Titirangi Storyteller

Telling tales from around the world

Breathless & Purple

with 6 comments

Listen – I don’t read pulp romances, there’s not a single Mills & Boon or Harlequin Romance to be found in my house. But obviously, somewhere in my deepest darkest, most ignored and reviled corner of my heart there lies a pen with proclivities to purple prose. There’s nothing I can do about it. Really, I’ve tried. And just when I think I’ve got rid of it at last – it scribbles something off, for all the world to see. I am so ashamed…

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Written by Titirangi Storyteller

09/07/2011 at 1:02 am

6 Responses

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  1. Hey! Purple prose are great. Never be ashamed of a gift! That picture is hilarious. Love the white flip flops with the lace dress. So campy.

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    Trinity River

    09/07/2011 at 1:12 am

  2. Thank you… she put these on after the ceremony and photos were done… that kind of gal…

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  3. Yowserrrrsss! Love it! Have to step outside into the cool night so I will be able to get to sleep! 😀 Love the photo, Titi. (how many different names have I used so far?! )

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    souldipper

    09/07/2011 at 7:22 pm

    • Well – I guess it did it’s job then! Ha ha…
      Not sure how many names you’ve come up with… I suppose I might object to being called Tits… though the name does cry out for schoolboy humour… The village of Titirangi is known affectionately as Titters in these parts, so … go for it!

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  4. Ah yes, the flip flops and the lace. Quite a combination.

    Purple prose has its moments. and as long as we are sharing, I will admit to having read one “historical” romance because my best friend at the time convinced me that it was different. I think that it was called Through a Glass Darkly, or something like that, and I actually found myself drawn into the story.

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    poietes

    10/07/2011 at 11:56 am

    • When I was very young I used to alternate one classic with one piece of trash, which is how I got to read the Carpetbaggers, Valley of the Dolls, The Other Side of Midnight and a half dozen Robert Ludlum thrillers. In retrospect, they did no harm as they did not interfere with the classical reading programme I had set for myself… I stopped reading them when I realised that even while I was reading (and enjoying them) there was no substance, nothing stuck and the real reason, I couldn’t remember what was happening in any of them from day to day reading…
      I have a copy of Victoria Holt’s “Night of the 7th Moon’ downstairs that I found at a tag sale some years ago – I think it was the first trashy novel I read… I’ve been meaning to re-read it – “one of these days…”

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