Seanan McGuire (seanan_mcguire) wrote,
Seanan McGuire
seanan_mcguire

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Shakespeare says...

...who wants to win a copy of Rosemary and Rue? This time, we're raising the stakes a little bit, and requiring a bit more effort on your part. So here's the game:

You all know that I adore structured poetry, from the haiku to the virelai. (Actually, that's a lie; I abhor the virelai. But I respect people who actually enjoy writing them.) You also know that you're a pretty creative lot. So here: the gates are thrown open! Write me a structured poem about Rosemary and Rue. Since you haven't read the book, it can be about anything from what you think it's going to be about to pre-ordering to how much you want a copy—whatever makes you happy. Any structured form is allowed, as long as you can tell me what it is when asked.

Entries will be taken through the end of the week. Then, next Monday, I'll put up a voting post, and let people vote for their favorites. The winner will receive, naturally, a copy of Rosemary and Rue. Just in case that's not sufficient incentive, there will also be a prize for participation—just entering a poem will enter you in a random number drawing for a signed cover flat. I don't have very many of these, so this is something pretty spiffy for you to stick on your wall.

Game on!
Tags: book promotion, giving stuff away, poetry, rosemary and rue
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Pointy-eared gumshoe
in ur town solvin' ur crimes
Toby Daye, bitches.

That's as good as it gets before coffee. -.-

Just so you're aware, "as good as it gets" just made me snort Diet Dr Pepper through my nose.

karjack

8 years ago

The Heroine's name is October.
'Cause it's Seanan, I venture she's sober.
The story it's true
is Rosemary and Rue
And I bet I will howl when it's over.

See, now I've got to trot off to try and write a poem. I don't WRITE poems. *points* I BLAME YOU, SEANAN.
I gladly bear this burden.
Stranded in koi pond
Toby dreams of sweet revenge
Glub glub glub glub die
The taste can never quite compare to smell;
A tea's aroma is the purer hue,
The richer shade, the deeper and more true,
Where taste's a crude and disappointing shell.
The Japanese silk dyers dipped their sleeves
To let the colour deepen, strengthen, fill,
And named it for a fragrance lingering still,
Etched vividly in broideries and weaves.

In tea the dried herb untwists in the cup
And arcs in agony as it boils away:
Its scent, its last long breath, dissolves away
And leaves the taste behind to be drunk up.
Poor rosemary and rue, so crisply scented,
Yet like the taste of bitter love repented.

("Nioi" is Japanese for "fragrance/odour/scent", but is also used to refer to a shading of colour due to different amounts of time in the same dye bath, often used to produce graduated shades of silk and cotton for layers of kimono in the Heian period.)

(So I was rereading Liza Dalby. So sue me.)

Deleted comment

Koi in the fish pond
A breath of October air
Starts a new story
I have to be upfront about all this:
I'm a sucker for anything that's free.
And so, to my pride, goodbye I will kiss
Because I really want you to pick me.

I have enjoyed the two albums I got
Of the various science fiction themes
Another Mad Science Love Song is hot
And I oft' laugh at dinosaur schemes.

I am entertained by your writing style,
And I look forward to reading your books
I will admit to a vast unread pile
It overflows all the crannies and nooks.

There is no set order - that is just fine
The book I read next, the choice is all mine.

Much time yet to pass;
October creeps closer on
small September feet.
Rosemary and the
double-meaning second word
a spiffy title
I shall decline to participate, But I appreciate that there are already 2 limericks posted. I am slightly dismayed at the number of haikus though.
At least the haiku are making me snort soda out my nose on a regular basis.

argonel

8 years ago

Caught up in danger
Ear perked and prick'd high
Blood sounds the same: Drip.
I know a young lady called Seanan
Who sold a trilogy one mornin'
About Toby Daye,
And then she said, "Hey!
"I've another ten books still a-bornin'!"

(You didn't say it had to be /good/ poetry! But the limerick is definitely structured...)
There once was a girl named October,
Such temper; she was no push-over.
Can’t you just see?
How she’d use her knee,
First time some guy tried to disrobe her.

October Daye rises;
September bookstores worry-
Fans descend in swarms.

Sadly, 'like locusts' would have put me one over on the syllable count.

*looks up what a virelai is* Wow, if I had any poetic sense at all (or a rhyming dictionary), I would try my hand at one of those just to see how much hate it might induce in me.
The virelai is SATAN'S OWN POETIC FORM. Seriously. It exists to make me hate.

hvideo

8 years ago

beckyh2112

8 years ago

Changeling in L.A.
Can’t run away from her fate
Shit! She has magic
Rosemary and rue
I want it and so I write
pretty words for you
of how much and how I will
squee to see it in my mail




What? It's not a haiku!

OK, couldn't resist:

biguglymandoll

May 12 2009, 13:38:17 UTC 8 years ago Edited:  May 12 2009, 15:59:44 UTC

"Rose is not a rose without a thorn,"
October senses danger from the start.
Sometimes it isn't easy, changeling-born;
Each world can lay its claim upon your heart.
Many are the paths the fey may take,
And many are roads that lead to blood.
Remember who you are, despite the ache
Your heart provides, regardless of the stutter
And the racing of your pulse when danger's
Near. Toby tries to do what's right
(Dayes will never flinch from dark or pain,
Regardless of the cost) both day and night.
Unless this guess I make is sore mistook,
Everyone is gonna love this book!
The acrostic sonnet! I am suddenly compelled to look for more examples of this form.
Flames and ash and blood and dust,
and Rosemary leaves covered in rust.

