Title: CAPE OF GOOD HOPE
Genre: Upmarket Women's Fiction / Book Club
Word Count: 82,000
Pitch: Fearing threats from a whistle-blowing reporter, newlywed Ruby Stewart returns to South Africa to clear her father of conspiracy to murder. If she fails, her blue blood in-laws will disown her.
First 250:
It began with a wedding announcement I never submitted, no bigger than an airmail stamp, in The Paarl Post, a newspaper I’d never heard of.
When the editor called from South Africa, she said that our announcement’s publication had raised a few questions about my long-dead father, her thick Afrikaans accent turning each word into a scolding. That easily, she took me from being a confident newlywed to a scared six-year-old, grieving for my father, clutching at my mother as, with the precision of a surgeon excising a tumor, she erased any trace of our lives in South Africa.
“Which section do you edit?” I asked, hoping to slow her momentum.
“All of them.”
I pushed aside the dishtowel I’d been compulsively refolding on our kitchen counter. She’d said Paarl was a small farm town. There was no way this paper had a circulation of more than a couple thousand. She probably just wanted to confirm that Dad’s job at the U.S. consulate is what brought him, my mother, and me to Cape Town all those years ago. What other kind of questions could have been raised from a wedding announcement that doubtless ran on one of the last pages, next to the ads for discount cruises to Mozambique or something?
“Who submitted the announcement?” I asked.
“I’m sorry, I can’t share that.”
“What does it say?”
A shuffling of papers on her end. “June tenth. Ruby Anna Dean of Boston, USA was married to Marc Thomas Stewart.”
Sunday, April 12, 2015
Pitch Slam Entry 6: Seeing Through the Blindfold
Title: SEEING THROUGH THE BLINDFOLD
First 250:
A sparrow takes a kamikaze flight into the window near our booth in the diner. The thunk causes my sister, Ronnie, to flail and laughter jumps into my throat at her reaction. But inside, something wilts for the bird. A few silent seconds pass before my adopted family bursts into snorts again, though it feels wrong to laugh about a life lost at the hands of ignorance.
Silverware clinks on ceramic as a woman twists a cigarette in an ashtray in the booth across from ours. Her brows cast shadows over her sunken eyes. She reminds me of my bio-mom. Also bone-thin. Crack does that to people.
One whiff of cigarette smoke and I’m swept backward in time to seedy hotel rooms, truck stops, laundromats. Shaking off the déjà vu, I look around for a piece of reality to ground me.
The gravity of my family’s love is all it takes. Everything in the diner seems to orbit around it, including me. So, why does my past glare at me through the sunken eyes of the woman across the diner?
Just when I feel I may fly out of orbit, my eyes fall on Ronnie. I get that weird feeling that I’m looking into the mirror, a cajoling that something deep connects our life-threads. But two people couldn’t be more different. We’re both seventeen, redheads and eerily similar in looks, but she’s the outgoing daughter of a Rabbi and I’m the quiet, less approachable spawn of a prostitute and evangelist.
Genre: YA Sci/Fi Thriller
Word Count: 72,000
Pitch: Lust and drugs took seventeen-year-old Ava’s first family. After foretelling a nationwide blackout, she flies her new family toward safety, failing to foresee the crash. Guilt-ravaged, she crosses the country on foot, hoping they’ve survived.
Word Count: 72,000
Pitch: Lust and drugs took seventeen-year-old Ava’s first family. After foretelling a nationwide blackout, she flies her new family toward safety, failing to foresee the crash. Guilt-ravaged, she crosses the country on foot, hoping they’ve survived.
First 250:
A sparrow takes a kamikaze flight into the window near our booth in the diner. The thunk causes my sister, Ronnie, to flail and laughter jumps into my throat at her reaction. But inside, something wilts for the bird. A few silent seconds pass before my adopted family bursts into snorts again, though it feels wrong to laugh about a life lost at the hands of ignorance.
Silverware clinks on ceramic as a woman twists a cigarette in an ashtray in the booth across from ours. Her brows cast shadows over her sunken eyes. She reminds me of my bio-mom. Also bone-thin. Crack does that to people.
