First watch this in its entirety:
Now read this. No, really. From today’s Publisher’s Marketplace report of recent book deals:
Former President George W. Bush’s memoir DECISION POINTS, about a dozen personal and presidential choices, such as his choice of Dick Cheney as VP and sending troops to Iraq, his religious faith and his criticized response to Hurricane Katrina, to Stephen Rubin at Crown, with Sean Desmond editing, in a major deal, reportedly for $7 million (Lynn Sher in the Daily Beast), for publication in fall 2010, by Robert Barnett of Williams & Connolly.
*Knock knock knock*
Helooooooo, is this thing on? Good. Because I have an announcement of great import.
Attention publishing world! Hey, I’ve done some dumb shit in my life, too. I mean, really dumb. I’ve made bad choices, embarrassed myself at fancy dinners, failed classes on account of partying, said things in public forums that I shouldn’t have said, laughed at wholly inappropriate times, relied on my parents to “smooth things over with the police,” shifted blame… okay so no one’s ever thrown an actual shoe at me, but this one time, ohmigod this one time… well, whatever, that’s not important right now. The point is, I’ve screwed up lots of jobs. And the rest of them, well, I just didn’t get caught screwing them up (wink wink wink, yeah you know what I’m sayin’, dog, don’t you? Yeah!)! Well publishing world, I’ve got some free time coming up as I await the publication of my first book, and I’m more than ready and willing to write about my seriously effed up choices, a.k.a. “my bad thing.” I can start immediately. In fact, I’m already on it! Hell, I’ll even do it for half of what George is getting. Because hey, publishing world, that’s just the kind of girl I am. A girl of the people. Of the nation, or whatever you wanna call it.
The only difference is… well, okay, here’s the thing. Confession! I really hope this isn’t an issue but… um… I actually know how to put together a sentence. Like totally with the right subject-verb agreement and everything, dog. Does this automatically disqualify me? Come on. Don’t be a person-who-speaks-proper-English-hater, yo. Give me a chance. It’s not like millions of lives are at stake if I screw up my memoir.
Wait, that disqualifies me, too? Well… okay. What if I find some innocent victims to randomly kill for my own publishing gain? I could also, just to show you what an effing go-getter I am, totally start a war with, like, another YA writer who doesn’t have anything to do with this but as I plant some evidence against her, we could potentially distract the reading public from my other writerly snafus. Still not enough? Hmmmm. I know. How about I use fear and threats and take away civil liberties under the guise of “protecting our literary homeland” to get people to buy my book, because we all know that anyone who doesn’t buy my book is an unpatriotic, anti-American, terrorist-supporting evil-doer that needs to be smoked out of his proverbial hole!
Can I get an amen? Amen!
To top it off, I’ll even throw on a cowboy hat. Perfect, no? Yes. I totally effing thought so, yee haw!
Please leave your bid in the comments. I’ll be hovering in my helicopter, eating cupcakes off the commemorative White House china my spouse and I went ahead and ordered in anticipation of my multi-million dollar advance, licking crumbs from the 2-dimensional porcelain likeness of myself until you’ve come up with a comfortable number. And do us all a favor, okay? Don’t waste taxpayer money with anything less than 7 figures. I won’t even consider it. I know what Georgie’s getting and as they say in Tennessee and Texas and all the other states or whatever-you-call-thems that start with Ts, “Fool me once, shame on… shame on you. Fool me… can’t get fooled again!”