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.

Good one, Erin!

Erin, it's lovely and langurous and full of delicious sensuous details. I really like it a lot.

A couple of things:

Either "I sank my white body" or "I have sunk my white body". Your choice.

"down/Aand through that (deep or secret scans better) valley of my breasts."

I'd quibble over the scansion of "tentative," but it makes such a lovely mind-picture my impulse is to leave it.

Lovely work.

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

I have forgotten to bring my heart.

Oh, yes. Yes indeed.

Fuck, I just lost a long post. Goddammit.

EDIT: Oh, it's letting me post again.

Here, again with some changes: ___________________________________

I have sunk 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 secret valley of my breasts.

I have forgotten to bring my heart.

Deb, I'm glad you like the last stanza. It was the first one to come to me.

Bev, thanks for the so-useful tips! They make it better.

Gorgeous, Erin.