Deb, in Joss's defense, having his name on the book could be seen as something like an official endorsement from the shows, which would likely be problematic.

Oh, I think it's pretty clear that Joss and the shows are two separate entities. Bottom line is, without a cult fandom, I honestly think it unlikely there would have been one tenth the support for BtVS. And in any case, the shows aren't even on anymore, despite the best efforts of Allyson and everyone else in that wild and crazy fandom universe.

But that's just my take. Nonetheless....

I have a less technical and more technique-al question: How do you come up with a title? I suck at titles.

-----------------

HeadTrip, Inc.

The attendant seated the jacks in my skull as I lay back in the recliner. Ads for available vacation programs flashed on the ceiling: a Scottish castle, an NBA superstar, a swimsuit model.

I couldn’t afford any of those, but it didn’t matter. Even the cheapest program was two subjective weeks of being someone else. Someone who was happy, someone who wasn’t me.

I wish I could stay on vacation forever.

I think it's pretty clear that Joss and the shows are two separate entities

I don't. He's still very "Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

No opinion on the reasons for withholding blurb.

"Joss Whedon, creator of Buffy the Vampire Slayer."

And creator of Firefly, which would have - and did - benefit enormously from the work of the person he's refused the blurb to.

Sorry, babe. I have issues with blurb refusals, unless a solid reason is given, and I don't care who the writer is. My take is that if you're reaping the perqs, pay the debt too.

edit: clarifying on the show linkage to say that, unless you sign the blurb that way, you aren't identifying it. The show isn't giving the blurb. The human is.

I'm not talking about blurb refusals, deb. I'm talking about Joss Whedon's identity. He created Firefly too, he writes X-Men comics, yadda yadda.

My only contention was that it's not clear that Joss and the shows are separate entities. Not to the outside.

I'm not offering up any other opinions.

Yep, probably a good point, ita. As I said, though, this is my own issue. I do get asked for blurbs and unless I genuinely hate the book, I'll either do a blurb or give a damned good reason why not. Just refusing with no reason given, when I'm in a position to do a writer who needs it some good, strikes me as a piss-poor payback to people like Roger Zelazny, who went out of their way to help me when I was new at this.

But, whatever. Not pounding the podium - the issue's my own, as are the reactions.

Thanks, Consuela!

I got Mike Godwin's blessing. I feel like I just emailed with a rock star.

Snacky will LOVE having her law in a book. Awesome.

In general, a published essay's "fair use" wordcount is about 150 words. A published book, 300 words. A poem 1 or 2 lines, but no more. Song lyrics, ugh -- you'll have to pay for no matter what. The guidelines will vary from publisher to publisher, but, that's a nice rule of tumb.

I've never had good luck with anonymous quotes, because corporate lawyers get nervous about that sort of thing. But, in your case, the quotes are part of the whole raison d'etre (whereas in my cases, they've been peripheral, and easily deleted). Bring that up with the agent and publisher: ask them about contingency plans if permission becomes an issue.

(It's possible to take original quotes and paraphrase them, e.g., but not desireable. A signed release is always the best option, but there are other disclaiming options if no release is possible.)

Came right outta me in about 2 minutes. I may tweak, but tell me what you think... _________________________________

I have sank my white body
into oil-filmed waters.
I have risen, steam coiling, skin silken;
Trailed veils of scent across my neck; down
And through that deep secret valley of my breasts.

My violincello hips sigh in the embrace of earth-deep velvet,
while my scent-proud breasts fight the delicate grip of silk.
Silver vines sparkletwine the pillars of my thighs:
my hair is a burnished gleam,
my eyes a Mediterannean dare.

Who speaks of my lips?
They speak of themselves.

I pause, one foot tentative over the threshold --
One half of me inside, the other
Out.

One part longing for love.
The other, remembering...

I have forgotten to bring my heart.