastatingly handsome ladies’ man Nico Constantine hits town to make a killing at the casinos. But instead of tripling what’s left of his dwindled fortune, he ends up losing everything, and owing the mob — big time.

Meanwhile, gloriously beautiful Fontaine Khaled has shed her filthy rich husband for the life she really wants: a riotous whirl of champagne, designer clothes, and the hottest, sexiest men. But her never-ending party comes with a price — one even her ex-husband’s outrageous alimony payments can’t afford.

When Nico collides with Fontaine, their mutual lust is immediate and intense. Nico will need to use her if he wants to stay alive, and Fontaine fears she’s met her match.

Love is the last thing on their minds, but it may be their fate — if their creditors don’t get them first.

Completely re-written, updated and revised for 2012 by the author. And now available as an e-book, only at Amazon.com

Accolade:

THE BITCH is the story of two characters: Nico Constantine who married into wealth at a young age, and Fontaine Al Khaled, who also married into wealth. Both of them are single by the time they meet accidentally on an airplane. Instant attraction….

The novel of course has several subplots weaving in and out, with lots of gratuitous sex and outrageous plot twists. But that’s expected from a Jackie Collins novel. Nico finds he’s dead broke and spends the rest of the novel trying to get himself out of this mess (big time gambling debt). Fontaine in the meantime is trying to rejuvenate her London night club, while at the same time ignores all advances from Nico, although deep down she is very attracted to him.

For a quick light read and some trashy writing, THE BITCH is recommended.

Reviews:

The Bitch currently has a customer review rating of 3.5 stars with 7 reviews! Read the reviews here.

The Bitch is available to purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99

CHAPTER 1

Nico Constantine rose from the blackjack table, smiled all round, threw the pretty croupier a large tip, and pocketed twelve gold fivehundred- dollar chips. A nice six thousand dollars. Not bad for a fast half hour’s work. Not good for someone who was already down two hundred thousand.

Nico surveyed the crowded Las Vegas casino. His intense dark eyes flicked back and forth amongst the assembled company. Little old ladies in floral dresses exhibited surprising strength as their skinny arms pulled firmly on the slot machines. Florid faced couples – weak with excitement and too much sun – picked up a fast eighty or ninety dollars at the roulette tables. Strolling hookers – blank eyes alert for the big spenders. The big spenders themselves, in polyester leisure suits, screeched away in middle-American accents at the crap tables.

Nico smiled. Las Vegas always amused him. The hustle and the bustle. The win and the lose. The total fantasy of it all. Vegas was a carousel town set in the middle of arid desert. A blazing array of neon signs housing all the vices known to man. And a few unknown ones. In Vegas, if you could pay for it, you could get it. Just name it.

He lit a long narrow Havana cigar with a wafer-thin gold Dunhill lighter, smiled again and nodded at the people who went out of their way to catch his eye. A pit boss here, a cigarette girl there, a security guard on his rounds. Nico Constantine was a well-known man in Vegas. More importantly Nico Constantine was a gentleman – and how many of those were there left in the world?

He looked good. For forty-nine years of age he looked exceptionally good. A full head of black hair – curly, with slight traces of grey that only enhanced the jet. Dark eyes – unfairly surrounded with thick black lashes. A strong nose. Olive skin beautifully tanned. A wide-shouldered, thin-hipped body that would make many a younger man envious.

However, the most attractive thing about Nico was his style, hisaura, his charisma. Hand-finished, tailor-made three-piece suits in the very finest cloth. Silk shirts of exquisite quality. Italian-made shoes in glove-soft leather. Nothing but the best for Nico Constantine. It had been his motto since he was twenty years of age.

‘Can I get you a drink, Mr Constantine?’ A cocktail waitress was at his side, long legs in sexy cobweb stockings, a wide mouth smiling and full of Vegas promise.

He smiled back at her. Naturally he had wonderful teeth, and all his own, with just one vagabond gypsy cap. ‘Why not? I think vodka, on the rocks.’ His dark eyes flirted with her outrageously, and she loved every minute of it. Women always did. Women positively adored Nico Constantine and he, in his turn, was certainly not averse to them. From a cocktail waitress, to a princess, he treated them all the same. Flowers (always red roses); champagne (always Cristal); presents (small gold charms from Tiffany in New York, or, if they lasted more than a few weeks, little diamond trinkets from Cartier).

The cocktail waitress went off to get his drink. Nico consulted his Patek Phillipe digital gold watch. It was eight o’clock. The evening was ahead of him. He would sip his drink, watch the action, then he would step once more into the fray, and fate would decide his future.

