Michelle Hauck's Blog, page 39
June 13, 2016
QK Round 2 Matchups
The agent/editor round was a HUGE success this year. A total of 147 requests were made, with two entries tied for the most requests at 11 each.
Below you will find Round 2 match-ups. Since TWO entries received an offer of representation before and during the agent round, we have 30 entries going into the second round instead of 32. More on that later.
Round two will be hosted on my blog and Laura's blog. Orange match-ups will be posted on my blog, and purple on Laura's. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please leave a comment or tweet us: @ravenousrushing @michelle4laughs @lh_writes.
Round 2 Match-ups
Ivy League Sex Scandal v. Madam ButterflySamba and Surrender v. What's Luck Got to Do With It? Croissants Kill! v. The Ghost and Ms. Clair
Cuddles and Coups v. Irish in AmericaHuman Kind is Basically Screwed v. Like Atlantis, Only Totally Creepy
Black Holes v. And I Feel Fine To Be a Man v. Escape the FateSouthern Gothic Secrets v. Ticket to Ride
Cypotopolis v. Cement Gargling 101My Boyfriend Rigged the Lottery v. Hot Sauce is Bad for Wound Care
Meet Me at Lake Nevaeh v. These Little EarthquakesIce Cream Rebel Rousers v. The Order of Black
Mustache Head v. Jello Poems
Partners-in-Magic v. HumanimalsPlay Chess, Not Checkers v. One-Handed Wonder
Good Luck Kombatants!
Below you will find Round 2 match-ups. Since TWO entries received an offer of representation before and during the agent round, we have 30 entries going into the second round instead of 32. More on that later.
Round two will be hosted on my blog and Laura's blog. Orange match-ups will be posted on my blog, and purple on Laura's. If you have any questions, comments, or concerns, please leave a comment or tweet us: @ravenousrushing @michelle4laughs @lh_writes.
Round 2 Match-ups
Ivy League Sex Scandal v. Madam ButterflySamba and Surrender v. What's Luck Got to Do With It? Croissants Kill! v. The Ghost and Ms. Clair
Cuddles and Coups v. Irish in AmericaHuman Kind is Basically Screwed v. Like Atlantis, Only Totally Creepy
Black Holes v. And I Feel Fine To Be a Man v. Escape the FateSouthern Gothic Secrets v. Ticket to Ride
Cypotopolis v. Cement Gargling 101My Boyfriend Rigged the Lottery v. Hot Sauce is Bad for Wound Care
Meet Me at Lake Nevaeh v. These Little EarthquakesIce Cream Rebel Rousers v. The Order of Black
Mustache Head v. Jello Poems
Partners-in-Magic v. HumanimalsPlay Chess, Not Checkers v. One-Handed Wonder
Good Luck Kombatants!
June 12, 2016
Asking for Help to Keep the Contests Running
It's that time of year when I have to screw up my courage and stick my neck out. Asking for help is daunting and difficult.
I delayed starting my annual fund drive waiting to see the donations from Query Kombat. While many people donated to support our hours of work (so appreciated), it was less than hoped. And that amount was split three ways after ten percent went to Flint Kids. We really did not want to make a fee mandatory to enter, so I was totally fine with that number. Unfortunately, that means back to my summer fund drive.
I very much love running contests and helping authors come together with agents. You might say I'm addicted to it. It's so gratifying to have a blog that people visit when they are doing something other than writing. Interacting on twitter and meeting new writers is so much fun. There's nothing I like better than being able to help.
And speaking of help, I also love my day job working with children, specifically special-needs children. I want to go on doing this forever!
Unfortunately, we don't always get what we want as the Rolling Stones said.
Due to various economic influences, I'm resuming my donation campaign to see if I can continue doing what I love. The hard facts of life are I either have to do this or cut back on my activities. Let me lay out the facts again.
As you can guess, hosting contests and doing daily posts on this blog as well as writing my own stories is very time consuming. During a submission week I can easily spend thirty hours just on contest work. For the first three weeks of Query Kombat I didn't have time to write a thing. Even a mini-contest like the Picture Book Party takes so much time to coordinate, not to mention answering questions and finding agents. There's no way I could manage that and still have time to write if I'm forced to look for another job.
True, most contest hosts have day jobs, but you might notice that the various contests don't tend to last many years. Most contests vanish after two years or so. I've helped run three plus contest a year for over four years.
A (very) little background information:
-I'm an aide, not a teacher.
-I don't get paid over the summer.
-Thanks to the Affordable Care Act (which I support), my hours were cut back two years ago by over ten percent, reducing my pay further.
-I have two kids in private colleges.
-My husband is unfairly left with all the burden of our bills on his shoulders during the summer.
It's seek out donations to support my blog or give it up to work full time. Because if I have to pick my writing or the blog, the blog has to go.
Rather than require a fee of ten dollars to enter my contests and perhaps making it impossible to enter for some, I'm turning to crowd funding again.
What I have to offer:
-Numerous contests per year: Query Kombat, Nightmare on Query Street, New Agent, Sun versus Snow, PB Party. I'm also a PitchWars mentor.
-Mentors from those contests providing feedback.
-Critique workshops and critique blog hops to help with query letters and first pitches.
-Posts with advice for querying Writers
-Posts with editing advice on such things as filtering and plot holes
-A newsletter giving early notice of submission dates for contests
-Inspirational posts from guest authors about their Call with agents
-Interviews about query slush from over thirty agents
-Fun parties and chats on twitter
Each of my contests averages three success stories from just my picks. That doesn't include all the writers who have met and found critique partners from my twitter parties.
My contests often close out in minutes. Writers recognize the value of these contests.
I promise one hundred percent of any donations will go toward expenses that keep me working for you, such as electricity for my laptop, a roof over my head, internet to keep blogging. It will not be used for buying books or going out to dinner or anything frivolous.
Through careful saving I was able to make my donation goal half of what it was last year. $1200 instead of $3000. I do receive royalties from Grudging now; sadly it's only enough to take my family out for ice cream once a month. Maybe when a couple of more books are out this will be a different story. It's pretty much a fact that you earn pennies when you're starting out, however.
