We Don’t Have to Hear the Kissing Parts: YA and Romance

Tags

first love, kissing, love stories, romance, teenagers, thoughts, writing, writing for teens, writing for young adults, YA, Young adult books

Most people who know me know that I don’t do kissing. I don’t do romance. The genre doesn’t click with me. Not that I don’t enjoy a good love story now and then, but most of the time, I don’t buy into what I’m reading or seeing. It doesn’t feel real.

That’s just me.

However, romance is everywhere. It is unavoidable. Now I don’t read straight romance books, but when the kissing invades (like a bit of peanut butter on my chocolate) my horror or fantasy I accept it, though it doesn’t always add anything to the story for me.

After critiquing the first part of a YA horror manuscript, there were a couple of times where the mc, a girl, went all swoony over a guy. I commented that it didn’t fit with the mc’s character…well, with the ms really. The author was so glad I thought that! He added those in because he had been told that romance was NEEDED in a YA.

Well…let me tell you what I think about that…

Needed?

Let me tell you about a teenage me. Now, YA wasn’t a thing when I was a kid. I was all about high fantasy/sword and sorcery stuff. Fighting and magic. A glorious world in which to escape. If YA was around way back then and every book I read held love stories, held the perfect girl looking for the perfect guy and finding him…I would have felt more broken than I already did.

Broken, Kathy? What do you mean by this?

Teenage me didn’t date. She didn’t talk to people much. She didn’t fit in. I thought something was wrong with me because I wasn’t like my peers. I didn’t have a group of friends. I didn’t have guys talk to me, school dances were pretty much my nightmare. And when a guy did ask me to a dance (after his first pick turned him down)…I said yes, but pretty much panicked and hid from him during the event. So does YA NEED romance? Nope. Teenage me didn’t need anyone showing her how much she didn’t fit. She needed stories of kids who were searching for themselves, not for their first kiss.

Kissing wasn’t important to me. Though I thought it should be. Forming relationships with boys wasn’t important to me…though I thought it should be. No one showed me it was okay to not care about that. No one told me it was fine to be different, to be me.

For teenagers relationships with people outside their families start to become important. They start to connect to people, look to make connections because they begin to understand that soon they will go out and merge with the world. But being a teenager is so much more than that. It’s about taking the first steps towards who you will be. It’s about questioning what you believe. It’s about realizing you will have to find a place in the world where you belong, exciting and gosh diggety darned scary.

When I write a teen character, I can’t help but channel teenage me. The girl who wants to love herself, not some hot boy. The girl who dreams of finding where she belongs in the world, not of touching some guy’s muscular chest. Not that I haven’t had a character have a crush, and it was awkward and horrible just like I remember. Not that I haven’t had a character fall in love, (though I tried to stop her!) with her best friend for heavens sake…and it was scary and exciting and a bit weird, as it should be.

Does YA need romance? Nope. Because not all teenagers need it. I admit that most teens out there probably like to read the kissing, the head-over-heals sensation of first love, the stories of boys and girls and making connections. But not everyone. Not me. So I write for those people like me.

So when someone tells you that a certain category or genre NEEDS something…stop and think. Does it? Is there someone out there making up rules for every style of writing? Nope.

There’s you. There’s the words. There’s your characters and how they feel and what they think. And all of it is relevant. All of it is needed.

NEFFERS…#SonofaPitch: Entry 11 #TeamDarkSide

Tags

critique, horror, Son of a Pitch, thoughts, writing, YA

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 11!

Title: NEFFERS
Category and Genre: YA Horror
Word Count: 75,000
Query:

Fifteen-year-old Del will do anything to save her terminally ill younger sister, Addie, including amassing a pile of dead bodies in an abandoned Texas field.

When Del stumbles upon a mortally wounded man, he hints at the existence of a Fountain of Youth which possesses the power to heal anyone willing to pay its price of human sacrifice.

Del forces her family to trek into the dangerous Texas hill country seeking access into Eternum, home of the Fountain. If the injured man’s dying words hold truth, Del can resurrect her recently deceased father and save Addie.

The Fountain demands Del ceremoniously kills Addie. When she refuses its price, the townsfolk throw Del to the Neffers, beastly protectors of the Fountain. Del learns the Neffers are prisoners, not protectors, of the Fountain, and they begin evolving her into one of their own in return for her agreeing to help them escape.