Nico Constantine was born in a poor suburb of Athens. He was the first brother to three sisters, and his childhood had been that of a small boy caught up in a sea of femininity. His sisters fussed, bullied and smothered him. His mother spoiled him and various female relatives kissed, cuddled and catered to him at all times.

His father was away a lot, being a crewman on one of the fabulous Onassis yachts, so Nico became the little man of the family.

He was a beautiful baby, a cute little toddler, a devastating young boy and by the time he left school at fourteen, every female in the vicinity loved him madly.

His three sisters, not to forget his mother, guarded him ferociously. To them he was a prince. When his father decided to take him away on a trip as a cabin

boy, the entire family rebelled. No way was Nico to be allowed out of their sight. Absolutely no way. His poor father argued, but to no avail, and Nico was given a job in a nearby fishing port on the small dock not a hundred yards from where one of his sisters worked scraping fish. She watched him like a hawk. If he so much as talked to a member of the female sex she would appear, bossy and predatory.

The Constantine family went out of their way to keep young Nico as innocent and untouched as possible. They worked on it as a team.

Nico meanwhile was growing up. His body was developing, his balls were dropping, his penis was growing, and most of the time he felt as horny as hell. Well who wouldn’t, living in close proximity to four women? His sexual senses were assailed on every level. Naked breasts. Body hair. Tempting female smells. Underclothes hanging up to dry every way he turned.

By the time he was sixteen he was desperate. To jerk off was his only relief, but even that had to be planned like a military operation.

Female eyes watched him constantly.

He realized he must run away, although it was a difficult decision to make, leaving behind all that love and adoration. It had to be done though. He was being smothered. It was the only answer, the only way he could become a real man.

He left on a Sunday night in December, arriving in the city of Athens two days later, cold, tired, hungry, certain he had made a wrong move, and already anxious that his family would come chasing after him. He had no idea what to do, how to get a job, or even what kind of job to look for. He wandered around the city, freezing in his thin cotton trousers and shirt, with only an oilskin to keep out the biting ice and sleet.

Finally he took shelter in the entrance of a tall apartment building, and stayed there until a chauffeured car pulled up, and two women in furs got out, chattering and laughing together.

Instinct told him to attract their attention. He coughed loudly, caught the eye of one of the women, smiled appealingly and winked, projecting unthreatening vulnerability.

‘Yes?’ the woman asked. ‘Do you want my autograph?’

He was always quick, and without hesitation said, ‘I have travelled three days to get your autograph.’

He had no idea who she was, only that she was mysteriously beautiful, with soft pale curls, a slender figure beneath the open fur, and a sympathetic smile.

She walked over to him and he inhaled sweet perfume. It reminded him of the womanly smells of home. ‘You look exhausted,’ she said. Her voice was magical, vibrant and comforting.

Nico didn’t answer. He just looked at her with his dark eyes until she took him by the arm and said, ‘Come, you shall have a hot drink and some warm clothes.’

Her name was Lise Maria Androtti. She was a very famous opera singer, thirty-three years old, divorced, extremely rich, and the most wonderful person Nico had ever met.

Within days they were lovers. The seventeen-year-old boy, and the thirty-three-year-old woman. She taught him to love her exactly as she had always wanted. And he was a willing learner. Listening, practising, achieving.

‘God, Nico!’ she would exclaim in the throes of ecstasy. ‘You are the cleverest lover I have ever had.’ And of course, after her expert tuition – he was.

Her friends were scandalized, and warnings abounded. ‘He’s hardly more than a child.’ ‘There’ll be an outcry!’ ‘Your public will never stand for it!’

Lise Maria smiled in the face of their objections. ‘He makes me happy,’ she explained. ‘This boy is the best thing that ever happened to me.’

Nico wrote a short formal note to his family. He was fine. He had a job. He would write again soon. He enclosed some of Lise Maria’s money. She had insisted; and every month she made sure he did the same again. She understood how painful losing Nico must have been to them. He was truly a wonderful boy.

On Nico’s twentieth birthday they were married. A ceremony Lise Maria tried to keep private, but every photographer in Greece turned up, and the small ceremony became a mad circus. The result was that Nico’s family finally found out where their precious boy was, and they rushed to Athens, and added to the scandal Lise Maria had tried so calmly to ignore.

There was nothing they could do, it was too late. Besides which, Nico and Lise Maria seemed so unbelievably happy together. For nineteen years they remained locked in a state of bliss, their age difference seeming to bother neither of them. Only the world press made much of it.

