Star Craving Mad has made three marvelous top ten lists this month—BuzzFeed, The Culturalist and most recently Pop Sugar. Check them out if you haven’t yet. CLICK CLICK CLICK!

Thank you everyone who has bought a copy of Star Craving Mad and double thanks for reviewing it online. HINT.

Well, Dear Readers, our Secret Panel of Judges has deliberated behind closed doors for DAYS and finally chose the winning launch party writing prompt exercises!! The winners win the honor of seeing their work in print right here, right NOW! One little note before we dive in—word spread like chlamydia in a retirement home that I was looking for filthy raunch, which only slightly was not a hard and fast rule, so that explains some of what you’re about to read. CALIENTE! Oh, and our team of typing chimps was instructed to underline the three words each participant used in their assignment—all chosen from the pages of Star Craving Mad. And now, without further ado!!


#1—It was a magical musical night under the stars in August. The twang of fireflies as they got zapped in the mosquito light matched the pitch of his balls slapping against my rear. It was the best night of my life.

#2—The night was sultry and yes she was a “Goddess.” I arrived and slithered over to the makeshift bar and ordered a white wine. The “Goddess” had sidled up next to me and when I turned to greet her, in lieu of a salutation, a very loud BURP took its place. We both laughed until we cried.

#3—She hits the buzzer to be let into the C-ward, a wing where the relatively normal patients were admitted. After meeting with her dismissal team, they agree she is ready for the outside.

“I’d stay longer if they had a nail tech on staff,” she says as she throws her belongings in a paper bag.

She says goodbye to Skip and his gold tooth. “I love him,” she murmurs to herself.

As the doors open to the outside, she realizes that she loves being mental. It’s a fabulous back-up plan.

#4—The elevator opened and she stepped into the penthouse. It was exactly the way she remembered it. Nothing was out of place. Obviously he hadn’t been there in months. Always on the road, never stopping anywhere long enough to make a mess. When she saw the plate of cheese and fruit she had to sigh. She knew it was left there by no one in particular.

#5—We were fucking in the darkness in a drunken stupor. He said, “Pull your cheek flaps back so I can penetrate you at a better angle.” His voice reminded me of my OB-GYN before the birth of my son. The hot sexy bartender fling had to end now.

#6—Her breath was shallow, small gasps of air searching for something to hold onto. She clutched her throat as she tried to calm herself into some semblance of deep, relaxed breathing. “Just two more minutes,” she said to herself, “and then it will pass.”

She could feel the slow, deep rumbling —the leaves on the maple tree above her began to flutter softly in the wind. “One more minute…” The dappled light covering her began to sway with the ever-increasing breeze.

It was time. Loud. Fast. Rumbling past. The caboose at last. Standing at the end there he was. Her medicine. She could breathe again.

Give them all a round of applause ladies and gentlemen, and let’s hear it for all 27 participants who did the work I assigned, at a party no less, where NO alcohol was served. Power is a heady heady thing, especially when, as a parent, you become conditioned never to expect anyone to ever do a single thing you ask of them.

Good night precious angels!!!