Tag Archives | Storyblogging Carnival

The pleasures of the pod

Rather than share more video of perverted parrots, I thought I’d share a few pertinent links for your listening, reading and web-surfing pleasure.

First off, the next episode of the Marvellous Hairy Podcasts is available today. You can find Episode Ten on my writer’s blog here. And while we’re talking about Marvellous Hairy, don’t forget to enter the Go Tuck (erize) Yourself contest — you can win one of 10 copies of the book, or immortalize yourself by becoming a character in my next novel. All you have to do is sign up for my newsletter, or join my Facebook page.

If you’re looking for more fiction, you can always check out the Storyblogging Carnival; I enjoyed Resignation, a flash fiction by Marco Kaufman.

Now, while on the topic of fiction, how about this for a cool novel outline, called: Areonoiac:

In a dystopian Victorian Empire, a young flying message courier stumbles across an arcane prophecy which spurs him into conflict with a murderous robot with the help of a tomboyish female mechanic and her closet full of assault rifles, culminating in a philosophical argument punctuated by violence.

Just one of the 600 novels produced every year by the 4000-pound Hydro-Plasmic Hydrocephalic Genre-Fiction Generator.

Alltop and humor-blogs.com both enjoy their murderous robots.

It was a dark and stormy blog…

The pen is mightier than the sword (Bulwer-Lytton quote)There is a new Storyblogging Carnival available at Back of the Envelope, and one of the stories there is a real gem: The Terrible Day I Met Bruce Campbell (as told by the World’s Strongest Librarian).

And it’s a bit behind the times, but the Annual Bulwer-Lytton Fiction Contest recently announced the winners and dishonorable mentions here.

Some of the latter:

Detective Fiction:

The dame sauntered silently into Rocco’s office, but she didn’t need to speak; the blood-soaked gown hugging her ample curves said it all: “I am a shipping heiress whose second husband was just murdered by Albanian assassins trying to blackmail me for my rare opal collection,” or maybe, “Do you know a good dry cleaner?” (Tony Alfieri, Los Angeles, CA)

It was a quarter ’til eight in the ninth precinct when I got the call of a possible two-eleven at a nearby Seven-Eleven that turned out to be just a four-fifteen–that is until my number two from the ninth discovered the one-eight-seven under the Tenth Street Bridge, some two-bit mob soldier with a blossom of five .357’s right in the ten-ring. (Jeff Riley, Fort Worth, TX)

Science Fiction:

George scratched his head in abject puzzlement as he tried to figure out where he’d parked the rocket this time in the 100-acre parking lot of Nallmart 75B, but then he remembered that a ship-boy had taken his DNA key-but which one, the kelly toned humanoid or the atmosphere-of-Rylak-hued android; scanning the horizon, he at last turned to Babs and asked “how green was my valet”? (Leigh A. Smith, New Douglas, IL)

And the winner of the Fantasy category:

A quest is not to be undertaken lightly–or at all!–pondered Hlothgar, Thrag of the Western Boglands, son of Glothar, nephew of Garthol, known far and wide as Skull Dunker, as he wielded his chesty stallion Hralgoth through the ever-darkening Thlargwood, beyond which, if he survived its horrors and if Hroglath the royal spittle reader spoke true, his destiny awaited–all this though his years numbered but fourteen. (Stuart Greenman, Seattle, WA)

Alltop and humor-blogs.com are also perpetrators of purple prose and the occasional vile pun. Thanks to LittleNelly for the pic.