I remember when the first articles were published by researchists revealing that hot dogs were dangerously bad for us (I stopped eating them), as was peanut butter (I cut back), and eggs (I wasn’t dissuaded), and donuts (get outta town!).
Much like telling those who bet on the horses that races are rigged, or lottery hopefuls that the odds are stacked against them, or fans that an event is sold out, or kids younger that seven that there is no Santa Claus — learning the dire details involving comfort foods did more harm than good, because (regardless of fact accuracy and well-intended truths) it robbed the partakers of the enjoyment of doing what wasn’t necessarily wise, or profitable.
And that’s about all my 15 hour post, And The Winner Is … Not Me, accomplished. It exposed something that everyone probably knew, but no one wanted to admit, because the happy habit was universally shared, and the group addiction did no harm.
I was wrong.
I apologize.
I took the long way down a wary road best navigated by denial, when only the end result was required reading. That, in essence, is this:
The finest award a writer can be given is the feeling of joy that comes from writing a worthy book. It’s incomparable. It can’t be taken away. It’s what makes you a winner.
And, should your book receive a good review, or is given as a gift, or mentioned to friends, or ordered by a library, or suggested to a book club, or introduced at meetings, or touted at functions, or buzzed about on buses, or pondered by strangers, or discussed by family members, or serves as dining repartee — well, that’s the mustard on the hot dog, the jelly on the Jif, the sun in the sunny side up, and the icing on the donut.
Gobble, gobble.
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Copyright by Marguerite Quantaine 2015
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Whether you agree or disagree, please
SHARE YOUR THOUGHTS BY SELECTING: REPLY.
I’m all eyes and heart.
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http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00O6BOB2M/ref=rdr_kindle_ext_tmb
PLEASE DO NOT BUY THIS BOOK
without first taking advantage of the 7 chapter free read
to determine the caliber and worthiness of content.
After that, you’re on your own.
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NOW THRU VALENTINE’S DAY : $1.99
At the KINDLE nearest you.
(Also available in paperback.)
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M A G P I E à la modus operandi 
You are the most scrumptious thing there ever was!!! AND if you ever apologize, ever again, for anything coming from that insanely fertile, wild, imaginative, creative wow of a mind of yours, I’m personally coming after you with a great big crow! Or a crowbar or even a crownut!
You’re the caviar on top of the lox bagel of life!!!
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Darling, I have 9 crows come for breakfast every morning so make it a crownut (cross between a croissant and a donut) and I’m putting on the coffee — we’ll nosh some. Thanks for always thinking the best of me. You’re a good egg (and I’m very fond of eggs). Oh yes. Indeed, I am.
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As always, reading your expressions leaves me so impressed and delighted for the honor of knowing you…even if it is in only the most minimal of ways.
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And me, you, Tahyun. Do not doubt that for a moment. Thank you
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No worries MQ I still have a copy of that post saved email. Like I said I found it interesting.
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So you unlisted the post of last evening? That’s to bad I found it quite interesting. My guess is you caught some Shi….t about it. I was looking forward to reading the comments. Good spirited discussion was what I wanted to read. I’m disappointed only because I thought if you had the guts to post your thoughts you would do no less than defend your right to have them.
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You know, Donna, I honestly didn’t take any flack, and it didn’t have anything to do with guts because I’m fearless in my beliefs.
I know what I wrote was accurate. But I also realized, awards, however achieved, are something that bring joy to people; giving, getting, displaying and sharing them. Just contemplating the number of those who engage in the hope of one is proof of that.
And who am I to tread on their happiness, or take away their hope, or diminish the pride they feel?
I’ll gladly email you a copy of the essay if you’d like. But I don’t want to hurt anyone with statistics. That’s all.
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No icing, Rogena. I’m taking a powder on this one.
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Well said, my friend. Well said. Now, wipe the crow, uh, I mean, icing off your face and carry on! ❤
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