Once more I want to thank everyone who participated. Here is the work of the last, but certainly not least, winner of my Halloween Horror flash fiction contest, John Di Rosa:
I have a problem saying I love you.
The last time I said these words the recipient was less than over joyed. The gleefully ecstatic acceptance of this term was far from forthcoming. Instead of mulling glee and an expected response of I love you too the receiver of such good will suffered terrible trauma.
Her hair line started to pull backward which erased the lines of stress on her forehead built up waiting for such great news. As the skin pulled back the eyebrows burst into subtle flame. I don't know how burst and subtle work in this description but none the less if you had been witness you would have to agree.
As the skin continued to pull back it released itself from the eye sockets leaving a shadow on the once stately brown iris. Upon further observance of the eyes, they drained of all color and became white globules which in turn burst, spraying jellied blood fibers onto the collar of my tennis shirt.
As the face pulled from the bone structure of the nose a wet tearing sound started to build. A few small blackhead pimples sprayed the caked oils and actually made the stretched skin look younger for a time. Mercifully the skin broke at the line of the ears which leaves one less horror to describe.
As the lips started to thin out and pull away from the gums small snapping sounds emanated from the once beautiful (if only to me) face and some stray facial hairs blackened the pink gums.
This hideous mask suspended itself for a few dripping seconds then instantly dried and fell to the floor like cheap parchment.
While I stared in disbelief at the uncovered skull I was consumed with conscious terror. Never again would I verbalize such an uncommon yet welcomed emotion.
Showing posts with label Contests. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Contests. Show all posts
Thursday, November 10, 2011
Tuesday, November 8, 2011
Halloween Flash Fiction winner #2, Hammond House by Mary Vettel
Here is winner #2! Congrats to Mary Vettel!
Hammond House by Mary Vettel
It was not The Summer of ’42. It was not The Summer of Love. It was the summer my parents took us to Hammond House. My sister and I were teenagers and had no interest in this Revolutionary War museum. It was comprised of three separate houses –from the 1600s, 1700s, and 1800s - that were brought together. The curator lived in the Civil War era portion and gave us free reign to walk about giving ourselves the tour. My sister and mother remained downstairs in the 1600s house while my father and I went upstairs where a lot of farm equipment and hand tools were on display. They were desperately in need of repair, rusty, the leather torn, and the wood rotten with what looked to be termite holes. Not exactly something you’d ooh and ahh over.
Dad and I entered another room that was empty and in mid-July I saw my breath. We quickly exited and headed for the door to go downstairs. Near the door stood a dress dummy that appeared to be at least a hundred years old. I bent to feel the material at the hem and the dummy rolled up a ramp toward me; up a ramp that had been put there to keep it from rolling around. My father and I raced down the stairs, erupting into the room where my mother and sister were admiring a spinning wheel.
My mother said, “You two look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Not quite, but close. Dad and I stood at an antique writing desk explaining about the dress dummy when a small bouquet of dried flowers rose up from a pewter vase, hovered, then fell to the floor.
Mom asked my father how he did that. As though he’d arrived ahead of us and rigged the joint. Dad disavowed any knowledge and studied the pewter vase, determining there were no springs or strings involved. I had a real good case of the creeps at that point and wanted to leave.
As a group we moved along to the 1700s section of the house. I stood near the large fireplace when a candle in a pewter holder rose up off the mantle, hovered, then fell to the floor. My mother again asked my dad how he did that and told him to knock it off before he scared us. Too late. Dad examined the candleholder, most likely looking for springs or strings. I heard them suggest the summer heat had something to do with the expansion or shrinkage of the wax, etc. My sister and I weren’t buying any of it.
We moved on to the curator’s section of the house and sat in his living room as he spoke about the curator’s duties. We heard footsteps above and my mom asked to speak with his wife. He said his wife and kids were out and he was alone in the house. My sister and I thought this was odd and excused ourselves to wait out in the sweltering car.