One whiff of cigarette smoke and I’m swept backward in time to seedy hotel rooms, truck stops, laundromats. Shaking off the déjà vu, I look around for a piece of reality to ground me.
The gravity of my family’s love is all it takes. Everything in the diner seems to orbit around it, including me. So, why does my past glare at me through the sunken eyes of the woman across the diner?
Just when I feel I may fly out of orbit, my eyes fall on Ronnie. I get that weird feeling that I’m looking into the mirror, a cajoling that something deep connects our life-threads. But two people couldn’t be more different. We’re both seventeen, redheads and eerily similar in looks, but she’s the outgoing daughter of a Rabbi and I’m the quiet, less approachable spawn of a prostitute and evangelist.
Pitch Slam Entry 7: The Box in the Corner, YA Contemporary
Title: The Box in the Corner
Genre: YA Contemporary
Word Count: 71,000
Pitch: Seventeen-year-old Charlie loves all of Ben... even his deranged, knife-wielding side. But if his personality disorder isn't treated soon, she might end up with a slice to the neck instead of a happily ever after.
First 250 words:
Goosebumps spread up my legs, like spiders scurrying to safety. I stared down the dark alley and shuddered. There were probably rats the size of baseballs in it— and God only knew how many drunks had barfed in it— but it was better than waiting in the street like bait.
I prayed Freddy Krueger wasn’t crouching behind one of the dumpsters, and jumped into the shadows.
"I think she went this way."
Shit. I scrambled between a trash pile and the brick wall. My stomach lurched into my throat, as the smell of rotten fish and urine overwhelmed my nostrils. If I’d eaten at all in the past two days, my puke would’ve been added to the alley’s collection.
Something next to me rustled and I jolted so hard a pain shot up the back of my neck. I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out.
Please, God. Don’t let them find me. If you keep them out of the alley, I’ll start going to church. I’ll become a nun. Anything. Just don’t let them find me.
A man holding a knife rushed past the end of the alley without even glancing direction. My breath shook as I exhaled.
Damn it. I didn’t really want to be a nun.
Then a bigger, hairier man stepped in front of the opening. When he turned to stare deep into the alley, his eyes landed directly on me.
Okay, I’ll be a nun! Whatever you want!
Pitch: Seventeen-year-old Charlie loves all of Ben... even his deranged, knife-wielding side. But if his personality disorder isn't treated soon, she might end up with a slice to the neck instead of a happily ever after.
First 250 words:
Goosebumps spread up my legs, like spiders scurrying to safety. I stared down the dark alley and shuddered. There were probably rats the size of baseballs in it— and God only knew how many drunks had barfed in it— but it was better than waiting in the street like bait.
I prayed Freddy Krueger wasn’t crouching behind one of the dumpsters, and jumped into the shadows.
"I think she went this way."
Shit. I scrambled between a trash pile and the brick wall. My stomach lurched into my throat, as the smell of rotten fish and urine overwhelmed my nostrils. If I’d eaten at all in the past two days, my puke would’ve been added to the alley’s collection.
Something next to me rustled and I jolted so hard a pain shot up the back of my neck. I clamped a hand over my mouth to keep from crying out.
Please, God. Don’t let them find me. If you keep them out of the alley, I’ll start going to church. I’ll become a nun. Anything. Just don’t let them find me.
A man holding a knife rushed past the end of the alley without even glancing direction. My breath shook as I exhaled.
Damn it. I didn’t really want to be a nun.
Then a bigger, hairier man stepped in front of the opening. When he turned to stare deep into the alley, his eyes landed directly on me.
Okay, I’ll be a nun! Whatever you want!
Pitch Slam Entry 8: Of Time and Blood, YA Science Fiction
Title: Of Time and Blood
Word Count: 76,000
Pitch: As a Timekeeper, seventeen-year-old Mikaelah keeps humankind on a preordained course for peace. When a violent organization championing free will emerges, she must decide: defeat them and prevent anarchy, or abdicate and embrace the unknown.
First 250:
Some Timekeepers saw the Schedules as a rigid set of rules never to be broken, but I figured a little creative interpretation never hurt anyone.
