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18 January 2013 @ 05:24 pm
MOUNTAIN ECHOES  
I got two boxes full of MOUNTAIN ECHOES today, so there is now a contest on!

I'm sure you're all familiar with Bulwer-Lytton and the Bulwer-Lytton fiction contest. If you're not, go read about it, I'm not going to explain.

The contest: write a Bulwer-Lytton sentence about a Walker Papers character. The best (or worst) six sentences will win a signed copy of MOUNTAIN ECHOES

You may only enter once. However, you may enter *each* of the contests I'm running once. Go check out my facebook page for the haiku contest, and next week I'll post a Goodreads give-away after they've approved it.

Go forth, win! :) Contest ends Monday the 21st, evening-ish EST. Basically, when I say so. :)

THIS CONTEST IS NOW CLOSED!
 
 
 
Deb AlversonDeb Alverson on January 18th, 2013 03:43 pm (UTC)
Here's my entry! :-)

If Coyote was going to keep screwing with her life like a dog humping a leg at least he could let her enjoy just one episode of Jersey Shore.
Lauratavella on January 18th, 2013 04:14 pm (UTC)
That's run out of my old English department at SJSU! Which I did not know until I got there.
Kes Yocum: Buy bookskesmun on January 18th, 2013 06:56 pm (UTC)
It was a dark and stormy night; the rain not only fell in torrents, but splashed back up to cloud the vision of our heroine as she tromped through the streets (for it is in Seattle that our story begins), creating rainbow-hued runnels in the gutters and miniature ponds in the eddies of the corners.
kitmizkit on January 22nd, 2013 11:11 am (UTC)
You had me with the parenthetical statement. A book for Kesmun! Please email your snail mail address to cemurphyauthor@gmail.com, with the subject line "Mountain Echoes winner". :)
Kes Yocumkesmun on January 22nd, 2013 01:24 pm (UTC)
I tend to be bad about parentheticals in my writing, and when I saw that Bulwer-Lytton tended to use them too, well...

(I'm also bad about ellipticals.)
TwylightQueentwylightqueen on January 18th, 2013 07:36 pm (UTC)
Morrison just wished that Coyote would visit his inner forest so that he could push the idiot off the cliff.
cgbookcat1: giraffecgbookcat1 on January 18th, 2013 11:35 pm (UTC)
Her new leather coat, which was the color of sauteed chicken liver and lengthy enough to reach Caitriona’s knees, was doing a horrible job of hiding the spear as she tried to squeeze through airport security before the organic latte machine was recolonized by redcaps; the janitors were already on strike from the last time.

Edited at 2013-01-19 03:42 am (UTC)
Rhiannon BritneyRhiannon Britney on January 19th, 2013 02:45 am (UTC)
Here is my entry!
It was a dark and stormy night when Joanne was awakened by the great unwashed and undead!
Deborah Blakedeborahblakehps on January 19th, 2013 12:04 pm (UTC)
Gary thought to himself, in no particular order, as the lightning illuminated the slush-filled streets, "Damn, my knees hurt, I'm pretty sure dogs aren't supposed to have that many limbs, and CRAP, doll, don't do that to an old man!"
Plumfan RockwellPlumfan Rockwell on January 19th, 2013 02:23 pm (UTC)
It was a bright and sunny day; the sun shone down in bright beams blinding Morrison-except at occasional intervals when the clouds, an unremarkable occurrence in Seattle, would skitter across her cosmic sphere, to the scene taking place below his office window.

(OK honestly, I can't remember if Morrison's office has a window, much less a view from it.)
kitmizkit on January 22nd, 2013 11:10 am (UTC)
Morrison's office does, in fact, have a window with a view. :) You win a book!

Please email your snail mail address to cemurphyauthor@gmail.com, with the subject line "Mountain Echoes winner". :)
Sandy GidenSandy Giden on January 19th, 2013 03:50 pm (UTC)
Gary stood next to his taxi looking down the rain slicked street into a fog so thick that it turned the street lights into minature pale moons partly covered by whispy clouds hoping that Cernnunous' horde wouldn't come riding out of it like a pack of armour clad hell hounds.

