Thursday, May 26, 2011

Happiness May Vary by Cristian YoungMiller

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Some people find happiness by listening to their hearts, others their minds, but Ben listens to his alcoholic, verbally abusive penis and things don't work out quite as planned. 'Happiness May Vary' is a story about what happens when two heads are not necessarily better than one.'


Cristian YoungMiller was born in the Bahamas and now lives in Los Angeles. He received his degree in Psychology from Beloit College and has worked as a writer, editor and producer for Disney, Vivendi Universal Games and other companies. Since then he has gone on to publish multiple books on topics ranging for sexual advice to spirituality. His latest works are novels for those that like to laugh and be scared.

Why did you self publish?

‘Happiness May Vary’ is the first book that I decided to self publish. The original title of the book is ‘Happiness Thru the Art of… Penis Enlargement.’ And the reason that I self published it is because I own a social networking website about giving advice. And because of one of my early marketing videos, the site became a go to place for information on penis enlargement. Because of this I decided to write a book on the subject.

But for men, penis enlargement isn’t a simple subject. Guys are placed under heavy pressure in society to be the ideal man. Certainly women are as well, but no one seems to acknowledge that the same is true for men. So instead of just writing a how to book on penis enlargement, I took the opportunity to address the issues that makes a guy want to consider penis enlargement in the first place.

Ultimate the decision yourself physically is based on happiness. So I made the book a very funny ongoing conversation between the guy’s 2 halves. In this way I was hoping that ‘Happiness May Vary’ would transcend its roots as a how to book and become a deeper, yet still funny book about who men are in our society and what it takes for men to be happy.

What is your writing process?

Cristian: The writing process for me starts with my decision about what deeper topic I want to discuss. After that I decide what fictional world would best make the point I am trying to make. So for example, I wanted to discuss penis enlargement and if it is necessary, so I created a story about a good natured guy who has an alcoholic, verbally abusive penis.

I then plot out where the story is going to go. And each night before I go to sleep I decide what I am going to write the next day. Some nights I will decide on almost every word that I’m going to write. Most nights I just decide on the best jokes and the major points about the scene.

The next morning I get up, have breakfast and then write until I’ve written at least 1,500 words. When I have hit that point, I find a good place to stop and then I’m done for the day. After that, I rinse and repeat.

How long does it take you to write your first draft?

Cristian: The length of the first draft depends on the length of the story and its source material. It took me about 2 months to finish ‘Happiness May Vary.’ But once I’ve written a first draft, I don’t change very much in the second draft. Because I plan out so thoroughly what I will write, I’m usually happy with it once I’m done. But in the one case when I didn’t take my time writing the book, I did have to change quite a bit in the second draft.

What will readers like about your book?

Cristian: ‘Happiness May Vary’ is a very funny book. But it is also very heartwarming. It might not seem that a book about a talking penis could touch you, but what the book is really about is a guy and all that he is willing to do to find happiness. Loneliness is a theme in this book as it is in almost all of my work. And at times the main character’s life is heartbreaking. ‘Happiness May Vary’ is a very full reading experience.


I would like to throw out a few random examples of why adages destroy the foundations of life as we know it. Do you know the adage that says that the size of a man’s penis is directly related to his height? How about the adage that says that the size of a man’s penis is directly related to the size of his feet? And here’s another one: the size of a man’s penis is directly related to the size of the man’s hands with the thickness of his thumb being related to his penis’ thickness. And of course, there is the adage that black men have large penises.

Now these are just random examples and I could have chosen any of millions. But let’s be honest, if these adages were real, as a six foot six black man with size 14 shoes and hands large enough to palm a basketball, my penis would be so large that it would stretch down my pant leg and I would trip over it as I walked around. If adages were true I would need to tuck the head of my penis into my shoes. And when old Mrs. Fey drove her walker by me as I walked to work, I would have to tell her that I keep a dead snake in my pants.

The head of my penis would probably be all black and blue from it being dragged across the ground. And when women ask me about it I would be all like “no baby no. These are love scars that I got because I was dreaming about you and my penis kept scraping the ceiling.” She’d be all like “oh baby, you so sweet. I want you to push it all the way in me.” And I’d be like “you know it baby.” And then I would pass out as all of the blood rushed out of my body to fill my penis. And then, passed out, I would rock her world. And in a few hours after I came to (“came,” get it?), she would beg me for more.

But that’s not how it goes. Instead, I wake up in the morning and go to take a piss and sometimes when I reach down I find something missing. I start to scream the manliest high pitched scream you ever heard because I think my penis is gone. Yeah I find it. Sometimes it takes two hands to pull it out like a calf out of a cow, but it’s there.

After I take my morning piss I turn on the shower, get naked and do my best not to look at myself in the mirror. And if I do catch a glimpse I try to keep it above the waist. If I’m looking into the mirror I usually take the opportunity to check my hairline to make sure it’s all still there. And then I check my teeth to see if any of last night’s dinner still remains. And if I’m feeling very adventurous I keep looking down at my chest and then my stomach. And then if I’m feeling lucky I look further down, hoping that I won’t find him looking back at me. But he always is.

‘What, you starin’ at me?” he usually says.

I look away but I know how the rest of the morning is gonna go.

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