Release Day: SACHAEL DISCOVERY

Tags

Book release, fantasy, Melody Winter, Mine Series, New Adult Romance, release day, romance, Sachael Desires, Sachael Discovery, Sachael Dreams

Book three of the Mine Series is here! It’s been a long wait, but we made it. I love the world of Saicean! Wonderful and fantastical! The mystery of Estelle unfolds, the only female in a race of men. Orontes returns! YES! His kind of evil intrigues me. The romance might not be my thing, but the world and the characters keep me going back.

Let me introduce you to the newest book in the series!

Sachael Discovery

War has come to Saicean. With Orontes as King of the Oceanids, the threat to Saicean and its inhabitants has never been greater. The Oceanid army has laid siege to the underwater paradise, and Estelle Bailey once again finds herself trapped by Orontes’s hand. This time, within the walls of what should have been a safe place.

Tensions mount as supplies run short, and being the only female Sachael in a world dominated by desperate men leaves Estelle feeling vulnerable. Tired of having to live like a prisoner, even a well-treated one, Estelle decides to act. They need a weapon. And she can think of only one person who still has the means to kill Orontes and end the war—Michael.

With Azariah and Chanon in tow, Estelle flees their world, heading to the remote islands of the Faroes. But their mission to find Michael yields so much more than they expected. Faced with information that could change not only the war, but the course of all Sachael existence, the trio must make a choice: return to Saicean with Michael, or follow a lead that could change everything and pray they make it back in time to save their home.

 

 

Book Three of the Mine Series, Sachael Discovery layers new intrigues and betrayals into Estelle’s journey, escalating the stakes to levels as sweeping as the backdrop of beautiful locales.

 

 

 

 

 

MELODY WINTER

Growing up, Melody Winter showed a natural ability in art, a head for maths, and a tendency to write far too long English essays. Difficult to place in the world when she graduated, she pursued a career in teaching, but eventually ended up working in finance. Melody is convinced that the methodical time she spends working with numbers fuels her desire to drift into dream worlds and write about the illusory characters in her head.

Melody lives in North Yorkshire, England, with her husband and two teenage sons. When not dealing with football, rugby, and a whole plethora of ‘boy’ activities, she will be found scribbling notes for her stories, or listening to 80’s music on her IPod.

Melody has a tendency to fall head-over-heels in love with her main characters, even when they frustrate her and refuse to act the way she wants them to. She is a romance writer at heart and loves reading and writing about anything mythological or magical, as well as exploring the gritty side of love affairs and the complexities of being in love.

 

SACHAEL DREAMS was her debut novel, (REUTS Publications, USA) and the first in the New Adult Romantic Fantasy series—the ‘Mine Series’. The second book in the series, SACHAEL DESIRES’, was released in November 2015, and the third book, SACHAEL DISCOVERY, is due to be released on the 19^thJune 2018. SACHAEL DESTINY is due to be released in 2019.

Melody has also self-published three books, INIQUITY, the first book in a Dark New Adult Romantic Fantasy series— ‘The Ascent’. (The second book in the series, ADVERSITY, is due for release 2018.) STARSHINE, and PROMISE, both contemporary romance, were released last year.

Website: www.melodywinter.com

Twitter: https://twitter.com/MelodyWinter

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/Melody-Winter-Author

Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/author/Melody_Winter

Amazon page: https://www.amazon.co.uk/Melody-Winter

Pinterest: https://www.pinterest.co.uk/melodywinter

YEA! Congrats, Melody! Now we wait for book four…

 

To Fit or Not to Fit…In

Tags

belonging, Cassandra Chandler, different, fantasy, thoughts, uniqueness

This week is going to be a bit crazy, with preparing for vacation…cleaning and packing and gathering all the camping things…band practices, a softball game, dentist visit, writers group, and revisions, I was perfectly happy ignoring my blog. Then I read Cassandra Chandler’s blog today and it stirred a memory in my head. Go read her post 11 Years on an Alien Planet. It’s short…I’ll wait.

I was different than the other kids. Though I never really knew it. I tried so hard to to be like everyone else, to fit in, that I never truly appreciated me. My own uniqueness was lost to my need to be like others, to the voice in my head screaming that I should be like them.

I still fight this.

Though now that I’m in my forties, I really don’t care as much.

As a kid I read a lot of fantasy. I watched a lot of fantasy. I wanted to live in a fantasy. However, in all those fantasies, the warriors were men. Well, I had a character in my head…another me, if you will. Her name was Tyra and she was strong. She was independent. She was a woman of few words. She was a warrior. The story of how she found and gained her sword…a special sword…was a tale of adventure and danger.

I lived in my head so much, I thought I had been born on the wrong planet. Unlike Cassandra, who thought she was an alien, I thought a portal would open up and take me home…the difference between a sci-fi geek and a fantasy nerd, I suppose. Not that different really.

That portal never came…except it did. Kind of. I am a writer. All the worlds in my head live on the page, in the imagination. Maybe I wasn’t born on the wrong planet, but on the exact right one, the one that needed me to share what’s in my brain.

Embrace your weird. Embrace what makes you unique. Never think you don’t belong, because maybe you’re in just the right place.

A Series of Unfortunate Lessons

Tags

continuity, fantasy, notes, publishing, series, thoughts, What I learned from writing a series, writing

Book series are so much a thing…the thing? Something. People want characters’ stories to continue, they want to live in a world longer than the span of one book.

We love series! LOVE THEM!

I mean…Harry Potter…

So, many authors are writing them.

When I wrote DOORS, oh so many years ago, I wrote it as a stand alone. I wrote it because at the time being a new author meant the chances of having a series published was zero to none.

“At the time” means before self-publishing was a choice, before the big publishers closed to unagented queries, before small presses had grabbed their piece of the novel pie, before Twitter, and back when querying meant a letter on a piece of paper (ah, snail mail) and a SASE (self-addressed stamped envelope, for those who don’t speak the language of long ago).

I began my writing journey with a series, one that had been rolling around in my head for years.

I wrote three out of four books. I queried the first book (way too soon, but a mistake so many make, so many need to make) and as I waited, I researched this whole getting published thing (without the Internet help that exists now, without writer friends on Twitter, without a writing group…ugh, seriously the stone age). I read publishing books and took classes. First time authors were less likely to be signed with a series, publishers were not willing to risk that much on an unknown. Funny how different the publishing world is now…

So I wrote a stand alone.

But it wasn’t. The story wasn’t done. I had told the very beginning.

Book two is drafted and book three is very close to being drafted…like two or three chapters close! OH MY GOOD GRACIOUS PLEASE LET IT END SOON!

Book one is signed with Reuts Publishing and is waiting for its turn in the edit cave. Books two and three? We’ll see if Reuts wants them. Why write them if I don’t know? Because I needed to.

However, writing a series has been taxing. Frustrating. An adventure. Pure insanity. Writing this series has been one mighty big mess.

