Sunday, 29 August 2010

Tis the 29th August...

And as such you have three days to retweet to win a napkin. Woo!

I read Neverwhere this week (Neil Gaiman), and it's wonderful. I raced through it, it's a bit grim but it's clever and funny and everything you expect from Gaiman. Read it if you can! I'll lend you mine if you promise to look after it! I've got the DVD of the tv series as well so I'll hopefully be watching that this long weekend with the ever lovely Mr Dishington.

If shoes are your bag and you have small feet (uk 5 or below) I highly recommend you check out Tammy in BHS. Yes they're for age 16 or below, but they're so pretty! I got a pair of black suede shoe-boots with a high-ish heel and a ruffle down the front. They look like I've stolen them off a tiny gothic French duke, and were only twenty squids. If you've got small feet you can get really nice shoes for not too much money from the teenage section of stores like BHS and New Look which are cheaper than their adult counterparts:) yes, you get stick from your larger footed friends, but they're so nice! I once got some beautiful brocade style grey trainers for only three pounds that way!

Enough clothes talk! Does anyone have any romance genre mills and boon they can lend me? All mine are historical but I'm thinking of branching out:D hope y'all have a good weekend!

Miss H

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Saturday, 21 August 2010

It's Competition Time!

About eight years ago, when I was a much shorter, rounder Miss H, myself and two friends said that very phrase on a local news/magazine show. Embarassing as it was, it was as true then as it is now. Woohoo! It's competition time!

If anything, I'm less famous now than I was then, which is at the very crux of this most delightful of competitions. I am an author so unknown I am really a receptionist. But, I'm working on it, and with this in mind, ladies and gentlemen, I offer you this:

Indeed. I offer you the opportunity to win this completely and utterly unique napkin, featuring a hand written and signed copy of my short story, At The Cafe. Right at this moment, I value this napkin at 6 pence (GBP), which covers both the cost of napkin, and a generous estimate of the cost of the ink used. I offer you this on the off chance that some day, it may be worth more than 6 pence. I can't guarantee that, obviously, but you never know. I've had enough people (figuratively) ruffle my hair and say "ooh, maybe one day you'll be the next JK Rowling", but what if it happened? It probably won't, but it could...

One day, this napkin could put your children through university, it could buy you a house, it could replace your boiler. It almost definitely won't, but can you afford to take that chance?

If I become famous, you can sell this napkin for a large amount of money. If not, free napkin. Win win!

How to Enter:

Entry is free and simple, all you have to do is retweet the following message on twitter:

RT to enter competition for 1-off copy of short story by @misshwrites worth 6 pence!

And that's it!

The competition closes midnight on the 31st August, after which I shall try and persuade my mum to pick a name out of some sort of hat, and the winner will be contacted. Multiple retweets do not equal multiple entries, only one entry will be counted per registered twitterer. The story remains my intellectual property, etc etc, you just get a cool napkin.

A copy of the story is available via the writing tab at the top of the page, and maybe if I ever get a bit richer, I'll get copies of the napkin printed to send to publishers or agents but this particular napkin will remain one of a kind because I will never, ever write the whole story out by hand on a napkin again. Never. I completely and utterly refuse. It was a pain in the arse.

For a half-arsed pictorial diary of how the napkin was born, see below. And good luck!

1) My kitchen stank of coffee as many napkins tried out, but only one made the grade...

2) I wrote the whole piggin story out in tiny, tiny writing. Turns out, it's a lot longer than it looks. (It's now a double-sided napkin) bah.

Thursday, 12 August 2010

Things and stuff

It's definitely been a while.

I always find it hard to believe anyone tunes in weekly to this blog, but just incase anyone's been repeatedly refreshing the screen for the past two and a half weeks, here's a little post to keep my oar in.

Lack of blogging (as you'll know if you're on my facebook) is because I have NO INTERNET at my new flat and 3G on the old mobile (where I'm posting this from as a last ditch, fingers crossed, stand near the window attempt) is pooooooor. Hope this will actually go up. I'm counting down the days for the next fortnight when, all being well, I should be back online and all this will be a dim and distant memory. I think I need an internet-producing drip, frankly.

Moving and new-jobbing went well (surprisingly well, thanks to the huge amount of help we had from my parents and the enormous usefullness of Mr Dishington; while I was at work he did almost everything, and I couldn't be more grateful.)

The good thing about my lack of internet is that you haven't been subject (unless a close friend or family) to my RANTING about the absolute uselessness of Tesco, who I still mostly hate with a passion, despite their having been redeemed by the enormous helpfulness of one employee. Count yourself lucky, it wasn't pretty. And no, you really don't want to know.

Since I last blogged, in writing news, which is more interesting than my vendettas against supermarkets, I've started it. I originally described this re-working of my NaNoWriMo (now simply titled Penguins) as a Steampunk romance, but I reclassify it now as a "gaslight romance", which seems more apt. And yes I did look those terms up on wikipedia, woah yes. Not that classification is important at this point, but it's always nice to know where you are.

I always worry about my romances, and my writing in general, that it's that sort of industry-polluting tripe with poorly designed covers that gives whatever genre it claims to represent a bad name. I saw one such "steampunk romance" on a blog, and perhaps that's part of my re-genre-ing. And use of the word re-genre-ing is, I'm sure you'll agree, just the sort of classic writing that sets my work apart. Indeed.

Only about 2000 words in but I'm feeling positive. There's a ball, a giant clock, a murder (of crows) and a pretend Yorkshireman. So there. Bet I hate the whole thing within a week.

And on that note, until next time I can find some internet, adieu!

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