How To Lose Weight And Alienate People
Is there such a thing as the perfect body?Vivian Ward thinks she is in total control of her life. Actually…she’s thirty five, an out-of-work actress who puts more effort into partying than getting good parts, is estranged from her family and emotionally unavailable to her boyfriend.Truth is, the only thing she’s in control of is what’s on her plate…But then she meets movie star Maximilian Fry, who's just as screwed up, and journeys into a world of celebrity even more damaging than the one she was already living in. Will image triumph, or will she realise that some of her answers lie within?A hilarious and thought-provoking novel about self-esteem and the cult of skinny…and what happens when you’re funny about food but the joke starts to wear thin
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OLLIE QUAIN lives in London. She has worked for Ministry of Sound, The O2, a load of fashion mags and also done a bit of telly. She is a fan of techno, Jason Orange from Take That, Citalopram, white leather and black liquorice. She hopes for global harmony, but wishes one of her exes wasn’t so annoyingly fit. She loves her cat, Eddie—even when he sneezes in her face—and hates writing about herself in the third person. How to Lose Weight and Alienate People is her first novel … the second is on its way. Follow her on Twitter @olliequain.
This book is dedicated to Mummy Q.
She is the best.
My biggest thank you goes to Ben Mason, fabulously dynamic boss of Fox Mason Literary Agency, who has made it possible for me to be a) an actual writer and b) able to shout, ‘Well, my agent says …’ loudly (and a lot) in public places. In addition, a waggy tail of gratitude to Silvio, his equally nimble canine cohort.
Next up, I am hugely appreciative to publishing wonder woman Donna Hillyer and her crack team at Harlequin. (That’s ‘crack’ in the expertly insightful and brilliantly motivated sense, not the junkie one. Obvs.) The peeps at Cherish PR have been absolutely splendid too.
Then there’s my brother, David. He’s ace and my life has been made infinitely better by having him (and occasionally his cheque book/PIN number) in it for all these years.
As well, shout-outs must go to my oldest buddies, who I will obviously disregard entirely as soon as I am summoned to Los Angeles for discussion of movie and/or TV serialisation rights of my novel. They are: Sean ‘Barbara Jean’ Varley and The Drag Queen Massive (Faris, Otto, Mazza’n’Rosie); my USofA family, Scott, Val, Noah, Alex and Jack Sapot; Suzette ‘The Schnitzelator’ Allcorn; my gurrrrrrrrrrls, Hugh McPhillips’n’John Tippens; Anoushka ‘Wheely’ Healy; Felix Bowers-Brown (fancy an international mini-break?!); the West London legend that is Misty Gale; Sandra ‘Crofty’ Carter; and The Carlisle-Griffiths unit, Fi, David and Ruby … and of course, at numero uno, Martyn Fitzgerald—my worst friend in the best possible way.
I’d also like to give maje props to Ben Raworth, Rob Fitzpatrick, Annabel Brog and Grub Smith (although the latter will be appalled at the expression ‘maje props’), who all inspired me to do a book, like, totes way back, innit.
On a more superficial note, my Dior Homme grey beanie hat is doffed to the peeps I rely upon to keep me clinging on to 2007. They are: Pete and Nathan at boxcleversports.com (big upz da lunchtime krew!); Dr John Quinn at Quinn Clinics—’cos who actually needs to frown?; my DC10 Ibiza amigos; the gang at Aveda Notting Hill; and supersnapper Darren Orbell.
Table of Contents
I am aware that learning my lines on the loo is not the classiest way to prepare for an audition, but it works for me. The gentle trickle of a cistern filling up, the hypnotic whirring of an AC unit in the background; it helps me concentrate. I often imagine what other actresses get up to in the toilet. I picture them:
a.) Sticking Post-it notes on the shoots in W magazine they would like their stylist to draw inspiration from.
b.) Tweeting a supposedly self-deprecating, goofy ‘selfie’ in which they actually look fabulous.
c.) Plotting how to raise awareness of their worthiness and humanity by raising awareness of worthy humanitarian causes.
d.) Using their visit as me-me-me-time to consider their brand extension. Maybe – right now – somewhere in the Hamptons in a WASP-y ‘new minimalist’-style bathroom, Gwyneth Paltrow is coming up with a low-GI (but highly condescending) spelt-based agave-nectar-infused muffin recipe for her latest cookbook.
I doubt I will ever get to confirm d.), though, as Gwynnie and I don’t mix in the same circles. Unlike her, I am not a super-successful thespian with my fingers in other financially rewarding (gluten-free) pies. I am a hostess at a private members’ club in central London called Burn’s. I act when given the opportunity but I am certainly not at risk of suffering from ‘exhaustion’ due to a relentless schedule of back-to-back projects. My own fault – I have some focusing issues – but honestly, I am not