Because I didn’t have a series in mind when I wrote book one, I had no idea where the whole story was headed. As I scribbled notes and began writing book two, I had an idea of where the series would go.

But…well…I was wrong. I’m not sure when I realized this…somewhere in book two…somewhere in book three? Both? Yeah.

The story evolved into a beast. A beast with wonderful backstory, a lot of history. A massive tangle of emotions. A web of people and actions. When the Darkness showed up…it all went awry. In a good way! But awry. As I talked to characters, as I delved into the worldbuilding and the past…the story came to life.

And wow, I am exhausted. I am ready to have this thing drafted so it can go sit in a corner.

But I am wiser.

What I have learned from writing a series:

1. Paging through books one and two searching for what you previously wrote is fun. Not incredibly tedious and frustrating. Nope. OKAY YES IT IS
2. Continuity. Is. Hard.
3. Be prepared to go back and change everything in book one to match what ended up happening. Be prepared to add things to book one for the same reason. (Sorry, Kisa…well, not change everything. BOOK ONE WILL BE FINE I SWEAR…IT WILL BE BETTER!)
4. Get really good at making notes that say things like, “DID HE EVEN SAY THAT?” “WHAT DID HAPPEN THEN?” “WHAT DID THIS PLANET LOOK LIKE?” “GO BACK AND CHECK THIS CHECK THAT CHECK EVERYTHING.”
5. The end is going to be quite different than I thought. THIS IS FINE. Go with the flow. Go with the story. To be honest, my story is much better now than it would have been.
6. CONTINUITY. IS. IMPOSSIBLE. Did I say that already? Did I? This is my main struggle BECAUSE MY NOTES ARE A BIG MESSY PILE OF MESS.
7. Never do this again. Okay, that’s a lie. I will do this again. What I hope to not do again is start a series without knowing, though controlling the voices in my head is not something I can…or even want…to do. The next project will be a series BUT I KNOW IT WILL BE. Knowing is half the battle. *gets my sword*

 

I cannot guarantee that my next series will be easier to write. I’ll still have a mess of notes, cause that’s how I roll. I’ll still open myself up to the possibility that I don’t know how it ends and will have to tweak the beginning to fit the surprise ending. Though this next series won’t take place on a million different worlds. So there’s that.

I learned so much. The best thing I discovered, was that I can do it. All the things that have to be changed, tweaked, or added will be done. Revisions are where the miracles happen. First, I need a break to untangle my brain from the web of everything.

Want to write a series? Do it. Scared? Don’t be. Let the story talk to you. Let it evolve into everything it is supposed to be. And fix all the things in revisions.

With my entire series drafted it will be easier to fix. Because I KNOW WHAT HAPPENS NOW! OH GLORIOUS KNOWLEDGE!

 

 

#SonofaPitch…Thoughts and My Votes

Tags

Believing, critiques, fantasy, feedback, horror, Inclusion, Son of a Pitch, thoughts, Twitter, writing

As the second round of Son of a Pitch wraps up, I sit here smiling…tired and my mind a bit frazzled, but very happy.

I read 51 entries, which included a query and the first 250 words of the manuscript. I hosted eleven of them on this little blog! It was an honor. I read some once, others…after revisions were posted…twice, and some more than that. I gave all my opinions. I squeed at some of the words. I smiled at others. I gasped. I laughed. I sighed. From horror, to fantasy, to sci-fi, to romance, to women’s fiction, to literary…YA, NA, and adult…everyone brought something different to this event. Everyone came to learn. Everyone united to help.

Son of a Pitch is my favorite writing competition. Everyone gets feedback. Everyone participates. Everyone is involved. #sonofapitch has been my favorite hangout these last few days.

I am so proud of how hard the critiquers worked! I am so proud of how hard the participants worked to listen, to absorb, and then took the comments and revised! Seriously, some of these queries went from confusing or vague to clear, concise, and unforgettable. How many first 250 passages went from pretty good to HOLY WOW GIVE ME MORE PAGES NOW!

Today is the day we, the critiquer/judges vote. I will post my vote in the comments of my chosen five. Yes, five. And I get to pick two alternates, which will remain secret for tie breaking purposes. I am going to post my winners and links to them here. In a second…

For as I write this I still haven’t quite decided. This isn’t a whose query is better, who used the best words kinda thing. There’s no formula. This is all subjective. And I, being me, am drawn to certain things. The weird. The magical. The creepy. So even though plenty of words were pretty darn shiny, though so many queries made me want to read the manuscript, I will choose what I am drawn to. Everyone will. That’s how art works, an untamable beast.

Okay…I might have figured this out. Let’s not be shocked that my chosen are YA in the horror, suspense, and fantasy genres.

In no specific order…

From #TeamDarkSide…

ASHES, ASHES… Go read it here.

I chose this one, because I COULD NOT STOP THINKING OF IT. The premise just stuck in my head. The first 250 had me…AH, PEOPLE, THE WORDS. The revised query…really good! Chills. Baby. Chills.

 

From #TeamDarkSide…

LUCID… Go read it here.

Yes, another one from my team…I might be prejudice, so shoot me. But again, the premise! The query might still need help, but it’ll get done. The first 250 had me. I was so sad when I came to the end. The character Marlowe is super intriguing. She could be one of my favorite evil characters!

 

From #TeamRebels…

THE BOOKSHOP… Go read it here.

Dude. I am a sucker for a unique fantasy. And if you know me and what I have written, a sucker for ways into other universes. Again, the concept made me bounce in my little chair…or large sofa. The first 250 was intriguing and mysterious. I want the whole story.

 

From #TeamDarkSide…

NEFFERS… Go read it here.

Really, Kathy. ANOTHER from your blog? YESSIREE! I like horror. The idea of these Neffers, made my creepy, dark soul shiver. After the first line of the query…I WAS READY TO GO! The query has evolved, and is much clearer. The first 250 had so much weird! How could I not love this.

 

From #TeamRebels…

SILVER AND ICE… Go read it here.

The query was good when I read it, but the author has improved it. The idea of silvertongues…those who can control minds with their voices…YES PLEASE. The first 250 set up the mc, promised me a cool world and HELLO QUEEN WHO IS SO COLD ICE CRYSTALS FORM ON THE FLOOR. Dude.

I went back and forth on quite a few. Reread many queries and first words. But had to go with the ones that had left the biggest impression on me. Now we wait to see who makes it into round three and will get their chance in front of the publishers participating. *bites fingernails*

Just because the entry isn’t in my top five, doesn’t mean I didn’t like it. I liked a lot of them. We have done a lot of work over the past few days. Everyone should feel proud. I am proud.

It has been an honor to be involved, thanks to Katie for inviting me! I hope all my new friends keep in touch and tell me how all the words are going.

That is the end of my crazy Son of a Pitch week…or few days…or whatever. I have no idea what day it is. I had a great time.

