Tuesday, December 16, 2008

I like kitchen appliances...

Dropped by Williams-Sonoma last night, a fun spot to ogle gadgets, ingredients and other goodness to make your cooking full of awesome! I think I may splurge for a fondue set after the holidays. I should shave a few pounds off though before I go slathering chocolate on my desserts.

But if Santa is listening, a Wusthof knife set would be much appreciated! Now that is a serious stocking stuffer.

In the meantime, I should have my replacement wine chiller (NOT from Williams-Sonoma) around New Year's. No way was I buying a new one when the warranty was very much in effect.

I suppose cooking is going to be my hobby for '09. It will alleviate the stress of writing. I may need to join a gym to keep a proper healthy balance! Otherwise I will need a pack of wild dogs to chase me around the neighborhood.

I've gone a week without a rejection notice on RTT. That calls for a celebration! You have to take joy in minor accomplishments sometimes. However, I am enlisting the assistance of a co-worker who has some experience in public relations to give me some pointers on the query letter.

The query letter is the first, and sometimes only, piece of writing an agent or publisher sees. It's your sales pitch, your resume, your call to action on your book. If they can't get past the query letter, they won't read a single page of the book.

In the meantime, my dark secret new book is well underway...

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Flame and Bone

When I was made from fire
Poured into the tender vessel of caution
That keeps my smoke from rising
Quickly did I discover that apart from crisp drizzles or falling snow
The world chilled my touched
Walking the narrow cornered gap between girders and cut stone
One learns to tuck his shoulders in or risk
Jostling a neighbor passing by rapt with want
For a clear path without the distraction
Of another man's boiling eyes
The tip of a finger
That oldest of all weapons
Grown deadlier and pristine in its invention
Gathers a mote of a cinder on its bare flesh
And turns pondering how best to scratch the impious itch
Prying open the tender seam
Where the oil of thought dews
Offering a new wick to ignite
Squirming alive as a salamander of mischief
That yearns for a taste of air it is so ready to devour
The steam of breath betrays me
Before the glint of orange spreads
In popping bright waves
Eroding the fibers feeding it
Leaving naught but ash
As my shell of quietude falls away