"American Courtesan is like an encounter with a great American courtesan: sexy, funny, beautifully elegant, a treat for the mind, the soul, and yes, the loins." -- David Henry Sterry, bestselling author of Chicken
Sometime in the early years of the millennium, prior to collapse of Wall Street, yet after the Invasion of Iraq and 9-11, in those carefree years of innocence and longing, the waning era of my wayward youth, in a dingy apartment in a neighborhood on the verge of “trendification”, amidst countless dates with countless groping men, I got a crazy idea in my head. I decided to become a “courtesan.”
I hadn’t much of an idea of what a courtesan did except for prance around in lingerie and fuck. Lingerie is probably my favorite thing to wear, so it seemed like a good career move for me. Besides I never really felt like I fit in.
And I must admit, I needed the money. Let’s face it, my dates were not paying my rent. They were sort of grinding me down and putting me in a foul mood. None of them were marriage material or anyone I’d like to marry anyway. My dreamboat hadn’t arrived on the scene yet. I figured that I may as well get paid.
So I started to write a memoir about what I was doing and before I knew it, the memoir had morphed into a novel. Because as Virginia Woolf wrote, “Fiction is likely to contain more truth than fact.” And I became less concerned with telling my story and more concerned with telling the story of the world I saw around me. A world that I saw as excessive and greedy, sometimes cruel, a world that doesn’t always support the human heart. I guess that’s mostly what American Courtesan is about, finding one’s heart in the muck.
Oh, did I tell you it’s a comedy? Because, well, if we didn’t laugh, we would cry. And it’s got lots of sex in it. I think it’s pretty fun. A fun book that makes you think.