 

PRISONER OF FATE…#SonofaPitch: Entry 6 #TeamDarkSide

Tags

#sonofapitch, Adult, critique, fantasy, thoughts, writing

Son of a Pitch, round 2, begins! Welcome to Team Dark Side.

Eleven posts, for eleven entries. Four other blogs are hosting more! The comment section is for Son of a Pitch authors to leave their thoughts. So please do not comment unless you are a Son of a Pitch author. Thank you!

Onto entry 6!

Title: Prisoner of Fate

Category and Genre: Adult Fantasy
Word Count: 160,000
Query:

When most people have a mid-life crisis, they buy a fancy carriage. When Komak Cer-Marin has a mid-life crisis, he teams up with a murderer and a possessed healer to stop death itself.

On parchment, Komak has everything a man could desire: status, wealth, family. In reality, status and wealth taste hollow, and he would cheerfully murder his brothers if his hands stayed clean. When enigmatic traveler Sedhan Saphadzar offers Komak the chance at an undying legacy – the creation of an artifact that halts death itself – Komak can’t resist its lure.

But destiny doesn’t come without problems. Sedhan is wanted for murder, with dragonriders hounding him, and he’s hiding something worse. A possessed half-elf healer joins them to flee her heritage, even as she furthers their ends. When their preparations go awry, Komak must decide if a legacy justifies the crimes he’s committed or if he’s willing to stake his life for morals he didn’t know he had.

First 250 Words:

“Sedhan Saphadzar, to speak with Komak Cer-Marin, the lord’s son,” the man said for the seventh time – once to the guard on the bridge across the lake, once at the entrance to the city, once at the outer wall, twice at the first gate, once at the keep entrance, and again here, at the door to the audience chamber.

The guard by the door, like all the guards before, cast him a dubious glance, and Sedhan could almost hear the man’s thoughts. Sedhan’s accent was rich with the unmistakable lilting of the hills of Old Marin, but something still gave the guard pause. Perhaps it was the color of his hair – a dark auburn more common to the deserts of Baerga, lightly dusted with silver and cut short in the style common to travelers. He was lean but muscled, and his face was handsome, if sharply angular. He wore simple traveling clothes, not distinctive to any land, with a plain cloak and linen shirt of the same inky black as his eyes. He carried no weapons, a fact he demonstrated by keeping his cloak back over his shoulders.

Unable to find anything off-putting, the guard grunted his consent. Sedhan pushed the door to the audience chamber open. As he stepped through, he touched the frame and chanted the threshold rite again, as he had whenever in view of a guard or member of the House.

And now my critique. Yes, I am doing it right now, if you don’t want to read my thoughts, stop here.

First, a disclaimer…

Hi, my name is Kathy. I am not a writing god or expert. I will tell you what works for me and what doesn’t. I will put in honest reactions. Please take the comments that make sense to YOU for YOUR ms. Please disregard any comments that aren’t relevant. I will ask a butt-ton (seriously, I don’t know exactly how much a butt-ton is, but it’s a lot) of questions to spark your creative brain. Any questions that I ask that give you an AH-HA moment run with all those ideas! The questions that don’t send lightning to your mind…ignore. Please listen to all the other wonderfully talented people who will stop by.

Thank you for sharing your words. Your words are important. You are awesome!

Query:

When most people have a mid-life crisis, they buy a fancy carriage. When Komak Cer-Marin has a mid-life crisis, he teams up with a murderer and a possessed healer to stop death itself. (OMG I’m in.)

On parchment, Komak has everything a man could desire: status, wealth, family. In reality, (I think you can cut “In reality”) status and wealth taste hollow, and he would cheerfully murder his brothers if his hands stayed clean. (HA! Love that! Way to show his character.) When enigmatic traveler Sedhan Saphadzar offers Komak the chance at an undying legacy – the creation of an artifact that halts death itself – Komak can’t resist its lure. (Sedhan is offering to help Komak create this artifact…not find it? Komak is lured to the power this would give? Halts death for …just the person who has it or everything?)

But destiny (He thinks his destiny is to do something big like halt death…this is what drives him?) doesn’t come without problems. Sedhan is wanted for murder, with dragonriders hounding him, and he’s hiding something worse. (Are the dragonriders after him because of the murder or something else? Dragon riders make me happy! But the “hiding something worse” is too vague, doesn’t pack any punch.) A possessed half-elf healer (OH! I likey possessed characters! Does this one have a name?) joins them to flee her heritage (What heritage? What is she fleeing?), even as she furthers their ends.(She’s helping them to help herself? How does it help her, by giving her a means to get away from her life? But does she care about what they are doing?) When their preparations go awry, Komak must decide if a legacy justifies the crimes he’s committed or if he’s willing to stake his life for morals he didn’t know he had. (What preparations? How do they go awry? What crimes has he committed? I need to see what he wants…what gets in the way…how he changes, these morals he didn’t know he had…then what the choice is. Does he have to decide to either create this artifact or not? Does he create it and have to decide to use it? How is his life at stake? You lose me with this last paragraph. And I wonder about 160K being a bit long…even for fantasy…though fantasy is tough because world building. Just a thought.)

After having read the first 250…I am a bit confused that it was Sebhan’s POV. This query sets up Komak’s POV. Whose story is it? Or is it omniscient POV?

 

First 250 Words:
“Sedhan Saphadzar, to speak with Komak Cer-Marin, the lord’s son,” the man said for the seventh time – once to the guard on the bridge across the lake, once at the entrance to the city, once at the outer wall, twice at the first gate, once at the keep entrance, and again here, at the door to the audience chamber. (I am confused with POV here. First I thought it was the guard, who was listening to the man…then I realized it must be the man…but who is the man? I like the having to repeat the sentence over and over…protocol. Lol. And the man…is he annoyed at having to say it? Is it routine? Has he had to do this before to see the same leader or a different one? Put us in his head. Is he anxious to get to speak with Komak? Is he nervous? Excited?)

The guard by the door, like all the guards before,(A bit of description here.) cast him a dubious glance, and Sedhan could almost hear the man’s thoughts (his thoughts? Or his doubts? Or how the guard must be pondering the individual before him, questioning if he should allow him in?). (Oh, the man is Sedhan!) Sedhan’s accent was rich with the unmistakable lilting of the hills of Old Marin (Is that good? Would the guard not like that?), but something still gave the guard pause. Perhaps it was the color of his hair – a dark auburn more common to the deserts of Baerga, lightly dusted with silver and cut short in the style common to travelers. (Would that hurt his chances of getting in?) He was lean but muscled, and his face was handsome, if sharply angular. (feels like omniscient POV) He wore simple traveling clothes, not distinctive to any land, with a plain cloak and linen shirt of the same inky black as his eyes. He carried no weapons, a fact he demonstrated by keeping his cloak back over his shoulders. (Can Sedhan look down at himself…or brush some dust from his shoulder or straighten his shirt so we can see what he has on without being told what he looks like? Does he usually carry a weapon? How badly does he want in? Is he worried they won’t let him in? What are his intentions? I want a hint of something, so I can be worried or scared or excited. I want to be drawn in with a promise of something.