Nico grew from a gauche young male, into a sophisticated man of the world. He developed a taste for the very best in everything, and Lise Maria was well able to afford the millionaire lifestyle they adopted together. He never bothered to work, Lise Maria didn’t want him to. He travelled everywhere with her, and taught himself fluent English, French, German and Italian.

He dabbled on the world stock market, and occasionally did well. He learned to snow ski, water ski, drive a racing car, ride horses, play polo. He became an expert at bridge, backgammon and poker. He acquired an excellent knowledge of wine and cuisine. He was a faithful and ever expanding lover to his beautiful, famous wife. He treated her like a queen right up until the day she died of cancer aged fifty-five.

Then he was lost. Set adrift in a world he did not wish to live in without his beloved Lise Maria.

He was thirty-nine years old and alone for the first time in his life. He had everything, for Lise Maria had bequeathed him her fortune. But as far as he was concerned, he had nothing. He could no longer stand to be at their Athens penthouse, their island retreat, their smart Paris house.

He sold everything. The four cars. The fabulous jewellery. The homes.

He said goodbye to his family, now ensconced in a house in the centre of Athens, and he set off for America – the one place Lise Maria had never been accepted as the superstar she was all over Europe.

America. A place to forget about his past. Onto new beginnings.

‘Here’s your vodka, Mr Constantine,’ the cocktail waitress said, meeting his eyes with a bold glance, then reluctantly retreating at a signal from a surly pit boss.

Las Vegas. A truly unique place. Twenty-four-hour nonstop gambling. Lavish hotels and entertainment. Beautiful showgirls. Blazing sunshine.

Nico remembered with a smile his first sight of the place. Driving from Los Angeles in the dead of night, and after hours of blackness suddenly hitting this neon-lit fantasy in the middle of nowhere. It was a memory that would always linger.

Was it only ten years ago? It seemed like forever . . .

Nico had arrived in Los Angeles in the summer with twenty-five pieces of impeccable Gucci luggage. He had rented a white Mercedes, taken up residence in a bungalow attached to the famed Beverly Hills Hotel, and sat back to see if he liked it.

He liked it. Who wouldn’t in his position? He was rich, handsome, available. He was jumped on within two minutes of settling himself in a private cabana beside the pool.

The jumpee was Dorothy Dainty, a sometime starlet with a mass of red hair, thirty-eight-inch silicone tits, and an unfortunate habit of talking out of the corner of her mouth like a refugee from a gangster movie. ‘You a producer?’ she asked conspiratorially.

Nico looked her over, treated her with respect, and allowed her to show him the town.

To her annoyance he didn’t try to fuck her. Dorothy Dainty was amazed. Everyone tried to fuck her. Everyone succeeded. What was with this strange foreign guy?

She took him to all the best places. One visit and Nico and the maître d’ were the best of friends. After two weeks he didn’t need Dorothy. He sent her a gold charm inscribed with a few kind words, a dozen red roses, and he never called her again.

‘The guy has to be gay!’ Dorothy told all her friends. ‘Has to be!’

The thought of a man who didn’t actually want to fuck her threw her into a decline for weeks. It took her a while to recover.

Nico had no intention of screwing the Dorothy Dainty’s of this world. His wife had been dead three months, and he certainly felt the physical need of a woman, but nothing would make him lower his standards. He’d had the best, and while he accepted the fact that he would never find another Lise Maria, he was certainly looking for something better than Dorothy Dainty.

He decided young girls would be best for him. Fresh-faced beauties with no track record.

He had never been to bed with a woman other than his wife. During the next ten years he made up for lost time and made love to one hundred and twenty fresh-faced beauties. They lasted on an average four weeks each, and not one of them ever regretted having been made love to by Nico Constantine. He was an ace lover. The very best.

He bought himself a mansion in the Hollywood hills, and settled down to having a good time.

The bachelors of the Beverly Hills community flocked around to be his friend. He had everything they all wanted. Class. Style. Panache. The money wasn’t so impressive, they all had money, but he had that indefinable quality – a charm that was inborn. For ten idyllic years Nico lived the good life. He played tennis, swam, worked the stock market, gambled with his friends, invested in the occasional deal, made love to beautiful girls, sunbathed, saunaed, went to the best parties, movies and restaurants.

It was a grave shock to him when his money finally ran out. Nico Constantine broke. Ridiculous. But true. His late wife’s lawyers in Athens had been warning him for two years that the estate was running dry. They had wanted him to invest, diversify his capital.