Black and red and green and blue,
corpses covered in tainted Rue.

Monsters shriek and shred and scare,
darkness spilling everywhere.

People hate and fear this life,
yet few try to end the strife.

But October tires of endless night,
she stands up to join the fight.

With magic in hand she paves the way,
for the sun to rise on a new Daye.

Well this came out a lot darker then I'd intended it too, and I'm probably completely wrong about everything. *sigh*
I'm not completely sure if a series of rhymed couplets really counts, so smack me if I'm doing it wrong >.>
We will stipulate going in that I am certifiably bonkers, notably because this is the first time I've attempted a sestina, and (as Our Hostess and the astute reader will discern) I imposed an extra layer of challenge on the structure. [This required wading fairly deeply into the back posts in order to establish the sixth keyword.] I will also observe for the record that, although the recently shortened title for Book Four is probably much better for marketing purposes, it makes life decidedly more interesting for would-be writers of sestinas.

Now, then:

Musings On October

The tale begins with rosemary and rue,
The one for memory, the other, honor,
The former grown by day, its mate by night.
(Think how remembrance dimmed once darkness fell
And how the shadow of regret eclipses
All brighter passions in night’s habitation.)

Who, though, may map a local habitation
Foreseeing that the road may lead to rue?
More often, evil circumstance eclipses
Benign intent, unravels bonds of honor,
Obscures the path with fog that lately fell,
Transforming fairest day to foulest night.

And yet, it is an artificial night
That cannot long sustain its habitation,
For dawn succeeds the dark whene’er it fell.
Who tries to break that cycle’s sure to rue
Such rough assault on morning’s maiden honor
When light prevails against the shade’s eclipses.

We can but wonder where these late eclipses
Arise within the deep expanse of night;
What shadowed scion dares assault the honor
Of those who choose the daylight’s habitation?
We must trace shadow’s source, else we may rue
Our lack of vigilance toward foes most fell.

We’ll face the threat upon the brightest fell,
For hope’s bold flag the foe’s despair eclipses,
And passion’s strength sweeps o’er the flowering rue,
Seeding a garden proof against the night,
Whose beauty shields our chosen habitation,
Yet, freely growing, blooms in nature’s honor.

The shadow, beaten, sheds ashes of honor
Behind it, leaves its minions where they fell
As it slinks back to its own habitation.
At least for now, the sky’s done with eclipses;
Day will be day, the night shall cleave to night,
And we may harvest rosemary and rue.

In time will evil come to rue its honor,
Break free of night again to haunt the fell.
Watch for eclipses from your habitation.

I applaud you, sir.

kyra_neko_rei

8 years ago

And just as an antidote to that last....

Kitteny mitteny
Seanan on Livejournal
Offered an ARC of
Rosemary and Rue.

What does she want for it?
Just that we practice our
Polysyllabary
(Which I can do).
Ha! This is great. And I am so glad to now know the name of this poetic form and its specific rules.

Your crazy-face sestina also impresses me well beyond measure.
A Sonnet, For Seanan, That Probably Sucks;
or, When Fairy Attacks!

The land of Fairy ever is a mess,
and often will their chaos meet us here
in our own world. And when our luck we press,
the fairy land will bring to life our fear
of losing control of our very life.
The fey with carnal glee will run amok,
dividing brothers with imagined strife
and wooing mortals that they'd like to fuck.
Without a hero we would never find
our mundane lives so safe from chaos such.
A real hero will fairy forces bind
from harming us, they look but cannot touch.
September first, Seanan will have her say,
and tell us all the tale of Toby Daye.
Oh dear, I think I took that Virelai thing as a dare...I think I've done this right!

--
If you're looking for something to read
To your bookstore, this fall, do speed
For a book: Rosemary and Rue.
For sure, this one's a special breed
A point you'll surely concede
With the authoress' published debut
Your expectations it'll exceed
You know I'd never mislead
And you'll soon be forming a queue

To buy Seanan's book, not a few!
From California to Kalamazoo
They'll fly off the shelves of the store
(and be checked out from libraries too).
It's an adventure long overdue,
We swear you'll beg for more,
And for adventures new
I know I'll be waiting for book two
From Seanan, whom we adore.
Misfit castaway
Troubleshooter, problems solved
Rue The Daye this fall
The other night I dreamt of changelings dark-
haired, pointy-eared (of course) and bright of wit.
It seemed a world of noir and brilliant spark
but now I'm not sure what to make of it.
The mystery was not of bloody crimes
but legacy of blood through human veins.
A Host of ancestry from ancient times
to which her obligation yet remains.
With Rosemary and Rue I was seduced,
a human dreamer by a young half-elf,
until the sun arose. My phone produced
a ringing sound, and so I find myself
awake, while dreaming echos seem to say
"Shall I compare thee to October Daye?"

(I really did dream of October Daye. I wish I could remember more of it...)

--Ember--
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