I just read the worst chick lit "fan fiction," I guess you could call it, on a blog that I stumbled on to rather accidentally, looking for intelligent commentary on the subject. It was so frighteningly amateurish and just generally bad that to link to it here would simply be cruel. I will, however, quote it liberally (please note that I did not add the comments in parentheses in the text excerpted below; those are entirely the author's own words):

She would hear him stumble through the door. Peak as he unraveled his tie, unbuttoned his lipstick-stained shirt. (So cliche.) Sniffle when she recognized the scent of the other woman, that wretched, cheap Victoria's Secret colonge. She would do it, because she was his wife.

It made me realize that I wouldn't mind chick lit so much if it were only published in the audio book format. I mean, doesn't that sound like the most pitch-perfect marketing concept?

I would never have to be visually repulsed by all of the cheap, ugly covers taking up space in bookstores, and fans of the genre could do away with that whole silly printed matter thing that gives them less room to store shoes.


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