The dust was thick in the air and heavy on my tongue as I inhaled. With every breath, history took root in my lungs. A flowery perfume tried to hide the musty scent, but the smell of years long gone still lived on in the antique store.
“Change of plans,” I said as my assignment partner rounded the corner of the aisle. He jumped out of the way to avoid sending a teetering pile of old magazines crashing to the floor.
“Why do you always do this?” Trent closed his eyes and sighed. "What was wrong with the original plan?”
“Too simple for a guy like that. We’ll need something a little more drastic to get through his thick skull.” My gaze drifted towards our target.
Twenty-six-year-old Joseph Bolland stood on the far side of the store with stiff shoulders and a straight back. The window behind him, dirtied with years of grime, let in very little light. Even with the dingy overhead lamps, the wine glass in his hands was barely visible.
I ran through my mental checklist for matchmaking assignments. The briefing was on point with almost everything, but it had failed to mention Joseph was a real jerk.
Trent's voice sliced through my annoyance. "What'd he do to piss you off?"
Genre: Young Adult Science Fiction
Word Count: 76,000
Pitch: As a Timekeeper, seventeen-year-old Mikaelah keeps humankind on a preordained course for peace. When a violent organization championing free will emerges, she must decide: defeat them and prevent anarchy, or abdicate and embrace the unknown.
First 250:
Some Timekeepers saw the Schedules as a rigid set of rules never to be broken, but I figured a little creative interpretation never hurt anyone.
The dust was thick in the air and heavy on my tongue as I inhaled. With every breath, history took root in my lungs. A flowery perfume tried to hide the musty scent, but the smell of years long gone still lived on in the antique store.
“Change of plans,” I said as my assignment partner rounded the corner of the aisle. He jumped out of the way to avoid sending a teetering pile of old magazines crashing to the floor.
“Why do you always do this?” Trent closed his eyes and sighed. "What was wrong with the original plan?”
“Too simple for a guy like that. We’ll need something a little more drastic to get through his thick skull.” My gaze drifted towards our target.
Twenty-six-year-old Joseph Bolland stood on the far side of the store with stiff shoulders and a straight back. The window behind him, dirtied with years of grime, let in very little light. Even with the dingy overhead lamps, the wine glass in his hands was barely visible.
I ran through my mental checklist for matchmaking assignments. The briefing was on point with almost everything, but it had failed to mention Joseph was a real jerk.
Trent's voice sliced through my annoyance. "What'd he do to piss you off?"
Friday, April 10, 2015
A Little Pitch Slam Treat: Would Crossing Brielle make a Pitch Slam team if the tables were turned?
#TeamScarletStreetcar
We mean business!
For a little over a week I along with the amazing #PitchSlam team have been critiquing over a hundred pitches and first 250's in two rounds that lead up to the final round. The glorious agent round!
Well, we've seen you stressing and worrying. And we totally get how you feel. So we started thinking about things. The the super fabulous Caitlyn McFarland came up with a fantastic idea! What if WE posted our first 250 and pitches and have YOU critique US?
That's crazy, right?
Well, no. Because we actually really liked it. In fact, we jumped at the chance of sharing and hearing if we'd make the cut if YOU were the judges.
So below, you will find both the pitch and first 250 for my MS, CROSSING BRIELLE.
Please, be gentle! (Just kidding. Be honest. I can take it!)
I felt this image fit both my MC's in the perfect way!
Name: Jamie Corrigan
Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
Title: CROSSING BRIELLE
Word Count: 64, 000
Pitch: A bridge connects doppelgangers Cross and Brielle. If they don't find the madman who put them on a hit list for swapping worlds before his assassins find them, that connection might be what kills them.
First 250:
“Ack!” Cross bolted back to her feet, head darting from side to side. Good. No gawkers this time so no need to mention it in the report, she thought as she stared daggers at the faulty wheel that'd brought her down.
She checked her sword then tried again. This time she propelled herself up to her post on top of the rundown apartments. Sweat dripped from her brow, but Cross refused to acknowledge it. Spring wasn’t always so hot, but right then she felt like she was kneeling in a desert instead of a tar roof in Nashville.
