Thanks, Consuela!
I got Mike Godwin's blessing. I feel like I just emailed with a rock star.
I kissed him, and I told him that I loved him. And I killed him.
Buffy ,'Same Time, Same Place'
The Great Write Way, Chapter Two: Twice upon a time...
A place for Buffistas to discuss, beta and otherwise deal and dish on their non-fan fiction projects.
Allyson - Mar 02, 2006 7:13:02 am PST #5680 of 10001
Wait, is this real-world child support, where the money goes to buy food for the kids, or MRA fantasyland child support where the women just buy Ferraris and cocaine? -Jessica
Nutty - Mar 02, 2006 7:24:02 am PST #5681 of 10001
"Mister Spock is on his fanny, sir. Reports heavy damage."
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.)
Strix - Mar 02, 2006 4:48:22 pm PST #5682 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
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.
sj - Mar 02, 2006 6:07:36 pm PST #5683 of 10001
"There are few hours in life more agreeable than the hour dedicated to the ceremony known as afternoon tea."
Good one, Erin!
Beverly - Mar 02, 2006 6:35:07 pm PST #5684 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
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.
deborah grabien - Mar 03, 2006 7:16:59 am PST #5685 of 10001
It really doesn't matter. It's just an opinion. Don't worry about it. Not worth the hassle.
One part longing for love.
>The other, remembering...
I have forgotten to bring my heart.
Oh, yes. Yes indeed.
Strix - Mar 03, 2006 11:50:36 am PST #5686 of 10001
A dress should be tight enough to show you're a woman but loose enough to flee from zombies. — Ginger
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.
My violoncello hips sigh in the embrace of earth-deep velvet,
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 Mediterranean dare.
Who speaks of my lips?
They speak of themselves.
I pause, one foot faltering on 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.
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.
Zenkitty - Mar 03, 2006 1:58:45 pm PST #5687 of 10001
Every now and then, I think I might actually be a little odd.
Gorgeous, Erin.
SailAweigh - Mar 03, 2006 2:37:30 pm PST #5688 of 10001
Nana korobi, ya oki. (Fall down seven times, stand up eight.) ~Yuzuru Hanyu/Japanese proverb
Beautiful. Absolutely beautiful. That's how I feel from reading that.
Thanks, Erin!
Beverly - Mar 03, 2006 8:28:49 pm PST #5689 of 10001
Days shrink and grow cold, sunlight through leaves is my song. Winter is long.
I love the alliteration of "one foot faltering".
The whole thing is lovely.