Michelle Hauck's Blog, page 21
June 6, 2017
Guest Post from Sandi Ward on Creating an Unconventional Narrator
Using an Unconventional Narrator to Tell A One-Of-A-Kind Story
Choosing a point of view (POV) for your novel may come naturally to you, rather than being a conscious choice. I imagine most authors simply start thinking of a story either from inside a character’s head (“I started to shake as the vampire opened his eyes…”), or they see it from outside(“The vampire’s eyes clicked open, and Jeremy shuddered”). A story organically grows from this key decision, which must be one of the very first choices a writer makes as a story idea unfolds.
Writing in first person
I always write from a first person point of view, because I like to get very close with my protagonist. I need to know everything about the character—her thoughts, feelings, background, friends and family—in order to have her tell a compelling story. First person allows me to totally inhabit a character. It’s an intimate form of story-telling, one where you are getting a specific viewpoint.
Voice
Once you’ve decided on first person, it’s important to think about voice. Rather than being omniscient, a first-person narrative demands an opinionated point of view and a unique way of thinking. Your character’s background and experiences means that she will make judgments and choices that reflect her own POV, not that of the author. Her family, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, education and other factors influence who she is.
Unexpected voices: 3 examples
Sometimes, an author takes a leap and sees the world from inside the head of a character you might not expect to tell such a tale, with fantastic results. For example, the classic The Boy in the Striped Pajamas tells a story of the Holocaust—from the point of view of a young boy in a Nazi family. The reader only slowly learns the truth of what’s happening in the story, and the reader has a better understanding of the big picture than the young boy ever does. It’s a truly unique read.
Another example is The Curious Incident of Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon. This story is told from the POV of an autistic teenager who wants to solve a mystery: who murdered his neighbor’s dog? As a reader, we marvel at the main character’s observations and quirks (including numbering the chapters with only prime numbers), chuckle empathetically at his misunderstandings (although we are able to see what he missed), and ultimately feel his pain at the changes going on in his life.
As a last example, in my debut novel, The Astonishing Thing, I present a story about a troubled family from the point of view of the family cat. Our pets are witnesses to our private moments; they hear our confessions and are the keepers of our secrets. My protagonist, Boo, doesn’t understand everything going on in her family. Like a smart little girl, she isn’t completely familiar with concepts like mental illness and divorce. But she wants her family to be happy and safe, and provides a unique way of looking at the world.
The unreliable narrator
Sometimes an author goes a step further and tells a story using an unreliable narrator; examples include the hit novels The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins and Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. Especially in a murder mystery, you can create fantastic twists and turns if narrators lie, omit information, or can’t remember events due to alcoholic blackouts. It can make for a thrilling reader experience.
Advantages and disadvantages
One disadvantage of using first person is that you can never leave that character’s head. The main character can only guess at what others are thinking—but sometimes that can lead to interesting misunderstandings or assumptions, creating further drama. So you may be able to turn that disadvantage into an effective narrative device.
Using an unconventional narrator can be a great way to experiment, get creative, and pull more drama out of a traditional story. Have fun with it and happy writing!
BIO
www.sandiwardbooks.comTwitter/Instagram @sandiwardbooksFacebook https://www.facebook.com/sandiwardboo... THE ASTONISHING THING, the story of a troubled family seen through the eyes of their cat, on Amazon: http://amzn.to/2mK6KoS
Choosing a point of view (POV) for your novel may come naturally to you, rather than being a conscious choice. I imagine most authors simply start thinking of a story either from inside a character’s head (“I started to shake as the vampire opened his eyes…”), or they see it from outside(“The vampire’s eyes clicked open, and Jeremy shuddered”). A story organically grows from this key decision, which must be one of the very first choices a writer makes as a story idea unfolds.
Writing in first person
I always write from a first person point of view, because I like to get very close with my protagonist. I need to know everything about the character—her thoughts, feelings, background, friends and family—in order to have her tell a compelling story. First person allows me to totally inhabit a character. It’s an intimate form of story-telling, one where you are getting a specific viewpoint.
Voice
Once you’ve decided on first person, it’s important to think about voice. Rather than being omniscient, a first-person narrative demands an opinionated point of view and a unique way of thinking. Your character’s background and experiences means that she will make judgments and choices that reflect her own POV, not that of the author. Her family, ethnicity, socioeconomic status, education and other factors influence who she is.
Unexpected voices: 3 examples
Sometimes, an author takes a leap and sees the world from inside the head of a character you might not expect to tell such a tale, with fantastic results. For example, the classic The Boy in the Striped Pajamas tells a story of the Holocaust—from the point of view of a young boy in a Nazi family. The reader only slowly learns the truth of what’s happening in the story, and the reader has a better understanding of the big picture than the young boy ever does. It’s a truly unique read.
Another example is The Curious Incident of Dog in the Night-time by Mark Haddon. This story is told from the POV of an autistic teenager who wants to solve a mystery: who murdered his neighbor’s dog? As a reader, we marvel at the main character’s observations and quirks (including numbering the chapters with only prime numbers), chuckle empathetically at his misunderstandings (although we are able to see what he missed), and ultimately feel his pain at the changes going on in his life.
As a last example, in my debut novel, The Astonishing Thing, I present a story about a troubled family from the point of view of the family cat. Our pets are witnesses to our private moments; they hear our confessions and are the keepers of our secrets. My protagonist, Boo, doesn’t understand everything going on in her family. Like a smart little girl, she isn’t completely familiar with concepts like mental illness and divorce. But she wants her family to be happy and safe, and provides a unique way of looking at the world.
The unreliable narrator
Sometimes an author goes a step further and tells a story using an unreliable narrator; examples include the hit novels The Girl on the Train by Paula Hawkins and Gone Girl by Gillian Flynn. Especially in a murder mystery, you can create fantastic twists and turns if narrators lie, omit information, or can’t remember events due to alcoholic blackouts. It can make for a thrilling reader experience.
Advantages and disadvantages
One disadvantage of using first person is that you can never leave that character’s head. The main character can only guess at what others are thinking—but sometimes that can lead to interesting misunderstandings or assumptions, creating further drama. So you may be able to turn that disadvantage into an effective narrative device.
Using an unconventional narrator can be a great way to experiment, get creative, and pull more drama out of a traditional story. Have fun with it and happy writing!
BIO
www.sandiwardbooks.comTwitter/Instagram @sandiwardbooksFacebook https://www.facebook.com/sandiwardboo... THE ASTONISHING THING, the story of a troubled family seen through the eyes of their cat, on Amazon: http://amzn.to/2mK6KoS
June 5, 2017
Query Kombat First Round Winners
This is a list of the winners from this blog only. These winners had their first round matchups on this blog.
Be Grateful for Cookies
Switcher
Girl of your Nightmares
Estella + Aryon
Three Men and an Actuary
I Fell for a Convicted Felon
From Gutters to Galleries
Nowhere Land
Delicous Vicious Cycles
Alternate Facts
Life as a Dumpster Fire
Asteroid Snacks
Congrats! Please return your revised entry for the agent round by 8:00 am on Tuesday. Use the exact same format and the contest email address. You may put REVISED in your subject line.
Winning on this blog does not mean you will assigned here for the agent round.
I hope the feedback from judges and contestants is helpful to everyone! Best of luck to all!
Be Grateful for Cookies
Switcher
Girl of your Nightmares
Estella + Aryon
Three Men and an Actuary
I Fell for a Convicted Felon
From Gutters to Galleries
Nowhere Land
Delicous Vicious Cycles
Alternate Facts
Life as a Dumpster Fire
Asteroid Snacks
Congrats! Please return your revised entry for the agent round by 8:00 am on Tuesday. Use the exact same format and the contest email address. You may put REVISED in your subject line.
Winning on this blog does not mean you will assigned here for the agent round.
I hope the feedback from judges and contestants is helpful to everyone! Best of luck to all!
June 2, 2017
Query Kombat 2017 First Round
Get that thick skin in place because here we go! Round 1
Hop on over to Mike's and Laura's blogs to see the rest of the match-ups and entries! They are spread all over the place. Some here, some there. We've got a little bit of everything: Adult/NA, YA, and MG! This round lasts until June 5th at 8 pm.
On the last day the hosts will call out for extra judges to come and break ties, or in case of extra close votes to try and get a more decisive margin. In the event a tie remains, the blog host will provide the tie breaker.
The entry with the most votes for Victory moves forward to the agent round on June 7th! Kombatants will have a chance to revise at that time. Hosts will also pick one eliminated entry to "save" that will be featured in the agent round but not move ahead to Round 2.
Winning entries must be revised and returned to QueryKombat (at) gmail (dot) com by Tuesday, June 6th at 8:00 am Eastern. Follow the exact same format in the original post. If you don't submit a revised entry by 8 am, we'll post the original in the agent round.
Now before we begin:
Read this post again to remind yourselves of the rules and guidelines of commenting and judging. Below I've reposted the main ideas:
Reminders for the Entrants:
You may comment on your own entries after voting has ended to offer thanks or congrats. Do not otherwise respond to or explain feedback. If there is a problem with your entry, shout out to us on twitter as soon as you can. (@Michelle9Hauck) If you don't have Twitter, you may comment on your entry telling us the mistake. Also, we tried our hardest to make the match-ups as fair as possible and against as similar stories as possible. But, obviously, this is impossible to do perfectly and some match-ups may seen very random. We apologize for this but it's an evil of the system.
Kombatants should comment on 6 other match-ups to help share the love around! But Kombatants do not cast votes. Please do not comment until after the blog host leaves a comment for the judge votes.
Reminders for the Judges:
Wait until after one of us hosts comments on each entry first and reply to that comment to cast your votes. Try making your votes objective instead of subjective (but if you really love an entry subjectively, don't even feel bad about saying it was a subjective vote - subjectivity rules!). Be sure to point out the good as well as what needs work. Post under your nicknames! If you forget, just delete and repost. And judges: seriously, thank you for doing this. It's a very tough job and isn't for the faint-hearted.