With the arms-length help of Addie, Del devises an escape plan until she realizes Neffers survive by drinking the blood of sick children like Addie. Unfortunately, the men of Eternum, including her father, hold an even darker secret than the Neffers.

Del must decide between freeing the Neffers on the human world, so she can stop the men of Eternum and be reunited with Addie or lose the last remaining piece of her humanity and watch as the men of Eternum sacrifice children for their own benefit and her next meal.

 

First 250 Words:

The toe tag on the decapitated body read: IF FOUND, CALL (512)555-5813, so Del pulled out her iPhone.

“I’m not afraid of you,” Del said, circling the decaying corpse. She maintained a perimeter outside the buzzing flies and fluid soaked ground but breathed easier knowing it wouldn’t answer her. “I’ve seen other dead people, you know.”

Seen. Created. Collected. Same difference.

The bright Texas sun played spotlight for the headless body starring center stage. Nothing else in the barren field warranted a second glance. Del spied a turkey vulture gliding in a copycat pattern around the body. She reached down, snatched a piece of gray limestone from the dirt, and launched her projectile skyward at the hideous black bird.

“Get outta here, dumb bird! He’s mine!” Del’s temples bulged purple veins with each scream. The vulture settled into the lone oak tree populating the field and voiced its displeasure, but, for now, Del owned her prize uncontested. A prize needed, not wanted.

She sneered at the corpse. “He’d eat you if I let him, but you’re my entrance fee.” Del flipped her head toward the unstained wooden boards under the Live Oak. “And them.” Dead bodies were a one-way ticket to life in jail for most, not a bloody precursor to salvation.

Del chewed her last unbroken nail to a jagged nub before dialing. She figured most people would be afraid to call, but most people weren’t in her situation.

What if no one answered?

 

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:

Fifteen-year-old Del will do anything to save her terminally ill younger sister, Addie, including amassing a pile of dead bodies in an abandoned Texas field. (OMG I’m in! Only what is the purpose of all the bodies?)

When Del stumbles upon a mortally wounded man, he hints at the existence of a Fountain of Youth which possesses the power to heal anyone willing to pay its price of human sacrifice. (Hints at? What exactly does he tell her? Because seems like she knows a lot.)

Del forces her family (Who is her family? Mom, Dad, other siblings? Why bring them?) to trek into the dangerous Texas hill country seeking access into Eternum, home of the Fountain. (Access into Eternum? Is this not on Earth? Is this in another plane?) If the injured man’s dying words hold truth, Del can resurrect her recently deceased father and save Addie. (It can heal and bring people back from the dead?)

The Fountain demands Del ceremoniously kills Addie. (That sucks! Kill the one you want to save!) When she refuses its price, the townsfolk (What townsfolk?) throw Del to the Neffers, beastly protectors of the Fountain. Del learns the Neffers are prisoners, not protectors, of the Fountain, and they begin evolving her into one of their own in return for her agreeing to help them escape. (The Neffers sound cool! Prisoners? Why? And why does she have to be one of them? How are they different from humans? Does she meet them on her search for the fountain? Do they keep people from finding it?)

With the arms-length help of Addie, Del devises an escape plan until she realizes Neffers survive by drinking the blood of sick children like Addie. Unfortunately, the men of Eternum, including her father, hold an even darker secret than the Neffers. (Her father is in Eternum? And she wants to free the Neffers…until she finds out they drink blood? The men’s darker secret is very vague…)

Del must decide between freeing the Neffers on the human world (On the human world? So she was somewhere else?), so she can stop the men of Eternum (from doing what? Let us know the stakes) and be reunited with Addie or lose the last remaining piece of her humanity and watch as the men of Eternum sacrifice children for their own benefit and her next meal. (You lost me at the end here. Okay, wait… The men of Eternum use the fountain to get sacrifices for their secret purpose and to feed the Neffers…who they keep prisoner? For what reason? Del can set the Neffers free (how?) and stop the men and keep Addie… or lose Addie to stop the men?)

There’s a lot in this query, I got a bit overwhelmed. Though, there is so much that intrigues me! This Eternum and Neffers! I want to go! Just need a bit of focus. You’re trying to tell us everything, cause it’s cool, why wouldn’t you want to tell us?