This was not an easy decision, nor a happy one to ask for help again. If you have entered one of my contests or plan to in the future I'd love your support. If you find my blog a valuable resource and wish to see it continue in full, consider helping out. This is totally your choice. I'll do my best to continue as much as I can of my activities no matter what because I love being your cheerleader so much.
Sometimes we all need a little help from our friends.
Thank you everyone.
There is a donation widget in my sidebar or you can use this link to donate. Some have asked about PayPal. In order to help by PayPal you can use my email address listed on this blog on my bio page.
I delayed starting my annual fund drive waiting to see the donations from Query Kombat. While many people donated to support our hours of work (so appreciated), it was less than hoped. And that amount was split three ways after ten percent went to Flint Kids. We really did not want to make a fee mandatory to enter, so I was totally fine with that number. Unfortunately, that means back to my summer fund drive.
I very much love running contests and helping authors come together with agents. You might say I'm addicted to it. It's so gratifying to have a blog that people visit when they are doing something other than writing. Interacting on twitter and meeting new writers is so much fun. There's nothing I like better than being able to help.
And speaking of help, I also love my day job working with children, specifically special-needs children. I want to go on doing this forever!
Unfortunately, we don't always get what we want as the Rolling Stones said.
Due to various economic influences, I'm resuming my donation campaign to see if I can continue doing what I love. The hard facts of life are I either have to do this or cut back on my activities. Let me lay out the facts again.
As you can guess, hosting contests and doing daily posts on this blog as well as writing my own stories is very time consuming. During a submission week I can easily spend thirty hours just on contest work. For the first three weeks of Query Kombat I didn't have time to write a thing. Even a mini-contest like the Picture Book Party takes so much time to coordinate, not to mention answering questions and finding agents. There's no way I could manage that and still have time to write if I'm forced to look for another job.
True, most contest hosts have day jobs, but you might notice that the various contests don't tend to last many years. Most contests vanish after two years or so. I've helped run three plus contest a year for over four years.
A (very) little background information:
-I'm an aide, not a teacher.
-I don't get paid over the summer.
-Thanks to the Affordable Care Act (which I support), my hours were cut back two years ago by over ten percent, reducing my pay further.
-I have two kids in private colleges.
-My husband is unfairly left with all the burden of our bills on his shoulders during the summer.
It's seek out donations to support my blog or give it up to work full time. Because if I have to pick my writing or the blog, the blog has to go.
Rather than require a fee of ten dollars to enter my contests and perhaps making it impossible to enter for some, I'm turning to crowd funding again.
What I have to offer:
-Numerous contests per year: Query Kombat, Nightmare on Query Street, New Agent, Sun versus Snow, PB Party. I'm also a PitchWars mentor.
-Mentors from those contests providing feedback.
-Critique workshops and critique blog hops to help with query letters and first pitches.
-Posts with advice for querying Writers
-Posts with editing advice on such things as filtering and plot holes
-A newsletter giving early notice of submission dates for contests
-Inspirational posts from guest authors about their Call with agents
-Interviews about query slush from over thirty agents
-Fun parties and chats on twitter
Each of my contests averages three success stories from just my picks. That doesn't include all the writers who have met and found critique partners from my twitter parties.
My contests often close out in minutes. Writers recognize the value of these contests.
I promise one hundred percent of any donations will go toward expenses that keep me working for you, such as electricity for my laptop, a roof over my head, internet to keep blogging. It will not be used for buying books or going out to dinner or anything frivolous.
Through careful saving I was able to make my donation goal half of what it was last year. $1200 instead of $3000. I do receive royalties from Grudging now; sadly it's only enough to take my family out for ice cream once a month. Maybe when a couple of more books are out this will be a different story. It's pretty much a fact that you earn pennies when you're starting out, however.
This was not an easy decision, nor a happy one to ask for help again. If you have entered one of my contests or plan to in the future I'd love your support. If you find my blog a valuable resource and wish to see it continue in full, consider helping out. This is totally your choice. I'll do my best to continue as much as I can of my activities no matter what because I love being your cheerleader so much.
Sometimes we all need a little help from our friends.
Thank you everyone.
There is a donation widget in my sidebar or you can use this link to donate. Some have asked about PayPal. In order to help by PayPal you can use my email address listed on this blog on my bio page.
June 8, 2016
Query Kombat 2016 Agent Round
Here we go! The agent round! Before you dive in, please - agents and entrants - read this post!
Agents, entrants are spread out over all three blogs. You can also find them at Laura's blog and Mike’s blog. Blog assignment does not necessarily indicate who picked them.
Agents will request by saying, “I want to see more of this!” and leaving their submission instructions. (Kombatants: Don’t forget to put QUERY KOMBAT Request in your subject line when sending material!)
As you remember, agent requests will stay hidden until an entry is knocked out of the tournament.
The number of pages you’ll send depends on how far you go in Query Kombat!
It's because we're super evil. Here's how the system works:
Host Saves or Round 2 knockout = 30 page request
Round 3 knockout = 50 page request
Round 4 knockout = 100 page request
Round 5 knockout = 150 page request
Round 6 knockout = 200 page request
GRAND CHAMPION = Full request
For instance, getting knocked out in the third round means the writer will send 50 pages to any agent who requested their work. The grand champion winner from the final round will see their requests bumped up to a full. Host Saves will be allowed to see their requests immediately as they are not continuing to the 2nd round.
Each agent gets 2 wild cards! (In the case of a wild card, said wild card is displayed immediately, giving Kombatants a reason to watch the blogs!)
If an agent sees an entry where maybe getting the minimum of 30 pages isn’t enough, they can play a wild card and name their amount of pages and get their request immediately! If they fall in love and absolutely want a full, the wild card will let them do that.
However, only two wild cards can stand per entry. That means only the first two wild cards count. After that the agents will have to wait.
So that’s it! Commenting on entries is only allowed for agents. Kombatants can mix and mingle on twitter but can’t comment, with the exception of this post where they can leave questions.
Best of luck and May the Requests Be With You! BATTLE ON!