Any day now. She surveyed the landscape. People zigzagged through the rubble-filled streets, ignorant of the killer in their midst. Daniel was somewhere among them, working his way toward her through the decay. She was sure of it. He wouldn't pass up the chance to say a twisted hello to his victim.
To the untrained eye he looked like a normal human—six feet tall and two hundred pounds of pure muscle. But Cross knew the monster lurking beneath his skin. All of her jobs were dangerous, but Daniel was the most vicious type of moth―a cinnabar.
* This page has been chosen for Pitch Wars, Pitch Madness, and featured on Nightmare on Query Street and received agent requests.
So there you have it! Feel free to leave your critique's, thoughts, or just cheers for it being Pitch Slam time again down in the comments. If you submitted for the agent round of Pitch Slam or even Nest Pitch, good luck!
You can find pitches and pages from the other Pitch Slam team below!
Monday, March 30, 2015
Cover reveal of Brandi Lynch's LEAD ME BACK HOME!
Today I get the honor of revealing my awesome friend and CP's debut book LEAD ME BACK HOME's cover!! I am beyond excited for her and can't wait to own it when LEAD drops!
Keep reading to see this amazing cover and learn a little more about Brandi and her haunting book below!
Author: Brandi Lynch
Release Date: October 6, 2015
Publisher: Spencer Hill Press
Synopsis: High school junior Trisha Myles thought her sister loved her, but her sister's suicide note revealed that she'd wished Trisha had never existed. In the aftermath, Trisha abandons her old life to become a social ghost. Not existing is sort of peaceful... until a vicious bully targets her.
She’s saved by Jesse Reagan--the one guy in Hoghfield, Alabama who outranks her as an outcast. Trisha’s desire to live blossoms, but spending time with Jesse is more than she bargained for. After she freaks over the slashes on his arms, he explains he’s cursed--a curse that can only be controlled by blood magic. Trisha thinks he’s insane--especially when he tells her someone has cursed her, too. But when freak accidents almost crush Jesse with a truck and destroy her attempts to reclaim her old life, Trisha knows it’s not just a delusion.
A ritual can free them from their curses, but only if they can shed their guilt and anger. However, if Trisha and Jesse can’t let go, the curse will bleed Jesse dry, and Trisha will lose the person who brought her back to life.
I don't know about you, but I know I can't wait for this book to be born! Come on October 6th!
Are you excited to read LEAD ME BACK HOME? Let me know in the comments and don't forget to stop by and tell Brandi congrats!
Until next time, happy reading and writing everybody!
Sunday, October 12, 2014
Pitch Slam: Marvel Universe... The Battle Begins!
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The time has come, when--through hard work and determination--Recruits become full-fledged heroes. With the aid of several H.E.L.M. Operatives, the squad captains have made their decisions on who will join their teams and Suit Up for the final round, where Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. will review their entries for requests. Through basic training and combat drills, every Recruit who participated showed courage and fortitude required of all heroes, and is to be commended.
Central Command thanks you for answering the call. A feat such as this would have been impossible without your commitment to your work and the craft. Over the past week, the barracks were filled to the brim with Recruits who had--and still have--everything it takes to be great. Know that if your entry did not find a place on any of the squads, that in no way indicates your story has no place in the world. There were more capable writers and incredible stories than there were positions. Do not let these results dampen the drive and spirit that makes all of you Heroes.
A reminder to any wishing to bid the new squad additions well wishes: please do not comment on any of the posts unless you are an Agent of S.H.I.E.L.D. or any other bureaus. All compliments and accolades are to be given on the #PitchSlam twitter feed. The Agents will have from now until 3:oo pm Eastern on October 14th, to make requests for the new heroes to join them in field duty using the following format:
Lone Hero - Query and first 10 pages
Dynamic Duo - Query and first 25 pages
The Trio - Query and first 50 pages
Team Takedown - Query and first 100 pages
ASSEMBLE - Query and full
When the request window closes, the Superhero Showdowns begin. Requests will not be revealed until the after the Showdowns are complete.
