This isn’t a conventional memoir. It’s more like a collection of essays — some about your acting gigs, others about your life with George, still others about your childhood. But running through the whole thing are tales of your nutty blue-blooded mom, Muffie Cabot, who was a social secretary in the Reagan White House. How did the book actually come about?
HarperCollins came to me and said, ”We watched you on Oprah. Have you ever thought about writing a book?” And I said, ”Yes. I want to write about the advice my mother’s given me.” So they instantly loved the idea. I mean, thank God I actually pitched something I could manage to do.
People who know you as an Oprah correspondent or comic actress might be surprised by some of the raunchy humor in the book.
It’s more authentic to my sensibility. It’s not necessarily that I think of everything that I look at as a d— joke. I think it’s just more real. Though there were things that I wrote that we cut. I had a really funny story that my editor thought was too gross.
What did it involve?
It involved a proposal. Not George’s. An old boyfriend proposed to me and hid the ring in a disgusting place. I said yes because I thought that was the most creative way to propose. My editor was like, ”This is too gross.” And I said, ”Okay. I’m not trying to be Howard Stern.”
Has your mom read the book?
She read an early draft, just because I thought, ”If she hates this, what am I going to do?” And there were areas where she would say, ”This is your story, not mine,” and then she’d say, ”But just so you know, it wasn’t Nixon who did that, it was Kissinger.” She was very worried about liabilities and stuff. But she loved it. She laughed!
Even the part about your old nanny selling heroin from the family house?
She was like, ”Oh, I thought it was pot.” ”No, it was smack, Mom!”
Anything else that surprised her?
Yeah, the time I snorted all that cocaine. My mom said, ”Is this really something you want your daughters to read?” And I thought, ”Well, it’s true.” The story is that I tried it, I took too much, and I got really sick. I could have died. I wasn’t a coke whore at Studio 54 every night.
Actually, there’s a lot about your upbringing that wasn’t sunny. Your years at boarding school sound pretty grim.
Yeah, that’s the one thing I wrote about where I’m scared they’re gonna come get me. A horrible experience. Horrible! I actually forget that it was a very expensive education because I think of it as being in juvie for four years.
In contrast, though, the story of how you met, and married, your husband is one of the tenderest — and most surprising — parts of the book. If it were a romantic comedy, people would say the ending is too abrupt because you two fall in love so fast.
Yeah, people would be angry. But that’s how it happened. My editors kept saying, ”Could you expand on that? What do you mean, you just knew he was the one?” And I said, ”I wish I knew. Believe me, honey, if I could bottle it for you, I would.”
The kind of fame that comes with your marriage doesn’t sound very appealing, though.
When you watch TV and you see a premiere, you think, ”Oh, that’s so glamorous,” but when you go to the premiere and the zipper is broken on your dress and one of the photographers is screaming at you too much, you just realize it’s nothing. I don’t think it’s great to be famous in our world anymore. You get famous, and they tear you down. For George, fans cross the line. When it’s just me, it never gets offensive. Fans approach me, but no one ever goes, ”Will you sign my boob?”