Agents, entrants are spread out over all three blogs. You can also find them at Laura's blog and Mike’s blog. Blog assignment does not necessarily indicate who picked them.
Agents will request by saying, “I want to see more of this!” and leaving their submission instructions. (Kombatants: Don’t forget to put QUERY KOMBAT Request in your subject line when sending material!)
As you remember, agent requests will stay hidden until an entry is knocked out of the tournament.
The number of pages you’ll send depends on how far you go in Query Kombat!
It's because we're super evil. Here's how the system works:
Host Saves or Round 2 knockout = 30 page request
Round 3 knockout = 50 page request
Round 4 knockout = 100 page request
Round 5 knockout = 150 page request
Round 6 knockout = 200 page request
GRAND CHAMPION = Full request
For instance, getting knocked out in the third round means the writer will send 50 pages to any agent who requested their work. The grand champion winner from the final round will see their requests bumped up to a full. Host Saves will be allowed to see their requests immediately as they are not continuing to the 2nd round.
Each agent gets 2 wild cards! (In the case of a wild card, said wild card is displayed immediately, giving Kombatants a reason to watch the blogs!)
If an agent sees an entry where maybe getting the minimum of 30 pages isn’t enough, they can play a wild card and name their amount of pages and get their request immediately! If they fall in love and absolutely want a full, the wild card will let them do that.
However, only two wild cards can stand per entry. That means only the first two wild cards count. After that the agents will have to wait.
So that’s it! Commenting on entries is only allowed for agents. Kombatants can mix and mingle on twitter but can’t comment, with the exception of this post where they can leave questions.
Best of luck and May the Requests Be With You! BATTLE ON!
QK 2016 Agent Round 1: WHAT'S LUCK GOT TO DO WITH IT, Adult Fantasy
Title: Big TownEntry Nick Name: What's Luck Gotta Do With It?Word Count: 77,000Genre: Adult Fantasy
Query:
Lena Huertas grew up hearing only the dead were welcome in Big Town, but it’s the only place she believes could save her life.
After her father is murdered by the Forty-Niners who claimed California, she becomes desperate to trade streets consumed by violence, and starving folk, for security among the modern royalty of the most successful boomtown in 1879. It doesn’t matter that the city lies hidden in the Sierra Nevada, or that the borders are protected from outsiders by a marksman of legendary skill. Bodies from the poorest regions of the West are shipped to Big Town for an unknown purpose, and Lena aims to follow to ensure her pa gets a proper burial and to seize a brighter future for herself.
She boosts her chances with the charity of Rolando Tavares, Big Town’s one-eyed, possibly two-faced, sheriff – along with the power of a mysterious pair of golden dice capable of granting favor to those who need it most.
But what she doesn’t know is that Rolando’s false eye allows him to enter minds, and that within the home she’s always dreamed of awaits outlaws and lawmen who desire corpses and are willing to kill for the magic luck she possesses. Because to a populace who take their wealth for granted, control over the future is worth more than gold, and neither the living nor the dead are welcome to leave.
First 250:
Three coffins rested near the railroad beneath a sky as gray as a weathered barn. Sealed with rusty nails, the wooden boxes were reused anytime someone from Skidmore dropped dead, or was murdered, and had no kin to give them proper burial.
Or for those who, like Lena Huertas, had nary a penny in their pocket.
The young woman’s dry hair was bunched under her father’s Stetson. She sat in a ticket booth that was boarded up on one side and gutted open on the other, and watched a beetle scuttle between her boots across a cracked stone platform. The bandana covering her face helped shield her from the dirt and mud swallowing everything else, including most of the sign welcoming would-be passengers of Skiddy’s Wagon to her quaint mining town.
She folded her arms on her knees and ignored the mosquito bites begging for a scratch. A wind cut through the ticket booth, making her shiver and hug her knees tighter. The pale afterglow of the sun peeking up over the walls of the Sierra Nevada was fading, but she’d yet to find the courage to step closer to the railroad, put her hand on her pa’s box, and bid a last farewell.
She was surprised and grateful no one ever tampered with the coffins. They were usually left on the platform for days awaiting their journey. She supposed superstitions got the better of folk. No chance it was out of respect.
Query:
Lena Huertas grew up hearing only the dead were welcome in Big Town, but it’s the only place she believes could save her life.
After her father is murdered by the Forty-Niners who claimed California, she becomes desperate to trade streets consumed by violence, and starving folk, for security among the modern royalty of the most successful boomtown in 1879. It doesn’t matter that the city lies hidden in the Sierra Nevada, or that the borders are protected from outsiders by a marksman of legendary skill. Bodies from the poorest regions of the West are shipped to Big Town for an unknown purpose, and Lena aims to follow to ensure her pa gets a proper burial and to seize a brighter future for herself.
She boosts her chances with the charity of Rolando Tavares, Big Town’s one-eyed, possibly two-faced, sheriff – along with the power of a mysterious pair of golden dice capable of granting favor to those who need it most.
But what she doesn’t know is that Rolando’s false eye allows him to enter minds, and that within the home she’s always dreamed of awaits outlaws and lawmen who desire corpses and are willing to kill for the magic luck she possesses. Because to a populace who take their wealth for granted, control over the future is worth more than gold, and neither the living nor the dead are welcome to leave.
First 250:
Three coffins rested near the railroad beneath a sky as gray as a weathered barn. Sealed with rusty nails, the wooden boxes were reused anytime someone from Skidmore dropped dead, or was murdered, and had no kin to give them proper burial.
Or for those who, like Lena Huertas, had nary a penny in their pocket.
The young woman’s dry hair was bunched under her father’s Stetson. She sat in a ticket booth that was boarded up on one side and gutted open on the other, and watched a beetle scuttle between her boots across a cracked stone platform. The bandana covering her face helped shield her from the dirt and mud swallowing everything else, including most of the sign welcoming would-be passengers of Skiddy’s Wagon to her quaint mining town.
She folded her arms on her knees and ignored the mosquito bites begging for a scratch. A wind cut through the ticket booth, making her shiver and hug her knees tighter. The pale afterglow of the sun peeking up over the walls of the Sierra Nevada was fading, but she’d yet to find the courage to step closer to the railroad, put her hand on her pa’s box, and bid a last farewell.