Edited at 2013-01-19 07:54 pm (UTC)
kitmizkit on January 22nd, 2013 11:09 am (UTC)
I donno, that was suspiciously like a *good* sentence, but you win one anyway. :)

Please email your snail mail address to cemurphyauthor@gmail.com, with the subject line "Mountain Echoes winner". :)
willowsblade2 on January 19th, 2013 06:42 pm (UTC)
Really cool contest - thank you!
Little raven peered at the silly woman who wouldn't listen to him, except of course when she did, which was usually when she was already in deep trouble; but she was always fun to watch and she brought lots of pretty shiny things to play with whenever he helped guide her.
Tiko: Spongebob imagination (lothlorienbaby)steelneko on January 20th, 2013 05:54 pm (UTC)
In her thirty-sixth straight hour of being awake and trying to save Seattle's Chinatown from being destroyed by a rampaging yaoguai, Jo suddenly realized that Morrison's eyes were the same brilliant shade of blue as those jugs of watered-down washer fluid you could buy at the questionable run-down middle-of-nowhere gas stations that dotted the interstate here and there, the ones where you were never quite sure whether the clerks wanted to get your money and get you gone as soon as possible, or kidnap you and string you up in some kind of Oklahoma Chainsaw Massacre for being a nosy outsider prying into things you shouldn't; it was such a distinctive color, she wondered why she'd never made the connection before.

Edited at 2013-01-21 09:28 am (UTC)
kitmizkit on January 22nd, 2013 11:06 am (UTC)
Oh, I said in horrified admiration. You win one of the books. :)

Please email your snail mail address to cemurphyauthor@gmail.com, with the subject line "Mountain Echoes winner". :)
eme369eme369 on January 21st, 2013 11:45 am (UTC)
Contest
Jo walked, not too fast and not too slow, down the cobblestone sidewalk that was so mismatched it looked like the stones had just been cobbled together, as she made her way to the airport to fly home to a place where she no longer had a job because she had been gone for three months when she should have been gone but one, all the while blissfully unaware in her misery that by the end of the day (or by the next morning, at the very least) she would no longer be plain Joanne Walker but would again be weighted, occultly, with the appellation of Joanne Walkingstick (not that she would let anyone, even herself, call her by it), though it would be many a month before she would come to fully embrace her new kick-assedness.

Edited at 2013-01-21 11:30 pm (UTC)
kitmizkit on January 22nd, 2013 11:07 am (UTC)
Re: Contest
OMG. You win a book. O.O

Please email your snail mail address to cemurphyauthor@gmail.com, with the subject line "Mountain Echoes winner". :)
msgodiva1 on January 21st, 2013 02:39 pm (UTC)
my worst sentence ever...I hope!
It was the worst of years, it was the best of years, except the normalcy in the rare moments between learning experiences, assignments, murder, magic, misconceptions about Muldoon, mingling with gods, ghosts, gathering spirit guides, driving Morrison's crazy, out of body experiences, a few sword fights, some fur flying, and the undead, in other words adventures in growing into a new soul of two cultures.
kitmizkit on January 22nd, 2013 11:09 am (UTC)
Re: my worst sentence ever...I hope!
That was pretty bad. You win! :)

Please email your snail mail address to cemurphyauthor@gmail.com, with the subject line "Mountain Echoes winner". :)
Anne Marie ScottAnne Marie Scott on January 21st, 2013 03:40 pm (UTC)
Contest entry
It was a jerky start that only got worse as he attempted to drive her down the street - where “attempted” was a genuinely overly generous description, thought Petite – couldn’t Morrison be taught to drive a stick on some piece of junk, instead of her race-ready, gorgeous, deep-purple self?
Anne Marie ScottAnne Marie Scott on January 21st, 2013 07:53 pm (UTC)
Re: Contest entry
That was the two-second version, here's one that a little better/worse:

It was a jerky start, accompanied by the sharp smell of burning clutch hanging heavy on the air, both of which only got worse as he attempted to drive her down the street - where “attempted” was a genuinely overly generous description, thought Petite, not really a description of the actions that were being attempted so poorly now – couldn’t Morrison be taught to drive a stick on some piece of junk, like that stupid gold Avalon she was now forced to share a driveway with instead of the handsome deep-green Chief, rather than her race-ready, gorgeous, deep-purple self?
amybennett on January 21st, 2013 06:41 pm (UTC)
Thanks for this fun contest!
As I tenderly ran my hands through Coyote’s thick, slightly damp fur, my searching fingertips brushed over several small raised imperfections, causing me to wonder if  he  had become an unfortunate host to a horde of parasitic dog fleas, (Ctenocephalides canis), whose fairer sex can lay 4,000 eggs each, which had me considering which style and hue of flea collar would best coordinate with his gorgeous 1934 Indian Chief motorcycle.
kitmizkit on January 22nd, 2013 11:07 am (UTC)
Re: Thanks for this fun contest!
EW.

You totally win a book. Please email your snail mail address to cemurphyauthor@gmail.com, with the subject line "Mountain Echoes winner". :)