Final twenty-four hours
Okay, everyone! This is your last chance to post a favourite quotation from one of my books for a chance to win an ARC of PEGASUS! You have three choices–the forum here, Twitter #rmck, or the Facebook feedback for 8 May. And yes you can post to all three–the same quote or different ones. Blackbear is doing the work of keeping track, and it’ll be her hat* the three winning numbers get pulled out of, so if you’re on friendly terms with your local bear goddess it wouldn’t hurt to leave an offering on the altar of good ursine fortune tonight.** The doors of opportunity slam shut*** tomorrow at midnight.
And because, if my email were working, which it is not, I would, by indications of the trickle that is seeping through at irregular intervals, be inundated by people saying oh yes please, tell us more of your favourite bits of your own work†, here’s one of my favourite lines from SUNSHINE:
Gargoyles and tchotchkes: the vampire arsenal.
I am also very fond of this:
How does a hundred-and-eighty pound man turn into a ninety pound wolf? Where does the leftover ninety go? Does he park it in the umbrella stand overnight?
This little cognitive dissonance is something that used to worry me in the careless-of-details werewolf stories I read in ages past. But the umbrella stand is pure Sunshine. This, like the housecleaners and the fish in SPINDLE, zap in from the aether: nothing to do with me. I just type. And laugh. And as I said the other night, it’s moments like these that keep you going when all is waste and sludge and really boring four letter words. Words like ‘then’ and ‘some’ and ‘ungh’.
* * *
* Or the bear equivalent. Honey jar. Pizza box. Whatever.
** Honey or pizza would be good.
*** ‘The great doors slammed to. Boom. The bars of iron fell into place inside. Clang. The gate was shut. Sam hurled himself against the bolted brazen plates and fell senseless to the ground. He was out in the darkness. Frodo was alive but taken by the Enemy.’ –You lucky winners remember you want to approach the end of PEG cautiously, don’t you?
† You do this to TORTURE me, right? I’ve TOLD you I don’t like talking about writing. Writing is . . . writing. The rest is just life.
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