My parents joined us about a half hour later and, as we made the drive home, they sprung the news on us that we were going to be moving into Hammond House as the next curators. It was a done deal. We had no recourse, no amount of complaining, protesting, or reasoning would change their minds. They’d already found a buyer for our Bronx home. Contracts were signed. My mother tried to soften the blow by saying my sister and I would finally have our own bedrooms. My father told her about the frigid room that was to have been mine and thought it best if my sister and I remained roomies.
We moved in a few weeks later. The footsteps continued. The cold room remained cold even in August. The feelings of being constantly watched never ceased. The sensation that someone was right behind you on the stairs. My sister and I took turns as lookout while the other showered. Things disappeared and turned up elsewhere. My teachers didn’t want to hear, ‘My ghost ate my homework.’
One of my jobs was to hang the flag in the morning and take it down in the evening and I always heard a small boy’s laughter though we were miles from anyone. Negative energy permeated the place and arguments grew out of nothing. We lasted that one school year and were back in the Bronx by the end of June.
Hammond House by Mary Vettel
It was not The Summer of ’42. It was not The Summer of Love. It was the summer my parents took us to Hammond House. My sister and I were teenagers and had no interest in this Revolutionary War museum. It was comprised of three separate houses –from the 1600s, 1700s, and 1800s - that were brought together. The curator lived in the Civil War era portion and gave us free reign to walk about giving ourselves the tour. My sister and mother remained downstairs in the 1600s house while my father and I went upstairs where a lot of farm equipment and hand tools were on display. They were desperately in need of repair, rusty, the leather torn, and the wood rotten with what looked to be termite holes. Not exactly something you’d ooh and ahh over.
Dad and I entered another room that was empty and in mid-July I saw my breath. We quickly exited and headed for the door to go downstairs. Near the door stood a dress dummy that appeared to be at least a hundred years old. I bent to feel the material at the hem and the dummy rolled up a ramp toward me; up a ramp that had been put there to keep it from rolling around. My father and I raced down the stairs, erupting into the room where my mother and sister were admiring a spinning wheel.
My mother said, “You two look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
Not quite, but close. Dad and I stood at an antique writing desk explaining about the dress dummy when a small bouquet of dried flowers rose up from a pewter vase, hovered, then fell to the floor.
Mom asked my father how he did that. As though he’d arrived ahead of us and rigged the joint. Dad disavowed any knowledge and studied the pewter vase, determining there were no springs or strings involved. I had a real good case of the creeps at that point and wanted to leave.
As a group we moved along to the 1700s section of the house. I stood near the large fireplace when a candle in a pewter holder rose up off the mantle, hovered, then fell to the floor. My mother again asked my dad how he did that and told him to knock it off before he scared us. Too late. Dad examined the candleholder, most likely looking for springs or strings. I heard them suggest the summer heat had something to do with the expansion or shrinkage of the wax, etc. My sister and I weren’t buying any of it.
We moved on to the curator’s section of the house and sat in his living room as he spoke about the curator’s duties. We heard footsteps above and my mom asked to speak with his wife. He said his wife and kids were out and he was alone in the house. My sister and I thought this was odd and excused ourselves to wait out in the sweltering car.
My parents joined us about a half hour later and, as we made the drive home, they sprung the news on us that we were going to be moving into Hammond House as the next curators. It was a done deal. We had no recourse, no amount of complaining, protesting, or reasoning would change their minds. They’d already found a buyer for our Bronx home. Contracts were signed. My mother tried to soften the blow by saying my sister and I would finally have our own bedrooms. My father told her about the frigid room that was to have been mine and thought it best if my sister and I remained roomies.
We moved in a few weeks later. The footsteps continued. The cold room remained cold even in August. The feelings of being constantly watched never ceased. The sensation that someone was right behind you on the stairs. My sister and I took turns as lookout while the other showered. Things disappeared and turned up elsewhere. My teachers didn’t want to hear, ‘My ghost ate my homework.’