If more than one Agent makes the same request on a single entry, those agents go head-to-head in hero trivia. Each Agent in the showdown will be tagged in a #SuperheroShowdown tweet. The Agent who answers correctly first keeps their request as is. Their opponent can then choose to have their request demoted one level or wait 24 hours to receive their initial request. OR the Agent can call in for backup.
Agent Coulson from S.H.I.E.L.D. is standing by to lend assistance when needed. If contacted, he can come in and negate a loss, ending the showdown in a draw. If absolutely necessary, commander Nick Fury can issue a Showdown Override, upgrading an Agent's request to the next level if applicable, giving them victory. Agents can call on Coulson three times and Fury twice.
Presenting, the heroes of the H.E.L.M. Initiative.
Again, to all who....
ERROR
Signal disruption detected. Security protocols engaged.
ERROR
Signal dis--
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All those receiving this transmission, know that your heroes cannot save you. S.H.I.E.L.D. is defenseless against our tactics. The H.E.L.M. Initiative is doomed. Though you have bolstered your ranks with the entries below, and across the four squad hubs, know that your efforts are futile. We rise, ready to face your warriors with our own. Come. FACE US, if you dare.
Cut off a head, and two more take it's place.
Hail Hydra.
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Transmission terminated.
To everyone who made it on a team, congrats again! For those who didn't just know that there were so MANY amazing submissions that it was tough to pick just 8 each. So keep going if you weren't picked. That yes will come your way if you do!
Good luck everyone!
And to our S.H.I.E.L.D. Agents, we hope you find our recruits worthy for your rosters! ;)
Tricksters - Surviving Sarin
Name: Tanya S. Liard
Genre: YA Thriller
Title: SURVIVING SARIN
Word Count: 60,000
Hero: Dexter is who my protagonist best relates to- he has violent urges but attempts to focus those urges on the bad guys as he struggles to protect innocent people.
Pitch: Stranded on an island with his friends, 16-year-old Dylan struggles to keep his homicidal urges in check. When mercenaries arrive he finds an outlet for his bloodlust just in time...but it might not be enough.
250: I drag my feet and stare at the road, anything to delay getting home. I really don’t want to hear a lecture over a failed paper from my stepfather but I also don’t like disappointing him. Damn it. The constant thumping in my head is making matters worse. This is the fifth time I’ve gotten a migraine in the past two days.
“Hey Cynthia. Where’s Rob?” I ask when I get home, preparing for at least an hour long lecture.
“Work.” Her tiny eyes focus on the singing horses on the screen.
“He just left and didn’t get you a babysitter?” Strange, Rob never leaves Cynthia home alone – she’s only four. And he has been very overprotective since the implementation of the base curfew.
She shrugs then adds, “Daddy said not to answer the door, and that you would be home soon. And you have to make dinner.”
Most likely this has something to do with why there is a curfew on the base. No one at school knew what was really going on, and our parents never offered up a reason other than it’s for “protection.” Rob has been stressed, not sleeping, and working long hours ever since we were given a curfew. It must be something dangerous if Rob and all the other officers are constantly working.
Cynthia starts giggling as the singing ponies dance. My lips raise into a smile, and my grouchy mood begins to dissipate as I watch her curly golden pigtails sway from side to side.
Genre: YA Thriller
Title: SURVIVING SARIN
Word Count: 60,000
Hero: Dexter is who my protagonist best relates to- he has violent urges but attempts to focus those urges on the bad guys as he struggles to protect innocent people.
Pitch: Stranded on an island with his friends, 16-year-old Dylan struggles to keep his homicidal urges in check. When mercenaries arrive he finds an outlet for his bloodlust just in time...but it might not be enough.
250: I drag my feet and stare at the road, anything to delay getting home. I really don’t want to hear a lecture over a failed paper from my stepfather but I also don’t like disappointing him. Damn it. The constant thumping in my head is making matters worse. This is the fifth time I’ve gotten a migraine in the past two days.
“Hey Cynthia. Where’s Rob?” I ask when I get home, preparing for at least an hour long lecture.
“Work.” Her tiny eyes focus on the singing horses on the screen.