She was surprised and grateful no one ever tampered with the coffins. They were usually left on the platform for days awaiting their journey. She supposed superstitions got the better of folk. No chance it was out of respect.
QK 2016 Agent Round 2: DEFINITELY NOT ABOUT DONALD DRUMPF, Political Thriller
Title: Nineteen Hours
Entry Nickname: Definitely NOT About Donald Drumpf
Word count: 80K
Genre: Political Thriller
Query:
Libby Little has given up her dream of Olympic glory for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be the personal aide to Catherine ‘Cat’ Jefferson, the first black, female presidential nominee.
When she arrives at work on the morning of Election Day, Libby expects to enjoy the relative calm before the exciting storm of results. But before the first hour is through, she discovers powerful Party donors are blackmailing Cat with a secret that could decide everything in this neck-and-neck race.
Unless she agrees to nominate their cronies to Cabinet posts, the donors will tell the world that Cat had an affair with an Iraqi informant during the first Gulf War that led to an illegal abortion on a military base. They want a “partner” in the White House and if Cat won’t play ball, they can wait four years for a candidate who will.
Libby supports Cat’s unpopular decision to expose the secret herself. But the minute it's out, the campaign is rocked to its foundations. Amidst the chaos, Libby uncovers a campaign leak that if exposed, will ruin any chance she has with the special agent she loves.
Over nineteen hours, Libby faces irate supporters, violent protestors, the barrel of a gun and her own broken heart. She must decide how much to sacrifice for her candidate and her country.
First 250:
5:14 a.m.
I was fourteen minutes late on the day that changed the country. With my head buried in briefing notes, I stumbled out of taxi in front of Senator Catherine Jefferson’s brick mansion. At the wrought iron gate, I reached up to press the intercom, but froze before I touched the button.
Two matching, silver Bentleys idled at the end of the driveway, intimately close to the front door. My mouth dropped open and I fumbled for the phone in my pocket, then watched the agonizingly slow rotation of its rainbow-colored logo while I waited for the finalized Election Day schedule to load. When at last it did, it confirmed what I already knew – the senator wasn’t planning to meet with the Roche brothers. Certainly not at five-fourteen in the morning. Shit.
I wracked my brain, trying to remember if anyone had mentioned Statler and Waldorf, as the biggest of the big donors were unaffectionately known to our campaign. Had I missed something at the briefing last night? I took a deep breath and pressed the intercom.
“Come on in, Big Red.” The muffled voice that answered belonged to our campaign manager, Carter James.
Carter loved nicknames. Prided himself on them. But Big Red was too obvious – drawn from my alma mater Cornell and the fact that I am six foot two.
Entry Nickname: Definitely NOT About Donald Drumpf
Word count: 80K
Genre: Political Thriller
Query:
Libby Little has given up her dream of Olympic glory for a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity to be the personal aide to Catherine ‘Cat’ Jefferson, the first black, female presidential nominee.
When she arrives at work on the morning of Election Day, Libby expects to enjoy the relative calm before the exciting storm of results. But before the first hour is through, she discovers powerful Party donors are blackmailing Cat with a secret that could decide everything in this neck-and-neck race.
Unless she agrees to nominate their cronies to Cabinet posts, the donors will tell the world that Cat had an affair with an Iraqi informant during the first Gulf War that led to an illegal abortion on a military base. They want a “partner” in the White House and if Cat won’t play ball, they can wait four years for a candidate who will.
Libby supports Cat’s unpopular decision to expose the secret herself. But the minute it's out, the campaign is rocked to its foundations. Amidst the chaos, Libby uncovers a campaign leak that if exposed, will ruin any chance she has with the special agent she loves.
Over nineteen hours, Libby faces irate supporters, violent protestors, the barrel of a gun and her own broken heart. She must decide how much to sacrifice for her candidate and her country.
First 250:
5:14 a.m.
I was fourteen minutes late on the day that changed the country. With my head buried in briefing notes, I stumbled out of taxi in front of Senator Catherine Jefferson’s brick mansion. At the wrought iron gate, I reached up to press the intercom, but froze before I touched the button.
Two matching, silver Bentleys idled at the end of the driveway, intimately close to the front door. My mouth dropped open and I fumbled for the phone in my pocket, then watched the agonizingly slow rotation of its rainbow-colored logo while I waited for the finalized Election Day schedule to load. When at last it did, it confirmed what I already knew – the senator wasn’t planning to meet with the Roche brothers. Certainly not at five-fourteen in the morning. Shit.
I wracked my brain, trying to remember if anyone had mentioned Statler and Waldorf, as the biggest of the big donors were unaffectionately known to our campaign. Had I missed something at the briefing last night? I took a deep breath and pressed the intercom.
“Come on in, Big Red.” The muffled voice that answered belonged to our campaign manager, Carter James.
Carter loved nicknames. Prided himself on them. But Big Red was too obvious – drawn from my alma mater Cornell and the fact that I am six foot two.
QK 2016 Agent Round 3: AND I FEEL FINE, Adult Science Fiction
Title: Starborn
Entry Nickname: And I Feel Fine
Word Count: 85,500
Genre: Adult Science Fiction
Query:
Cold and heartless but the Enders Agency’s finest, 24-year-old Sherman Logan has saved every life but his own. He’s damn good at pelting in from between galaxies and rescuing as many people off their dying planets as possible. Again and again. When Sherman’s last real friend and comrade goes starborn – or dies on the job – to save a brave and beautiful young Earthling named Bennett and her suicidal father, Sherman falls hard. She wakes him up - but waking means feeling the horror of every victim he didn't save. Soon, he realizes, the carnage won't end at his faraway deployments: Armageddon is about to hit right at home.
On Sherman's resident planet, a poltergeist ruler struggles to retake the podium from beyond the grave at the same time mysterious Ender disappearances begin to occur. With the help of Bennett, Sherman must confront the dictator-poltergeist and the root of these vanishings before they come for him too. On top of the incomprehensible death that haunts his everyday life, he'll have to venture deeper into his crashing universe – and himself – than he could have ever imagined.