One of my jobs was to hang the flag in the morning and take it down in the evening and I always heard a small boy’s laughter though we were miles from anyone. Negative energy permeated the place and arguments grew out of nothing. We lasted that one school year and were back in the Bronx by the end of June.
Monday, November 7, 2011
Halloween Flash Fiction Winner - Sentinels by Kevin Bufton
Over the next few days, I'm going to post the winners' flash fiction entries from my Halloween contest up for everyone to enjoy, since Blogger didn't approve of the 750-word limit (ok'd by the authors, of course!).
Thank you, Kevin, for your hard work and for allowing me to post your story up on my blog.
SENTINELS by KEVIN G. BUFTON
Copyright Kevin G. Bufton 2011
Lehman walked awkwardly down the corridor, the soles of his shoes squeaking on the ornate marble floor as he struggled to support the girl's weight. She had been gratifyingly mute since leaving the limousine – a potent cocktail of champagne and sedatives had seen to that – which was all to the good. After all, he had not purchased her for her conversation.
He stopped before the boy's private quarters and rapped sharply on the door with his free hand. He entered without waiting for an answer and was not surprised to find Michael sat up in bed, reams of computer printout spread before him. He did not look up from the work and Lehman was not entirely convinced that he had even noticed him coming in.
“Good morning, Michael,” Lehman said.
“Mr. Lehman,” the boy replied, his eyes not leaving the pages before him.
“How are you this morning?”
Michael ignored the question. “We should get out of United Steel,” he said. “Their stock will spike on Thursday morning, but it will crash by the time the market closes.”
Lehman did not bother asking him how he knew. “Then we should wait until it spikes?” he asked.
“No, before that,” Michael replied. “We need to sink that money into Denton Holdings before the drop.”
“Denton?”
“Of course,” Michael said. “Their value will skyrocket within hours of United going under. We stand to make a small fortune.”
Lehman nodded to himself and half-dragged the girl towards a low chair at the side of the bed. As he threw her roughly into it, Michael looked up from his paperwork, his eyes suddenly alight.
“You brought me one,” he said, breathlessly.
“First of the month, Michael,” Lehman said. “Have I ever let you down?”
“No,” the young man replied. “No, indeed not.” He moistened his dry lips with his tongue, swinging his legs out from the bed and dropping to his knees before the woman. He waved his hand in a serpentine motion before her face and smiled as her glazed eyes followed its every movement. He covered her eyes with his hand.
“Name,” he said.
“Sarah,” the woman replied, tonelessly.
Michael took her head in his hands and, leaning forward, gently kissed her forehead. Lehman found this display of affection sickening, considering what was to come. He left the boy to his charade and stepped over to the mahogany bureau. When he returned, he saw that the girl was now compliant with his every command, all in a matter of seconds. Whether hypnosis or witchcraft, the effect was unnerving, even after all these times.
“Sarah,” he cooed. The woman raised her head a looked at him with glassy eyes. “Do you love me Sarah?”
“Yes, Michael,” she replied.
“How much do you love me, Sarah?”
“I love you with all my heart, Michael.”
“How much do you love me, Sarah?” Michael persisted, a distinct edge to his voice.
“I love you more than life itself, Michael,” she replied.
Satisfied, the young man took the tools from Lehman's clammy hands and, placing the point of the metal stylus in the centre of Sarah's forehead, brought the hammer down with a single, decisive blow. A thin rivulet of blood trickled from the hole and Michael scooped it up on his forefinger, tracing a red oval around the wound.
“This is the all-seeing eye,” he explained. “You will watch over me Sarah. You will protect me from harm, because you love me.”
“I love you, Michael,” she said.
He took her head in his hands again, his thumbs covering her eyes. Lehman knew what would happen next and excused himself from the room. Every month he did this. Every month he brought someone who would not be missed to the house and every month, he buried them somewhere in the extensive grounds as they succumbed to shock or infection. The life of a whore didn't amount to much when he stood to make millions from the forthcoming deal, but that didn't mean he had to watch.