“He just left and didn’t get you a babysitter?” Strange, Rob never leaves Cynthia home alone – she’s only four. And he has been very overprotective since the implementation of the base curfew.
She shrugs then adds, “Daddy said not to answer the door, and that you would be home soon. And you have to make dinner.”
Most likely this has something to do with why there is a curfew on the base. No one at school knew what was really going on, and our parents never offered up a reason other than it’s for “protection.” Rob has been stressed, not sleeping, and working long hours ever since we were given a curfew. It must be something dangerous if Rob and all the other officers are constantly working.
Cynthia starts giggling as the singing ponies dance. My lips raise into a smile, and my grouchy mood begins to dissipate as I watch her curly golden pigtails sway from side to side.
Tricksters - Shattered
Name: Kathleen S. Allen
Genre: YA dark contemporary
Title: SHATTERED
Word Count: 80,000
Genre: YA dark contemporary
Title: SHATTERED
Word Count: 80,000
Hero: The heroine Zoey most relates to is the Black Widow because she's able to be in control of her life even though her past was questionable, much like Zoey's and she's an awesome fighter.
Pitch: Fifteen-year-old Zoey can’t cope after her kidnapping. When another girl goes missing, the kidnapper sends clues to Zoey. Entering the kidnapper’s twisted world again terrifies her but she can’t let him shatter another girl.
250: I run a swollen tongue over dried cracked lips. The dirty water in the pail by the mattress beckons but I can’t bring myself to drink out of it. The shadows lengthen but he’s not back and he’s always back by dark. Hope flares like a tiny flame in my chest. Is this finally over?
I pad over to peer out the small hole at the bottom of the door to watch for his return. A bit of snow has blown inside and I scoop it up, relishing the fresh taste as I kneel to look out. I put my eye to the hole. There are no footprints leading away. The woods beyond are quiet.
He’ll be back soon and maybe he’ll bring food. I try not to imagine it, but it’s too late, my stomach clenches and I double over with the sharp hunger pangs. I think I ate yesterday but the days blend together with the nights…no, don’t go there.
I stand to grasp the doorknob and yank on it like I’ve done for months not expecting it to turn. But when I pull on it, it opens. The shock of cold air makes me gasp. Taking several breaths to calm my racing heart, I swing the door wide enough to see the trees stark against the wintry scene. The snow isn’t too deep, I can run through it. A twig snaps. I close the door, eyes shut, breathing hard. If he finds me outside he’ll kill me.
I pad over to peer out the small hole at the bottom of the door to watch for his return. A bit of snow has blown inside and I scoop it up, relishing the fresh taste as I kneel to look out. I put my eye to the hole. There are no footprints leading away. The woods beyond are quiet.
He’ll be back soon and maybe he’ll bring food. I try not to imagine it, but it’s too late, my stomach clenches and I double over with the sharp hunger pangs. I think I ate yesterday but the days blend together with the nights…no, don’t go there.
I stand to grasp the doorknob and yank on it like I’ve done for months not expecting it to turn. But when I pull on it, it opens. The shock of cold air makes me gasp. Taking several breaths to calm my racing heart, I swing the door wide enough to see the trees stark against the wintry scene. The snow isn’t too deep, I can run through it. A twig snaps. I close the door, eyes shut, breathing hard. If he finds me outside he’ll kill me.
Tricksters - Punishment Summer
Name: Peggy Rothschild
Genre: YA Contemporary
Title: PUNISHMENT SUMMER
Word Count: 67,000
Genre: YA Contemporary
Title: PUNISHMENT SUMMER
Word Count: 67,000
Hero: Nicki best relates to Bonita Juarez -- aka Firebird. Though Nicki didn't escape totally unscathed, she survived the house fire that killed her sister.
Pitch: Stuck at Grandpa’s cabin in the Mendocino Forest, 16-year-old Nicki stumbles across a kidnapping. When Grandpa takes off, Nicki scrambles to get the girl to safety, away from the cartel enforcers and rogue deputies who will kill to stop her.