Reminders for Everyone:
Try not to comment until after one of us hosts have made the first comment, then go ahead and offer your feedback. We ask everyone who entered Query Kombat to leave at least one comment.
NOW THE FUN BEGINS!!! GO GO GO!!! We'll be Tweeting under #QueryKombat!
And may the odds be ever in your favor!
QK Round 1: Three Men and an Actuary vs. Boomerang
Title: Drowning in PerfectEntry Nickname: Three Men and an ActuaryWord Count: 93KGenre: Women’s Commercial Fiction
Query:
Brooke Holt is a twenty-seven-year-old actuary and raging perfectionist—not that she sees it that way. She is simply striving to be the best version of herself, especially in the eyes of others, whose opinions hold her hostage.
After being dumped by her safe, lackluster boyfriend, Brooke takes a job in Minneapolis. A new city gives her a fresh start where she can get it right this time. She rents the basement apartment of a house occupied by three younger, immature men who are determined to disrupt Brooke’s carefully calculated life with their teasing, partying, and carefree attitudes.
When her estranged mother reaches out after seventeen years of no contact with a wedding invitation, she is torn, but ultimately decides she must finally get the answers she’s been longing for since she was ten. Desperate for the courage to face her mother, Brooke turns to the last people she thought she would ever ask for help—her rowdy roommates.
Forcing her to confront all her worst fears, the guys put her through a gauntlet of hellish challenges such as delivering pickup lines like a pirate, singing in public, and even falling in love. Unfortunately, she can’t tell if their efforts are curing her or crippling her further.
In the end, she must decide whether she will continue to hide behind her perfect façade, or finally acknowledge her demons and reveal the real Brooke.
First 250:
And to Brooke Hott, while I have enjoyed our time together over the past year, there comes a point when you know a person isn’t THE person, but I wish you the best future imaginable.
That gem of a sentence had ended up in my inbox on the Friday before the Christmas holidays from my boyfriend, Ira. It was the last sentiment in the mass farewell email he sent to the entire company. He even spelled my last name wrong. It’s Holt, not Hott. Was his error a slight against me, a careless typo, or did he sincerely not know my damn name?
After the worst holidays of my life, I turned in my resignation. I also vomited. At least I had made it to the bathroom with the utmost composure, so no one knew.
I sat at my desk, still shaky from being sick. My rash decision to quit USA Care came the day after that email. I had no choice since I would forever be tied to it, yet uprooting my career and life to another state was the riskiest thing I had ever done. Despite insanely planning for two weeks, I still felt out of control.
I wiped my clammy hands on my pants. I needed to stick to my to-do list. Unfinished business needled me like the constant clicking of a pen. I popped a piece of gum in my mouth, chewed for thirty seconds, and spit it into the trash can. Good as new, kind of.
VERSUS
Title: Bouncing BackEntry Nickname: BoomerangWord Count: 80KGenre: Women’s Fiction
Query:
Now that her children are grown and flown, Robin Larson is looking forward to resuscitating her almost thirty-year marriage. Unfortunately, her husband Bob has other ideas and, within hours of dropping their youngest at college, he announces he’s leaving her for another woman.
A year later, Robin has cobbled together a new life. With the help of her closest friend—a 63-year-old flower child named Barbara—Robin now works at a hipster coffee shop where she’s building new relationships with the young baristas, particularly the beautiful and brilliant but acerbic Dara.
Just when she finally starts to get the hang of her new independence, her adult son, Owen moves back home after having crashed and burned his own life in Hollywood where he was the creator of a popular sitcom. Mother and son unwittingly tumble into old roles—a choice that has disaster written all over it. Eventually, Owen’s childish regressions push Robin to the brink. Thinking it might help him get back on track, Robin introduces Owen to her co-workers at the coffeehouse. But when her two worlds collide and Robin finds her new friend Dara in bed with her son, she realizes she must cut the apron strings or risk losing her chance at finding new love, adventure, and a truly independent life.
First 250:
We haven’t spoken since Allentown. Bob listens to sports radio and occasionally digs at something in his ear as I stare out the window at distant, seemingly idyllic farms that turn dilapidated and disappointing the closer we get to them. I’m not the least bit concerned about the silence. It’s one of the perks, actually, of twenty-nine years of marriage—knowing you don’t have to worry about filling the dead air. And besides, I’m sure Bob is as lost in thought over the events of today as I am. She was our last to go. It’s a big deal.
“The roommate seems nice,” I finally say.
Bob doesn’t answer. He leans in and cocks his head toward the radio. Two guys named Joe, both with Long Island accents (pronounced Lung Island) are talking about a baseball player named Manny whose injury and forthcoming surgery will keep him out for the rest of the season. Joe and Joe take a caller.“I’m a little worried about how they are going to organize that room,” I say, letting my ongoing internal monologue spill out, “It’s so much smaller than I thought it would be. And it isn’t a real closet. It’s an armoire. She’s never going to fit everything in there. I should have insisted she leave her winter clothes home until Thanksgiving.”
One of the Joes is arguing with the caller who thinks Manny should pay back part of his fifteen million dollar salary. Joe calls him an idiot and hangs up on him.
Query:
Brooke Holt is a twenty-seven-year-old actuary and raging perfectionist—not that she sees it that way. She is simply striving to be the best version of herself, especially in the eyes of others, whose opinions hold her hostage.
After being dumped by her safe, lackluster boyfriend, Brooke takes a job in Minneapolis. A new city gives her a fresh start where she can get it right this time. She rents the basement apartment of a house occupied by three younger, immature men who are determined to disrupt Brooke’s carefully calculated life with their teasing, partying, and carefree attitudes.
When her estranged mother reaches out after seventeen years of no contact with a wedding invitation, she is torn, but ultimately decides she must finally get the answers she’s been longing for since she was ten. Desperate for the courage to face her mother, Brooke turns to the last people she thought she would ever ask for help—her rowdy roommates.
Forcing her to confront all her worst fears, the guys put her through a gauntlet of hellish challenges such as delivering pickup lines like a pirate, singing in public, and even falling in love. Unfortunately, she can’t tell if their efforts are curing her or crippling her further.
In the end, she must decide whether she will continue to hide behind her perfect façade, or finally acknowledge her demons and reveal the real Brooke.
First 250:
And to Brooke Hott, while I have enjoyed our time together over the past year, there comes a point when you know a person isn’t THE person, but I wish you the best future imaginable.
That gem of a sentence had ended up in my inbox on the Friday before the Christmas holidays from my boyfriend, Ira. It was the last sentiment in the mass farewell email he sent to the entire company. He even spelled my last name wrong. It’s Holt, not Hott. Was his error a slight against me, a careless typo, or did he sincerely not know my damn name?
After the worst holidays of my life, I turned in my resignation. I also vomited. At least I had made it to the bathroom with the utmost composure, so no one knew.
I sat at my desk, still shaky from being sick. My rash decision to quit USA Care came the day after that email. I had no choice since I would forever be tied to it, yet uprooting my career and life to another state was the riskiest thing I had ever done. Despite insanely planning for two weeks, I still felt out of control.
I wiped my clammy hands on my pants. I needed to stick to my to-do list. Unfinished business needled me like the constant clicking of a pen. I popped a piece of gum in my mouth, chewed for thirty seconds, and spit it into the trash can. Good as new, kind of.
VERSUS
Title: Bouncing BackEntry Nickname: BoomerangWord Count: 80KGenre: Women’s Fiction
Query:
Now that her children are grown and flown, Robin Larson is looking forward to resuscitating her almost thirty-year marriage. Unfortunately, her husband Bob has other ideas and, within hours of dropping their youngest at college, he announces he’s leaving her for another woman.
A year later, Robin has cobbled together a new life. With the help of her closest friend—a 63-year-old flower child named Barbara—Robin now works at a hipster coffee shop where she’s building new relationships with the young baristas, particularly the beautiful and brilliant but acerbic Dara.
Just when she finally starts to get the hang of her new independence, her adult son, Owen moves back home after having crashed and burned his own life in Hollywood where he was the creator of a popular sitcom. Mother and son unwittingly tumble into old roles—a choice that has disaster written all over it. Eventually, Owen’s childish regressions push Robin to the brink. Thinking it might help him get back on track, Robin introduces Owen to her co-workers at the coffeehouse. But when her two worlds collide and Robin finds her new friend Dara in bed with her son, she realizes she must cut the apron strings or risk losing her chance at finding new love, adventure, and a truly independent life.
First 250:
We haven’t spoken since Allentown. Bob listens to sports radio and occasionally digs at something in his ear as I stare out the window at distant, seemingly idyllic farms that turn dilapidated and disappointing the closer we get to them. I’m not the least bit concerned about the silence. It’s one of the perks, actually, of twenty-nine years of marriage—knowing you don’t have to worry about filling the dead air. And besides, I’m sure Bob is as lost in thought over the events of today as I am. She was our last to go. It’s a big deal.
“The roommate seems nice,” I finally say.
Bob doesn’t answer. He leans in and cocks his head toward the radio. Two guys named Joe, both with Long Island accents (pronounced Lung Island) are talking about a baseball player named Manny whose injury and forthcoming surgery will keep him out for the rest of the season. Joe and Joe take a caller.“I’m a little worried about how they are going to organize that room,” I say, letting my ongoing internal monologue spill out, “It’s so much smaller than I thought it would be. And it isn’t a real closet. It’s an armoire. She’s never going to fit everything in there. I should have insisted she leave her winter clothes home until Thanksgiving.”
One of the Joes is arguing with the caller who thinks Manny should pay back part of his fifteen million dollar salary. Joe calls him an idiot and hangs up on him.
QK Round 1: Moving On is Never Easy vs. I Fell For a Convicted Felon
Title: Free FallEntry Nickname: Moving On Is Never EasyWord Count: 81kGenre: Women's Fic (Adult)
Query:
When Larkin Winters tries to figure out why her college boyfriend committed suicide, she discovers some secrets are meant to stay buried.
