In Which Marco And The Red Granny Coulda Stood A Bit More Red

A blood-sport winnin' granny, why have there

Been few of these in literature? Thank

The genre gods: Mur Lafferty had care

Enough to fill this lack. Behold the swank

And cunning Heather, Red Granny, so sweet

At first, but a stone killer on the field

Of lunar battles! I'd have liked to see

More of her and her back story, but yield

To Mur, who may have more planned for this dame

(Let's hope so!). As it was, this book was fun,

This Marco and the Red Granny (the name

Had had me sold since Balticon!). I'm done

With it now, but it left me wanting more.

A prequel, please? Red Granny Goes To War?

In Which @MightyMur Impresses Us All

Quite possibly, we'd say the very best
Of features that the internet hath brought
Is knowledge that somewhere, someone's been blessed
With an extraordinary time. I've sought
(But not too hard) to see just who, today,
Could claim that title, and I find it's Mur,
That Mighty Girl. When she popped in to say
The word count she had reached exceeded her
Top record for one day, and wasn't done
(Nine thousand and six hundred words!), my jaw
Dropped just a bit, then later found her run
A truly Lowellan twelve thousand. Awe?
Try reverence, and really not a little!
And Mur, I'll take the one that's in the middle.

Bacon-Con II: Electric Boogaloo

I do declare: it is not Balticon
Unless a pork-stuffed luncheon makes the scene.
Last year a BLT bestowed upon
Mur Lafferty, with extra B -- I mean
Way extra. "No pigs left" quoth Brent -- had its
Turn in the spolight. This year Arioch,
Called Morningstar, inspired me to fits
Of tweeting how his huge hot dog did rock
(Avast your gutter-thinking. I engage
Here in no metaphor). That frankfurter,
The longest, fattest I have seen this age,
Astonished all, I really do assure
You. But I'm very deeply puzzled that
The Fiendmaster quoth "something something cat."

In Which I Shamelessly Rip Off A Chel White Film

Chel White has shown us what he goes through when

It's time to write. It feels so strange and true

That it is my own sharp, harsh medicine

For when my own processes leave me blue.

First off, I kill the lights except for that

Which shines out from my laptop's baleful screen.

Then smoke a cigarillo there, out back,

Behind my house. I write some words, then scream,

Draw weirdo red cartoons in a Moleskine,

Then wipe out roughly half the words I've made.

To round things out, I let The Dude (he's mine

Own greatest muse) say how I feel, then trade

Self-pity for the awesome pow'r of PANTS.

Then write a lot, crank up the tunes, and dance.

Sonnet Duet: An Interview With The Magnificent, The Mighty, Mur Lafferty

O Mighty Mur, how go things with the War?

Quite well, Kate, it's a book worth fighting for.

Playing for Keeps was great; when is there more?

There is more story there; I'll open that door.

Parenting, fiction-fu, how big's that plate?

I'm never bored; my life is really great.

What's your best tool to keep all of this straight?

I'm old school with paper and pen with weight.

Infinite time is yours - what do you do?

I don't have time to consider - no clue!

And is there word on Heaven's print debut?

Not yet. The edits now I'm working through.

Mur Lafferty, what is the pow'r of PANTS?

Work from home, be productive, erase can'ts.

In Which I Extend Birthday Greetings

Mur Lafferty, I can't thank you enough

For podcast fun, both fictional and real.

I Should Be Writing brings me such good stuff --

It's often just the kick-start that I feel

I need (some kind of kicking is required

That much is often clear). But wait, there's more:

The Heaven tales - original, inspired

And freely given to all your hard core

And cas'ual fans to listen and enjoy!

Your Playing for Keeps made me laugh and smile,

As heroes great and small strive to destroy

All expectations. Happy birthday, Mur!

I'm glad that BLT caused such a stir.