Official Weasel Words — This is a second road-test of one of our planned new interview formats. There will be one more – a sample Who The Heck Is … – before we begin running with this. So. Yeah. Let us know what you think? And thanks to Maddie for going the extra mile.
Who the fuck are you? I am a fucking cog in the machine.
I have nothing to declare but my genius and … ? … the rather brilliant character Loretta Boyd, who happens to be one of the leading ladies in a thrilling web serial called The Vegas Thing.
Why the fuck should we care? Because I’m cute? But also, because it is genre smashing and fun and sexy and … well, there is lots of cursing.
What the fuck do you care about? The right for everyone to exist without judgements, except sexist, racist, homophobic arseholes. They deserve all the judgements.
You are about to be castaway with the author or fictional character of your choice. You’re going to be alone with them for a full year. Who would you choose? And why? Bella from Twilight so I would have someone to kill and eat without feeling guilty.
If The Vegas Thing was a singer, who would it be? And why? The Vegas Thing would be Courteny Love – a total and complete train wreck, but it just makes sense.
I have seen the future of ballsy in your face female powered fiction and its name is …? Mad Harvey? Or can I not say that? Should I say someone else? Well, I am going with this.
What is next for you? Eating crackers in bed.
Your three closest friends on the internet. Fuck, marry, kill. Go! To be quite frank, I don’t really have many internet friends. I can’t be arsed to cultivate more real life friendships and I’m utter crap with social media.
Have you come to terms with your own mortality? Yes. And I reckon I’ll eat whatever I want and not waste time worrying about my waistline or eyebrows.
Tell us a secret. I love lying. I lie whenever it strikes my fancy. A day isn’t complete without a good lie.
Say something outrageous. I hate sweets.
A little more Maddie
One upon a time, Madeline Harvey wanted to be a singer in an all-girl band called The Thigh Highs. No one told her she sounded like a wailing banshee. The realization sunk in on a cold and blustery London night when her best friend decided to record her Karaoke on her mobile. Utter shit. From then forward, Madeline has refused to sing in public, even when intoxicated.
Now she has a sneaking suspicion she is a world class writer. Her rude awakening is coming soon.
Read Maddie in