Five years after Adam jumped off the campus clock tower, Larkin is a sarcastic, functional alcoholic who is barely able to handle the daily stresses of her dead-end retail job. While her therapist continually suggests dealing with Adam’s death and reapplying to medical school, Larkin prefers to drift through her life until a near nervous break-down forces her to reconsider her priorities. The only way to confront the loss, Larkin’s therapist says, is to attend her upcoming college reunion.
There, rumors swirl about Adam’s double life. Larkin doesn’t know who—or what—she should trust. Her memories of Adam are fading just like those of her life in college. Her free-spirited, feminist roommate, Kate, is unrecognizable as an uptight, Upper East Side-housewife. Larkin seems to share a connection with an attractive classmate, Hank, but she doesn’t remember him. With Kate and Hank’s help, she investigates Adam’s secrets while desperately trying to hold onto a past that no longer exists.
Even though what Larkin uncovers is the key to moving on, it stands to destroy Adam’s reputation and her college friendships. In the end, she must decide whether saving herself is worth losing everything.
First 250:
“Larkin?” a woman’s voice calls. “Are you still with me?”
The smart leather chairs and the bookshelf lined walls blur back into focus. Oh yeah, I’m in my therapist’s office. I run a shaking hand over my face, then pinch myself.
On the other side of the room, Dr. Shannon Fielding looks at me over her glasses. “Larkin?”
When I don’t reply, she makes a notation on her pad of paper. The scratch of the pen cuts through me. I dig my nails into the couch cushion. I’m surprised there aren’t permanent dents in it by now. I hate when she writes things down during our sessions, but she already knows that.
This is just a challenge. Something to bait me into ‘sharing’ things with her.
Well, it isn’t going to work today. She already used this trick on me last month. That’s how she found out about my college boyfriend, Adam. I cracked under a moment of intense pressure while she took notes on that pad. I won’t make that mistake again.
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms. “Dr. Fielding, it’s just – “
“Ms. Winters,” she interrupts, her voice as no-nonsense as her expression.
I close my eyes to hide the involuntary roll. This office has a first name only policy. For some insane reason, Dr. Fielding thinks throwing societal labels and professional etiquette to the wayside really helps her connect with patients. As though calling me something different changes who I am.
It’s a bunch of psycho-babble.
VERSUS
Title: Unreasonable DoubtsEntry nickname: I fell for a convicted felonWord Count: 91,000Genre: Contemporary Women's Fiction
Query:
Liana Cohen is a 29 year-old public defender. Her job is to represent indigent defendants whether they are guilty or innocent. But after years of representing the most hardened criminals, she is burned out. She needs one client, just one, in whom she can believe, to reignite her passion for the work and salvage her career.
In this state of emotional turmoil, Liana pins her hopes on Danny Shea, a convicted rapist. She finds Danny intelligent, magnetic and compelling. And he could be innocent.
As their attorney-client relationship transforms into something less than arms-length, Danny painstakingly insinuates himself into Liana’s world. After she wins him a reversal and he is released from prison, she is confronted with a man who is single-minded in his desire to be with her. Danny’s attentions intensify at the same time that Liana’s long-time boyfriend, Jakob Weiss, proposes marriage, and she’s forced to choose between love and a dangerous attraction.
First 250 Words:
July, 2012Dear Ms. Cohen,
Forgive me for being so direct, but I have no choice.
I need you to do something for me, something that goes beyond just doing your job. I’m begging you to put aside what you think you know about me based upon my conviction and from reading the testimony of the witnesses at trial, and to search out the man behind those words. It’s critical that you know in your heart, as my public defender, but even more so, as a woman, that I couldn’t, and I didn’t, rape Jennifer Nash or anyone else. I need you to believe in me.
My case could have been assigned to any attorney, but I have you. I believe there’s a reason for this, and I know that with you on my side I will emerge from this terrible darkness that has engulfed me since this false accusation was lodged. I pray that you’ll have the courage to stand with me.
Sincerely,
Danny Shea
Who is this guy? Liana wondered. Chapter 1“Liana, you have a call on line 1.” “Who is it, Tony?”
“Randy Napoli, that reporter from the New York Law Journal,” Tony responded. “Want me to ask him what it’s about?”
“No, thanks. You can put him through,” Liana said. She and Randy had the kind of friendship that sometimes flourishes because both parties know that it exists only in cyberspace and they’ll never actually have to meet.
Query:
When Larkin Winters tries to figure out why her college boyfriend committed suicide, she discovers some secrets are meant to stay buried.
Five years after Adam jumped off the campus clock tower, Larkin is a sarcastic, functional alcoholic who is barely able to handle the daily stresses of her dead-end retail job. While her therapist continually suggests dealing with Adam’s death and reapplying to medical school, Larkin prefers to drift through her life until a near nervous break-down forces her to reconsider her priorities. The only way to confront the loss, Larkin’s therapist says, is to attend her upcoming college reunion.
There, rumors swirl about Adam’s double life. Larkin doesn’t know who—or what—she should trust. Her memories of Adam are fading just like those of her life in college. Her free-spirited, feminist roommate, Kate, is unrecognizable as an uptight, Upper East Side-housewife. Larkin seems to share a connection with an attractive classmate, Hank, but she doesn’t remember him. With Kate and Hank’s help, she investigates Adam’s secrets while desperately trying to hold onto a past that no longer exists.
Even though what Larkin uncovers is the key to moving on, it stands to destroy Adam’s reputation and her college friendships. In the end, she must decide whether saving herself is worth losing everything.
First 250:
“Larkin?” a woman’s voice calls. “Are you still with me?”
The smart leather chairs and the bookshelf lined walls blur back into focus. Oh yeah, I’m in my therapist’s office. I run a shaking hand over my face, then pinch myself.
On the other side of the room, Dr. Shannon Fielding looks at me over her glasses. “Larkin?”
When I don’t reply, she makes a notation on her pad of paper. The scratch of the pen cuts through me. I dig my nails into the couch cushion. I’m surprised there aren’t permanent dents in it by now. I hate when she writes things down during our sessions, but she already knows that.
This is just a challenge. Something to bait me into ‘sharing’ things with her.
Well, it isn’t going to work today. She already used this trick on me last month. That’s how she found out about my college boyfriend, Adam. I cracked under a moment of intense pressure while she took notes on that pad. I won’t make that mistake again.
Leaning back in my chair, I cross my arms. “Dr. Fielding, it’s just – “
“Ms. Winters,” she interrupts, her voice as no-nonsense as her expression.
I close my eyes to hide the involuntary roll. This office has a first name only policy. For some insane reason, Dr. Fielding thinks throwing societal labels and professional etiquette to the wayside really helps her connect with patients. As though calling me something different changes who I am.
It’s a bunch of psycho-babble.
VERSUS
Title: Unreasonable DoubtsEntry nickname: I fell for a convicted felonWord Count: 91,000Genre: Contemporary Women's Fiction
Query:
Liana Cohen is a 29 year-old public defender. Her job is to represent indigent defendants whether they are guilty or innocent. But after years of representing the most hardened criminals, she is burned out. She needs one client, just one, in whom she can believe, to reignite her passion for the work and salvage her career.
In this state of emotional turmoil, Liana pins her hopes on Danny Shea, a convicted rapist. She finds Danny intelligent, magnetic and compelling. And he could be innocent.
As their attorney-client relationship transforms into something less than arms-length, Danny painstakingly insinuates himself into Liana’s world. After she wins him a reversal and he is released from prison, she is confronted with a man who is single-minded in his desire to be with her. Danny’s attentions intensify at the same time that Liana’s long-time boyfriend, Jakob Weiss, proposes marriage, and she’s forced to choose between love and a dangerous attraction.
First 250 Words:
July, 2012Dear Ms. Cohen,
Forgive me for being so direct, but I have no choice.
I need you to do something for me, something that goes beyond just doing your job. I’m begging you to put aside what you think you know about me based upon my conviction and from reading the testimony of the witnesses at trial, and to search out the man behind those words. It’s critical that you know in your heart, as my public defender, but even more so, as a woman, that I couldn’t, and I didn’t, rape Jennifer Nash or anyone else. I need you to believe in me.
My case could have been assigned to any attorney, but I have you. I believe there’s a reason for this, and I know that with you on my side I will emerge from this terrible darkness that has engulfed me since this false accusation was lodged. I pray that you’ll have the courage to stand with me.
Sincerely,
Danny Shea
Who is this guy? Liana wondered. Chapter 1“Liana, you have a call on line 1.” “Who is it, Tony?”
“Randy Napoli, that reporter from the New York Law Journal,” Tony responded. “Want me to ask him what it’s about?”
“No, thanks. You can put him through,” Liana said. She and Randy had the kind of friendship that sometimes flourishes because both parties know that it exists only in cyberspace and they’ll never actually have to meet.
QK Round 1: Pitt Bull Seeks Custody vs. From Gutters to Galleries
Title: Pitt Bull Seeks CustodyNickname: Pitt Bull Seeks CustodyWord Count: 93KGenre: Adult Mainstream
Query:
Homeless, like his father, David Taylor will never be. He'd rather use his balls for stew than turn into that man. To prove he's successfully left his past behind, David's family doesn't live an average life despite him earning an average wage. Society won't judge him a product of his upbringing. He's made sure of that. So when his daughter dies in a plane crash and he finds his wife floating in the bathtub, David struggles with a sense of abandonment he hasn't felt since the age of eight.
Consumed with bitterness, David fails to see his teenage son, Tom, drowning in survivor guilt and the heavy burden of doubting his mother loved him. But there is one person watching; David's pit bull of a sister-in-law, Jen.
Jen hates David with the same intensity that she loves Tom. Unable to have children, Tom is the only family she has left, and she won't lose him. She files for custody of Tom and knows she'll win. She has someone in her corner David can't refute. Tom's biological father.
