Tuesday, August 17, 2010

Getting ready for the NYC Pitch & Shop Conference

I booked time off from work. I made my deposit. Now the only thing to get ready is...ME.

From my understanding, there will be some homework for the attendees before we show up. It sounds like I will be back in school for four days.

I've learned a lot since my last attempt at pitching. Mainly how totally unprepared I was that day. But now I am armed with a new perspective on the book and a better angle to approach the publishing world. The workshops at the conference are supposed to give attendees a serious look into the current state of affairs. The focus is on learning what the industry needs. Publishers are under intense pressure. Though e-books are available, they have not "saved the day" yet. Everyone wants a winning title to make people want to read again.

This will be a litmus test for me. Again, I will be pitching the concept. No one reads your book unless they ask to see it later. Those are the rules. You get one minute with each editor, four editors total across the course of the convention.

The naysayer might caution me that this is no guarantee of publishing. That success is a rare. But you have to try. And the list of scheduled editors makes my palms a bit sweaty because I see the potential to make my mark.

Mom doing better

My Mom is doing better, thanks for the kind wishes. Won't go into detail, but she may be at Robert Wood Johnson into tomorrow.

Sat with her for a while after work yesterday and she got to telling stories about the other patients and the hospital staff. Mom tends to pay close attention to the people around her. She's not nosy, just curious. ;-)

She likes to talk and tell stories in her "down home" way. She shares more tales of her growing up days. The stories are often shocking and amusing.

I will drop by and check up on her again today. I find that it is important to keep people's spirits up when they are sidelined by illness, especially if they land in the hospital. Giving folks hope of feeling better can be a substantial factor in recover.

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