Saturday, September 25, 2010

Well, don't I feel silly for whining the day before

I have to accept the fact that the market will always have its higher demands and no, my ideas will not always fit them. YA (young adult) is a hot market and you know what, I could REALLY sell Riding Ten Thunders to that audience. But that is a pitch for another day.

I have validation for Heritage Fields (the title is changing but let's keep things consistent for the purpose of this blog).

I know what comes next: Rewrites and repackaging the story to make it marketable. Lots of changes are ahead to keep my foot in the door. I have to pry it wide open, take advantage of this opportunity.

I still don't know what the heck I am doing, but so far so good! I will chat more later about the folks I have met during the course of this conference. That is a conversation for another day.

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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