All That Glitters, by Liza Treviño

Title: All That Glitters – A
Tale of Sex, Drugs and Hollywood Dreams
Author: Liza Treviño
Genre: Women’s Contemporary Fiction
Publisher: Koehler Books
Published Date: March 1, 2017
Language: English
ISBN-10: 1633933083
ISBN-13: 978-1633933088

Book Links:

Goodreads * Amazon

Synopsis:
Alexandria Moreno—clever, sexy, ambitious and, at times, self-destructive. She blazes a path from Texas to Los Angeles at the dawn of the 1980s to make her dreams of becoming an A-list Hollywood film director come true. She and her best friend arrive in Los Angeles with little more than hope and the determination to make it big. Alex, a beauty as dark and mysterious as her scarred heart, stands at the bottom of the Hollywood mountain looking up, fighting for her chance to climb to the top. Will her quest to live fast and take no prisoners on her way to success destroy her in the end?

All That Glitters is a women’s fiction Jackie Collins-type saga that introduces a strong, driven Latina heroine at the center of a rags-to-riches story spanning a decade of action. Along the way, Alexandria walks the fine line separating ambition and self-destruction, and discovers that some sacrifices will cost her everything.

What early readers are saying:

“Treviño tells her story with wit, intelligence, and an undercurrent of sadness at the plight women face to make a name for themselves as human beings instead of strictly as women. Treviño may have cloaked her ideas in entertaining vignettes and snappy dialogue, but underneath is a bite that stays with you.”
— Jonathan Marcantoni, author and publisher of La Casita Grande Press.

“Liza has a way of taking you with her as she tells this very compelling story. She draws readers in with her as she describes scenes and characters with colorful detail and vivid imagination. This story is a testament to it’s title: it really glitters!”
—Reesha Goral, author, The Servant Boy

“With distant echoes of Jacqueline Susann’s Valley of the Dolls in the background, Alexandria Moreno, the protagonist of All that Glitters, chases after the allure of Hollywood, all the time substituting pills, booze and sex for genuine happiness. It is only after she reaches success that she has an awakening leading her to realize the emptiness of her aspiration, and finally accepting true love. Kudos to Liza Treviño for giving us this unique image of the New Latina! I urge reading All that Glitters. You won’t regret it.”

—Graciela Limón, author

Read an Excerpt:

Los Angeles
Oscar Night, 1990

When did things start going wrong?
Alexandria Moreno gulped another swig of champagne from the bottle. She picked at its broken gold foil. It was the same stuff she used to buy back in the days when spending more than ten dollars on bubbly was an extravagance. Now she sat in the best limo money could buy, inching along the craggy hillside road waiting for her turn to put in an appearance at the first of many scheduled post-Oscar parties. She was obligated to dole out heartfelt hugs and kisses to any of the beautiful people who might want one. Tonight, everyone was going to want a piece of her. She was the girl of the hour.
Until recently, Moreno had been an unknown writer-producer. She rocked Hollywood, winning Academy Awards for Best Director and Original Screenplay for the lushly violent, low-budget film, Win or Lose. Moreno, widely considered a dark horse contestant in the Oscar race, was the first Hispanic woman to be nominated, and win.
Two golden statues for writing and directing lay on the limo’s floor and the vehicle glided to the top of Hollywood’s heights. Beyond the winding canyon road, the Los Angeles electrified grid shimmered like Moreno’s own personal cauldron of gold. She understood that more than just a movie had won tonight.
She had won.
So why doesn’t it feel better?
Why don’t I feel better?
Despite everything she’d done to reach this moment of glory, Alex understood that none of it mattered. Not one bit. No matter what happened to her, she was still alone and drinking the same convenience-store champagne.
“Want some of this blow, babe?” Nick sniffed and dropped his head back with a slight shake, giving the chemicals a little jumpstart in the brain he liked to say.
“No thanks,” she said, “I don’t want to mix tonight.” Alex turned her attention from the scrubby hillside to handsome Nick Sirianni sitting across from her, casually relaxed in his Armani tuxedo. Though he favored stiff Wall Street suits, Nick was always casually relaxed due to the fact that he was worth millions from a Hollywood Midas touch.
Alex heard Leonard Cohen’s gravel-rubbed, breathless voice floating faintly through the air, crooning his patented melancholy love proclamations, and she couldn’t help but let her eyes wander along Nick’s impeccably tailored suit. Her hands absently grazed the familiar bluish-purple marks on her wrists currently hidden under make-up.
Nick’s thin lips curled into a slow, understanding grin. “Fine, but I have some X for later, and I don’t care what you’ve taken already,” he said in a tone Alex had learned not to question. “I’ve got plans for you, babe.”
“I guess it’s gonna be a long night.”
“The longest ever.”
Alex could tell he had taken off. She absently twirled a lock of her black, shoulder-length hair.
“Hey,” Nick nudged her leg with his polished leather dress shoe, “let me see.”
“Not right now.”
“I’m not asking, Alley Cat. Let me see. And do it right.”
Alex locked eyes with him, but she relented.
She found the fold of her straight wraparound skirt of crepe and beading that draped to the floor. She peeled it back and uncrossed her legs beneath the gown, giving Nick a peek-a-boo of her
narrow ankle and high-heeled foot. She loosened her knees, proving to Nick she’d followed his instructions.
Nick looked her over and loosened his collar.
“Good girl,” Nick said and shifted toward her, the leather seat creaking beneath him. He knelt between her legs and softly traced the length of her pale grey stocking from her shoe, along her leg, up to the matching garter, and over her supple brown thigh exposed between the garter and its straps. Nick kissed her just above where the stockings ended. He breathed in deeply and peered up to her.
“I gotta have a taste, baby,” he said and dipped his handsome face between her thighs.
Alex sighed and sank back into her seat.
How did things get so out of control? Isn’t tonight supposed to be everything I’ve worked for? Everything I’ve sacrificed for? Or, what I’ve sacrificed everyone for?
Alex knew she had purposely cut off anyone who had the misfortune of ever giving a damn about her. And there were such people.
It certainly wasn’t Nick. She’d made her deal with this particular devil nearly a year ago. Things between them were comfortably tawdry. Nick owned her. She knew it. He knew it. They had an understanding.
A flicker nudged her: so many things that could have been. She took another swig of champagne, letting the alcohol’s fizz and burn push everything back into the darkness.
Alex registered Nick’s velvet tongue expertly stroking her crevices, and she couldn’t help but give him all the access he wanted. She felt him smile when she dropped her head back and settled deeper into the limo’s bench. The car halted forward and the lazy, swaying sax turned up the tension in Cohen’s sonic plea for love.
Alex peered beyond the cracked sunroof, searching the starless LA sky for some answers. A corner of the tinted sunroof caught her faint reflection and she saw a vacant-eyed, thirty two-year-old wasted stranger. She’d never known herself less than at this moment. Her passion for work was burned out and, even tonight, she couldn’t muster excitement. Now, everything was just a game requiring too much effort.
She shut her eyes tight and sucked in air sharply, breathing in the car’s mixture of broken-in leather and artificial lemon scents. She clasped at Nick’s broad shoulder, wringing the expensive jacket sleeve as if it were nothing more than a cheap cocktail napkin. After a moment, she relaxed.
Nick brushed a sweet kiss on her inner thigh before he returned the thin black crepe material of her skirt to its full length. He slid back to his seat across from her and smoothed his hair back.
“Damn, you taste good, honey.” He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand.
“We’re next in line, ma’am,” the chauffeur’s voice crackled through the intercom. The limo moved into place with a definite stop.
Nick grinned. “It’s show time, Alley Cat.”
The cool night air took Alex by surprise as she waded into the sea of people and flashing cameras. She staggered, unsure she could move.
“One foot in front of the other,” Nick said in his soft voice through her hair. “I’ll get you a drink once we get inside.”
Alex smiled serenely and nodded. She focused on the live band somewhere in the distance belting out a Sinatra standard. Her eyes found the majestic Griffith Observatory looming in the distance, hovering above the white party tents.
Inside, the camera flashes kept coming.
“And here we are,” Nick offered as he swiped a couple of champagne flutes from a roving waiter’s tray. “This should get ya right, babe.”
Alex took the glass automatically. Another bulb flashed near her and she saw blue sprinkles. She regained focus quickly, but then her stomach dropped. Across the room was the last person she wanted to see.

