Sunday, September 19, 2010

In the homestretch for the pitch conference

The conference is almost here and I am surprisingly not nervous. That could change during the train ride into the city.

After some much needed cleaning around The Dojo, I will get back to sharpening my pitch. Even if I get a request from an editor to read a sample, Heritage Fields must be in top form.

I have been a bit frazzled trying to find the right work-life balance, but I think after this week I will have better clarity.

At the very least I can resolve my Halloween plans!


Okay, I am starting to feel a touch intimidated and freaked out. I have to remember this week is about PITCHING the book, not the book itself. I have to sell it like this is the next big "thing". The publishing world, much like newspapers, remains fiercely competitive. Even a face-to-face meeting means nothing in the end if the person doesn't "get" the story.

I took time off from work to attend this conference and I suspect it will be an intense few days.

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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