Unable to find anything off-putting, the guard grunted his consent. (With omniscient POV we would certainly know what the guard thought…if it is Sebhan’s then he can think that he must have passed inspection because the guard let him through. And Sedhan is…overjoyed? Is this the final door keeping him from his goal?) Sedhan pushed the door to the audience chamber open. As he stepped through, he touched the frame and chanted the threshold rite again, as he had whenever in view of a guard or member of the House. (Why? What does the chant do or mean?)

I am dying to know more about Sebhan. The chant suggests magic, which makes me curious. But I need more emotion to draw me in, more tension to pull me into the story. We don’t have to know his intentions, but a feel for if he’s up to no good or going to try to manipulate…what is in this for Sebhan?

For the author of this entry…Feel free to comment on what I have said and you can certainly post revisions!

Again, THANK YOU for participating. Sharing your words and opening up for critique is difficult. We all are here to help you make your ms as shiny as possible. Good luck with all the writing!

 

The Untold Tale by J.M. Frey…Read Along Tour!

Tags

book, fantasy, J.M. Frey, Read along, The Untold Tale, thoughts

I read this book and enjoyed it SUPER SUPER MUCH! Yes…super super. I am very excited about book two! So I am helping to celebrate the upcoming release by hosting this read along, where the fantastic Cal Spivey give us insight into the happenings of chapters 6 and 7!

If you like fantasy…you’ll love this book. And Pip is the absolute BEST!

 

“Your brother is a slimeball.”: The Untold Read-Along Part Three

 

Welcome to The Untold Tale read-along! The Untold Tale by J.M. Frey is the first book in the Accidental Turn series, the second book of which, The Forgotten Tale, will be released on December 6th. To prep for book two, we’re sharing a ten-part series that will be part recap, part review, and part discussion of the book that has been called the “most important work of fantasy written in 2015.”

If you want to read along with us and avoid the SPOILERS that will follow, you can pick up your copy of The Untold Tale from major online retailers.

About the book

Forsyth Turn is not a hero. Lordling of Turn Hall and Lysse Chipping, yes. Spymaster for the king, certainly. But hero? That’s his older brother’s job, and Kintyre Turn is nothing if not legendary. However, when a raid on the kingdom’s worst criminal results in the rescue of a bafflingly blunt woman, oddly named and even more oddly mannered, Forsyth finds his quaint, sedentary life is turned on its head.

Dragged reluctantly into a quest he never expected, and fighting villains that even his brother has never managed to best, Forsyth is forced to confront his own self-shame and the demons that come with always being second-best. And, more than that, when he finally realizes where Lucy came from and why she’s here, he’ll be forced to question not only his place in the world, but the very meaning of his own existence.

Smartly crafted, The Untold Tale gives agency to the unlikeliest of heroes: the silenced, the marginalized, and the overlooked. It asks what it really means to be a fan when the worlds you love don’t resemble the world you live in, celebrates the power of the written word, challenges tropes, and shows us what happens when someone stands up and refuses to remain a secondary character in their own life.

Part One: “I assume the body is a corpse.” Chapters 1 and 2

Part Two: “Information, at last!” Chapters 3, 4, and 5

 

Part Three: Chapters 6 and 7

 

Cal Spivey

 

In this section, Forsyth is staggered by Pip’s revelation that the world he lives in is the fictional setting of a series of books called The Tales of Kintyre Turn, by Elgar Reed. Reed, an author from Pip’s real world, wrote these books as a very pulp-fantasy, Terry Goodkind-esque saga of the glorious hero Kintyre Turn and his squire and chronicler Sir Bevel Dom. In other words, Forsyth has lived his entire life in Kintyre’s shadow by design.

Pip and Forsyth recover enough to return to the dinner party, where Bevel promptly bullies Pip into dancing, despite her first polite and then blunt protests. At least he is a kind partner, instructive as he leads her through an unfamiliar dance. But before anyone can relax, Kintyre cuts in, groping Pip and exacerbating her injuries.

The emotional roller-coaster of an evening comes to a head when Bevel, per his and Kintyre’s usual routine with maidens, proposes a threesome with Pip. When Pip refuses, an argument as to whose bed she’ll go to (“How about I go to nobody’s bed?” Pip says) culminates in her outing of Kintyre and Bevel as lovers, per the homosexual subtext of the novels.

Kintyre refuses to escort Pip home, and Pip refuses to accept his help anyway. Pip convinces Forsyth that they can take on the quest together instead.

 

—–

 

“The whole world was created for my brother. To serve him. To exalt and glorify him.” (page 142)

In my life, I have heard people say–in earnest–that a particular deity created this world to serve and fulfill the needs of men. Not mankind, but men, specifically.

Imagine if that were true.

Or, that not only was the world created to serve and fulfill the needs of men, but one man in particular.

Poor Forsyth! The chapters we’ve read so far have all expertly led to this moment. Every reminder of Kintyre’s existence has led to dark recollections from Forsyth of his brother’s rudeness, selfishness, and cruelty. Having been introduced to Kintyre, we see how boorish and offensive he is. I would be crushed to learn that my whole world existed to support someone like him.

Why, though? Isn’t he a hero? Hasn’t he saved people and done great things for the kingdom? One of the amazing things about this series is that as much as it lifts up non-traditional heroism, it also directly challenges the traditional–but I’m getting ahead of myself here.

This section specifically shines a light on Kintyre’s personal relationships and the way his version of masculinity inhibits and damages them.

On page 157, Pip criticizes the fact that Kintyre knows “the social cues and common practices of politeness,” but “has decided…that learning to communicate and interact with other human beings is beneath him. That everyone will just…marvel and obey.” We see this in Kintyre’s behavior toward Forsyth, his own brother, whose every request regarding Kintyre’s stay at Turn Hall is utterly ignored. Kintyre shows up and shows no consideration for what’s already going on. He demands accommodation, but won’t accommodate–not even, or perhaps especially not, when it comes to respecting Pip’s triggers and boundaries, first when Forsyth warns him of them and later when Pip herself tries to set them.

And poor Bevel! His exchange with Pip on pages 173-175, the morning after the party and Pip’s outing of him as in love with Kintyre, is heartbreaking. He’s terrified because Kintyre “doesn’t love anyone,” including Bevel, though they’ve been traveling together for more than a decade and have a sexual relationship (albeit one expressed through threesomes with a woman). Pip’s exposure of them has brought an end to even that, Bevel fears, because Kintyre views love as a game: “he makes [women] fall in love with him and then he runs…now he knows, and he’s going to run away from me.” Kintyre won’t even look at Bevel.