As far as Michael was concerned, she was an all-seeing guardian, perceiving the whole of creation thanks to his impromptu surgery.
It stood to reason that she would no longer need her eyes.
THE END
Thank you, Kevin, for your hard work and for allowing me to post your story up on my blog.
SENTINELS by KEVIN G. BUFTON
Copyright Kevin G. Bufton 2011
Lehman walked awkwardly down the corridor, the soles of his shoes squeaking on the ornate marble floor as he struggled to support the girl's weight. She had been gratifyingly mute since leaving the limousine – a potent cocktail of champagne and sedatives had seen to that – which was all to the good. After all, he had not purchased her for her conversation.
He stopped before the boy's private quarters and rapped sharply on the door with his free hand. He entered without waiting for an answer and was not surprised to find Michael sat up in bed, reams of computer printout spread before him. He did not look up from the work and Lehman was not entirely convinced that he had even noticed him coming in.
“Good morning, Michael,” Lehman said.
“Mr. Lehman,” the boy replied, his eyes not leaving the pages before him.
“How are you this morning?”
Michael ignored the question. “We should get out of United Steel,” he said. “Their stock will spike on Thursday morning, but it will crash by the time the market closes.”
Lehman did not bother asking him how he knew. “Then we should wait until it spikes?” he asked.
“No, before that,” Michael replied. “We need to sink that money into Denton Holdings before the drop.”
“Denton?”
“Of course,” Michael said. “Their value will skyrocket within hours of United going under. We stand to make a small fortune.”
Lehman nodded to himself and half-dragged the girl towards a low chair at the side of the bed. As he threw her roughly into it, Michael looked up from his paperwork, his eyes suddenly alight.
“You brought me one,” he said, breathlessly.
“First of the month, Michael,” Lehman said. “Have I ever let you down?”
“No,” the young man replied. “No, indeed not.” He moistened his dry lips with his tongue, swinging his legs out from the bed and dropping to his knees before the woman. He waved his hand in a serpentine motion before her face and smiled as her glazed eyes followed its every movement. He covered her eyes with his hand.
“Name,” he said.
“Sarah,” the woman replied, tonelessly.
Michael took her head in his hands and, leaning forward, gently kissed her forehead. Lehman found this display of affection sickening, considering what was to come. He left the boy to his charade and stepped over to the mahogany bureau. When he returned, he saw that the girl was now compliant with his every command, all in a matter of seconds. Whether hypnosis or witchcraft, the effect was unnerving, even after all these times.
“Sarah,” he cooed. The woman raised her head a looked at him with glassy eyes. “Do you love me Sarah?”
“Yes, Michael,” she replied.
“How much do you love me, Sarah?”
“I love you with all my heart, Michael.”
“How much do you love me, Sarah?” Michael persisted, a distinct edge to his voice.
“I love you more than life itself, Michael,” she replied.
Satisfied, the young man took the tools from Lehman's clammy hands and, placing the point of the metal stylus in the centre of Sarah's forehead, brought the hammer down with a single, decisive blow. A thin rivulet of blood trickled from the hole and Michael scooped it up on his forefinger, tracing a red oval around the wound.
“This is the all-seeing eye,” he explained. “You will watch over me Sarah. You will protect me from harm, because you love me.”
“I love you, Michael,” she said.
He took her head in his hands again, his thumbs covering her eyes. Lehman knew what would happen next and excused himself from the room. Every month he did this. Every month he brought someone who would not be missed to the house and every month, he buried them somewhere in the extensive grounds as they succumbed to shock or infection. The life of a whore didn't amount to much when he stood to make millions from the forthcoming deal, but that didn't mean he had to watch.
As far as Michael was concerned, she was an all-seeing guardian, perceiving the whole of creation thanks to his impromptu surgery.
