Memoirs seem to go through fads. There was the recent fad of memoirs about horrifically and quite creatively abused children grown to adulthood against all odds (many of which were fabricated, doing a disserve to all true abuse victims). Then there was the fad of memoirs by previously silent holocaust victims whose stories included poetic or unusual twists (many of which were fabricated, doing a disservice to all true holocaust victims).
Now it seems that memoirs of strippers, or more exactly, writers, journalists or housewives trying out the roles of strippers for a little while to gain some kind of insight into something or other, are in vogue. In my time I have had occasion to converse and spend time with a fair number of strippers, erotic dancers and/or prostitutes (and not in SL, though I have known a number there too), so the stereotypes found in these books and listed in the following excellent article make me laugh a good deal.
The one thing I learned in some very seamy dives, beyond the fact that a pro who busies herself with her lipstick while refusing to look at you does NOT want to sleep with you and will be worse than normal and that a smile defuses almost any situation that doesn’t include the misuse of sporting equipment, is that in the end, you do what you need to do to get by…which apparently can include writing memoirs of your week as a stripper. Live and learn.