Kintyre’s adventures are rife with sexual exploits, an integral part of any male power fantasy given the expectations placed on men to only want one thing, as I and I’m sure others heard from our mothers when we were teenage girls. But that’s all they are: exploitations. Kintyre’s masculinity is about being adored, not adoring, and he’s never shown to have even the smallest bit of kindness to give in return.

Even as Bevel propositions Pip for a threesome, it has a perfunctory feel about it. There’s no excitement, there’s certainly no chemistry between Pip and either hero. “Why don’t we just jump ahead to the end of the evening?” Bevel says, as he must do whenever there’s a maiden about–organizing threesomes, as Pip says, just so he can touch Kintyre. Kintyre, for his part, is in an “indolent slouch” until Pip says no, and only then does he interject. To my reading, he doesn’t care about having sex with Pip–he cares that she went against the script and rejected him.

I could go on–we haven’t even talked about the way Kintyre’s behavior, even at a remove, infects Forsyth’s instinctual reactions to Pip and their potential relationship, though we did touch on that last week–but by the end of this section, Kintyre is gone, and Pip and Forsyth have a new challenge to overcome: quest planning.

 

Coming up
This next one goes out to all the fantasy nerds out there. Join us–and author J.M. Frey!–for a little nerding out as Pip and Forsyth hit the books before they hit the road. Next week, part four will be hosted by Michelle Hoehn over at A Sleuth of Bears and cover chapters 8, 9, and 10.

 

#SonofaPitch…The Sword and the Shield

Tags

critique, fantasy, feedback, Son of a Pitch, thoughts, writing, YA

Welcome to Son of a Pitch! The eleventh entry… Please save comment area for the participating authors’ feedback. I will put my thoughts at the bottom of the post. Because I can. If you don’t want to know what I think, close your eyes. If you read my opinions and agree, want to add, or completely disagree… GO FOR IT!

Title: The Sword & the Shield

Age and Genre: YA Fantasy

Word count: 70,000 words

 

Query:

Orphaned at a young age and raised by a traveling clan of performers, sixteen-year-old Joss Frederichi has been snickered at in every tavern in Baltor. But who can blame them for disbelieving that she can arm-wrestle grown men…and win? After all, they don’t know the truth about her ability—an invisible force that gives the impression of her strength and shields her from harm. Trade secrets like that—and others—stay in her family.

Then Joss arm wrestles the wrong man—a centauri soldier, who reports directly to Baltor’s Sword. The same Sword who murdered his Shield and exiled Baltor’s king fifteen years earlier. And who’s using his centauris and bat-like nightflyers to collect talented girls like Joss.

The accidental abduction of her older sister by nightflyers brings a new face into Joss’s life—her sword-wielding, force-to-be-reckoned-with birth grandmother. Joss’s grandmother reveals her true identity. Joss is the Shield’s surviving heir and the sole threat to the Sword’s death grip over the country. But Joss is also her sister’s best hope.

With the help of her grandmother and her adoptive cousin Rowan, Joss sets out to rescue her sister. But she quickly discovers that everything is not as it first seemed. When Joss finds herself farther from her sister than ever, she forges some uncomfortable alliances, including with the Sword’s son, Damon. Can Joss save her sister’s life without losing who she is—and everyone she loves?

 

First 250 Words:

We file into the Gripp Inn and Tavern, pretending not to mind the stench of man sweat and burnt toast. The innkeep greets us first. He flaps his soiled apron in our direction, as if shooing hens from the coop.

“Out, out! No degas allowed!”

I swallow a sigh. Just once I’d like to walk into a town and find someone happy to see us.

But Father’s smile never falters. “Good day, sir! My name is Jacobi Frederichi. These are my daughters—”

Natayla sinks into a perfectly executed bow. Her dark hair swings back to reveal a coy smile as she rises.

I give a curt nod. I don’t need to be charming.

“—and my nephew.”

Rowan stares back at the patrons with a hand on his short sword. A warning to troublemakers. A heavy moment passes before he nods. Father continues.

“We’ve come to entice you to our family’s performance tomorrow evening. Take my eldest for example—”

Natayla sweeps forward. The low lamplight picks up amber highlights in her dark hair while concealing the stains on her floral-patterned skirt. The innkeep stares at her a moment, then opens his mouth in protest. Father earns his silence with a few coins. Then he presses a wood flute to his lips.

On cue, Natayla unfurls a pair of black fans from her long sleeves. Then, she dances. Her hands and feet weave through every note, as if she and the music are partners.

 

My thoughts comin’ at you. DUCK!

 

Query:

Orphaned at a young age and raised by a traveling clan of performers, sixteen-year-old Joss Frederichi has been snickered at in every tavern in Baltor. But who can blame them for disbelieving that she can arm-wrestle grown men…and win? After all, they don’t know the truth about her ability—an invisible force that gives the impression of her strength and shields her from harm. Trade secrets like that—and others—stay in her family.

Then Joss arm wrestles the wrong man—a centauri soldier, who reports directly to Baltor’s Sword. (Sword? Like a guard?) The same Sword who murdered his (who his?) Shield (what is a Shield?) and exiled Baltor’s king fifteen years earlier. And who’s using his centauris and bat-like nightflyers to collect talented girls like Joss.

The accidental (accidental? Because they meant to get Joss? But Joss is an orphan? Her sister is with her?) abduction of her older sister by nightflyers brings a new face into Joss’s life—her sword-wielding, force-to-be-reckoned-with birth grandmother. (she comes because of the abduction? Did she not know of the girls before?) Joss’s grandmother reveals her true identity (maybe cut “her true identity” and link to next sentence…get right to it!) Joss is the Shield’s surviving heir and the sole threat to the Sword’s death grip over the country. (How? How can she defeat the Sword? And why defeat him? What death grip…what is he doing to the country? He has her sister, so Joss wants to free her and punish the Sword?) But Joss is also her sister’s best hope. (So either rescue sister or get the Sword? Or first get sister?)

With the help of her grandmother and her adoptive cousin Rowan, Joss sets out to rescue her sister. But she quickly discovers that everything is not as it first seemed (vague sentence, give me details). When Joss finds herself farther from her sister than ever (What does this mean? How is she far away?), she forges some uncomfortable alliances, including with the Sword’s son, Damon. Can Joss save her sister’s life without losing who she is—and everyone she loves? (The consensus is to not use questions in queries…Finishing with the stakes will be stronger than using a question…if she doesn’t save her sister or stop the Sword… (you fill in the blank-Something terrible!) will happen. Make us afraid. Up the tension. Why is she fighting? What is she fighting for? How does she feel about being the Shield?

Overall…Using terms like the Sword and the Shield that are unique to your world, but the reader isn’t sure what it is, is tricky…defining them is boring…At first, I was confused by the words, but I got used to them by the end. I don’t know If you need to bring in the characters of Rowan and Damon to the query, it’s just more names and with all the words and names, it can get confusing. How does Joss react to losing her sister? How does she feel about being this special person? How does she change through the ms? Make sure Joss’ personality shines through.

