October 9, 2012
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Melanie;s Pansies@ Lord Please Listen; Won;t You?
I am going to call her Melanie, But please note from the beginning that she is real, probably among the more real and alive persons that I have ever known, and it was people like her who wanted me to write my book, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and when I get back to, “The Beautiful Ohio,” I will be praying for her. She is an amazing woman, and she has one of the most beautiful carpets which I have ever seen, and it only blooms once each springtime, her whole front yard. It is pansies so well and closely planted, that it is like a magic carpet with colors which hint of all sy easons, and for almost a decade, I would join women there where she lives, a wonderful old, “In town,” whom among Drs. and lawyers offices, for people have carelessly divided the beautiful homes, but the carpet defines where she is, expresses her love for old and beautiful, and I feel her mother’s passed in every room, for nothing is sad, just beautiful likee her heart. She cared for children at Cincinnati’s Children’s hospital for her entire career, and she was perfect for the role, because of her ever smiling face, and just as she gets to retire, she, as did I hit a snare in our time which was to be free and easy with travel mixed it, but one surgery has led to another surgery, and now she will face chemotherapy for a while, so would you just ask God to help my friend with the carpet of beautiful pansies to be well and soon, for we need her so — that person you can count of for a laugh, who has her first grandchild. Melanie will teach her to make her chotcolate in exquisite French Pots, the best days to buy flowers and how to arrange them. She will make fine luncheons, and show her little bits of Cincinnati past, and she will mourn a little about all that is ahead for the dear old town.
But know her most, for she plants a magic carpet, and every spring it grows, that it is a painting in motion, takes one’s breath away, and Melanie’s pansies are a marker of the year when beauty is about to burst out all over. So thus I throw some humor in to this blog just for her!!! Be well my friends; Be well and God be with you, and we with you. Let the healing begin. I am refreshed by the walk of the car;et too precious to ever be destroyed.
Pray for Melanie, And thus I begin a sorrowful writer[s tale. Hang in there my!!
Now For My Sad Author’s Story, And To My Friends and Fellow Writers
I will tell it to her straight as I am going to tell you all right now that instead of writing a book which is going to be one of several million published this year — Then lets all get real, and for each month that our books are on the market, then let us throw a dollar in to a lottery pot for all of us, and every quarter — have a drawing of half that amount of money which shall be split among four people whose names are drawn, so four people every three months who have joined our publishing club will get something, plus you may choose to just give away a inglot of books, so people all of the states will be saying things like, “Sister, Mary Claire,” Look what this woman just gave me on the bus, even signing it, a book for our library! And she was just thrilled, for she said she came in to some money from her writing even though people told her that she has a real talent!”
“Well, Holy Jeepers,” requires the Reverend mother as she opens up the book, notices that it is called, “Recipe’s from Johnny’s Nasty, Tasty, And Naughty Body Cakes, and the first part shows how Johnny made his first martzipan penis — extra long,” so the two Holy Women decide that it could have a hidden spot on the cook book gifts, and give great consideration to purchasing, “The Jolly Jigglers,” used to brighten up your Christmas Cake with a litle coconut to heap on like mounds of snow, so very soon, the decision is made; “Morals to the side, please,” and, “Cookbook on the shelf,” for these women know how many naughty cakes can grow in to one big orgy of meat on the table to deliver on Christmas Eve.
It would all have begun with our genious of how to use our novel and book writing to begin our own little copyright testing as to how we can find more rewards in our writing coiffeurs rather than going each day to count our sales for the month; For we find a lot of disappointment there, and everyone gets to have their named in each quarterly drawing until they are tired of sending dollars; or here we bring in the bonus of all the extra troubles and missing deadlines; Just get it all for you can enter, even if you have won before. The secret of the whole thi ng is, of couse who is going to have the entry jar, and who will have the records for our entrance names and fees, so I suggest that we go to, “The Sisters of Mercy,” or to place our trust in a retired and reformed writers who understands our hopes and dreaams, but has come to be a shining example as a life long member of the AA, for there are some mighty good folks in there. I have not known which Protestant to turn to, since Jimmy Swaggart and Rush Limbaugh had their slight slippage from Those who spread the word, but I am open to a Protestant of your trust.