But hey, apocalypse doesn’t faze him. It’s his job.
First 250:
The vehicle jumps and knocks my hand off the wheel.
I slam it back. Sarge says keep on the wheel. Don’t let go of the wheel.
Fuck that. Sarge ain’t here. The grey leather jerks in my grip and I keep my foot hard against the pedal. My eyes are dead ahead as the blizzard pushes us aside before I can jolt the wheel steady. But the bridge is falling apart beneath us; concrete crumbling from our tires into the steel-colored ocean below. Hail flashes like daggers off the headlights.
I glance into the overhead mirror at the huddled children in the backseat. Siblings. They always give those to me for some reason.
“Sherm!” The mic attached to my shoulder buzzes.
Instinctively, I look out the driver’s window, expecting to see someone cruising next to me. Unc’s two lanes over, looking asleep again. His wrinkly old hand holds the wheel and his eyes droop, but nothing stirs, no emotion when his car jostles past a pothole at ninety miles per hour. More concrete railing sinks into the sea far below.
Wasn’t Unc. Of course. I know the voice.
I scrunch up my shoulder and speak into the mic, keeping my eyes on the road as we finally peak at the bridge’s arch and head for the descent. “Talk, Grant.”
Fuzz. Heavy breathing as Grant messes with his shoulder sleeve to speak.
“What’re we gonna do if this thing blows?”
“I’m gonna die. What’re you going to do?”
Always freaks him out.
Entry Nickname: And I Feel Fine
Word Count: 85,500
Genre: Adult Science Fiction
Query:
Cold and heartless but the Enders Agency’s finest, 24-year-old Sherman Logan has saved every life but his own. He’s damn good at pelting in from between galaxies and rescuing as many people off their dying planets as possible. Again and again. When Sherman’s last real friend and comrade goes starborn – or dies on the job – to save a brave and beautiful young Earthling named Bennett and her suicidal father, Sherman falls hard. She wakes him up - but waking means feeling the horror of every victim he didn't save. Soon, he realizes, the carnage won't end at his faraway deployments: Armageddon is about to hit right at home.
On Sherman's resident planet, a poltergeist ruler struggles to retake the podium from beyond the grave at the same time mysterious Ender disappearances begin to occur. With the help of Bennett, Sherman must confront the dictator-poltergeist and the root of these vanishings before they come for him too. On top of the incomprehensible death that haunts his everyday life, he'll have to venture deeper into his crashing universe – and himself – than he could have ever imagined.
But hey, apocalypse doesn’t faze him. It’s his job.
First 250:
The vehicle jumps and knocks my hand off the wheel.
I slam it back. Sarge says keep on the wheel. Don’t let go of the wheel.
Fuck that. Sarge ain’t here. The grey leather jerks in my grip and I keep my foot hard against the pedal. My eyes are dead ahead as the blizzard pushes us aside before I can jolt the wheel steady. But the bridge is falling apart beneath us; concrete crumbling from our tires into the steel-colored ocean below. Hail flashes like daggers off the headlights.
I glance into the overhead mirror at the huddled children in the backseat. Siblings. They always give those to me for some reason.
“Sherm!” The mic attached to my shoulder buzzes.
Instinctively, I look out the driver’s window, expecting to see someone cruising next to me. Unc’s two lanes over, looking asleep again. His wrinkly old hand holds the wheel and his eyes droop, but nothing stirs, no emotion when his car jostles past a pothole at ninety miles per hour. More concrete railing sinks into the sea far below.
Wasn’t Unc. Of course. I know the voice.
I scrunch up my shoulder and speak into the mic, keeping my eyes on the road as we finally peak at the bridge’s arch and head for the descent. “Talk, Grant.”
Fuzz. Heavy breathing as Grant messes with his shoulder sleeve to speak.
“What’re we gonna do if this thing blows?”
“I’m gonna die. What’re you going to do?”
Always freaks him out.
QK 2016 Agent Round 3: AND I FEEL FINE, NA Science Fiction
Title: Starborn
Entry Nickname: And I Feel Fine
Word Count: 85,500
Genre: NA Science Fiction
Query:
Cold and heartless but the Enders Agency’s finest, 24-year-old Sherman Logan has saved every life but his own. He’s damn good at pelting in from between galaxies and rescuing as many people off their dying planets as possible. Again and again. When Sherman’s last real friend and comrade goes starborn – or dies on the job – to save a brave and beautiful young Earthling named Bennett and her suicidal father, Sherman falls hard. She wakes him up - but waking means feeling the horror of every victim he didn't save. Soon, he realizes, the carnage won't end at his faraway deployments: Armageddon is about to hit right at home.
On Sherman's resident planet, a poltergeist ruler struggles to retake the podium from beyond the grave at the same time mysterious Ender disappearances begin to occur. With the help of Bennett, Sherman must confront the dictator-poltergeist and the root of these vanishings before they come for him too. On top of the incomprehensible death that haunts his everyday life, he'll have to venture deeper into his crashing universe – and himself – than he could have ever imagined.
But hey, apocalypse doesn’t faze him. It’s his job.
First 250:
The vehicle jumps and knocks my hand off the wheel.
I slam it back. Sarge says keep on the wheel. Don’t let go of the wheel.
Fuck that. Sarge ain’t here. The grey leather jerks in my grip and I keep my foot hard against the pedal. My eyes are dead ahead as the blizzard pushes us aside before I can jolt the wheel steady. But the bridge is falling apart beneath us; concrete crumbling from our tires into the steel-colored ocean below. Hail flashes like daggers off the headlights.
I glance into the overhead mirror at the huddled children in the backseat. Siblings. They always give those to me for some reason.
“Sherm!” The mic attached to my shoulder buzzes.
Instinctively, I look out the driver’s window, expecting to see someone cruising next to me. Unc’s two lanes over, looking asleep again. His wrinkly old hand holds the wheel and his eyes droop, but nothing stirs, no emotion when his car jostles past a pothole at ninety miles per hour. More concrete railing sinks into the sea far below.