 

First 250 Words:

We file into the Gripp Inn and Tavern, pretending not to mind the stench of man sweat and burnt toast. (gross! But way to set the scene. Any sights? Sounds?) The innkeep greets us first. He flaps his soiled apron in our direction, as if shooing hens from the coop.

“Out, out! No degas allowed!”

I swallow a sigh. Just once I’d like to walk into a town and find someone happy to see us. (MC’s voice here…nice! How long have they been doing this? What time of day is it? Weather…did they come in from the snow or rain? Is MC at least happy to be inside or wants to run away?)

But Father’s smile never falters. “Good day, sir! My name is Jacobi Frederichi. These are my daughters—” (Why not give us mc’s name here?)

Natayla sinks into a perfectly executed bow. Her dark hair swings back to reveal a coy smile as she rises. (and mc feels how about this? Wants to punch her?)

I give a curt nod. I don’t need to be charming. (why?)

“—and my nephew.”

Rowan stares back at the patrons with a hand on his short sword. A warning to troublemakers. A heavy moment passes before he nods. Father continues. (MC thinks what of him?)

“We’ve come to entice you to our family’s performance tomorrow evening. Take my eldest for example—”

Natayla sweeps forward. The low lamplight picks up amber highlights in her dark hair while concealing the stains on her floral-patterned skirt. (Nice tidbit about her skirt!) The innkeep stares at her a moment, then opens his mouth in protest. Father earns his silence with a few coins. Then he presses a wood flute to his lips.

On cue, Natayla unfurls a pair of black fans from her long sleeves. Then, she dances. Her hands and feet weave through every note, as if she and the music are partners. (Keep us in MC’s head…what does she think?)

Overall…I’d like a bit more of mc’s voice, thoughts and feelings, maybe a hint at what she wants. I want to know her. Where are they from? Has this been her life for a long time? I want to know about the world, where are they? 

Thanks for participating! If my comments don’t help, ignore them.

Writers unite!

#SonofaPitch…Doleful Creatures

Tags

critique, fantasy, feedback, Son of a Pitch, thoughts, writing, YA

Welcome to Son of a Pitch! The ninth entry… Please save comment area for the participating authors’ feedback. I will put my thoughts at the bottom of the post. Because I can. If you don’t want to know what I think, close your eyes. If you read my opinions and agree, want to add, or completely disagree… GO FOR IT!

Just kidding…feel free to add your opinions…

Title: Doleful Creatures

Age and Genre: YA Fantasy

Word Count: 103,000

 

QUERY

There’s a secret in the wood near Purdy Farm. Older than the hills. Older than the sky.

The Man in the Rock knows the secret. But the only creature who can hear him talk is Jarrod, and no one listens to him. Jarrod the Magpie. Jarrod the Distant. Jarrod the Murderer. Everyone’s seen the blood on his wingtips. Everyone knows he sent his own Rebekah to her doom. And those who don’t see the blood? Aloysius the badger tells them. He saw Rebekah die. He saw his own Landi die. He saw the shores of the beaver ponds, smeared with blood, littered with grimacing, cold faces. He spreads the tale to all who’ll listen. And many who’d rather not hear it at all.

And The Lady is coming. The Lady who causes marigolds to sprout where she walks; the same who brings the ice, the cold, the dark and lightning and who quiets with death the creatures who dare seek the joy promised long ago. Her stooges are legion – sneaking, digging, seeking. They’re looking for the guardian of the secret, the secret that will set The Lady free forever.

Jarrod is the only one who can stop her.

But Aloysius watches. And wants revenge.

 

FIRST 250 WORDS

This is the tale, as the magpies tell it.

When the sun rose on the last day, He Who Notes the Sparrow’s Fall wished for music.

There were many willing to sing.

The meadowlarks sang in round, their tunes braiding the air with the thistles, the soil with the sky.

The hawks and eagles sang, their shrieks and burbles like water tumbling over sharp rocks in a mountain stream.

Came too the too-kreee birds, the killdeer, the yoo-hoo birds. Each group sang and He Who Notes the Sparrow’s Fall closed his eyes to listen to each song, sighing, smiling, never singing along though he knew the tunes by heart because he wanted to hear the others sing.

Then she came.

She, his sister. Where she walked the marigolds sprouted and when she sang, tulips sprang from the ground, drawn in the same electric frisson that caused feathers and fur to stand on end. And when she sang, the song was so beautiful the stars drew closer to hear and he sang along, never overshadowing her voice but always in tune, swaying willow branches to match the cottonwood fluff floating over the water.

Many, more shy, more modest, listened from holes, from branches, from deep within or from bare perches where they could feel the sunlight and the music and the breeze.

From them, too, he coaxed songs, laughing as a school of fish spat bubbles out of the water, pattering patterns to imitate the fall of rain, the splash of raccoons fishing, the tumble of fall leaves on still water. He listened solemnly as a family of skunks chanted their song of root and earth.

 

Now you get to listen to my thoughts! WOOHOO!

 

QUERY

There’s a secret in the wood near Purdy Farm. Older than the hills. Older than the sky.

The Man in the Rock knows the secret. But the only creature who can hear him talk is Jarrod, and no one listens to him. Jarrod the Magpie. Jarrod the Distant. Jarrod the Murderer. Everyone’s seen the blood on his wingtips. Everyone knows he sent his own Rebekah to her doom. And those who don’t see the blood? Aloysius the badger tells them. He saw Rebekah die. He saw his own Landi die. He saw the shores of the beaver ponds, smeared with blood, littered with grimacing, cold faces. He spreads the tale to all who’ll listen. And many who’d rather not hear it at all.

And The Lady is coming. The Lady who causes marigolds to sprout where she walks; the same who brings the ice, the cold, the dark and lightning and who quiets with death the creatures who dare seek the joy promised long ago. Her stooges are legion – sneaking, digging, seeking. They’re looking for the guardian of the secret, the secret that will set The Lady free forever.

Jarrod is the only one who can stop her.

But Aloysius watches. And wants revenge.

*drops mic* *walks away* I got nothing. This is gorgeous. It’s different and I love it. I want to read it all right now.

 

FIRST 250 WORDS

This is the tale, as the magpies tell it.

When the sun rose on the last day, He Who Notes the Sparrow’s Fall wished for music.

There were many willing to sing.

The meadowlarks sang in round, their tunes braiding the air with the thistles, the soil with the sky. (Love.)

The hawks and eagles sang, their shrieks and burbles like water tumbling over sharp rocks in a mountain stream.

Came too the too-kreee birds, the killdeer, the yoo-hoo birds. Each group sang and He Who Notes the Sparrow’s Fall closed his eyes to listen to each song, sighing, smiling, never singing along though he knew the tunes by heart because he wanted to hear the others sing. (Maybe commas in here to help…never singing along, though he knew the tunes by heart, because he wanted to hear the others sing…otherwise it all ran together and my brain didn’t like it.)