250: Maybe if I hadn’t downed that last shot of tequila, I would’ve noticed Dad sitting at the desk as I climbed through my bedroom window. Instead, I tumbled over the sill and thumped to the floor with all the grace of a 118-pound bowling ball, my nose landing inches from a brown loafer. Dad’s brown loafer. Uh-oh.
I rose to my knees and swayed. My brain scrambled. How could I talk my way out of this one? The frown twisting Dad’s mouth didn’t help in the inspiration department. My stomach lurched. I stumbled to my feet and ran for the bathroom, managing to lift the toilet lid just as my insides volcanoed out.
When my Mount St. Helens impersonation wound down to dry heaves, Dad spoke from the doorway. “Clean yourself up then get packed.” His voice sounded as cold as the tile beneath my knees.
I grabbed the rim of the toilet bowl and looked up at him. “What?”
Dad’s face loomed pale in the hall light. “I said you need to pack your stuff. Now.”
“But, it’s the middle of the night.”
“I know. Why do you think we’re having this conversation?” He took a noisy breath. “Listen up. You’re going to your grandfather’s for the summer and I don’t want to hear any argument. Pack your boots, wool socks and that heavy jacket of yours. It’s cold there.”
Caught somewhere between the tequila fog and reality, I rubbed my face. It sure felt real. “Why am I going to Grandpa’s?”
I rose to my knees and swayed. My brain scrambled. How could I talk my way out of this one? The frown twisting Dad’s mouth didn’t help in the inspiration department. My stomach lurched. I stumbled to my feet and ran for the bathroom, managing to lift the toilet lid just as my insides volcanoed out.
When my Mount St. Helens impersonation wound down to dry heaves, Dad spoke from the doorway. “Clean yourself up then get packed.” His voice sounded as cold as the tile beneath my knees.
I grabbed the rim of the toilet bowl and looked up at him. “What?”
Dad’s face loomed pale in the hall light. “I said you need to pack your stuff. Now.”
“But, it’s the middle of the night.”
“I know. Why do you think we’re having this conversation?” He took a noisy breath. “Listen up. You’re going to your grandfather’s for the summer and I don’t want to hear any argument. Pack your boots, wool socks and that heavy jacket of yours. It’s cold there.”
Caught somewhere between the tequila fog and reality, I rubbed my face. It sure felt real. “Why am I going to Grandpa’s?”
Tricksters - If I Should Rule
Name: Kayley Freshman-Caffrey
Genre: YA Fantasy
Title: If I Should Rule
Word Count: 82,000
Hero: This particular MC (there are four main POV characters) relates most to Loki. He abhors his abusive father and wants to steal the throne from him. That type of power means no one can ignore him or disobey him again.
Pitch: When 17-year-old Niall learns his father wants to award Saol's crown to a worthier candidate, he vows to secretly eliminate other prospects. Then the king is killed and murder becomes Niall's threat, not his weapon.
Genre: YA Fantasy
Title: If I Should Rule
Word Count: 82,000
Hero: This particular MC (there are four main POV characters) relates most to Loki. He abhors his abusive father and wants to steal the throne from him. That type of power means no one can ignore him or disobey him again.
Pitch: When 17-year-old Niall learns his father wants to award Saol's crown to a worthier candidate, he vows to secretly eliminate other prospects. Then the king is killed and murder becomes Niall's threat, not his weapon.
250: As my father walks toward the edge of the stage, his crown glints in the mid-day sun, a sign of wealth that stands stark against the cesspool of our kingdom’s poor. Being the biggest district in our kingdom of 100,000, their collective stench is impossible to ignore. The rank smell of sweat, urine, and whatever else they deem to lie in would be enough to make me vomit if I wasn’t so repulsed by the act.
“Greetings, citizens of Saol,” my father starts. “As your sixteenth king, I have traveled here to issue a proclamation.”
The peasants press toward us, trying to better hear their king. I tune him out.
Then my father says one of my favorite words, one that I’ve never heard him say before: competition.
That gets my attention.