It stood to reason that she would no longer need her eyes.
THE END
Saturday, November 5, 2011
Contest Winners!
You know, I couldn't decide. They were all so good! And so, I'm awarding pendants to everyone who entered! Yaaaaay!
So, Charles, Mary, and Kevin, shoot me an email with your contact info and I'll send you my templates.
Thank you all for your time and your creativity! :D
So, Charles, Mary, and Kevin, shoot me an email with your contact info and I'll send you my templates.
Thank you all for your time and your creativity! :D
Thursday, November 3, 2011
Quick update
Thank you to everyone who entered my Halloween blog contest! I'm in the process of reading them, but they're all pretty great so far! I'll post the winners sometime this weekend...as soon as I finish up this midterm paper. Pinky swear!
Friday, October 28, 2011
Only 4 days left to enter my Halloween contest!
Remember, your scariest flash fiction is due by midnight on Halloween. Post it as a comment on the original post, located HERE, or, if you'd prefer, you can email them to me directly at beckahrah @ gmail .com. Limit of 750 words, and the winner (or winners) receive a glass tile pendant/keychain, etc. as a prize. Huzzah!!
Tuesday, October 25, 2011
Halloween Flash Fiction Contest!!
I don’t know if you know this about me, but I love horror. The scarier, the better. Freak me out, give me nightmares, and make me afraid to turn the light out at night, and you’ve won me over.
And, since it is almost the scariest time of year, I thought I’d host a scary little contest. Flash fiction-style. Time to channel your inner King, Lovecraft, Barker, Craven...whoever gets your juices flowing.
The rules are simple: You have until midnight on Halloween (OoooOoooO, spoooooooky!!) to post your scariest flash fiction (no more than 750 words) as a comment on this thread. The scariest stories win a free pendant! I’ll give away at least two pendants but perhaps more, if you’re all on your scariest writing behavior.
This can be about anything. Zombie teddy bears, angry robots (smiley face), cannibalistic Santa Claus, cybernetic ghost sharks in a blood ocean, alien Frankenstein-monsters…whatever. The sky’s not even the limit. It just has to be original and scary. Blood & gore are totally cool, but please limit the “adult situations” & language so I don’t have to put a warning label on my blog. :P
And this should go without saying but, NO sparkly/angsty vampires, please, or I’ll slap you on the hand and take away your Halloween candy.
As always, the pendant(s) can be of anything you like. I can also make it into a keychain, zipper pull, etc. for the menfolk out there who might not be especially interested in jewelry.
I specialize in writing gods (see the list HERE, and you can see examples HERE, at my Etsy shop). I have it on good authority that they bring good writerly luck. I also have a large template collection of liquor bottles and retro/rockabilly-style zombies, but I can make any image/pattern/photo, etc. into a pendant.
Good luck! I can’t wait to see what you guys come up with! :D
Monday, August 29, 2011
And the Winners Are...
And the winners are:
BODWEN (who had to post anonymously because Blogger was being mean)
LEXCADE
And JANE!!
All of the entries were really creative. I wanted to let everyone win, but…well, I’m actually down to my last few glass tiles so I had to limit my winners to only 3 (frowny face!). But if you didn’t win this time, don’t fret! I’ll have another blog contest soon enough.
To the winners, send your shipping address to beckahrah (at) gmail.com, and I'll send you back my design templates. You can choose any one that you like, or if you don't like any of them, you can send me a pic of what you would like made into a glass tile pendant.
Huzzahs to the winners, and to everyone else who entered!
Monday, August 22, 2011
Impromptu Blog Contest - "SHOW" me what you got!
I know everyone and their dog has blogged/read/written articles about the topic of "Telling vs. Showing." But this one's different. It's for swag.