Faced with Tom discovering his secret in court, David tells Tom the truth; no drop of blood could make him any less his son. But all Tom sees is a man who has lied to him all his life and he runs away. While searching for Tom, David realises he's built his life on the fear of the past. When Tom returns, David vows to change. Tom vows to change too. He moves out and lives with Jen, cutting David from his life.
To win Tom back, David knows he must do something he swore he never would. He walks away from his son. The difference between David and his father is David realises it's not that a life without family isn't worth living, it's that with a family, life is worth fighting for. Everything David once held in regard, a house, a fancy school, a powerful career, he leaves behind and fights for Tom's forgiveness. And for the first time in his life, David feels as if he's winning.
First 250:
The train hurtles through Melbourne suburbs and for three stops my wife's face fills the screen of my phone. I flick her photo back and forth so the screen won't go black, sliding her face as far left as possible before letting the image bounce back into place. Kaitlyn is smiling, but with each slide her eyes take on the look of a creature going insane from repeated routines and a tortured life. The screen goes black, so I press the button and her face appears, smiling, her eyes squinting. No hint of crazy.
Black. Slide. Smiling. Black. Slide. Smiling.
Maybe I'm going crazy.
I lift my glasses, close my eyes and rub my brow. Kaitlyn might understand my decision to stay. Sophie and Tom, at the ages of eight and thirteen, won't. I push my glasses down and stare at the reflection in the wet window of a man with dark hair cut too short, thinning his face, beard stubble failing to add a sense of youth or edge. A spunk rat Kaitlyn called me on our fourth date. Now, more rat than spunk. I look past my has-been image and watch weeds, fast-moving graffiti, and the ass-ends of buildings flash by. Houses no bigger than LEGO pieces link along the track, each vulnerable to vandals and squatters and stray dogs pissing on walls.
Dogs with no masters, no rules, no straps clamped over their mouths, just wandering the streets pissing on whatever and whoever they choose.
VERSUS
Title: Only When I FallEntry Nickname: From Gutters to GalleriesWord count: 80KGenre: Upmarket Fiction
Query:
Tris, a homeless heroin addict tormented by the voice of Vincent van Gogh, struggles to survive on the streets of Boston. A one time graffiti artist, Tris escapes his harsh reality by immersing himself in his inner world of sketches and classical painting. But he can't hide in his art forever. When Mia, his drug dealer and ex-girlfriend, secretly enters one of his paintings into an online art contest, the image goes viral, sparking a widespread search for a troubled loner with a singular gift.
But not everyone searching for Tris means him well. A posh art dealer with a trail of disappearing protégés and his sights set on his next mark, a social network moderator obsessed with the anonymous contest entry, and a groundskeeper required to evict the homeless are all closing in on the abandoned utility room under a Charles River bridge where Tris has been staying.
Unaware of the ripple effect his mysterious painting has had on the people who've seen it, Tris battles his addiction with the hopes of getting clean and reconciling with Mia, who fights to save the man she wishes she didn't love. As the circle grows tighter, Tris must shake the pursuers on his heels, the voice in his head, and the heroin in his veins, or risk losing not only his life's work and the person he loves, but the very life to which he clings.
First 250:
The Museum of Fine Arts was humming. Patrons clopped around on marble tile toward the new Vermeer exhibit, loners sketched landscapes in their spiral pads, and tour guides directed groups between potted ferns from the European galleries to the Americas. An odd tang of coffee and parmesan wafted from the café on the first floor.
Mia Clarke wiped down table five, the edge of her full-sleeve tattoos peeking out from beneath the black uniform shirt cuffs buttoned at her wrists. Peering out through her purple glasses, she brushed a strand of pink hair behind her ear. As she rushed to take an order from a customer at the next table over, a different kind of customer stepped into the café.
She saw Tris out of the corner of her eye. He was hard to miss.
His dirty blonde hair was matted and fell past his shoulders like a neglected houseplant, its tendrils winding their way through his overgrown beard. Glancing around the room, he found an empty chair and slid into it. Their eyes met and she raised a finger for him to give her a minute.
Finishing up with her customer, Mia approached.
"Hey, Tris. Can I get you a cup of coffee?"
He sat hunched over the table, his eyes unreadable. "No thanks. Just a fruit cup."
A thin sigh escaped her lips. "How about a muffin or something?"
"Not today."
She knew he didn't care about the fruit. He came for the heroin she slipped inside.
Query:
Homeless, like his father, David Taylor will never be. He'd rather use his balls for stew than turn into that man. To prove he's successfully left his past behind, David's family doesn't live an average life despite him earning an average wage. Society won't judge him a product of his upbringing. He's made sure of that. So when his daughter dies in a plane crash and he finds his wife floating in the bathtub, David struggles with a sense of abandonment he hasn't felt since the age of eight.
Consumed with bitterness, David fails to see his teenage son, Tom, drowning in survivor guilt and the heavy burden of doubting his mother loved him. But there is one person watching; David's pit bull of a sister-in-law, Jen.
Jen hates David with the same intensity that she loves Tom. Unable to have children, Tom is the only family she has left, and she won't lose him. She files for custody of Tom and knows she'll win. She has someone in her corner David can't refute. Tom's biological father.
Faced with Tom discovering his secret in court, David tells Tom the truth; no drop of blood could make him any less his son. But all Tom sees is a man who has lied to him all his life and he runs away. While searching for Tom, David realises he's built his life on the fear of the past. When Tom returns, David vows to change. Tom vows to change too. He moves out and lives with Jen, cutting David from his life.
To win Tom back, David knows he must do something he swore he never would. He walks away from his son. The difference between David and his father is David realises it's not that a life without family isn't worth living, it's that with a family, life is worth fighting for. Everything David once held in regard, a house, a fancy school, a powerful career, he leaves behind and fights for Tom's forgiveness. And for the first time in his life, David feels as if he's winning.
First 250:
The train hurtles through Melbourne suburbs and for three stops my wife's face fills the screen of my phone. I flick her photo back and forth so the screen won't go black, sliding her face as far left as possible before letting the image bounce back into place. Kaitlyn is smiling, but with each slide her eyes take on the look of a creature going insane from repeated routines and a tortured life. The screen goes black, so I press the button and her face appears, smiling, her eyes squinting. No hint of crazy.
Black. Slide. Smiling. Black. Slide. Smiling.
Maybe I'm going crazy.
I lift my glasses, close my eyes and rub my brow. Kaitlyn might understand my decision to stay. Sophie and Tom, at the ages of eight and thirteen, won't. I push my glasses down and stare at the reflection in the wet window of a man with dark hair cut too short, thinning his face, beard stubble failing to add a sense of youth or edge. A spunk rat Kaitlyn called me on our fourth date. Now, more rat than spunk. I look past my has-been image and watch weeds, fast-moving graffiti, and the ass-ends of buildings flash by. Houses no bigger than LEGO pieces link along the track, each vulnerable to vandals and squatters and stray dogs pissing on walls.
Dogs with no masters, no rules, no straps clamped over their mouths, just wandering the streets pissing on whatever and whoever they choose.
VERSUS
Title: Only When I FallEntry Nickname: From Gutters to GalleriesWord count: 80KGenre: Upmarket Fiction
Query:
Tris, a homeless heroin addict tormented by the voice of Vincent van Gogh, struggles to survive on the streets of Boston. A one time graffiti artist, Tris escapes his harsh reality by immersing himself in his inner world of sketches and classical painting. But he can't hide in his art forever. When Mia, his drug dealer and ex-girlfriend, secretly enters one of his paintings into an online art contest, the image goes viral, sparking a widespread search for a troubled loner with a singular gift.
But not everyone searching for Tris means him well. A posh art dealer with a trail of disappearing protégés and his sights set on his next mark, a social network moderator obsessed with the anonymous contest entry, and a groundskeeper required to evict the homeless are all closing in on the abandoned utility room under a Charles River bridge where Tris has been staying.
Unaware of the ripple effect his mysterious painting has had on the people who've seen it, Tris battles his addiction with the hopes of getting clean and reconciling with Mia, who fights to save the man she wishes she didn't love. As the circle grows tighter, Tris must shake the pursuers on his heels, the voice in his head, and the heroin in his veins, or risk losing not only his life's work and the person he loves, but the very life to which he clings.
First 250:
The Museum of Fine Arts was humming. Patrons clopped around on marble tile toward the new Vermeer exhibit, loners sketched landscapes in their spiral pads, and tour guides directed groups between potted ferns from the European galleries to the Americas. An odd tang of coffee and parmesan wafted from the café on the first floor.
Mia Clarke wiped down table five, the edge of her full-sleeve tattoos peeking out from beneath the black uniform shirt cuffs buttoned at her wrists. Peering out through her purple glasses, she brushed a strand of pink hair behind her ear. As she rushed to take an order from a customer at the next table over, a different kind of customer stepped into the café.
She saw Tris out of the corner of her eye. He was hard to miss.
His dirty blonde hair was matted and fell past his shoulders like a neglected houseplant, its tendrils winding their way through his overgrown beard. Glancing around the room, he found an empty chair and slid into it. Their eyes met and she raised a finger for him to give her a minute.
Finishing up with her customer, Mia approached.
"Hey, Tris. Can I get you a cup of coffee?"
He sat hunched over the table, his eyes unreadable. "No thanks. Just a fruit cup."
A thin sigh escaped her lips. "How about a muffin or something?"
"Not today."
She knew he didn't care about the fruit. He came for the heroin she slipped inside.
QK Round 1: Grocery Store Zombies vs. Switcher
Title: The DustEntry Nickname: Grocery Store ZombiesWord Count: 92KGenre: Urban Fantasy
Query:
Nineteen-year-old Lex Hightower has two of the worst jobs in Alabama: part-time grocery store employee, part-time corpse killer. In the six weeks since some lunatic bombed the South, she’s spent most of her time beating back the radioactive dead and reluctantly helping the useless survivors at the store.