Del…she wants to save her sister, the pile of dead bodies is interesting, but I don’t know what it has to do with saving Addie. Del will do anything to save Addie, Del’s character motivation. When she hears of a Fountain of Youth, that can save her, she goes! Show me what Eternum is, where it is…maybe the obstacles she faces to get there. Then I want to moment where she must choose between saving her sister or not, when she has to possibly give up her dream to stop more evil. Focus on Del’s story.

 

First 250 Words:

The toe tag on the decapitated body read: IF FOUND, CALL (512)555-5813, so Del pulled out her iPhone. (Dude. Good first line.)

“I’m not afraid of you,” Del said, circling the decaying corpse. She maintained a perimeter outside the buzzing flies and fluid soaked ground but breathed easier knowing it wouldn’t answer her. “I’ve seen other dead people, you know.”

Seen. Created. Collected. Same difference. (Love!)

The bright Texas sun played spotlight for the headless body starring center stage. Nothing else in the barren field warranted a second glance. Del spied a turkey vulture gliding in a copycat pattern around the body. She reached down, snatched a piece of gray limestone from the dirt, and launched her projectile skyward at the hideous black bird.

“Get outta here, dumb bird! He’s mine!” Del’s temples bulged purple veins with each scream. The vulture settled into the lone oak tree populating the field and voiced its displeasure, but, for now, Del owned her prize uncontested. A prize needed, not wanted.

She sneered at the corpse. “He’d eat you if I let him, but you’re my entrance fee.” (Entrance fee to what? AH! Not that you should tell me here, cause you shouldn’t.) Del flipped her head toward the unstained wooden boards under the Live Oak. “And them.” Dead bodies were a one-way ticket to life in jail for most, not a bloody precursor to salvation.

Del chewed her last unbroken nail to a jagged nub before dialing. She figured most people would be afraid to call, but most people weren’t in her situation.

What if no one answered? (OMG WHAT HAPPENS NEXT?)
I love this. I love the tone, the mystery. I love the writing. There’s something sinister and weird happening and I’m ready to go. I’d keep reading. Oh yeah.

 

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 SPIDER MAN…#SonofaPitch: Entry 10 #TeamDarkSide

Tags

critique, horror, Son of a Pitch, thoughts, writing, YA

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 10!

Title: The Spider Man

Category and Genre: (YA/Horror)
Word Count: (63,000)

Query:

In The Spider Man, honor student, track star, and reluctant medium Tressa Murphy knows that lonely ghosts are everywhere. She also knows that they can never, ever touch the living. Except that Jenner can. Jenner, the sexy wall-climbing ghost who has haunted her family for years has been visiting her at night and together he and Tressa have been breaking all the rules.

For Tressa, keeping her confusing secrets under control is becoming impossible as the malevolent spirit of Jenner’s abusive stepfather rises from the river to terrorize her, and Jenner’s whispered invitations to join him on the other side are sounding more and more tempting every night. Only when Tressa embarks on a road trip to face the truth about Jenner’s last days does she begin to understand her family’s history and the extraordinary possibilities of her own life, as well as the dangerous forces conspiring to end it. Only when she embraces her responsibilities to those who are living can she find happiness with Silas, the fellow artist who loves her, and break away from the dead boy who would destroy her.

 

First 250 Words:

Jenner wasn’t always a troubled ghost with tendencies toward madness. Once he was a boy who did what it took to save his sister. Please remember him first for the fact that he was good. He was very young but his heart was a hero’s heart and that part of him never died.

When they were sixteen Jenner’s twin sister Ellen had taken to wearing jeans and heavy boots to bed at night and blocking the door with her dresser. It was made of oak and a good shield against danger. Ellen felt safer with the door barred since their mother’s boyfriend Nolan moved back in.

Nolan was not good.

He sometimes left their mother for long stretches when no one would know where he was. Those were oasis times when Ellen and Jenner forgot that he existed the same way children who get over the stomach flu forget that they were ever sick. Lately Nolan was around all the time like a nausea that would never lift. He drank whiskey and swore at their mother. He leered at Ellen and when no one was looking found excuses to brush his body against hers.

Ellen and Jenner hated him.

Mom’s hand shook around her cigarettes as ash drooped off their ends. Jenner stayed out of the house as much as possible. To Jenner, Nolan was a source of quick, sharp kicks from steel-toed boots and the smell of engine oil.

