Ever just sort of said to yourself, "Hmmm, I need more paranormal book swag. Like maybe a bracelet, some temporary tats, bookmarks, signed book cards, random Flair, and a funky key, plus the book it goes with?*" Yes? Then boy howdy, are WE about to become close friends!
*Black Magic Sanction, by Kim Harrison
Allow us to remind all and sundry we must insist contestants for Prize C (that's this one, for anyone not clear on that) be at least sixteen (16) years of age, as Prize C includes an item of more mature content. We have complete faith you younglings can get yourselves into enough trouble without our help.
And yes, if anyone ever told you books weren't dangerous, they lied.
Now! Onto the contest. Rules stand pretty much the same. You have until 11:59 P.M. of October the 14th to submit your very own, original interpretation of the related theme, at which point, the gorgeous-smiled-and-beautifully-bubbly Lauren McLeod (literary agent extraordinaire with The Strothman Agency) will ogle all the entries and use her keen personal tastes to determine the one most deserving of Prize C.
Okay gang, here's your theme:
Boss
Yup, that simple. What sort of creative hijinks can you get up with that? Go on with your bad selves!
AND DON'T FORGET TO LINK BACK TO YOUR ENTRY IN THIS POST'S COMMENTS!
There once a boss named Ewing
ReplyDeleteWho didn't know what he was doing
He fiddled some sticks
And picked off some ticks
All while the cows were mooing.
Danielle
deedee1369@yahoo.com
Love your site, it looks great. I've added a link on my blog and followed you on twitter. Hopefully I'll find some time to come back and read some more of your reviews soon.
ReplyDeleteI took your prompt and created a 50-word-story which you can find at:
http://chrisseysgreatescape.wordpress.com/?p=219&preview=true
Good luck with the contest.
She applies the slightest pressure and it roars to life, rumbling beneath her body. Every vibration sets her nerves on fire. She bites her lip and grips tighter, adrenaline making her head spin. This is what she desires most—freedom. A cloud of dust billows in her wake as she races from everything, to anywhere. Three hundred horses carry her away. It doesn’t matter where, so long as she’s gone.
ReplyDelete(for those who didn't guess, I'm referring to a 1969 Mustang Boss 302)