It would certainly spice up some of our quotients of winners in the book selling department, and surely Hollyood would want to know why a few of their writers have smiles on their faces. I, of course, would be gracious enoguh to speak on our part just as long as I could kiss every anxious young director’s rear just to get face time with them; Oh wait a minute; That nasty little cook book is turning me very naughty very fast, for I do love martzipan,, especially with some almods coconut and chocolate all layered together! I will not be able to fall asleep this evening with such sweetness dripping from my lips, so God have mercy on this elder mother part of me which is slipping and falling, for it must be the stage of the month!
But, come on, I think that I should at least get to wear my black velvet and pears, and as I tell them of our project: I would whisper, “Barbara Everett Heintz,” Book, “Pinkhoneysuckle,” and then I would grasp their hand and say — Amazon, Kindle Ready, and Create Space and end with a,on “Remember me?” Then I could stamp their arms with non- erassable purple ink, smile, and entrust them with how we would run the show and keep winners flowing in, “A Winner’s Circle.” Now, I mean this, for it is distressing when you are recognized by such a few people. , I would be sweet, offer them cake, and we can have this thing up and running come Christmas time. Can you just feel my heart singing as the first awards are passed out; and you can go from a Holiday present giver from your locaing l, Wal —-,well you know who I mean to somethi,ng in every town of size back East, and we know and love them as, “Mazeezs,” and they are the mid range store, but you would have nice boxes and bless every Bless every one this Holiday season, because you were the lucky winner of our quarterly writer’s pot.
You have to be registered with us, of course, and I am seeing a 25.00 entrance fee to get us started, along with the dollar bill you are going to cover each month with ten dollars for the twelve months. I shall call this, “Love in a Jar,” and soon there will be stories about us; Twenty Nine Minute interviews, ando then comes our Hallmark show, and we can all stand out in front of the national Christmas Tree, the writers who found sanity in, “Giving To Ourselves,” And to others.
All Jewish friends, and anyone else celebrating the Holidays can rest assured that you will not be forgotten, for a jar is a jar and will hold all the names of people sweeping in to be recognized as a writer. Sister Charles Abbygate will lead us in a non denomenationl prayer which will end something like, “If you are feeling shafted.”"
” Come Poor And Willful Writers, Whose last dime you have thrown right in,
For One More Call To Tinsel Town, your book might have caught the wind.
“Even a poet had a chance or Mama with a jingle,
When a name and getting published meant that you were apt to be;
The hero in your town of cheers and leaders, And you were magic with a pen,
Yes you eclipsed the sermon, or when Nellie spoke in tongues
Improvising to the old and young, honey dripping while you read;
The writer in our town who would be remembered long and well,
But Mama saw the truth and she spread it like bacon fat;
“Look yall; It is true, we branded his coffin bound for hell;
Catch the one who murdered the writers when he laid his E-book down.
So best he take to running, both him and his two bit whore.
For all your Ebooks have no worth where paper suits us fine.
And a book store is our chapel when writers come to town
Now I, Barbara Everett Heintz, of Amazon, Kindle, Create Space, and Indies of my own just want you to know that this fine poem was channeled to me down near Mission Delores steps, so you are apt to hear a similar poem too. You should be aware that I am not capable of such farce, so the writer shall go unknow, but that I have similar sentiments might be a little harsh, but all of you writers feeling down on your luck for you have a book published, but it is like hen’s teeth to move it on. Just know we are in this boat together, I will get the jar, and you make the list of authors who want to be noticed, during a time when books are a dime a dozen, and a movie is your chance; And being e- published, I do not want to kick my own self in the rear, but mourn for the book keepers; Please buy from them, and the few of us who believed that we had little choice other than to catch the E-train on a day when it stopped at our station, and the devil whispered, “Come in.”
Bless All Of Our Writers; Give us a Chance
Love, Barb