I was watching Frasier the other night (Best. Show. Ever. Outside of Dexter and South Park, anyway...) and I was tickled pink by one of his witty turns of phrase. Niles says something like, "I went to the gym to pump some iron and worked up quite a sweat." To which Frasier replies, "Pump iron? Niles, you don't even pump your own gas."
He could have just said, "I know you don't go to the gym; just look at those flimsy muscles!" But no; they went with something clever and almost ridiculous, and thereby made their point so much better. Delightful.
I'm a sucker for wit and irony anyway--probably why I enjoy that show so much--but it made me wonder, how else can we writers"show" rather than "tell," and elicit a chuckle?
I came up with a few examples (some inspired by Frasier and some not):
Telling: John was sad and poor.
Showing: On Christmas Eve, John got mugged walking home from the soup kitchen.
Telling: Mary loves pop culture.
Showing: Mary spent the night in jail after Tom Cruise caught her stealing his garbage for her “collection.”
Telling: Hank can be a sore loser.
Showing: Hank broke his son’s leg trying to win a three-legged-race at the church picnic.
Telling: My sister is talented.
Showing: My sister eats fire while riding a unicycle, playing the guitar one-handed, and singing “The Worst Pies in London” backwards.
Your turn! Come up with a bland & uninspired "telling" sentence, then rework it into a dazzling, mind-blowing, rib-tickling "showing" sentence and put them both in the comments section below this post by Friday, August 26th (oh, and, ya know...follow my blog :D). The wittiest comment (or comments) wins a free glass tile pendant of whatever the winner(s) want.
I have lots of inspirational writing gods/patrons, etc., which you can peruse at your leisure HERE, as well as HERE. I also have a smattering of retro/rockabilly-style zombies which haven't been set in glass yet but the templates are still pretty awesome. Or I can make it of anything else you want.
This was totally unplanned, and I have no set number of pendants that I'll give away. At least 1, of course, but perhaps as many as 5. I don't know. It all depends on how much you all delight me.
Good luck!!
Monday, August 8, 2011
And the Winners are...
It's Monday, and time to announce the winners of my 100th Post Blogiversary Contest!!
I was very scientific in my choosing 3 random winners for this blog contest. I wrote each entrant's name on a slip of paper, swirled them around in a cup, and drew out three names. SCIENCE! ;)
The lucky three winners are:
1. Darien Wilk
2. Jennifer
3. Ash-Krafton
Congrats! You've each won a glass tile pendant! Shoot me an email (to beckahrah @ gmail.com) with your shipping information, and I will email you the templates I have already, but you can request a different one if you like. I can make any picture, drawing, etc. into a pendant, and since I'm custom-making each of them anyway, it's no trouble to make you whatever you'd like.
Congratulations again, and thanks to everyone who entered!
Monday, August 1, 2011
100th Post Celebration!!! Blog Contest!!
Today is the 5-month anniversary of my blog, and it just so happens to also be the 100th post!! I didn’t plan that, I swear. It’s hard to believe that I’ve accumulated 77 followers (although probably less than 15 of you actively follow my blog, lol) and almost 3,000 views in such a short time!
To thank everyone for making me feel loved and quasi-talented and all, I’m having another blog contest, with more FREE JEWELRY! YAAAAAAAAAAY!!
This one’s easier than my last blog contest. Just be a follower of my blog and post a comment below this post by, oh, let's say Friday, August the 5th. I’ll randomly select 3 people and they’ll each get a free glass tile pendant handmade by yours truly. I can make them of any picture/photo/graphic, etc., including (but not limited to) the winner's favorite writing god, muse, or patron saint. You can find my complete list HERE, and as always, if anyone knows of one I've left out, let me know and I'll add him/her/them to my list.
I'll announce the winners on Monday, August 8th, then contact them and send them my templates so they can choose which pendant they'd like. So don't forget to leave me some way to contact you if you win!! :D
Huzzah!!!
Here are some pictures of some of my pendants, but you can see others I have made HERE, at my etsy shop. Picture quality is sometimes poor because my camera has a sense of humor.