“I am reaching an age at which I must appoint an heir,” my father continues. “In Saol, the crown is traditionally passed to the first born son. However, I do not believe this tradition best suits the needs of the kingdom. The person who rules should be the person most fit for the task. I am proposing this competition as a means of finding the most deserving ruler. Young adults between the ages of fourteen and twenty from all walks of life are encouraged to apply for this opportunity. Applicants will be judged on their ideals, intelligence, and dedication to the kingdom. The top ten applicants will be invited to stay at the castle for the final stages of the competition and the most suitable candidate will receive the crown.”
“Greetings, citizens of Saol,” my father starts. “As your sixteenth king, I have traveled here to issue a proclamation.”
The peasants press toward us, trying to better hear their king. I tune him out.
Then my father says one of my favorite words, one that I’ve never heard him say before: competition.
That gets my attention.
“I am reaching an age at which I must appoint an heir,” my father continues. “In Saol, the crown is traditionally passed to the first born son. However, I do not believe this tradition best suits the needs of the kingdom. The person who rules should be the person most fit for the task. I am proposing this competition as a means of finding the most deserving ruler. Young adults between the ages of fourteen and twenty from all walks of life are encouraged to apply for this opportunity. Applicants will be judged on their ideals, intelligence, and dedication to the kingdom. The top ten applicants will be invited to stay at the castle for the final stages of the competition and the most suitable candidate will receive the crown.”
Tricksters - Snow Globe
Name: Mel Stephenson
Genre: Middle Grade, Dark Fantasy
Title: SNOW GLOBE
Word count: 40,000
Hero: Lily's dog Milo, because he loves with all his heart, he stands by her side without question and together they can face the world, when it stops being a friendly place.
Pitch: Sucked into a snow globe, Lily must save her dog to win their freedom, or she becomes the prize: the ice queen's devoted daughter, unhappily ever after. Coraline meets CS Lewis's Snow Queen.
Milo’s name drifted up the stairs and he scrambled to his feet, nudging Lily’s hand with his wet nose. Her heart smiled as she melted into his brown, droopy eyes; the way she had four years ago when she was eight—the day they rescued him from the dog shelter. “Come on,” she whispered. They crept down the stairs and waited at the bottom by the kitchen door.
The tap gushed on. Off.
A cupboard door slammed.
Milo sniffed along the gap under the shut door, then padded over to sit by her feet.
At last her mum spoke. “You can’t pretend this isn’t happening.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” her dad said.
“This.” A paper fluttered, which she guessed was her mum waving something at her dad. “We need to tell Lily, and the sooner the better,” said her mum.
Genre: Middle Grade, Dark Fantasy
Title: SNOW GLOBE
Word count: 40,000
Hero: Lily's dog Milo, because he loves with all his heart, he stands by her side without question and together they can face the world, when it stops being a friendly place.
Pitch: Sucked into a snow globe, Lily must save her dog to win their freedom, or she becomes the prize: the ice queen's devoted daughter, unhappily ever after. Coraline meets CS Lewis's Snow Queen.
250: Lily Ellis slid her back down the wall and sat at the top of the stairs, clutching her rumbling belly. Couldn’t her parents have waited until after breakfast for their latest fight, or at least chosen to have it somewhere other than the kitchen? Milo dropped his chewy bone, glancing at her through long tufts of floppy fur from her bedroom doorway. In the alcove, on the opposite wall, the family photo of her and her parents slipped of its nail—their smiling faces hung lopsided, ready to fall from the frame and to the floor. She crossed the landing and straightened it up; if only saving her family were as simple as that in real life.
Milo’s name drifted up the stairs and he scrambled to his feet, nudging Lily’s hand with his wet nose. Her heart smiled as she melted into his brown, droopy eyes; the way she had four years ago when she was eight—the day they rescued him from the dog shelter. “Come on,” she whispered. They crept down the stairs and waited at the bottom by the kitchen door.
The tap gushed on. Off.
A cupboard door slammed.
Milo sniffed along the gap under the shut door, then padded over to sit by her feet.
At last her mum spoke. “You can’t pretend this isn’t happening.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” her dad said.
“This.” A paper fluttered, which she guessed was her mum waving something at her dad. “We need to tell Lily, and the sooner the better,” said her mum.
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