Then she came. (Oooh!)

She, his sister. Where she walked the marigolds sprouted and when she sang, tulips sprang from the ground, drawn in the same electric frisson that caused feathers and fur to stand on end. And when she sang, the song was so beautiful the stars drew closer to hear and he sang along, never overshadowing her voice but always in tune, swaying willow branches to match the cottonwood fluff floating over the water.

Many, more shy, more modest, listened from holes, from branches, from deep within or from bare perches where they could feel the sunlight and the music and the breeze.

From them, too, he coaxed songs, laughing as a school of fish spat bubbles out of the water, pattering patterns to imitate the fall of rain, the splash of raccoons fishing, the tumble of fall leaves on still water. He listened solemnly as a family of skunks chanted their song of root and earth.

Overall…this is wonderful. I want to know more about this world, because my head is screaming FAERIE! And I hope I’m close. She came…something is going to happen…I need to know. The repetition of sing, sang, song…a bit much.

Thanks for submitting! I hope I helped, if not ignore me. Though I don’t have much to say about this one.

Writers unite!

#SonofaPitch…The Fall of Troy

Tags

critique, fantasy, feedback, Son of a Pitch, YA

Welcome to Son of a Pitch! The seventh entry… Please save comment area for the participating authors’ feedback. I will put my thoughts at the bottom of the post. Because I can. If you don’t want to know what I think, close your eyes. If you read my opinions and agree, want to add, or completely disagree… GO FOR IT!

Title: THE FALL OF TROY

Age and Genre: YA Fantasy

Word Count: 76k

Query: 

Helen of Troy has died twice. Once in the white city as it burned around her, and the second time in the Asphodel Meadows, the river Lethe washing her past away. All she knows of who she used to be is from whispered myths.

When she enters Elysium, the eternal paradise where heroes live out their afterlives, she learns that the myths got it wrong. Paris did not steal her away for love—he has always loved men—and what the stories call a kidnapping was a rescue, the Prince of Troy saving her from a husband who left bruises on her skin. But Menelaus is still hunting her, and now that he knows she is in Elysium he will do anything to get her back. When he threatens war, Helen knows the choice she has before her: return to her husband with a prayer that time has softened his edge, or watch history play itself over, heroes fighting and dying once more for the glory of her name.

But this is Elysium, the land of heroes, and Helen is tired of being as useless as she is beautiful. So instead she chooses neither, and, with the help of the hero Theseus, learns to fight. This is Elysium, and Helen of Troy is determined to make her future her own.

 

First 250 Words:

The flowers were as insubstantial as we were. They were gray, too, as gray as the rest of the landscape, and they whispered among themselves, the petals fluttering without wind, as if sharing secrets. But there were no secrets in the Asphodel Meadows, just as there was no color.

Only, sometimes—there was.

Time had little meaning here, but I marked it by his arrival. I saw the distant glow of him, the light of the living as he moved through the throngs of the dead. Other shades clamored around him, drawn like I was to the way he shone, the gold of his hair and the sword by his side. It was better and worse when he came, for my mind was clearer at the sight of him but the sharpness of it cut me in a way the numbness could not. Still, I felt myself move toward him, close enough that I could hear his voice. It sounded like music.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying, over and over, until the words began to blur together.

I pushed closer, through the other shades that blocked my path, until I was by his side, looking at him for the first time. He was more beautiful up close, all sharp planes and light and so much life it hurt to look at.

 

My thoughts…such as they are.

Query: 

Helen of Troy has died twice. Once in the white city as it burned around her, and the second time in the Asphodel Meadows, the river Lethe washing her past away. All she knows of who she used to be is from whispered myths. (I really like this opening, mysterious and interesting. The “the river Lethe washing her past away” doesn’t seem to relate to its sentence…perhaps link it to the last sentence instead. The river Lethe washed her past away, and all she knows…myths.)

When she enters Elysium, the eternal paradise where heroes live out their afterlives, she learns that the myths got it wrong. (So when she entered Elysium, she remembered the past? Or more specifically learned the facts of what happened in the past? Otherwise you said that the river washed her past away…) Paris did not steal her away for love—he has always loved men—and what the stories call a kidnapping was a rescue, the Prince of Troy saving her from a husband who left bruises on her skin. But Menelaus (her former husband?) is still hunting her (why?), and now that he knows she is in Elysium he will do anything to get her back. (So he is in Elysium too, or is finding a way in?) When he threatens war, (Dude. You can threaten war in eternal paradise? Is that allowed?) Helen knows the choice she has before her: return to her husband with a prayer that time has softened his edge, or watch history play itself over, heroes fighting and dying once more for the glory of her name.

But this is Elysium, the land of heroes, and Helen is tired of being as useless as she is beautiful. (infuse a bit of the character Helen in this sentence. Help us know her and like her.) So instead she chooses neither, and, with the help of the hero Theseus, learns to fight. This is Elysium, and Helen of Troy is determined to make her future her own. (So instead of having a war fought over her, she fights a war for herself? And from the first paragraph…she dies there? Is there a battle? Is the choice she makes at the end to fight or not?)

Overall…A neat concept, bit of a twist on Greek mythology. Helen wants to be her own person, so she learns to fight. I want to know her better. How does she feel when she learns the truth? What does she want from her afterlife? From what I remember, the Asphodel Meadows are for the regular people and Elysium is for heros…She passes through the meadows to get to Elysium? How does she learn of the past if she drank from the Lethe? How does her husband find her? Is he dead as well?

 

First 250 Words:

The flowers were as insubstantial as we were. They were gray, too, as gray as the rest of the landscape, and they whispered among themselves, the petals fluttering without wind, as if sharing secrets. But there were no secrets in the Asphodel Meadows, just as there was no color.

Only, sometimes—there was. (I really like this. Beautiful and haunting. And the last line grabs me.)

Time had little meaning here, but I marked it by his arrival. (Him who? Does mc know him? Or just drawn to a living person in the land of the dead?) I saw the distant glow of him, the light of the living as he moved through the throngs of the dead. Other shades clamored around him, drawn like I was to the way he shone, the gold of his hair and the sword by his side. It was better and worse when he came, (So he comes and goes, this isn’t the first time?) for my mind was clearer at the sight of him but the sharpness of it cut me in a way the numbness could not. Still, I felt myself move toward him, close enough that I could hear his voice. It sounded like music.

“I’m sorry,” he was saying, over and over, until the words began to blur together.

I pushed closer, through the other shades that blocked my path, until I was by his side, looking at him for the first time. He was more beautiful up close, all sharp planes and light and so much life it hurt to look at.

Overall…I want to know who the guy is. I want to know who the mc is. I like the feel of this. Colorless with a spot of brightness. Hopeful. Longing. I’d keep reading.

Thanks for participating! I hope this helps, and if not forget it.

Writers unite!

