I began writing Amanda Wakes Up in 2012 as an outlet for frustration over what I was seeing in TV “news” at the time. The novel was supposed to be satire, not a Book of Prophesies. But something funny started happening: I’d write a scene or come up with a phrase, and next thing I knew, some real life public figure would say it or do it. A presidential candidate claiming vast voter fraud? Check. Vilification of immigrants? Check. Calling climate change a hoax? Check. Cable hosts with cozy relationships to presidential candidates? Cable news hosts embroiled in romances? Biased media bosses controlling news programming? Falling for fake news? Yup, it’s all in there.
Some of the parallels were even more bizarre. One of my female protagonists went to a costume party as Wonder Woman a year before KellyAnne Conway did. I put another character on the street in pajamas (see the cover illustration) three years before Glamour put that trend on its cover. One of my characters wrote a book on female empowerment called “ROAR” (see Amazon for the real book out a year later). It got to the point where my editor and I would call each other howling, “Did you just see THAT?”
Then, earlier this month came the piece de resistance. A scandalous, NY Post headline that seemed to be ripped from Chapter 33 of my book. I don’t want to be a spoiler, so let’s just say housekeepers seem to be working overtime for their bosses, real and fictional. After all the eerie similarities in the book, the good news is, if being an author gets old, I have a future as a psychic.
Here’s a little sample of one of the scenes. It features Amanda, our idealistic reporter, and her best friend Laurie, a hard-charging, award-winning network producer, try to get to the bottom of a scandal about a long ago relationship between the lightning rod presidential candidate Victor Fluke and his former housekeeper Martina…
It took two hours to drive from Phoenix to Surprise, Laurie behind the wheel, me navigating. When we got to Martina’s street, Laurie crept the rental car up the block until I saw a mailbox with the number 27 in front of a neat Spanish bungalow. “That’s it,” I told her. At the sight of the short brick path and small cactus garden, my pulse quickened. This was it. This was the moment, more than any other, that my entire future hung on—the exclusive that could change the course of history, and definitely get my job back. I thought of all the other times I’d imagined some story was make or break, and shook my head at my naïveté. All those other stories, in those other towns, at other stations, felt like a lifetime ago. This one mattered most...
“So, Martina, I hope you don’t mind if we sit,” Laurie said. “I know you want to do this quickly. Can you tell us how you met Victor Fluke?” Martina’s voice was so quiet, it was almost inaudible. “I was working at a restaurant in Miami and he came in.” “Right. And you got to know him there. And eventually, he asked you to move to Los Angeles to work as his housekeeper. So . . . what can you tell us about Victor Fluke and how he treated you?” I thought Martina could probably use a little more warming up before we launched right into Fluke, but hey, Laurie was the expert in this department. Martina cleared her throat. “He treated me well. He was very nice. Very good to me. Good to all of us who worked there. He paid very well.” “And he paid you off the books, yes?” “Oh, yes, always off the books. He paid most of us in cash.” Laurie turned and nodded at me, like, strike one against Fluke. “Right, because you did not have a work visa. And he was not paying taxes for you?” Laurie said. “I cleaned the house,” she went on, “took care of the laundry, watched the kids sometimes.” Martina was fidgeting while talking and I noticed her hands trembling....
Laurie leaned in. “And what was your relationship exactly with Fluke?” “It was fine,” she answered quickly. “Mr. Fluke appreciated the work I did.” “Well, if it was all fine and normal, then why did you leave? And why did you move here? Did he buy you this house?” I took a deep breath. Laurie was getting agitated and moving too quickly. “It was fine. He was a good boss,” Martina said, ignoring the question. “I don’t like the things he says now. The ‘sponges’ and the ‘illegal leeches’ nonsense. This man is crazy now. It’s not him.” “And that,” I told her, “is what is so important for the country to hear and understand. That Fluke is being hypocritical and unnecessarily cruel. So if I can get our camera crew in here, they can set up very quickly—” “Oh, no,” Martina said. “I don’t want any cameras. I don’t want to talk to any cameras.”
“One more minute, Martina,” I said, leaning in and placing my elbows on my knees, which suddenly put me lower than Martina’s eye level, and felt right. “When you and I spoke on the phone, you were mad at Victor. Can you tell us why?” “Because he say he don’t know me.” “But he does know you.” “Yes, yes. Very well. And I didn’t like that.” “And can you tell us what your relationship was like with him back then?” I asked gently. “What was special about it?” Martina shut her mouth and looked off to the left. I could see her biting her lip, like her mouth was fighting her brain over whether to talk. Then I saw her eyes start to water. “We say, espwa mal papay. In my country, the pawpaw tree, it will flower, but it will never bear fruit. Do you understand? I loved him,” she said. “I know it was wrong but I fell in love. I hoped . . .” She trailed off and looked someplace over my shoulder. “And you had a romantic relationship?” I asked. “I know it wasn’t right. I know that,” she said. “I’m not like that, but I fell love with him. But not now. Now he says all this foolishness. That’s not the person I knew.” “It’s okay,” I said, nodding at her, trying to ignore Laurie’s restless foot, moving back and forth, back and forth, like it was itching to jump up and fetch the fotog. “And then when I heard him say he don’t know me . . .” Martina shook her head and looked off again as the tears spilled down her cheeks. Laurie looked over at me, widened her eyes, and used them to point at the door and, I knew, the crew waiting outside in the van. “Martina,” I said, “I think the American public needs to hear your story."
Amanda Wakes Up will be released in paperback on June 12th