Friday, August 28, 2009

Is the latest book too moody?

There is such a thing as trying too hard. I gotta wonder if I am making Heritage Fields (I'll explain the name change) too melodramatic.

So it turned out there is an actual Heritage House bed & breakfast. Rather than set myself up for trouble later, I decided to go with a temporary name change for the book. May come up with something else later but Heritage Fields is how I will refer to this story from here on out.

Broke 50,000 words today. An eagle-eyed reader might say "hang on, you had more than that earlier in the year."

True, I did. And then I went back and tore apart stuff that didn't work. It's a leaner, meaner story now.

GRRRRRR
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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