◊◊◊

Jamie Douglas stood out in any crowd. Angular looks punctuated by oceanic blue eyes, a naturally lean athleticism, and down-to-earth boyishness had made him a reigning movie star around the world for almost twenty years. And right now, Alex saw Jamie’s eyes find hers through the crowd. When they caught each other, a flash sparked between them like one of those popping camera bulbs. Jamie’s surprised look gave way to a lopsided grin; it was a look so familiar to her.
Alex registered Nick snake his arm around her thin waist and she broke her gaze from Jamie.
“Okay, Alley Cat, time for our victory lap.”
“Perfect timing,” she said.
Timing—everything always came down to timing. It seemed to her that her timing had always been off. Not crazy off, just that extra millisecond that pushed everything either too early or too late. And now, she understood that it was too late.
Suddenly, she couldn’t bear to go through with the whole charade of tonight. Maybe, she couldn’t even bear to go through with the whole charade of her life any longer. Just leave, a soft voice whispered inside her head. There’s nothing written you have to stick around. It’s practically programmed into your DNA that you’ll be checking out of this world early.
All at once, Alex understood that simple fact. She, Alex Moreno, would leave Los Angeles tonight as anonymously as she had arrived nearly a decade earlier. She knew that wasn’t an entirely accurate account of how she’d started.
Now I’m alone, and that’s just how I knew things would always turn out.

Author Bio:

Liza Treviño hails from Texas, spending many of her formative years on the I-35 corridor of San Antonio, Austin and Dallas.  In pursuit of adventure and a Ph.D., Liza moved to Los Angeles where she compiled a collection of short-term, low-level Hollywood jobs like script girl, producer assistant and production assistant.  Her time as a Hollywood Jane-of-all-trades gave her an insider’s view to a world most only see from the outside, providing the inspiration for creating a new breed of Latina heroine.

The Writing Life with Latina Author Jonisha Rios

ABOUT THE AUTHOR

Jonisha Rios is an accomplished screenwriter, author, director and actress that currently resides in California. She teaches Solo-show workshops to adults and kids. 

Check her book on www.CurseoftheBlueVagina.com 

What’s inside the mind of a chica lit author?

I have always been somewhat of an optimist. I like to find the humor in things that bug me.  For example imagine you take a bite of your favorite slice of pizza and as your chewing, you feel the icky sensation of a strand  of hair on your tongue.  Not your own hair that has gotten caught in your mouth which is gross enough, but someone else’s dirty ass strand of hair  IN YOUR MOUTH!!!  Yuck! You  were enjoying your slice. You were also hungry.  Now what? Should you 

A) Scream at the cook demand a whole pizza pie.  

B) Spit it out and say to yourself “Hey maybe its time I start my new diet.  I shouldn’t be eating this crap anyway." 

c) Or C– You Imagine a character named Goldie who has just had the same experience. She slowly puts down her piece of pizza and slowly pulls that sucker out of her mouth and says "You gotta love this place...they didn't charge for extra ingredients."  As she sarcastically shares her disgusting discovery with the tall dark and handsome man sitting next to her at the pizza shop- he suddenly decides to ask her out on a real date to prove to her that there are some dining experiences that don't end up with a hair in your food.  She blushes. He pushes his tray aside and rises from his seat. He approaches her and touches her hand ever so gently and says "Let's get out of here and eat some real food." 

You see how I did that.  Find the positive and the humor in all things painful and even icky, then you start to live a fun life. Or at least try to. 

What is so great about being an author?

That! You imagination can run as far as you want it to go without anyone ever even having to know. You get to say it like you want it, with no fear,  or no judgment.  Don’t get me wrong, if you do end up with a publishing team they may step in and hack your book to bits, I mean  edit your work and make some changes.  However, the intention of your words and your story don’t ever really change. It only gets better.   For me writing is the only time, I get to not only use my imagination so freely and paint pictures or scenarios I can live.  I can write an essay about the love affair Johnny Depp and I had years ago when I met him in Paris as a quaint little cafe, and for me that shit is real.  

When do you hate it?

When I have to rewrite over and over again, or figure out the heady stuff, like formatting or searching out repeat words.  Every time I got notes I read my book from cover to cover sometimes twice a day. So that was tedious because there was always something I wanted to change. And at some point I just said to my agent “I don’t want to look at it anymore, I trust you."  You have to eventually trust others to step in because your “team” has got your back. 

What is a regular writing day like for you?

Yikes, with a 3 year-old I have to wait until he goes to sleep or ask my husband to hang out for the day so that I can write. So its really a gift to be able to sneak off and write. 

Do you think authors have big egos? Do you?

