The Onion Presents a Book of Jean's Own! by Jean Teasdale

Author:Jean Teasdale
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: St. Martin's Press
Published: 2010-12-16T16:00:00+00:00

When your cupcakes are baked, remove them from the muffin pan and let them cool for an hour or so. After frosting each cupcake, sprinkle the top with coconut. And you now have 12 amazing Ooey Gooey Choco-Cocoa-Mocha Cupcakes with Raspberry Filling and Coconut-Cream-Cheese-Cola Frosting. Inhale!

Sheesh, Writing a Book Is Hard!

Is it bad that I’m not even halfway through this book and already straining for topics? Believe me, I’m as surprised as you are, especially considering the massive amount of time I’ve put into this puppy! But I’m coming to the rather disturbing realization that maybe all my preexisting wit and wisdom, so lovingly recorded in my trusty Lisa Frank notebook, might not fill an average-sized book. I don’t understand it. I really thought I had enough material. Why wouldn’t I? It always seems like I’m scribbling something down. After all, I’m rarely without my notebook and something to write with, usually a six-color pen. And yes, I use all the colors, even the hard-to-make-out orange! (I just had another horrid thought—what if I’m unwittingly repeating myself and forcing my readers to re-read words I’ve already written?)

I hope I can come up with more things to discuss. But after chocolate, cats, shopping, and hubbies who can be real stubby, I ask you, what else is there to talk about? What else is there to relate to?

I have to keep soldiering on. I have to commit to this thing. After all, it’s probably too late for me to do a complete 180 and, like, write in the character of an ax murderer, right? Maybe a few of you wouldn’t mind, but it simply wouldn’t be convincing. It would leave too many loose threads. Plus I think I’m way too beloved among my Jeanketeers to inexplicably change into an evil person, even if it would be strictly fictional.

Perhaps I shouldn’t be telling you this, especially since you’ve read this far already, but sometimes I get these sneaking thoughts that I shouldn’t be writing this book. That it doesn’t have a solid reason to exist. That the premise is too thin. That no one cares about my recipes, or how I maintain my hairstyle, or what color my part-time parachute is. Or what if I’m not digging deep enough? I thought I was pouring my heart out on these pages, but what if I’m not being truly honest with myself? They’re dark, sinister thoughts, I know, and defeating and counterproductive ones, too. But I can’t help but wonder if they’re right. Then I start to worry if these are the types of thoughts people get shortly before they have a nervous breakdown or do something desperate. Did Erma Bombeck ever suffer nervous breakdowns? Did she ever dangle her kids from penthouse ledges? Oh, of course not. I’m sure she had her act together. Unlike me. This is just stuff out of my brain—it isn’t supposed to be hard work! So why does it feel like it?

Oh, snap out of it, Jeannie! Don’t be such a Fretful Francie! Try to see the big picture.

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