When she learns there’s a safe zone on the edge of the Tennessee-Kentucky Line, she’s not thrilled about walking two hundred miles on sore cashier’s feet. But when she discovers the food reserves in the store are almost gone, she makes up her mind: time to get out of Kroger and on the road.
Armed with a few packs of cigarettes and a metal bat, Lex grabs the two survivors who annoy her the least and sets out on her journey. Ex-friend, ex-meth addict Brian and naïve-but-well-intentioned Tony aren’t ideal travel companions, but she’s not dumb enough to head into a corpse-riddled wasteland by herself. A two-week trip on foot? Easy.
At least it would be if the corpses weren’t getting stronger and smarter every day. Or if a mysterious group weren’t carving Xs on buildings and people. Or if the fallout wasn’t just changing the dead, but the living as well.
First 250:
Brian offers me a cigarette as the corpses circle the edge of the store. There are two of them, a man and a woman this time; the man’s bloated gut stretches out of its ripped sweater, exposing its gray skin, and the woman isn’t wearing any shoes. Who kicks off their shoes when they’re running from something trying to kill them? Dumbass.
“Lex, take it,” Brian says, shoving a Marlboro in my face. An unlit one dangles from his mouth.
“Damn, you’re annoying.” I take the cigarette and flick it into the ravine at our feet, my eyes on the corpses in front of us. One is on its knees, pawing at the gap that separates the store from the parking lot. It’s deep, but not wide; it could jump across if it wanted. Luckily the corpses are dumb as shit and haven’t figured out the concept of jumping. Hopefully they never do.
I sigh, my breath making a small white cloud in the air. It’s bitterly cold for an Alabama September. I’m not sure if the uncommon cold or the thick gray clouds that blot out the sun has anything to do with it, but bright green flecks of dust constantly rain down from above. I’ve only ever seen snow a handful of times, but the dust looks just like it—silent flurries that coat everything in green ash. We’re sitting under an overhang to avoid it, though. If it touches our skin, it burns.
VERSUS
Title: The Switcher ChroniclesEntry Nickname: SwitcherWord Count: 96,000Genre: Urban Fantasy
Query:
Cade Hightower is about to go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit—in other words, business as usual for a professional body switcher. For his best client and double his normal fee, he’s willing to take on the occasional illegal job like this, but mostly he manages to keep on the right side of his own moral line, no pranks, no lie detector tests, and no switching bodies without permission.
Cade’s sister Daphne is an Arcanist, a practitioner of the art of injectable magic. She can give a politician a shot of Charisma or help a perpetually dieting starlet with a syringe-full of Will Power. Her clients are rich or powerful or both, and they count on Daphne’s discretion.
Daphne left home for her Arcanist training when she was sixteen, and Cade never told his big sister how bad life got after that. Instead, he’s been shielding Daphne from the truth—and resenting her ignorance—for ten years.
When Daphne decides to repair their estrangement by moving in with Cade, he isn’t sure how long he can keep his bitterness hidden. At the same time, they discover that not all body switchers are as scrupulous as Cade. Someone’s using that rare talent to swindle rich old people out of their fortunes and their lives. That someone is the uncle Cade hated, Daphne loved, and they both thought was dead. Now Cade and Daphne need to clean up the mess their own family has made without destroying their fragile relationship in the process.
First 250:
I had been back in my body for twenty-four hours, and the mosquito bite between my shoulder blades itched like a rhino’s hide in a drought. If clients kept taking my body camping while I did trust falls at a corporate retreat in theirs, I needed to add a bug-spray requirement to my standard contract.
But ignoring little—or medium-sized—annoyances was part of my professional skill set, so I focused on the job in front of me—washing the bus. When the phone rang, I was balanced on an over-sized tire, trying to reach the middle of the giant windshield. I dropped the squeegee and jumped to the asphalt to take the call. The screen said, "Private Name Private Number." I got that a lot.
“Cade Hightower,” I said.
Harlan Ambrose’s voice on the line was deep and quick. “Cade, bro, what’re you doing?”
“Washing the windows on the bus, sir.”
“Hey, do me a favor and go inside.”
“Inside the bus, sir?”
“Yeah. Inside the bus.”
I kicked the garden hose that snaked from the bus to a faucet sticking out of the grass.
“Sir, I’m in a high school parking lot on a Sunday. I might as well be on the moon.”
“No, I mean it. Inside. Got a job for you.”
I held the phone away from my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me grumbling and climbed the three steps into the school bus I’d turned into my home.
Query:
Nineteen-year-old Lex Hightower has two of the worst jobs in Alabama: part-time grocery store employee, part-time corpse killer. In the six weeks since some lunatic bombed the South, she’s spent most of her time beating back the radioactive dead and reluctantly helping the useless survivors at the store.
When she learns there’s a safe zone on the edge of the Tennessee-Kentucky Line, she’s not thrilled about walking two hundred miles on sore cashier’s feet. But when she discovers the food reserves in the store are almost gone, she makes up her mind: time to get out of Kroger and on the road.
Armed with a few packs of cigarettes and a metal bat, Lex grabs the two survivors who annoy her the least and sets out on her journey. Ex-friend, ex-meth addict Brian and naïve-but-well-intentioned Tony aren’t ideal travel companions, but she’s not dumb enough to head into a corpse-riddled wasteland by herself. A two-week trip on foot? Easy.
At least it would be if the corpses weren’t getting stronger and smarter every day. Or if a mysterious group weren’t carving Xs on buildings and people. Or if the fallout wasn’t just changing the dead, but the living as well.
First 250:
Brian offers me a cigarette as the corpses circle the edge of the store. There are two of them, a man and a woman this time; the man’s bloated gut stretches out of its ripped sweater, exposing its gray skin, and the woman isn’t wearing any shoes. Who kicks off their shoes when they’re running from something trying to kill them? Dumbass.
“Lex, take it,” Brian says, shoving a Marlboro in my face. An unlit one dangles from his mouth.
“Damn, you’re annoying.” I take the cigarette and flick it into the ravine at our feet, my eyes on the corpses in front of us. One is on its knees, pawing at the gap that separates the store from the parking lot. It’s deep, but not wide; it could jump across if it wanted. Luckily the corpses are dumb as shit and haven’t figured out the concept of jumping. Hopefully they never do.
I sigh, my breath making a small white cloud in the air. It’s bitterly cold for an Alabama September. I’m not sure if the uncommon cold or the thick gray clouds that blot out the sun has anything to do with it, but bright green flecks of dust constantly rain down from above. I’ve only ever seen snow a handful of times, but the dust looks just like it—silent flurries that coat everything in green ash. We’re sitting under an overhang to avoid it, though. If it touches our skin, it burns.
VERSUS
Title: The Switcher ChroniclesEntry Nickname: SwitcherWord Count: 96,000Genre: Urban Fantasy
Query:
Cade Hightower is about to go to jail for a crime he didn’t commit—in other words, business as usual for a professional body switcher. For his best client and double his normal fee, he’s willing to take on the occasional illegal job like this, but mostly he manages to keep on the right side of his own moral line, no pranks, no lie detector tests, and no switching bodies without permission.
Cade’s sister Daphne is an Arcanist, a practitioner of the art of injectable magic. She can give a politician a shot of Charisma or help a perpetually dieting starlet with a syringe-full of Will Power. Her clients are rich or powerful or both, and they count on Daphne’s discretion.
Daphne left home for her Arcanist training when she was sixteen, and Cade never told his big sister how bad life got after that. Instead, he’s been shielding Daphne from the truth—and resenting her ignorance—for ten years.
When Daphne decides to repair their estrangement by moving in with Cade, he isn’t sure how long he can keep his bitterness hidden. At the same time, they discover that not all body switchers are as scrupulous as Cade. Someone’s using that rare talent to swindle rich old people out of their fortunes and their lives. That someone is the uncle Cade hated, Daphne loved, and they both thought was dead. Now Cade and Daphne need to clean up the mess their own family has made without destroying their fragile relationship in the process.
First 250:
I had been back in my body for twenty-four hours, and the mosquito bite between my shoulder blades itched like a rhino’s hide in a drought. If clients kept taking my body camping while I did trust falls at a corporate retreat in theirs, I needed to add a bug-spray requirement to my standard contract.
But ignoring little—or medium-sized—annoyances was part of my professional skill set, so I focused on the job in front of me—washing the bus. When the phone rang, I was balanced on an over-sized tire, trying to reach the middle of the giant windshield. I dropped the squeegee and jumped to the asphalt to take the call. The screen said, "Private Name Private Number." I got that a lot.
“Cade Hightower,” I said.
Harlan Ambrose’s voice on the line was deep and quick. “Cade, bro, what’re you doing?”
“Washing the windows on the bus, sir.”
“Hey, do me a favor and go inside.”
“Inside the bus, sir?”
“Yeah. Inside the bus.”
I kicked the garden hose that snaked from the bus to a faucet sticking out of the grass.
“Sir, I’m in a high school parking lot on a Sunday. I might as well be on the moon.”
“No, I mean it. Inside. Got a job for you.”
I held the phone away from my mouth so he wouldn’t hear me grumbling and climbed the three steps into the school bus I’d turned into my home.
QK Round 1: Asteroid Snacks vs. Aliens, Catapults, Car Chases
Title: The Crows of Phobos
Entry Nickname: Asteroid Snacks
Word count: 84K
Genre: Adult Science Fiction
Query:
Estranged form friends and family, Baku makes rent by doing odd jobs for her landlord and kills time flying her ship around the asteroid belt, hitting up seedy convenience stores for MSG chips. When she runs out of fuel and siphons some from a luxury cruiser, she sets in motion a series of misadventures that permanently alleviate her boredom.
The owner of the cruiser, Genevieve, forces Baku to pay for the fuel she stole. The only object of value Baku has is a silver coin she keeps as a good luck charm. Baku hands over her Siriusan denarius that, unbeknown to either of them, is worth millions of Ganymede Guilders.