Nico had taken no notice, until eventually he’d spent everything there was. The thought of having no money appalled him. He decided something must be done immediately. He was a brilliant gambler, always had been, and the lure of Las Vegas was so very close. He thought about his situation carefully. How much money did he need to maintain his present lifestyle? He supported his entire family in Athens, but apart from them there was only himself to think about. If he sold his mansion, and rented instead, he would have a substantial lump sum of money and cut his weekly expenditure immediately. It seemed like a sensible idea. He could take the money from the sale of his house, and in Vegas – with his luck and skill – he would double it – treble it – certainly build it into a substantial stake that he could invest and then live off the income.

Nico had been in Las Vegas exactly twenty-three hours. Already he was down one-hundred-and-ninety-four thousand dollars.

The Bitch is available to purchase at:

Amazon Kindle for $2.99

Connect with Jackie Collins:

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This HILARIOUS post first appeared in davidmunk.com a few weeks ago. I just had to share!

***

Back in January I shared some choice anecdotes from my personal files about Dynasty diva Joan Collins, but I must confess that Joan is not the only Collins in my black book. I actually spent several months working on a most improbable project — a compilation CD — with her dynamic sister, romance novelist Jackie Collins, who is probably best known for Hollywood Wives and her very popular Lucky Santangelo series. I was reminded of my time with Jackie about two weeks ago when I heard her interviewed on NPR to promote her newest book Goddess of Vengeance. So, for the sake of symmetry and to do my part to promote a familial harmony that just might be fraught with a soupçon of sibling rivalry, I am finally stepping forward and telling the story of how I came to be part of the creative team that spawned what is arguably the gayest song of all time, the Lethal Seduction/Dangerous Kiss Suite!

Remember compilation CDs? I do! In the prehistoric, predigital era of the 1990s, before social networking made everyone an expert in everything (“tell us what YOU think!”), record companies paid creative executives like me to put compilations together because the undemocratic presumption was that some people knew more than others. (I’m reminded here of Fran Liebowitz’s quip from the Scorcese documentary, Public Speaking, “when Maya Angelou said ‘write what you know,’ she didn’t mean everybody!”) Though I realize that a 5:32-second dance track with a spoken-word monologue by Jackie Collins may not be a very good argument for my skill as an A&R person, especially if you’re heterosexual, in the end, Lethal Seduction, the CD, is probably more compelling as an anecdote than a recording.

Rhino Records’ Jackie Collins Presents Lethal Seduction, was created, ostensibly, to tie-in with the release of her novel Lethal Seduction. This might have been an early example of multimedia synergy, or, in Collins’ case, “sin-ergy.” It was 1999 and I worked for Bruce Roberts, a great songwriter and an endlessly resourceful connector of people and ideas. (His biggest hit was probably the classic Barbra Streisand/Donna Summer No More Tears [Enough Is Enough], which was originally just Enough is Enough, but since Barbra was doing her water concept album, Wet, and all the songs had to have something to do with water, she asked Bruce and co-writer Paul Jabara to come up with a liquid solution and the memorable result was the No More Tears ballad intro: “it’s raining it’s pouring, my love life is boring me to tears…”)

Bruce Roberts and me, circa 1999

But I digress. Bruce had been a fixture in the Los Angeles songwriting community since the late 70s and was a veritable compendium of Old Hollywood lore and trivia. Like a Beverly Hills Dolly Levi, he knew absolutely everyone and everything, whether it was a short cut to avoid Sunset or the hostess at Hamburger Hamlet, plus he cooked me lunch every day. The Lethal Seduction project was typical of the kind of madcap, homocentric silliness we both adored and that came so easily to Bruce with his glorious gumbo of a rolodex. In 1999 we were just on the cusp of the Napster juggernaut and CD sales were still huge business. But even in a healthy sales environment, it still seemed impressive that Bruce convinced the suits at Rhino that the world needed this compilation, which, according to the saucy liner notes that I (ironically) ghostwrote for Jackie, promised “Sex!, Passion! Danger! Romance!”, all on one “exciting party CD…as well as the perfect accompaniment to an afternoon by the pool!” With a come on like that, tell me who could resist this compilation?

Good leopard print!

