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.
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