The coin isn’t just valuable, it’s trouble. Possessing it leads Genevieve into the hands of paranoid but affable crime lord, Erik. Baku rescues her, but their subsequent attempts to evade Erik lead them into the world of forgery and organized crime.
When Erik captures Baku and holds her ransom, Genevieve forges art to secure her release. But Erik needs more than just art. He needs scapegoats to take the fall for the interstellar revolution he’s fomented by supporting two opposing sides of a Siriusan political conflict. And he isn’t afraid to doom Genevieve and Baku in his stead.
First 250:
The Fly n’ Buy mechanic lay hibernating behind the checkout counter, his segmented body curled into a ball, his hundred eyestalks gently entwined. Above the till hung a sign that read ‘Pump Out Of Order.’
“Guess I flew here for nothing,” Baku said. “Better stock up on snacks in case I end up adrift for days.” She shrugged off her irritation. At least she’d gotten out of the house and filled a few empty hours.
Baku roamed the dim aisles. She loaded her hand basket with gummy worms, condensed potato starch chips, and a stale, greasy donut from a rotating hotdog heater. The Aldebaranians who worked this asteroid outpost never knew quite what to make of human food. They roasted coffee beans in the popcorn popper and dumped buckets of cold, gelatinous soup in the slushy machine.
Baku placed her basket on the counter. She fished in her coat pockets for coins and dropped a handful in front of the till. A Cordelian thaler and two Callisto rupees tinkled onto the silicon countertop.
The clerk trained one eyestalk on the coins, then on Baku. He motioned with a claw for more.
Baku dug deep in an inner pocket and found an Io yuan beneath a lump of lint. She dropped it beside the other coins. The clerk scooped the money into the till and placed the items in a bag, donut first.
“Thank you,” Baku said, having acquired all the accoutrements of identity she could afford. Maybe one day she’d spring for a soup slushy.
VERSUS
Title: Double BlindEntry Nickname: Aliens, Catapults, Car ChasesWord count: 99KGenre: Science Fiction Query:
I am seeking representation for my completed, professionally-edited, 99,000-word science fiction novel, Double Blind, a story of alien contact. I was nine when Star Wars came out. I saw it in the theater seven times. I grew up, studied ecology and evolution, and became a biologist. But Star Wars stuck with me. The cantina scene stuck with me. I began to imagine how that cantina could exist, full of diverse aliens. How did it start? Let’s assume that one species was native there. Then another species arrived. They planted their own crops. They brought their own pets (and giant work animals). They presented massive challenges to the legal systems. Bartenders learned what the new folks drank.
I’m going to build that cantina, but out of hard science fiction. I’m not writing about the Star Wars universe. No Force in my world; no magic. Also no spaceships. If we’re honest about it, space travel looks too hard. We haven’t even gotten to Mars yet. Maybe interstellar travel is just not feasible. So how does my multi-alien world exist?
The aliens’ message reaches Earth in 2025. That message contains the instructions to develop alien life plus several thousand genomes. The aliens (Senders) seem to propose a swap, where humans raise aliens on Earth and the Senders raise humans on their planet. No mention of any spaceship.
Jose thought that his musings on alien biochemistry were theoretical and safe—go to a conference and spout some stuff. Now he’s growing alien species on Earth, and realizing that his project has determined enemies. When his remote African lab is raided, Jose scrambles to rescue the developing aliens. Soon the young and precociously violent Senders are loose in the African back-country. Jose’s past and that big scar on his scalp have taught him to avoid guns and danger, but now he has to decide how hard to fight for his cause.
Based on the genomes humans sent in a reply message, a Terran ecosystem has been established on a planet called Kaijo. But humans there live in an Iron Age society, with no sign of the alien Sender culture. Onso is a hunter who travels into the wilderness of Kaijo. That’s where he encounters the fierce Pachan and the odd species of their ecosystem. Onso isn’t really a “people person,” and now the people he’s working with are crab-like, semi-aquatic murderers. Onso must comprehend the Pachan in order to survive and possibly avert a war the humans seem sure to lose.
First 250:
“You’re wanting Beta Hydri next?” asked Siyo, the telescope operator. Siyo put on his reading glasses and leaned into his screen.
“Please,” Oscar said. “Right ascension—”
“No, no, that one I got,” the operator interjected. “We get a lot of looks at her. Give me forty seconds and you’ll be on target.”
A hum shook the building. In the main chamber of the South African Large Telescope, heavy objects moved to take aim at the star. Oscar took the time to pull his trench coat over his slender frame. Even in November, the Southern Hemisphere summer, nights here were cold. He could see his reflection in the momentarily dark screen. Oscar’s hair was scarlet red, grown out from a Mohawk. Underneath the coat, his T-shirt sported a Higg’s boson joke.
The two men sat in the SALT control room in ergonomic blue chairs meant for sitting all night. A long bench supported computers and screens with wires snaking through the ceiling. One wall held a framed poster describing the main sequence of stars. Another had a small glass case with a hammer on a chain. Its label read:
In Case of Something Significant, Break Glass
The case contained a bottle of whiskey. Other than these two wall decorations, the space was relentlessly functional. It had only one small panel of physical controls, and half of that was the thermostat. A few mouse clicks controlled the movement of the 11-meter telescope. Eight screens were up and running on the long table, although Oscar and Siyo mainly used three.
Entry Nickname: Asteroid Snacks
Word count: 84K
Genre: Adult Science Fiction
Query:
Estranged form friends and family, Baku makes rent by doing odd jobs for her landlord and kills time flying her ship around the asteroid belt, hitting up seedy convenience stores for MSG chips. When she runs out of fuel and siphons some from a luxury cruiser, she sets in motion a series of misadventures that permanently alleviate her boredom.
The owner of the cruiser, Genevieve, forces Baku to pay for the fuel she stole. The only object of value Baku has is a silver coin she keeps as a good luck charm. Baku hands over her Siriusan denarius that, unbeknown to either of them, is worth millions of Ganymede Guilders.
The coin isn’t just valuable, it’s trouble. Possessing it leads Genevieve into the hands of paranoid but affable crime lord, Erik. Baku rescues her, but their subsequent attempts to evade Erik lead them into the world of forgery and organized crime.
When Erik captures Baku and holds her ransom, Genevieve forges art to secure her release. But Erik needs more than just art. He needs scapegoats to take the fall for the interstellar revolution he’s fomented by supporting two opposing sides of a Siriusan political conflict. And he isn’t afraid to doom Genevieve and Baku in his stead.
First 250:
The Fly n’ Buy mechanic lay hibernating behind the checkout counter, his segmented body curled into a ball, his hundred eyestalks gently entwined. Above the till hung a sign that read ‘Pump Out Of Order.’
“Guess I flew here for nothing,” Baku said. “Better stock up on snacks in case I end up adrift for days.” She shrugged off her irritation. At least she’d gotten out of the house and filled a few empty hours.
Baku roamed the dim aisles. She loaded her hand basket with gummy worms, condensed potato starch chips, and a stale, greasy donut from a rotating hotdog heater. The Aldebaranians who worked this asteroid outpost never knew quite what to make of human food. They roasted coffee beans in the popcorn popper and dumped buckets of cold, gelatinous soup in the slushy machine.
Baku placed her basket on the counter. She fished in her coat pockets for coins and dropped a handful in front of the till. A Cordelian thaler and two Callisto rupees tinkled onto the silicon countertop.
The clerk trained one eyestalk on the coins, then on Baku. He motioned with a claw for more.
Baku dug deep in an inner pocket and found an Io yuan beneath a lump of lint. She dropped it beside the other coins. The clerk scooped the money into the till and placed the items in a bag, donut first.
“Thank you,” Baku said, having acquired all the accoutrements of identity she could afford. Maybe one day she’d spring for a soup slushy.
VERSUS
Title: Double BlindEntry Nickname: Aliens, Catapults, Car ChasesWord count: 99KGenre: Science Fiction Query:
I am seeking representation for my completed, professionally-edited, 99,000-word science fiction novel, Double Blind, a story of alien contact. I was nine when Star Wars came out. I saw it in the theater seven times. I grew up, studied ecology and evolution, and became a biologist. But Star Wars stuck with me. The cantina scene stuck with me. I began to imagine how that cantina could exist, full of diverse aliens. How did it start? Let’s assume that one species was native there. Then another species arrived. They planted their own crops. They brought their own pets (and giant work animals). They presented massive challenges to the legal systems. Bartenders learned what the new folks drank.
I’m going to build that cantina, but out of hard science fiction. I’m not writing about the Star Wars universe. No Force in my world; no magic. Also no spaceships. If we’re honest about it, space travel looks too hard. We haven’t even gotten to Mars yet. Maybe interstellar travel is just not feasible. So how does my multi-alien world exist?
The aliens’ message reaches Earth in 2025. That message contains the instructions to develop alien life plus several thousand genomes. The aliens (Senders) seem to propose a swap, where humans raise aliens on Earth and the Senders raise humans on their planet. No mention of any spaceship.
Jose thought that his musings on alien biochemistry were theoretical and safe—go to a conference and spout some stuff. Now he’s growing alien species on Earth, and realizing that his project has determined enemies. When his remote African lab is raided, Jose scrambles to rescue the developing aliens. Soon the young and precociously violent Senders are loose in the African back-country. Jose’s past and that big scar on his scalp have taught him to avoid guns and danger, but now he has to decide how hard to fight for his cause.
Based on the genomes humans sent in a reply message, a Terran ecosystem has been established on a planet called Kaijo. But humans there live in an Iron Age society, with no sign of the alien Sender culture. Onso is a hunter who travels into the wilderness of Kaijo. That’s where he encounters the fierce Pachan and the odd species of their ecosystem. Onso isn’t really a “people person,” and now the people he’s working with are crab-like, semi-aquatic murderers. Onso must comprehend the Pachan in order to survive and possibly avert a war the humans seem sure to lose.
First 250:
“You’re wanting Beta Hydri next?” asked Siyo, the telescope operator. Siyo put on his reading glasses and leaned into his screen.