Who doesn’t have an ego from time to time? Its how you use it that matters, you make it your friend but you put it in check because you are not your ego- you are the creator behind it.  I do have fun with wacky characters that will just express their egos fully so that’s always a good way to deal with that.  Just create a character that is an asshole from time to time and you will have fun with it in a positive way. 

How do you handle negative reviews?

I don’t read my reviews, good or bad.  I create and all I care about is setting out to complete what I created and do it well.  Then I let it go. There are millions of people with millions of perceptions and ideas about what they think you are really saying when in reality sometimes I write things that just make only me laugh.  Truly that is enough.  Obviously if I can put a smile other peoples faces or inspire anyone beyond a silly giggle here and there, then that is a bonus. However, I create because its fun.  Its my escape. Somehow when I became an adult and a mom, I forgot how to have a little fun- but when I write I remember. 

How do you handle positive reviews?

Same way I do with the negative- I don’t read it. But I appreciate the person who took the time to write it so if its positive and the intentions are good then I may glance if my agent wants me to.  

What is the usual response when you tell a new acquaintance that you’re an author?

I have been positively embraced for being a successful accomplished Puerto Rican Female writer, and up until now I kept quiet about it, but dammit I am proud of myself in a loving way- I use to hide. I have even said it here, I just would create and then let it go or walk away. Only I recently realized after becoming a mom that you should be proud of your creations.  Especially when your creations become a career.  I use to be a starving artist- those days are over. I value my work. The same way I’m proud of my son. I'm proud to call myself a working artist and published author.  Its all sacred- even you what your doing right now is sacred, it’s a contribution. A positive one. 

What do you do on those days you don’t feel like writing? Do you force it or take a break?

I don’t write.  I just don’t put that kind of pressure on myself. Who wants to read that kind of book?  You feel it when a book is written to meet a deadline.  The flow is off. It becomes  over processed - over thought out. 

Any writing quirks?

I like to write to goofy music as an exercise.  The stuff that comes out makes me laugh. I have a track of goofy songs I play from the Violent Femmes and Joe Cuba is an old school Boogaloo musician whose music I adore. It always puts me in a good mood. 

What would you do if people around you didn’t take your writing seriously or see it as a hobby?

Who cares. I would do Nothing.  It’s their loss they are the ones missing out on a new experience by not reading my words.  I use to love the movie “Clueless” I thought it was a goof. So I remember suggesting it to a good friend of mine who needed a laugh- her response was “Ugh! I hate movies like that.” I was like “How do you know, you have never seen it.” She said, “I don’t know but I just know I won’t like it.”  I said “Ok”.  She didn’t even want to try to see if it would make her laugh.  Some people know what they like, some know what they don’t, and some people miss out, by not taking a chance on a new story, or movie, or even a piece of clothing.  So it’s their loss. In due time they will either read it or won’t.  None of that will stop me from doing what I love. In general however, I will say that I don’t really associate with people that don’t support me.  As I’ve become older and wiser, I found it healthier to surround myself with people I want to be most like and fortunately for me, they are all very supportive and talented. 

Some authors seem to have a love-hate relationship to writing. Can you relate? 

Sure I do, once it becomes a job its like anything else, some days you want to do it and some days you just want to watch Sex and the City with a glass of wine in hand.  Thing is writing is a choice, so its always a gift and some people don’t make time to do it, therefore they loose their privilege the moment they say no that day, make sense? 

Do you think success as an author must be linked to money?

No, but I do think that money comes when you value your work.  I use to do lots of free shows and write for people and when I decided to put my book out there, I knew it was valuable.  At first I didn’t do it for the money, I just wanted to finish my book. And then I got an agent and a team and realized I could pursue this as my profession. That was when my book became my business. If I eat we all eat.  Freebies are fine to get you to the finish line but if you want to have a career you need to do the work. When I decided to finish my book with full promotions I considered myself to be a professional author in that moment. It was then that I respected my work enough to try to sell it on my own, and around that time was when I attracted my fabulous agent who published the book for me in the end, she completely believed in my work and that came as a result of me valuing myself enough to put it out there. 

What had writing taught you?

Writing has taught me that the imagination is a wonderful tool you can access at any time to create, to heal, to explore, to release, and to express that dynamic part of you that is one with all that is. It is also something you can utilize to create a business for yourself if you are consistent.  

Leave us with some words of wisdom.

Do you Boo! Be fearless and the world will take notice. And if that world consists only of you and your son— then he will take notice and that is all that matters. Be well and enjoy my book!