Wasn’t Unc. Of course. I know the voice.
I scrunch up my shoulder and speak into the mic, keeping my eyes on the road as we finally peak at the bridge’s arch and head for the descent. “Talk, Grant.”
Fuzz. Heavy breathing as Grant messes with his shoulder sleeve to speak.
“What’re we gonna do if this thing blows?”
“I’m gonna die. What’re you going to do?”
Always freaks him out.
Entry Nickname: And I Feel Fine
Word Count: 85,500
Genre: NA Science Fiction
Query:
Cold and heartless but the Enders Agency’s finest, 24-year-old Sherman Logan has saved every life but his own. He’s damn good at pelting in from between galaxies and rescuing as many people off their dying planets as possible. Again and again. When Sherman’s last real friend and comrade goes starborn – or dies on the job – to save a brave and beautiful young Earthling named Bennett and her suicidal father, Sherman falls hard. She wakes him up - but waking means feeling the horror of every victim he didn't save. Soon, he realizes, the carnage won't end at his faraway deployments: Armageddon is about to hit right at home.
On Sherman's resident planet, a poltergeist ruler struggles to retake the podium from beyond the grave at the same time mysterious Ender disappearances begin to occur. With the help of Bennett, Sherman must confront the dictator-poltergeist and the root of these vanishings before they come for him too. On top of the incomprehensible death that haunts his everyday life, he'll have to venture deeper into his crashing universe – and himself – than he could have ever imagined.
But hey, apocalypse doesn’t faze him. It’s his job.
First 250:
The vehicle jumps and knocks my hand off the wheel.
I slam it back. Sarge says keep on the wheel. Don’t let go of the wheel.
Fuck that. Sarge ain’t here. The grey leather jerks in my grip and I keep my foot hard against the pedal. My eyes are dead ahead as the blizzard pushes us aside before I can jolt the wheel steady. But the bridge is falling apart beneath us; concrete crumbling from our tires into the steel-colored ocean below. Hail flashes like daggers off the headlights.
I glance into the overhead mirror at the huddled children in the backseat. Siblings. They always give those to me for some reason.
“Sherm!” The mic attached to my shoulder buzzes.
Instinctively, I look out the driver’s window, expecting to see someone cruising next to me. Unc’s two lanes over, looking asleep again. His wrinkly old hand holds the wheel and his eyes droop, but nothing stirs, no emotion when his car jostles past a pothole at ninety miles per hour. More concrete railing sinks into the sea far below.
Wasn’t Unc. Of course. I know the voice.
I scrunch up my shoulder and speak into the mic, keeping my eyes on the road as we finally peak at the bridge’s arch and head for the descent. “Talk, Grant.”
Fuzz. Heavy breathing as Grant messes with his shoulder sleeve to speak.
“What’re we gonna do if this thing blows?”
“I’m gonna die. What’re you going to do?”
Always freaks him out.
QK 2016 Agent Round 4: CEMENT GARGLING 101, YA Fantasy
Title: The Siren EpisodeEntry Nickname: Cement Gargling 101Word Count: 82,000Genre: YA Fantasy
Query:
Arlen’s parents kill monsters—sirens, gorgons, and even leprechauns—then broadcast the murders on their TV show, Myth Slayers. And killing is a family business.
Ever since mythological creatures destroyed San Francisco twelve years ago, Myth Slayers has been number one in the ratings. Now the show’s stars want to retire and force the reins upon their son. But at seventeen, Arlen doesn’t want to slaughter monsters on primetime TV—he just wants to survive high school, where a quirk in his Myth Slayer blood makes life unbearable.
Arlen’s blood gives him power, but repels members of the opposite sex. He can’t even approach girls without making them physically ill. So when he finds a girl who’s not getting sick, he finally sees a chance at a normal life. Problem is, she’s a siren. And she hides a secret: the location of a safe filled with evidence that Arlen’s parents destroyed San Francisco instead of the monsters. Arlen’s parents would kill to keep this secret buried, leaving Arlen with an impossible choice: murder the siren to protect his family, or seize this opportunity at freedom, journey with the siren to the safe, and expose the truth to the world.
First 250 words:
Arlen Boggs hopped his neighbor’s fence and sneaked past the protestors. They’d camped in front of his house again, picket signs raised. He tried to keep his footsteps light, but the deep rain puddles didn’t help his cause.
Trees rustled on either side of him. He looked up at the sycamores and saw nothing but windblown leaves.
Two more blocks, he thought. You can do two blocks.
The morning air gave him a chill, and he buttoned up his father's trench coat, too big for his lanky frame. He wore it to keep himself hidden, though it never helped. Arlen stood out wherever he went.
Head down, he followed the dotted yellow lines along the center of the street. Another rustle. He stopped and stared into one of the trees. Still nothing.
A woman’s voice came from behind him: “There he is.”
Arlen turned to look at the protestors, five houses back. “Great,” he said.
Two of their poster boards read, “GO AWAY, MYTH SLAYERS!” and “MYTHS HAVE RIGHTS, TOO!” Despite the wet September morning, the crazy zealots wandered onto the road and shouted at him.
A few months shy of his eighteenth birthday, Arlen still didn't have his driver's license. His parents didn't have time to teach him, always out filming their TV show. Otherwise, he would have driven himself to school and avoided the morning hate-fest.
Another tree rustled and a branch snapped.
Could be a monster.
The protestors sped up, chasing after him with their hand-painted signs.
Query:
Arlen’s parents kill monsters—sirens, gorgons, and even leprechauns—then broadcast the murders on their TV show, Myth Slayers. And killing is a family business.
Ever since mythological creatures destroyed San Francisco twelve years ago, Myth Slayers has been number one in the ratings. Now the show’s stars want to retire and force the reins upon their son. But at seventeen, Arlen doesn’t want to slaughter monsters on primetime TV—he just wants to survive high school, where a quirk in his Myth Slayer blood makes life unbearable.