To thank everyone for making me feel loved and quasi-talented and all, I’m having another blog contest, with more FREE JEWELRY! YAAAAAAAAAAY!!
This one’s easier than my last blog contest. Just be a follower of my blog and post a comment below this post by, oh, let's say Friday, August the 5th. I’ll randomly select 3 people and they’ll each get a free glass tile pendant handmade by yours truly. I can make them of any picture/photo/graphic, etc., including (but not limited to) the winner's favorite writing god, muse, or patron saint. You can find my complete list HERE, and as always, if anyone knows of one I've left out, let me know and I'll add him/her/them to my list.
I'll announce the winners on Monday, August 8th, then contact them and send them my templates so they can choose which pendant they'd like. So don't forget to leave me some way to contact you if you win!! :D
Huzzah!!!
Here are some pictures of some of my pendants, but you can see others I have made HERE, at my etsy shop. Picture quality is sometimes poor because my camera has a sense of humor.
Calliope - Greek Muse of epic poetry & literature
Nabu, Babylonian god of wisdom & writing
Manjushri, the Hindu bodhisattva of writing, poetry, and knowledge.
Thursday, May 12, 2011
Blog contest winners!!
Two two second-place prizes of one pendant each go to Phoenix & Kellie!
The grand-prize of THREE pendants goes to Nikki Stuckwisch!
YAAAY!!
Nikki, I couldn't find your email address, so email me at beckahrah @ gmail.com and I'll send you my design templates for you to choose from.
Congratulations to the winners, and thanks everyone who entered! It was a tough choice, and if I had more glue I'd probably have sent everyone pendants. I'll probably have more contests like this in the future, so stop by again.
The grand-prize of THREE pendants goes to Nikki Stuckwisch!
YAAAY!!
Nikki, I couldn't find your email address, so email me at beckahrah @ gmail.com and I'll send you my design templates for you to choose from.
Congratulations to the winners, and thanks everyone who entered! It was a tough choice, and if I had more glue I'd probably have sent everyone pendants. I'll probably have more contests like this in the future, so stop by again.
Monday, May 9, 2011
Only 2 more Days...
Only two days left to enter my blog contest!
Just follow my blog and come up with a witty response to the question: "What is the best/quickest way to your heart?" and post it in the comments of Friday's post. The three who tickle me the most get free jewelry!
:D
Just follow my blog and come up with a witty response to the question: "What is the best/quickest way to your heart?" and post it in the comments of Friday's post. The three who tickle me the most get free jewelry!
:D
Thursday, May 5, 2011
Blog Contest!!
In celebration of my first really-real publication credit—and to shamelessly promote my empire—I’m holding my first blog contest.
I’m going to be giving away a total of FIVE glass tile pendants (although I can make them into rings, if you’d prefer), handmade by yours truly, celebrating the old mythological writing gods/patrons etc. They’re sure to bring you luck and inspiration in all your writing endeavors, as they undoubtedly have for me.
One 1st place winner will get THREE pendants!
Two 2nd place winners will get one pendant each!
They’re custom-made, so you can pick which writing god(s) you’d like. I’ll email the winners my designs and they can choose their favorites.
You can find my list of writing gods/patron saints/inventors, etc., here.
Here are a couple of pictures of some I’ve already made. They are 1.25" long by .75" wide and double-sided, although the bail covers up some of the picture on the back. Please forgive the quality of the photos, as my camera decided to grow a sense of humor the instant I started snapping pictures.
You’re intrigued, I can tell. You’re thinking, “OoO...pretty! How do I win these fantastical pendants?”
1. Follow my blog (duh).
2. Check out the current (.pdf) issue of Writer's Beat Quarterly (Optional, really; I can’t enforce this at all).
3. Post your wittiest, cleverest, most unique response to the question at the end of this post in the comments, ‘Creativity-Exercise’ style. Limit 2 entries per person, and you can’t win twice.