 

#SonofaPitch…The Portal

Tags

critique, fantasy, feedback, Son of a Pitch, thoughts, writing, YA

Welcome to Son of a Pitch! The fifth entry… Please save comment area for the participating authors’ feedback. I will put my thoughts at the bottom of the post. Because I can. If you don’t want to know what I think, close your eyes. If you read my opinions and agree, want to add, or completely disagree… GO FOR IT!

Title: The Portal Age and Genre: YA Fantasy Word Count: 96,000   Query: When Quinn volunteered to walk through the Portal to be eaten by dragons, she knew it wasn’t her brightest idea. Having lost her cousin, Harley, to the Portal 6 months prior, Quinn offers herself up to fulfill the Coven’s quota of maiden sacrifices. Instead of a horrific death, Quinn is met by a sacrifice-rescuing renegade named Jack and discovers that a parallel universe exists on the other side of the Portal.  Before she can absorb her new reality, Jack sweeps her into a world of sarcastic wolf-commanders, poorly educated giants, and feisty magical sprites. Quinn realizes she’s not the first girl the Rebellion has rescued from the Portal. Which means there’s a chance Harley is still alive. Quinn’s determined to find her cousin and to free the Realm from the Coven’s hold.  But her journey is threatened when she learns the Coven is hot on her trail. If she falls into the wrong hands she could end up as a slave to the Coven’s deadliest assassin, the Pied Piper.   First 250 Words: Quinn was in a violent mood, as she tested the bookend’s weight. Potential. She launched it across the room, letting her frustration fuel the throw. The bookend connected with the floor- to- ceiling mirror. A solid hit.  Shards of glass splintered from the point of impact, but none fell to the wooden floor. She bunched her fists, her molars grinding together. This wasn’t what she’d been hoping for. A weapon of some sort would have been nice but the Facility wouldn’t allow her the opportunity to escape, not again. “Wonderful,” she muttered to the room. “Can’t even let us throw a tantrum properly. Just great.” She raised her hands to the security camera dangling in the corner. “WHAT? AFRAID WE’LL OFF OURSELVES BEFORE YOU GET THE CHANCE? IS THAT IT?” No response. She didn’t expect one. The only person she expected to see was her escort when he arrived to take her through the ceremony. And ooh buddy that wasn’t going to be a joyful interaction, for him at least. Quinn began to pace. The glittering, wispy material of her white dress twirled around her legs as she crossed the room over and over. She was fidgety when nervous. This was her fault. She had no one else to blame. She was the one with the bright idea to volunteer for death- by- dragon. Oh sure, let’s give the depressed girl the option to end her life. Brilliant idea boys! You’ve outdone yourselves.

This formatted funny…I have no idea why. Oh well, moving on to my reactions! I know you’re all on the edge of your seats. Or not.

Query: When Quinn volunteered to walk through the Portal to be eaten by dragons, she knew it wasn’t her brightest idea. (You have me at dragons…but volunteered to be eaten by dragons…WHAT?!?!?) Having lost her cousin, Harley, to the Portal 6 (spell out six here) months prior, Quinn offers herself up to fulfill the Coven’s quota of maiden sacrifices. (BUT WHY? WHY, QUINN? Seriously, why would she volunteer for death? Because she lost her cousin?) Instead of a horrific death, Quinn is met by a sacrifice-rescuing renegade named Jack and discovers that a parallel universe exists on the other side of the Portal. (Oh! I like parallel universes!) Before she can absorb her new reality, (Is it a lot like what she knew? Or incredibly different?) Jack sweeps her into a world of sarcastic wolf-commanders, poorly educated giants, and feisty magical sprites. (Sounds fun! I’ll go!) Quinn realizes she’s not the first girl the Rebellion has rescued from the Portal. (How does she realize this? Does she meet someone else?) Which means there’s a chance Harley is still alive. Quinn’s determined to find her cousin and to free the Realm from the Coven’s hold. (Oh yes! Find Harley…and the Coven? I forgot about them. Maybe keep the thought of them in the last paragraph. The Coven is in the other universe? Why worry about them? Can they get her there or is she thinking of people she knows and loves left under their control?) But her journey is threatened when she learns the Coven is hot on her trail. (They can cross into the other universe? Or did she go back? And they know about her wanting to knock them out of power? Does she have a plan? Does she have help? What about Harley?) If she falls into the wrong hands she could end up as a slave to the Coven’s deadliest assassin, the Pied Piper. (Dude. THE PIED PIPER! That’s cool. But you can’t throw names at us like that. I’d mention his as potential danger earlier. Make him a big threat. Tell us about him.)   Overall…sounds fun! Though I question why she’s sacrificing herself. That’s huge. If she’s willing to die…why fight so hard to free her world from the Coven? And what about the dragons? You say she is to be eaten by them, does she see one? Do people travel easily from one world to the other? What is the portal, a hole in the ground, a swirling vortex? I need a transition from her wanting to die…or why she’s giving up her life…to wanting to get rid of the Coven.   First 250 Words: Quinn was in a violent mood, as she tested the bookend’s weight. Potential. (It would be a stronger opener to say… Quinn tested the bookend’s weight. Potential. You can demonstrate her violent mood by how her fingers grip the thing or how her clenches her jaw.) She launched it across the room, letting her frustration fuel the throw. The bookend connected with the floor- to- ceiling mirror. A solid hit.  Shards of glass splintered from the point of impact, but none fell to the wooden floor. She bunched her fists, her molars grinding together. This wasn’t what she’d been hoping for. A weapon of some sort would have been nice but the Facility wouldn’t allow her the opportunity to escape, not again. (She’s being held, a prisoner…interesting…) “Wonderful,” she muttered to the room. “Can’t even let us throw a tantrum properly. Just great.” She raised her hands to the security camera dangling in the corner. “WHAT? AFRAID WE’LL OFF OURSELVES BEFORE YOU GET THE CHANCE? IS THAT IT?” No response. She didn’t expect one. The only person she expected to see was her escort when he arrived to take her through the ceremony. And ooh buddy that wasn’t going to be a joyful interaction, for him at least. Quinn began to pace. The glittering, wispy material of her white dress twirled around her legs as she crossed the room over and over. She was fidgety when nervous. (I saw her as more mad than nervous. I don’t think you need this last sentence, instead, let her rage change to nerves with her wringing her hands…her pacing shows this too.) This was her fault. She had no one else to blame. She was the one with the bright idea to volunteer for death- by- dragon. Oh sure, let’s give the depressed girl the option to end her life. Brilliant idea boys! You’ve outdone yourselves. (Ah. Depression. I’m not getting that feeling. And maybe that needs to be mentioned in the query.) Overall…We have an upset mc, who is going to be killed, then we discover that she volunteered. She’s trying to break a mirror to have a weapon, to kill herself…to escape? What does she want? If she’s intent on dying, why escape? Why not sink into the darkness and wait for the end? I’d like a glimpse of why she’s there, what made her volunteer. Who is she?  Just a hint at more.

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