Arlen’s blood gives him power, but repels members of the opposite sex. He can’t even approach girls without making them physically ill. So when he finds a girl who’s not getting sick, he finally sees a chance at a normal life. Problem is, she’s a siren. And she hides a secret: the location of a safe filled with evidence that Arlen’s parents destroyed San Francisco instead of the monsters. Arlen’s parents would kill to keep this secret buried, leaving Arlen with an impossible choice: murder the siren to protect his family, or seize this opportunity at freedom, journey with the siren to the safe, and expose the truth to the world.
First 250 words:
Arlen Boggs hopped his neighbor’s fence and sneaked past the protestors. They’d camped in front of his house again, picket signs raised. He tried to keep his footsteps light, but the deep rain puddles didn’t help his cause.
Trees rustled on either side of him. He looked up at the sycamores and saw nothing but windblown leaves.
Two more blocks, he thought. You can do two blocks.
The morning air gave him a chill, and he buttoned up his father's trench coat, too big for his lanky frame. He wore it to keep himself hidden, though it never helped. Arlen stood out wherever he went.
Head down, he followed the dotted yellow lines along the center of the street. Another rustle. He stopped and stared into one of the trees. Still nothing.
A woman’s voice came from behind him: “There he is.”
Arlen turned to look at the protestors, five houses back. “Great,” he said.
Two of their poster boards read, “GO AWAY, MYTH SLAYERS!” and “MYTHS HAVE RIGHTS, TOO!” Despite the wet September morning, the crazy zealots wandered onto the road and shouted at him.
A few months shy of his eighteenth birthday, Arlen still didn't have his driver's license. His parents didn't have time to teach him, always out filming their TV show. Otherwise, he would have driven himself to school and avoided the morning hate-fest.
Another tree rustled and a branch snapped.
Could be a monster.
The protestors sped up, chasing after him with their hand-painted signs.
QK 2016 Agent Round 5: MEET ME AT LAKE NEVAEH, YA Thriller
Title: Lost Inside Her
Entry Nickname: Meet Me at Lake Nevaeh
Word count: 71,000
Genre: YA Thriller
Query:
For as long as seventeen-year-old Violet can remember, she’s had a voice in her head she calls Gabby. She’s her best friend. And to Violet, she’s real. But to her doctors and parents, the voice is a mysterious mental aberration they’ve tried treating for years with meds and therapy. But nothing’s worked.
Usually playful and carefree, Gabby’s visits are now filling Violet with unexplainable fear, and even making her dizzy and nauseous. Worried they’ll put her away for good, Violet keeps Gabby’s troubles to herself. When Neil joins her English class and they connect in church, his down-to-earth, gentle nature draws her closer. So close, she trusts him with her secret. And he’s the first to believe her.
But Gabby doesn't trust Neil. She rebels, causing blackouts and strange bruises that land Violet in the hospital, and now they want to send her for long-term testing. Feeling betrayed by everyone, Violet runs away with Neil to his reservation, where his grandfather performs a shamanic ritual. In a trance-like vision, Violet enters one of her own body’s cells and witnesses how her atoms’ electrons link her—through a long-distance magnetic force—to another person. A real person. It explains her blackouts and bruises. They’re really Gabby’s. And Gabby is in big trouble.
When police arrest Neil for harboring a runaway, Violet escapes in his truck. Now on her own to save Gabby, all Violet has to work with are cryptic clues about Gabby’s location and Neil’s intelligent dog. If Violet can’t save her, she not only jeopardizes her own safety, she risks losing her lifelong friend and the first guy who ever believed in her.
First 250:
Three days since I’d secretly quit taking my meds. Or was it four? This might have ranked as the stupidest thing I’d ever done. Huddled in the back seat of Dad’s SUV, I forced my eyes open. Swirling gray clouds dumped more rain onto the street, already flooded from a week of late-September storms.
That spot where Gabby lived in my head was empty. For now, anyway. After all her drama, insisting I “stop the drugs,” she hadn’t even popped in since I’d quit. Maybe it was better that way. Because just thinking about how weird she’d been acting lately made me sweat all over. Staring out the window, tears filled my eyes, blurring the falling rain. I didn’t even know my best friend anymore. I almost wished she’d never visit me again.
A gust whipped fat drops against the windshield, forcing Dad to slow down and lean forward. We crawled through the downpour and turned into the mini mart’s lot. While Dad ran in for drinks, Mom flipped down the visor’s mirror and applied that bright-red lipstick I hated. She saw me looking at her. “You still mad at me?”
“I was tired. I didn’t mean to yell.” I’d swear she was more concerned about being yelled at than why I was so upset when she woke me for church. I’d barely slept all night, and I really wanted to tell her why. Tell Dad. Tell someone.
Gabby’s mantra echoed: Keep it inside, where it’s safe with me and you.
Entry Nickname: Meet Me at Lake Nevaeh
Word count: 71,000
Genre: YA Thriller
Query:
For as long as seventeen-year-old Violet can remember, she’s had a voice in her head she calls Gabby. She’s her best friend. And to Violet, she’s real. But to her doctors and parents, the voice is a mysterious mental aberration they’ve tried treating for years with meds and therapy. But nothing’s worked.
Usually playful and carefree, Gabby’s visits are now filling Violet with unexplainable fear, and even making her dizzy and nauseous. Worried they’ll put her away for good, Violet keeps Gabby’s troubles to herself. When Neil joins her English class and they connect in church, his down-to-earth, gentle nature draws her closer. So close, she trusts him with her secret. And he’s the first to believe her.
But Gabby doesn't trust Neil. She rebels, causing blackouts and strange bruises that land Violet in the hospital, and now they want to send her for long-term testing. Feeling betrayed by everyone, Violet runs away with Neil to his reservation, where his grandfather performs a shamanic ritual. In a trance-like vision, Violet enters one of her own body’s cells and witnesses how her atoms’ electrons link her—through a long-distance magnetic force—to another person. A real person. It explains her blackouts and bruises. They’re really Gabby’s. And Gabby is in big trouble.
When police arrest Neil for harboring a runaway, Violet escapes in his truck. Now on her own to save Gabby, all Violet has to work with are cryptic clues about Gabby’s location and Neil’s intelligent dog. If Violet can’t save her, she not only jeopardizes her own safety, she risks losing her lifelong friend and the first guy who ever believed in her.