We had multiple meetings with the glamourous Miss Collins regarding said party CD in her sunny, sprawling Beverly Hills home. I remember her living room clearly: very white with vibrant leopard-print accents scattered about the space. Throughout I found Jackie to be a very fun hang — breezy and warm and somewhat less imperious than sister Joan. Actually, significantly less imperious than Joan. She was a true professional: excited about collaborating and good-naturedly involved in every creative aspect of the project, from choice of songs to every visual element. I recall her particular interest in the cover art, which included an almost fetishistic preoccupation with the use of a leopard print, which, judging from her living room, was not a matter of small importance. On this point she was unbending. In fact the only time I ever detected a touch of sister Joan’s pique in her voice was when, like Dorothy the Meek approaching the Wizard, I brought her the initial leopard-print samples from the Rhino art department without first looking at them. I realized my error the instant Jackie pulled the shitty swatches out of the envelope, proceeding to admonish me with clipped Alexis Carrington Colby Dexter disdain for “wasting her time with sub-par leopard prints and hadn’t I learned anything from our conversations?” I took it like a man and didn’t bother explaining that the people at Rhino apparently didn’t understand the difference between good and bad leopard print as well as we did because the fact was that Jackie was right. As the album’s co-producer I should have been more mindful about shitty leopard prints, after all, forewarned is forearmed!

Because Bruce was a one-man band, we beefed up the credits for the Suite, by crediting my ex-boyfriend Gus, an architect, as assistant engineer and Bruce’s pet Vizla, Skate, as a programmer!

Professional as she was, there was one aspect of the project, (as it turns out, the best part) that Jackie had nothing to do with: its utter absurdity. That was private. The distaff song selection came together smoothly and without the unwieldy necessity of actually reading Lethal Seduction by using the simple theory that all romance novels are exactly the same. This realization was also private. Bruce and I greatly enjoyed the gently subversive process of getting Rhino Records to make the compilation as gay as humanly possible! Making matters somewhat easier was having Jackie’s full support, for, as it turns out, the only difference between a rich English romance novelist and two gay Jewish men from New York turned out to be three yards of good leopard print. The final track list included Blondie’s Rip Her To Shreds, Tina Turner’s Sexy Ida Part 1, Sister Sledge’s He’s The Greatest Dancer, Swing Out Sister’s Am I The Same Girl, Dusty Springfield’s You Don’t Have To Say You Love Me, and, the piece de resistance, Eartha Kitt’s Where Is My Man? Snap! But still Bruce and I felt compelled to somehow go further, meaning gayer.

Gay enough for ya now? I bought this 12″ record in Paris in the early 80s. I always notice how the fingernail on Eartha’s right middle finger was shorter than the rest, not that I’m detail oriented!

That’s when Bruce hit pay-dirt. An original song! He went back to the label and somehow got approval (and money) to record what became our homo coup de grace, the purposely pretentiously titled Lethal Seduction/Dangerous Kiss Suite. This musical mash-up, which consists of Collins reading salacious excerpts from not one but two of her novels over a grinding, hypnotic, synth-washed dance track while singers Clark Anderson and Ellen’s Joley Fisher (daughter of Connie Stevens and Eddie Fisher) sang “this kiss could be dangerous/this kiss could be overwhelming” so many times that the listener finally can’t imagine that any kiss could be as dangerous or overwhelming as this song! Gay enough for you now? We were thrilled with the finished 5:32-second track, which, when listened to repeatedly, produced an almost vertiginous effect, completely chaotic — the sonic equivalent of having the cast of RuPaul’s Drag Race driving bumper cars and doing poppers simultaneously.

The fun we had making the CD was a sharp contrast to the cold, indifferent response the project met with upon its release. To say the sales were tepid would be an exaggeration by half and the Rhino suits made matters worse with their mysterious decision not to release the Lethal Seduction/Dangerous Kiss Suite as a single. Hmm. Perhaps the sudden prevalence of boy bands like the Backstreet Boys had made the musical landscape less hospitable to a 5:32-second, spoken-word medley, but the complete lack of interest in the project at least saved us from the unseemly round of finger pointing that usually accompanies the failure of a major record.

But fortunately for us all, thanks to the magic of the Internet, I am pleased to rescue the Lethal Seduction/Dangerous Kiss Suite from its eternal, ignominious relegation to something even more obscure than a pink wedge Trivial Pursuit question, by making it available to you here. But be careful, my darlings, for this kiss can be overwhelming!

Oh, and before I forget, when you finish listening take a minute to tell me what you think! Is the Lethal Seduction/Dangerous Kiss Suite the Gayest Song of All Time??

Lethal-Seduction-Dangerous-Kiss-Suite

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