Not long ago I got an email from Jane Pratt (creator of Sassy, Jane Magazine, and personal hero of mine since I was 12) who asked if I’d be a writer for her new website. After I stopped screaming I finally responded. This is the actual email I sent. It’s also proof that I need someone to keep me off the computer after I’ve had pain pills.
Dear Jane:
True story: I wrote an essay for my 8th grade English class about how I would one day be a highly-paid intern for Sassy and that I would use all of my earnings to create a race of half rabbits/half kittens, which I would call “Rabittens“.
It’s fairly obvious that not only was I woefully misinformed on what interns are paid, but that I also was terrible at naming things, since “Rabittens” sounds like something rabid that’s just bitten you.
Clearly, “Kabunnies” is the obvious choice, and if I had a time-machine I’d go back and shake my head in disappointment at my 8th grade me. I’d also tell me to enjoy rocking the side-ponytail while I still could, because its days were numbered. I would never have believed me.
In short, I am totally flattered that you even know who I am and I would *love* to write for you, if for no other reason than to be able to tell my 8th grade English teacher that she was wrong about my “unrealistic expectations”, and I would totally call her right now to tell her that except that she’s dead. I can only imagine that tomorrow science will come out with the technology to invent Kabunnies and suddenly the side pony-tail will be popular again. Also, I might be in a coma, dreaming all of this.
Unfortunately my book is due at my publishers so I’m swamped with writing deadlines, so the only way I could do this would be to write for you a few times a year when I have spare time/insomnia, or to quit one of my paid columns, which would suck because my daughter has grown accustomed to the little luxuries of hot lunches and vaccinations. I would love to hear more about it though, and either way this email will go in my file labeled “THAT JUST HAPPENED”, sandwiched between the time Neil Gaiman agreed to speak at my funeral, and the time when I accidentally started a feud between myself and William Shatner which was covered by several news outlets. (It was a very slow news week).
Best coma ever,
~Jenny
PS. To her credit, Jane was not shaken and still offered me a spot. I countered that I was open to offers “unless it’s an offer to pay me in used syringes, because I have quite enough of those already, thankyouverymuch“. Then I started negotiations at $182,500 because “Frankly, I’d feel bad charging you anything over $181,000”. She has not replied. Probably because she’s too busy stealing my kabunnies idea.
PPS. You can have “kabunnies”, Jane. For free. That’s how negotiations work.