“Please,” Oscar said. “Right ascension—”
“No, no, that one I got,” the operator interjected. “We get a lot of looks at her. Give me forty seconds and you’ll be on target.”
A hum shook the building. In the main chamber of the South African Large Telescope, heavy objects moved to take aim at the star. Oscar took the time to pull his trench coat over his slender frame. Even in November, the Southern Hemisphere summer, nights here were cold. He could see his reflection in the momentarily dark screen. Oscar’s hair was scarlet red, grown out from a Mohawk. Underneath the coat, his T-shirt sported a Higg’s boson joke.
The two men sat in the SALT control room in ergonomic blue chairs meant for sitting all night. A long bench supported computers and screens with wires snaking through the ceiling. One wall held a framed poster describing the main sequence of stars. Another had a small glass case with a hammer on a chain. Its label read:
In Case of Something Significant, Break Glass
The case contained a bottle of whiskey. Other than these two wall decorations, the space was relentlessly functional. It had only one small panel of physical controls, and half of that was the thermostat. A few mouse clicks controlled the movement of the 11-meter telescope. Eight screens were up and running on the long table, although Oscar and Siyo mainly used three.
QK Round 1: Talking Swords FTW vs. Life as a Dumpster Fire
Title: FreedomEntry Nickname: Talking Swords FTWWord count: 115KGenre: Adult High Fantasy
Query:
Being a tax collector is a miserable job, but being a tax collector in a world of sorcerers, undead, and dragons is downright deadly.
The country of Albion is struggling with debt from two wars. Alas, the wealthiest citizens, refusing to pay their taxes, have transformed most of the tax collectors into toads.
Thus, the dryad Head of the Royal Tax Collectors has sent out a call for mercenaries of any species, sexual orientation, and criminal record to collect taxes. Their new recruits include a once and future king, the next prophesied dark lord, and a weapon of mass destruction with the personality of a toddler—but they are effective at getting the job done. Just as long as the gods who want them dead don’t catch up.
Welcome to the kingdom of Albion, where death is sometimes optional, but even the undead pay their taxes on time.
First 250:
Two soldiers hurled Dain into the cell with considerably more force than necessary. He bounced off the stone wall in a way which might have broken a bone if he had been human, but dwarves were made of tougher material.
Step one: analyze his surroundings. His face was embedded in packed dirt smelling of excrement. The stone corner walled in by iron bars lacked so much as a bench. A holding cell, then. Empty, so perhaps there was truth in the street rumors of a recent jailbreak.
Exactly how bad things were remained to be seen. Dain risked lifting his head. Beyond the bars was a dim, windowless room, a staircase, a trap door, and two very ugly men rummaging through his belongings.
One, a giant hulk of a man with a scar running down his nose and disfiguring his lip, upended Dain’s pack to shake out what remained onto the floor. The other guard picked through the assortment of camping gear, food, and clothes. He was shorter than his companion, but better-looking, although he had an unusually small nose. Dain dubbed him “Pug-nose” and still felt justified thinking of them as the ugly duo.
Pug-nose unwound Dain’s fur coat to reveal a leather bundle the length of a longsword. He whistled.
“What’s that?” Scar-face asked.
“Finally something of value.” Pug-nose tore away at the cover.
This roused Dain to his feet. Here we go again, the tired part of his brain whispered. “You don’t want to touch that sword.”
VERSUS
Title: ORPHANEntry Nickname: Life as a Dumpster FireGenre: Speculative Noir, #ownvoicesWord Count: 103,000
Query:
Jeb knows there are only two kinds of family: the ones who leave you, or the ones who own you. Now a reluctant member of the crime family who raised him, he’s balanced on his last chance after getting a lifetime of strikes trying to escape Felicity Harbour—a city as anxious and brutal as everyone living in it. When he gets his last strike, his death is imminent; so, a federal agent offering Jeb a way out of town looks too good to be true. All Jeb has to do is hand over the access codes to his boss’s technology empire. Except Jeb’s best friend, Booker, has the codes.
It isn’t a matter of stealing information. Jeb and Booker have been best friends since they were kids, but their relationship is complicated. Especially when they’re both more than a little in love with one another, the first of two secrets Jeb can never confess—the second secret being he’s never told Booker about wanting to leave Felicity Harbour, or why. Jeb can't throw away everything he and Booker have been through. Despite this unsurmountable breach between them, betraying him is unthinkable—until Booker betrays Jeb first. Now Jeb must decide which is preferable: the future ending shortly in a shallow grave, or the future where the only way out means becoming as brutal as the place he’s trying to leave behind.
First 250:
ERROR. There is a problem with the application. Please restart your device. Jeb stabbed at the screen and the notification disappeared from view. Annoyed, he yanked open the taxi door and got out. His first step sank him ankle-deep in a pothole disguised as a puddle. Cold, dirty water flooded into his shoe and soaked the hem of his jeans. “Damn it,” he sighed, his frustration rising. He shook his foot. The distant waves breaking against the waterfront laughed at him.
Jeb didn’t even have to be at the docks. Except Booker had asked for his company, and Jeb felt better about life when Booker was around.
The message appeared again, this time scrolled across Jeb’s contact lens. There is a problem with the application. Please restart your device. Cold wind grabbed at Jeb’s nose as it passed—it smelled like misery and fear, and that all-encompassing loneliness embedded into Jeb’s childhood. He squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed a hand over his face. Then he restarted his device—the edges of the implanted screen burned hot against the skin of his wrist—and retried the phone call he’d just tried to make.
THIRD STRIKE PROTOCOL flashed across the screen, even as the connection went through. He’d gotten another third strike alert that morning. Two in one day was annoying enough for Jeb to get Hyun to look at it. Everything combined made him want to lay down on the wet tarmac and take a nap.
Booker picked up. “Where the hell are you?”
Query:
Being a tax collector is a miserable job, but being a tax collector in a world of sorcerers, undead, and dragons is downright deadly.
The country of Albion is struggling with debt from two wars. Alas, the wealthiest citizens, refusing to pay their taxes, have transformed most of the tax collectors into toads.
Thus, the dryad Head of the Royal Tax Collectors has sent out a call for mercenaries of any species, sexual orientation, and criminal record to collect taxes. Their new recruits include a once and future king, the next prophesied dark lord, and a weapon of mass destruction with the personality of a toddler—but they are effective at getting the job done. Just as long as the gods who want them dead don’t catch up.
Welcome to the kingdom of Albion, where death is sometimes optional, but even the undead pay their taxes on time.
First 250:
Two soldiers hurled Dain into the cell with considerably more force than necessary. He bounced off the stone wall in a way which might have broken a bone if he had been human, but dwarves were made of tougher material.
Step one: analyze his surroundings. His face was embedded in packed dirt smelling of excrement. The stone corner walled in by iron bars lacked so much as a bench. A holding cell, then. Empty, so perhaps there was truth in the street rumors of a recent jailbreak.
Exactly how bad things were remained to be seen. Dain risked lifting his head. Beyond the bars was a dim, windowless room, a staircase, a trap door, and two very ugly men rummaging through his belongings.
One, a giant hulk of a man with a scar running down his nose and disfiguring his lip, upended Dain’s pack to shake out what remained onto the floor. The other guard picked through the assortment of camping gear, food, and clothes. He was shorter than his companion, but better-looking, although he had an unusually small nose. Dain dubbed him “Pug-nose” and still felt justified thinking of them as the ugly duo.
Pug-nose unwound Dain’s fur coat to reveal a leather bundle the length of a longsword. He whistled.
“What’s that?” Scar-face asked.
“Finally something of value.” Pug-nose tore away at the cover.
This roused Dain to his feet. Here we go again, the tired part of his brain whispered. “You don’t want to touch that sword.”
VERSUS
Title: ORPHANEntry Nickname: Life as a Dumpster FireGenre: Speculative Noir, #ownvoicesWord Count: 103,000
Query:
Jeb knows there are only two kinds of family: the ones who leave you, or the ones who own you. Now a reluctant member of the crime family who raised him, he’s balanced on his last chance after getting a lifetime of strikes trying to escape Felicity Harbour—a city as anxious and brutal as everyone living in it. When he gets his last strike, his death is imminent; so, a federal agent offering Jeb a way out of town looks too good to be true. All Jeb has to do is hand over the access codes to his boss’s technology empire. Except Jeb’s best friend, Booker, has the codes.
It isn’t a matter of stealing information. Jeb and Booker have been best friends since they were kids, but their relationship is complicated. Especially when they’re both more than a little in love with one another, the first of two secrets Jeb can never confess—the second secret being he’s never told Booker about wanting to leave Felicity Harbour, or why. Jeb can't throw away everything he and Booker have been through. Despite this unsurmountable breach between them, betraying him is unthinkable—until Booker betrays Jeb first. Now Jeb must decide which is preferable: the future ending shortly in a shallow grave, or the future where the only way out means becoming as brutal as the place he’s trying to leave behind.
First 250:
ERROR. There is a problem with the application. Please restart your device. Jeb stabbed at the screen and the notification disappeared from view. Annoyed, he yanked open the taxi door and got out. His first step sank him ankle-deep in a pothole disguised as a puddle. Cold, dirty water flooded into his shoe and soaked the hem of his jeans. “Damn it,” he sighed, his frustration rising. He shook his foot. The distant waves breaking against the waterfront laughed at him.
Jeb didn’t even have to be at the docks. Except Booker had asked for his company, and Jeb felt better about life when Booker was around.
The message appeared again, this time scrolled across Jeb’s contact lens. There is a problem with the application. Please restart your device. Cold wind grabbed at Jeb’s nose as it passed—it smelled like misery and fear, and that all-encompassing loneliness embedded into Jeb’s childhood. He squeezed his eyes shut and scrubbed a hand over his face. Then he restarted his device—the edges of the implanted screen burned hot against the skin of his wrist—and retried the phone call he’d just tried to make.