4. The response that makes me laugh so hard that everyone around me thinks I’m having a seizure wins the grand prize, THREE PENDANTS!
5. The two responses that make me almost look like I’m having a seizure get ONE PENDANT each.
6. The selection process will be subjective, based exclusively on which posts bring me the most joy. Bonus points for spreading the word around on your blogs, Twitter, Facebook, etc.
7. Should the urge strike me, I reserve the right to go glue-crazy and pick additional winners, but this is in no way guaranteed.
The Question is:
“What is the best/quickest way to your heart?”
(And you can’t answer, “Through my sternum,” because I just said that.)
You have through May 11th to post your wittiest response in the comments below. Good luck! Yay, prizes and jewelry!
I’m going to be giving away a total of FIVE glass tile pendants (although I can make them into rings, if you’d prefer), handmade by yours truly, celebrating the old mythological writing gods/patrons etc. They’re sure to bring you luck and inspiration in all your writing endeavors, as they undoubtedly have for me.
One 1st place winner will get THREE pendants!
Two 2nd place winners will get one pendant each!
They’re custom-made, so you can pick which writing god(s) you’d like. I’ll email the winners my designs and they can choose their favorites.
You can find my list of writing gods/patron saints/inventors, etc., here.
Here are a couple of pictures of some I’ve already made. They are 1.25" long by .75" wide and double-sided, although the bail covers up some of the picture on the back. Please forgive the quality of the photos, as my camera decided to grow a sense of humor the instant I started snapping pictures.
You’re intrigued, I can tell. You’re thinking, “OoO...pretty! How do I win these fantastical pendants?”
1. Follow my blog (duh).
2. Check out the current (.pdf) issue of Writer's Beat Quarterly (Optional, really; I can’t enforce this at all).
3. Post your wittiest, cleverest, most unique response to the question at the end of this post in the comments, ‘Creativity-Exercise’ style. Limit 2 entries per person, and you can’t win twice.
4. The response that makes me laugh so hard that everyone around me thinks I’m having a seizure wins the grand prize, THREE PENDANTS!
5. The two responses that make me almost look like I’m having a seizure get ONE PENDANT each.
6. The selection process will be subjective, based exclusively on which posts bring me the most joy. Bonus points for spreading the word around on your blogs, Twitter, Facebook, etc.
7. Should the urge strike me, I reserve the right to go glue-crazy and pick additional winners, but this is in no way guaranteed.
The Question is:
“What is the best/quickest way to your heart?”
(And you can’t answer, “Through my sternum,” because I just said that.)
You have through May 11th to post your wittiest response in the comments below. Good luck! Yay, prizes and jewelry!
Wednesday, May 4, 2011
I! AM! PUBLISHED!! Blog contest tomorrow to celebrate!
WOO-HOOOOOOO!!
I am officially published! My satirical piece, entitled Motivational Speakers, was selected as the Editor’s Choice piece for the May, 2011 edition of Writer’s Beat Quarterly. Ahh! I’m so excited! Check it out here, or download the .pdf file directly HERE!!
I’m on page 12. Ahh!!
Stay tuned; I’ll be hosting a blog contest tomorrow to celebrate!! There will be jewelry involved.
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!
EXCLAMATION POINTS EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh; also, Happy Star Wars Day to everyone! May the Fourth be with you! ;)
I am officially published! My satirical piece, entitled Motivational Speakers, was selected as the Editor’s Choice piece for the May, 2011 edition of Writer’s Beat Quarterly. Ahh! I’m so excited! Check it out here, or download the .pdf file directly HERE!!
I’m on page 12. Ahh!!
Stay tuned; I’ll be hosting a blog contest tomorrow to celebrate!! There will be jewelry involved.
YAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAY!!!!!!!!!!
EXCLAMATION POINTS EVERYWHERE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
Oh; also, Happy Star Wars Day to everyone! May the Fourth be with you! ;)
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