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:

In The Spider Man, honor student, track star, and reluctant medium Tressa Murphy knows that lonely ghosts are everywhere. (I’d cut the beginning of this sentence and add in her age… “Honor student, track star, and reluctant medium, (insert age) year old Tressa Murphy…” And I LIKE GHOSTS!) She also knows that they can never, ever touch the living. (Because if they do something terrible happens or because they physically cannot?) Except that Jenner can. Jenner, the sexy wall-climbing ghost who has haunted her family (So not just Tressa knows of him?) for years has been visiting her at night and together he and Tressa have been breaking all the rules. (what rules are they breaking and why…what drives her to break them?)

 

For Tressa, keeping her confusing secrets (what secrets? Why does she have to keep them under control?) under control is becoming impossible as the malevolent spirit of Jenner’s abusive stepfather rises from the river to terrorize her (why is he terrorizing her?), and Jenner’s whispered invitations to join him on the other side are sounding more and more tempting every night (OH NO TRESSA! What is driving her to consider death? Jenner’s dad or other things?). Only when Tressa embarks on a road trip to face the truth about Jenner’s last days (Wait, she’s going to find where Jenner lived and died? Why?) does she begin to understand her family’s history and the extraordinary possibilities of her own life (what possibilites? What family history?), as well as the dangerous forces conspiring to end it (What dangerous forces?). Only when she embraces her responsibilities to those who are living can she find happiness with Silas (who’s Silas? You can’t just throw him at me at the end here! AH!), the fellow artist who loves her, and break away from the dead boy who would destroy her.

I love ghosts! I love evil ghosts! I would read this. But the query is vague. Tell us what Tressa can do, her “powers” and why she does it. Tell us her secrets. Tell us her fears. Tell us what she is willing to do to get what she wants. Tell us the pivotal moment where she has to decide between life and death. Is it when she faces Jenner and his father? Give us Silas earlier, so we know she has something to fight for. Show us the life she could lose.

 

First 250 Words:

Jenner wasn’t always a troubled ghost with tendencies toward madness. (Love!) Once he was a boy who did what it took to save his sister. Please remember him first for the fact that he was good. (This sentence takes me out of the story…don’t know how I feel about it, like breaking the fourth wall) He was very young but his heart was a hero’s heart and that part of him never died.

When they were sixteen Jenner’s twin sister Ellen had taken to wearing jeans and heavy boots to bed at night and blocking the door with her dresser. (When is this? What year?) It was made of oak and a good shield against danger. Ellen felt safer with the door barred since their mother’s boyfriend Nolan moved back in. (Oh no.)

Nolan was not good.

He sometimes left their mother for long stretches when no one would know where he was. (you can tighten this sentence up. “He would disappear for long stretches.” Might be all you need.) Those were oasis times when Ellen and Jenner forgot that he existed the same way children who get over the stomach flu forget that they were ever sick. Lately Nolan was around all the time like a nausea that would never lift. (Nice!) He drank whiskey and swore at their mother. He leered at Ellen and when no one was looking found excuses to brush his body against hers.

Ellen and Jenner hated him.

Mom’s hand shook around her cigarettes as ash drooped off their ends. Jenner stayed out of the house as much as possible. To Jenner, Nolan was a source of quick, sharp kicks from steel-toed boots and the smell of engine oil. (Nice!)

This is probably a prologue? Because after reading about Tressa in the query I expected to be in her head…but this is interesting. I don’t mind prologues, if it is info we need and there is no other way to give it to us. Jenner’s story is heartbreaking for sure. When you introduce him as a ghost later, we’ll know all about him and Nolan. No mystery. If that’s what you want, go for it.

I wonder if the entire ms omniscient POV?

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!

 

 

TRADING STITCHES…#SonofaPitch: Entry 9 #TeamDarkSide

Tags

critique, horror, Son of a Pitch, thoughts, writing, YA

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 9!

Title: TRADING STITCHES
Category and Genre: YA Horror
Word Count: 81,600
Query:

With every near-death incident, the men in fifteen-year-old Marc Cheeks’ family are rewarded with increasing superhuman strength, but a darkness grows on their soul as well.

Alcoholism consumes his father. Insanity institutionalizes his uncle. Cancer stole his grandfather. Following a near-fatal stabbing, Marc fears what darkness awaits him.