First 250:
Three days since I’d secretly quit taking my meds. Or was it four? This might have ranked as the stupidest thing I’d ever done. Huddled in the back seat of Dad’s SUV, I forced my eyes open. Swirling gray clouds dumped more rain onto the street, already flooded from a week of late-September storms.
That spot where Gabby lived in my head was empty. For now, anyway. After all her drama, insisting I “stop the drugs,” she hadn’t even popped in since I’d quit. Maybe it was better that way. Because just thinking about how weird she’d been acting lately made me sweat all over. Staring out the window, tears filled my eyes, blurring the falling rain. I didn’t even know my best friend anymore. I almost wished she’d never visit me again.
A gust whipped fat drops against the windshield, forcing Dad to slow down and lean forward. We crawled through the downpour and turned into the mini mart’s lot. While Dad ran in for drinks, Mom flipped down the visor’s mirror and applied that bright-red lipstick I hated. She saw me looking at her. “You still mad at me?”
“I was tired. I didn’t mean to yell.” I’d swear she was more concerned about being yelled at than why I was so upset when she woke me for church. I’d barely slept all night, and I really wanted to tell her why. Tell Dad. Tell someone.
Gabby’s mantra echoed: Keep it inside, where it’s safe with me and you.
QK 2016 Agent Round 6: ESCAPE THE FATE, YA Contemporary Fantasy
Title: Prophecy PunkEntry Nickname: Escape the FateWord Count: 65,000Genre: YA Contemporary Fantasy
Query:
Cassandra of Troy received the gift of divine prophecy from the Greek God Apollo. He also cursed her--no one would ever believe them (Trojan horse, anyone? Cassandra totally saw that coming).
In this contemporary retelling of the Greek myth, instead of suffering from madness and torturous hysteria, Cassandra is devoted to her family, a high school student (who needs a serious attitude adjustment), and runs a popular website where she puts her power to good use by recording benign prophecies as they come to pass.
While ProphecyPunked.com is a much-needed money-maker, Cass’ prophecies aren’t all viral video worthy. Buried beneath the funny accidents, incredible feats, and curious glimpses of her girlfriend-to-be, the gorgeous new transfer student, Elyse, she also foresees a deadly rivalry brewing. A foreboding vortex of violence has begun to swirl around her beautiful, and beloved sister, Helen.
With the sinister threat of a school shooting looming, Cass must turn to her morally bankrupt ex-boyfriend, Apollo, for help. She swore to never speak to him again after their prophecy-fueled blackmail business resulted in a suicide, but she’d do anything (including lie, cheat, steal, commit felonies…) for Helen. But not even the intervention of the Gods will be enough to help Cassandra, Helen, and Troy High School escape their fate.
First 250 words:
Cass had warned Kiernan this would happen. Up ahead there was a dangerous patch of early morning ice.
“Are you going to stand there all day?” Diana asked. Foggy plumes of breath formed in front of her face with each impatient huff.
Cass lounged against the Java Joint's brick wall. She winked at Diana, lips curling into a mischievous smile that only she could wear and make a person want in on whatever was about to go down.
“Shut up before you mess up my video.” She pressed the camera icon on her phone and held it up toward the spot she had seen in her prophecy.
“Ooh!” Diana rushed to her side, peeking over Cass’ shoulder to watch the screen. “What are we recording?”
It had always been we, not you.
“In about ten seconds, Kiernan is going to come running out of the building, slip and almost fall for about seven seconds of pure hilarity in a stunning show of balance and luck. It’s going to be great. I’m thinking about calling it Lights, Camera, Traction.”
Diana’s eyes glazed over with an opaque sheen. Her face slackened while the memory of Cass’ prophecy erased itself from her mind. When she blinked, her eyes returned to their normal dark brown.
“Did you just say something?” she asked.
Query:
Cassandra of Troy received the gift of divine prophecy from the Greek God Apollo. He also cursed her--no one would ever believe them (Trojan horse, anyone? Cassandra totally saw that coming).
In this contemporary retelling of the Greek myth, instead of suffering from madness and torturous hysteria, Cassandra is devoted to her family, a high school student (who needs a serious attitude adjustment), and runs a popular website where she puts her power to good use by recording benign prophecies as they come to pass.
While ProphecyPunked.com is a much-needed money-maker, Cass’ prophecies aren’t all viral video worthy. Buried beneath the funny accidents, incredible feats, and curious glimpses of her girlfriend-to-be, the gorgeous new transfer student, Elyse, she also foresees a deadly rivalry brewing. A foreboding vortex of violence has begun to swirl around her beautiful, and beloved sister, Helen.
With the sinister threat of a school shooting looming, Cass must turn to her morally bankrupt ex-boyfriend, Apollo, for help. She swore to never speak to him again after their prophecy-fueled blackmail business resulted in a suicide, but she’d do anything (including lie, cheat, steal, commit felonies…) for Helen. But not even the intervention of the Gods will be enough to help Cassandra, Helen, and Troy High School escape their fate.
First 250 words:
Cass had warned Kiernan this would happen. Up ahead there was a dangerous patch of early morning ice.
“Are you going to stand there all day?” Diana asked. Foggy plumes of breath formed in front of her face with each impatient huff.
Cass lounged against the Java Joint's brick wall. She winked at Diana, lips curling into a mischievous smile that only she could wear and make a person want in on whatever was about to go down.
“Shut up before you mess up my video.” She pressed the camera icon on her phone and held it up toward the spot she had seen in her prophecy.
“Ooh!” Diana rushed to her side, peeking over Cass’ shoulder to watch the screen. “What are we recording?”
It had always been we, not you.
“In about ten seconds, Kiernan is going to come running out of the building, slip and almost fall for about seven seconds of pure hilarity in a stunning show of balance and luck. It’s going to be great. I’m thinking about calling it Lights, Camera, Traction.”
Diana’s eyes glazed over with an opaque sheen. Her face slackened while the memory of Cass’ prophecy erased itself from her mind. When she blinked, her eyes returned to their normal dark brown.
“Did you just say something?” she asked.
