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December 22, 2005

A Christmas Wish

by Nancy, World's Worst Poet   Go to fullsize image

‘Tis the week before Christmas here at TLC.

Margie’s zonked in reception—too much Long Island iced tea.

Our editors are hung up by a bad transit strike,

Which leaves all the Tarts to do just as we like!

Sarah’s strapped on her snowshoes,

Harley’s sneaking a nap.

Susan’s heading off shopping,

And I’m writing this…crap. (Hey, it scans!)

But wait, let us pause, shake one from her snooze.

Let’s think of next year ‘fore we break out the booze.Go to fullsize image

It’s thinking of ‘06, we all have in mind.

When we wake up in spring, just what will we find?

Those visions of sugar plums aren’t what we dream.

It’s making the lists. “Bestsellers!” we scream.

Now, Harlan and Connelly, Parker, Lehane,

We love you, yet envy the cache of your names.

Oh, Stasio, Montgomery, Whatsername at The Post,

We wish you’d review us more often than most.

We write about girls, though, not to your taste.

Just once will you consider a slight change of pace?

Susan’s Deb is a sweetie, Harley’s Dead Men’s a hoot.

Sarah’s Secret Lives might appear at first as a goof.

My Blackbirds make readers both laugh and to cry.

Won’t you open our pages, give us all just one try?

Readers really do like us, they “get” what we do.

Write about women, not dumb derring do.

We don’t save the world, we cope with the kids,

And laundry, the family, occasionally cook squid.

No guns or explosions, no kidnapping either.

We give Harrison Ford a much needed breather.

We spoke not a word, well, not until now,

When we blog and confab and furrow our brows.

It’s attention we want, and respect, yes, that too.

And print runs and co-op, oh, please, Wal-Mart, do!

Please buy us in bulk, in airports we fancy

Some space on the shelves ‘longside Mr. Clancy.

Resolutions for all, that’s just what we’re thinking.

(We’d type up a list, but Margie got stinking.)

To the Dotties we say, let's chat with less venom!

Who needs bad reviews, to be told you’re a lemon?

As for B’con, oh, dear, just where do we start?

Don’t cram us on Thursday, we’re really quite smart.

At Malice we hope to the future they’ll look.

It’s time to try more than Dame Christie’s last book.

New writers, we say, need coddling and tea.

Not hidden in corners as if smelling like brie.

Get the sales staff excited, we wish in New York.

Don’t sell us all like the same cut of pork.

We’re new and we’re fresh, with just enough bite

To live up to some, if you’ll just give us the hype.

Please, no shoes on our covers, we beg for our due.

We’re each so unique, and need something quite new.

To bloggers we say, all that snark’s getting tired.

Write something more clever, get us all jazzed and wired.

With ideas of your own, some heart and less scolding.

We find you so smug, junior-high-style controlling.

As for us, well, the Tarts will try to be good.

We’ll write all this winter like novelists should

And emerge in the spring to tour the nation.

(This year I'll have an escort meet me at the station!)

To our readers we say, “Love you! Keep it comin’!”

(Did you see Sarah at Malice? Cigarettes she was bummin’!)

We love you, dear readers, and hope we can meet you

In person, not cyberspace, it’s a pleasure to greet you.

Harley’s spoke not a word, but went straight back to bed.

Susan’s gone off to shop, credit card bills to dread.

Sarah sprang to the carpool, to her kids gave a whistle.

And I think I sat on a very sharp thistle.

Away I must fly after posting this blog

To buy last minute gifts and brew up the nog.

But we all do exclaim, ere we drive out of sight:

Merry Christmas to all!  Read a good book tonight!


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YEA!! I get to post first - LOVED IT.

Merry Christmas and Happy 2006 to all the tarts. May we meet at RT or RWA this year.


Very cute. Thank you for the morning smile.


Ah, now I know what Nancy was truly up to when she kept saying, "I need to wrap"...it was really "to rap." ;-) Love it, girl!

Hey! I have shoes on my new cover for the Cinderella Pact and Penguin had to pay for the rights to have it there.

Tell it, sister! What a funny -- and true --poem. Reading it, I said, "yes!" about a dozen times -- except for the squid cooking part. Can't face a raw squid. :)

Love the poem, Nancy; how can you say you're not a poet??

To all of you over here at Lipstick Chronicles from us First Offenders (and at risk of offending Bill O'Reilly): Happy Holidays to all!

I wanted to add a line about buying your friends' books during the first week of release to create some "velocity," but I could only rhyme it with "atrocity." Which didn't quite match the spirit of the piece, y'know?
Working on a mango salsa to go with the rotisserie turkey breast (from the grocery!)for tonight's big fmaily dinner....

Thanks for the morning laugh. :)

And who says you're not a poet?

Worst poet? I wouldn't have even come up with that.

I'm off tomorrow until next year. Have a Merry Christmas and Happy New Year, all.


Thanks from the backblog, well-armed as we are,
For a year's worth of laughter and kicks.
We've read of your triumphs, your struggles and cars,
And we're off topic by comment six.
From Harley's krav maga and Nancy's repairs
And Susan's most fabulous shoes.
To Sarah's reunion, and don't forget there's
Guest authors who give interviews.
Thanks for the excuse to goof off at work
(Though our bosses don't like it so well).
And speaking for all who comment and lurk,
We wish you a merry noel.

(But if you still seek a word to rhyme with velocity,
I can't help you too much, though you might try viscosity.)

There is a destiny that makes us brothers and sisters:
None go their way alone:
All that we send into the lives of others
Comes back onto our own.
(sort of Edwin Markham)
Merry Christmas To One And All

I'm glad I waited until getting back from the last round of shopping before reading today's Lipstick Chronicles. :-)

Merry Christmas!

Why, Nancy!
How fancy.

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