THIRD STRIKE PROTOCOL flashed across the screen, even as the connection went through. He’d gotten another third strike alert that morning. Two in one day was annoying enough for Jeb to get Hyun to look at it. Everything combined made him want to lay down on the wet tarmac and take a nap.
Booker picked up. “Where the hell are you?”
QK Round 1: Ooh, Crown Molding?! vs. Alternative Facts
Title: TINY LITTLE LIFEEntry Nickname: Ooh, crown molding?!Word Count: 53,000Genre: YA Contemporary
Query:
Seventeen-year-old Jordan Pearce has three months left of high school. Three months to decide if her alcoholic mom can be trusted to fend for herself without Jordan’s supervision. But when Jordan heads out for one night of fun with her best friends, she returns home to find her mom passed out and bleeding from a head wound. After a brief hospitalization, mom is forced into rehab. With no one else to look over her, Jordan’s absentee dad steps in, mobile tiny house in tow. At first, life in the tiny house with Dad is awkward. Close quarters, no bedroom walls, and a composting toilet are just the tip of the iceberg. There's also the whole "thanks for abandoning me and making mom drink her sorrows away" drama. Good thing she's got her two best friends and a cute crush to get her through. Jordan soon discovers she likes not having to be the one in charge of everything, and being able to put herself first for once. But rehab can’t help people who don’t want to help themselves, and soon Jordan must make a choice: either she puts herself first and heads off to college, risking her mom’s safety, or she gives up on her dreams to make sure mom stays safe.
First 250:
Maybe the first big party of the new year isn’t the place to make my debut. I lag behind Sydney and Hannah as they walk up the front steps, their hands laced together. Guilt churns in my stomach. I should be home, working on my Physics paper and keeping an eye on Mom. But I can't handle missing out on another party, especially this one. Mom will be fine for one night.
The house pulses with music and activity. I hold my breath, step into the foyer, and take a look around. My classmates are more alive than I’ve ever seen them. Everywhere I look, they’re dancing, drinking, kissing, moving. Hannah twists her way through the crowd, moving with the music and disappears.
"Well?" Syd asks.
I nod. "It's good. Fun." She raises an eyebrow. "Really, I’m good." I'm not convinced. My toes already ache and my heart’s beating so fast that I feel shaky but there’s something about all of this that feels right. Maybe it isn't too late for me.
Hannah returns with two beers and a water. “Who’s driving?” Syd grabs the water so I take a beer--my first--out of Hannah’s hand. I wipe off the condensation and then pop it open and take a swig. I scrunch up my face and Hannah smiles. “Acquired taste. It gets better, but not until the third can or so.”
I take another sip as I look around the room, my gaze landing on a tall redhead across the way. He's here.
VERSUS
Title: All Intents and PurposesEntry nickname: Alternative FactsWord count: 68KGenre: YA Contemporary
Query:
Seventeen-year-old Adrian understands that “genderqueer” isn’t exactly an acceptable identity at her Pennsylvania school. That’s why she’s stoked to discover she can blend in as a boy with a group of friends she met online. So when a rape scandal about two of her fellow high school students is plastered all over the news, she brushes it aside as useless chatter; she has more exciting things to focus on.
But escapism meets reality—and Adrian’s stomach drops into the sub-basement—when the accused rapist from her high school, Hunter, arrives at an out-of-town party. Hunter knows who Adrian is under her masculine appearance; he could out her with a single pronoun. Likewise, Adrian could reveal Hunter’s disreputable identity to their new friends. With both Hunter and Adrian holding the upper hand, they hit a standstill.
Yet Hunter doesn't seem all that interested in outing Adrian’s born sex. In fact, he seems captivated with Adrian exactly as she is, genderqueerness and all. As his trial date approaches, Adrian second guesses everything the media's been saying about Hunter—and about the accusations against him. With her gut and the media sending conflicting vibes, she’s unsure who to trust. She needs to figure it out soon, before her heart decides for her.
First 250:
The bass thumped in Adrian’s ears, pulsing her temples to the beat of the overplayed top-40 hit. She would’ve crawled into bed an hour ago if the music—and Katelyn—hadn’t demanded her attention. Or if she weren’t so far from home.
A pang crept from her temples to her forehead, but she pushed on. Like hell would she waste this opportunity to pass as a guy for the night. Even if it meant feigning interest in a girl she met online.
She jerked her hips to the music as Katelyn popped her chest. Katelyn wrapped an arm around Adrian’s shoulder and brought their heads together, huffing shallow breaths into Adrian’s ear. They swayed, enclosed by the heat and sweat of the others dancing around them in Katelyn’s living room.
Adrian side-eyed the clock on Katelyn’s living-room wall. Almost one in the morning. She blinked slowly as her body danced on. One more song. She could do this.
Her head bobbed, more out of tiredness than to the beat. She reached around Katelyn’s waist to regain her bearings, grasping the flesh at the top of her hips. Katelyn whimpered in reply, and an uninvited spark shot up the short hairs on Adrian’s neck. Katelyn dropped a hand between their torsos, resting her fingers at the top of Adrian’s jeans.
Shit. No.
Adrian hunched her shoulders forward, her pelvis back. No way could she let Katelyn shift her hand two inches down or six inches up. One wrong move, and Adrian’s number-one, very-important, do-not-violate-under-any-circumstances partying rule would be broken.
Query:
Seventeen-year-old Jordan Pearce has three months left of high school. Three months to decide if her alcoholic mom can be trusted to fend for herself without Jordan’s supervision. But when Jordan heads out for one night of fun with her best friends, she returns home to find her mom passed out and bleeding from a head wound. After a brief hospitalization, mom is forced into rehab. With no one else to look over her, Jordan’s absentee dad steps in, mobile tiny house in tow. At first, life in the tiny house with Dad is awkward. Close quarters, no bedroom walls, and a composting toilet are just the tip of the iceberg. There's also the whole "thanks for abandoning me and making mom drink her sorrows away" drama. Good thing she's got her two best friends and a cute crush to get her through. Jordan soon discovers she likes not having to be the one in charge of everything, and being able to put herself first for once. But rehab can’t help people who don’t want to help themselves, and soon Jordan must make a choice: either she puts herself first and heads off to college, risking her mom’s safety, or she gives up on her dreams to make sure mom stays safe.
First 250:
Maybe the first big party of the new year isn’t the place to make my debut. I lag behind Sydney and Hannah as they walk up the front steps, their hands laced together. Guilt churns in my stomach. I should be home, working on my Physics paper and keeping an eye on Mom. But I can't handle missing out on another party, especially this one. Mom will be fine for one night.
The house pulses with music and activity. I hold my breath, step into the foyer, and take a look around. My classmates are more alive than I’ve ever seen them. Everywhere I look, they’re dancing, drinking, kissing, moving. Hannah twists her way through the crowd, moving with the music and disappears.
"Well?" Syd asks.
I nod. "It's good. Fun." She raises an eyebrow. "Really, I’m good." I'm not convinced. My toes already ache and my heart’s beating so fast that I feel shaky but there’s something about all of this that feels right. Maybe it isn't too late for me.
Hannah returns with two beers and a water. “Who’s driving?” Syd grabs the water so I take a beer--my first--out of Hannah’s hand. I wipe off the condensation and then pop it open and take a swig. I scrunch up my face and Hannah smiles. “Acquired taste. It gets better, but not until the third can or so.”
I take another sip as I look around the room, my gaze landing on a tall redhead across the way. He's here.
VERSUS
Title: All Intents and PurposesEntry nickname: Alternative FactsWord count: 68KGenre: YA Contemporary
Query:
Seventeen-year-old Adrian understands that “genderqueer” isn’t exactly an acceptable identity at her Pennsylvania school. That’s why she’s stoked to discover she can blend in as a boy with a group of friends she met online. So when a rape scandal about two of her fellow high school students is plastered all over the news, she brushes it aside as useless chatter; she has more exciting things to focus on.
But escapism meets reality—and Adrian’s stomach drops into the sub-basement—when the accused rapist from her high school, Hunter, arrives at an out-of-town party. Hunter knows who Adrian is under her masculine appearance; he could out her with a single pronoun. Likewise, Adrian could reveal Hunter’s disreputable identity to their new friends. With both Hunter and Adrian holding the upper hand, they hit a standstill.
Yet Hunter doesn't seem all that interested in outing Adrian’s born sex. In fact, he seems captivated with Adrian exactly as she is, genderqueerness and all. As his trial date approaches, Adrian second guesses everything the media's been saying about Hunter—and about the accusations against him. With her gut and the media sending conflicting vibes, she’s unsure who to trust. She needs to figure it out soon, before her heart decides for her.
First 250:
The bass thumped in Adrian’s ears, pulsing her temples to the beat of the overplayed top-40 hit. She would’ve crawled into bed an hour ago if the music—and Katelyn—hadn’t demanded her attention. Or if she weren’t so far from home.
A pang crept from her temples to her forehead, but she pushed on. Like hell would she waste this opportunity to pass as a guy for the night. Even if it meant feigning interest in a girl she met online.
She jerked her hips to the music as Katelyn popped her chest. Katelyn wrapped an arm around Adrian’s shoulder and brought their heads together, huffing shallow breaths into Adrian’s ear. They swayed, enclosed by the heat and sweat of the others dancing around them in Katelyn’s living room.
Adrian side-eyed the clock on Katelyn’s living-room wall. Almost one in the morning. She blinked slowly as her body danced on. One more song. She could do this.
Her head bobbed, more out of tiredness than to the beat. She reached around Katelyn’s waist to regain her bearings, grasping the flesh at the top of her hips. Katelyn whimpered in reply, and an uninvited spark shot up the short hairs on Adrian’s neck. Katelyn dropped a hand between their torsos, resting her fingers at the top of Adrian’s jeans.
Shit. No.
Adrian hunched her shoulders forward, her pelvis back. No way could she let Katelyn shift her hand two inches down or six inches up. One wrong move, and Adrian’s number-one, very-important, do-not-violate-under-any-circumstances partying rule would be broken.