After his dad commits suicide to escape a deep pit of depression, Marc enlists the help of friends and his crazy uncle Lester to decipher his father’s last words, “It doesn’t have to be a curse.” A cryptic family journal offers Marc his only lead: a person defined as a curse-ending soulmate. Uncle Lester has his own theories on a cure, but he’s not willing to share with Marc and defers to the written pages.

The journal teaches Marc methods to cheat death and grow stronger, but pieces of himself slip away into violence and apathy. He’s becoming the worst parts of his father and his uncle, and the collateral damage includes a body count. Forced to make a desperate plea to Lester, Marc discovers his uncle believes he can ultimately cure his own insanity by killing Marc.

To save himself and his friends, Marc must defeat an uncle more dangerous than crazy and find his soulmate before the family curse claims another victim.

 

First 250:

I slouched low in the dry cracked leather passenger’s seat seeking refuge from judgmental eyes.

“Did I really need to starch this shirt?” I yanked the collar’s fibers away from the spot on my neck rubbed raw.

“I don’t know, Marc.” Dad fluttered his whiskey chapped lips and leaned his shoulder into the driver’s door. “That’s a question for your mom.”

He only mentioned Mom when he didn’t want to answer a question.

Wasn’t there some rule people didn’t use a kid’s dead mother against them?

Dad didn’t get the memo.

I cringed as our Nissan’s balding tires skidded into the school’s gravel parking lot. The truck’s rickety fender clung by a single rusty screw, a painful daily reminder of the past four years. It begged to be fixed, but Dad ignored it.

He sought refuge in denial.

I rolled my eyes at the wave of students who parted twice as wide as necessary to safely let us drive past.

Idiots.

It used to be no one would accept a ride from us, but now they wouldn’t even get near the truck.

We jerked to a stop and Dad leaned back pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. “Do other dudes hear you talk like this? It’s gonna get you beat up.”

“How’s that different from any other day?” I picked at the exposed yellow padding brushing against my thigh.

“Guys pestering you?” His stare followed a cheerleader’s skirt.

“It’s called bullying.”

 

 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:

With every near-death incident, the men in fifteen-year-old Marc Cheeks’ family are rewarded with increasing superhuman strength, but a darkness grows on their soul as well. (With every of their own near-death experience or with those they cause or with the experiences in general? If it’s their own near-death experiences…how many times can one almost die? And they want superhuman strength…why?)

Alcoholism consumes his father. Insanity institutionalizes his uncle. Cancer stole his grandfather. Following a near-fatal stabbing, Marc fears what darkness awaits him. (Dude. That sucks. I LOVE IT!)

After his dad commits suicide to escape a deep pit of depression, Marc enlists the help of friends and his crazy uncle Lester to decipher his father’s last words, “It doesn’t have to be a curse.” (why do they always have to wait until they’re on their death bed to offer answers? So unhelpful) A cryptic family journal offers Marc his only lead: a person defined as a curse-ending soulmate. Uncle Lester has his own theories on a cure, but he’s not willing to share with Marc and defers to the written pages. (Marc defers to the pages or Lester?)

The journal teaches Marc methods to cheat death (Okay, it’s them cheating their own death? So is part of the curse being constantly almost killed?) and grow stronger, but pieces of himself slip away into violence and apathy. He’s becoming the worst parts of his father and his uncle, and the collateral damage includes a body count. (I don’t think you need the first part of this sentence and maybe combine… “violence and apathy, that leaves a body count.” Who has he killed? On purpose? Accidental?) Forced to make a desperate plea to Lester, Marc discovers his uncle believes he can ultimately cure his own insanity by killing Marc. (Oh snap.)

To save himself and his friends (why are they in danger?), Marc must defeat an uncle more dangerous than crazy and find his soulmate before the family curse claims another victim. (Is he slightly worried about this soulmate finding thing? I mean they’re not just waiting down the street with a sign.)

I have read this before! This is intriguing! I do wonder, why get stronger? Is the lure of strength overpowering the need to find a cure? What drives Marc to fall deeper into darkness for strength? What is it that finally makes him decide to find the cure? What is the pivotal moment where he has to decide? Does he face his uncle? What happens if he can’t find his soulmate? What happens if his uncle kills him?

 

First 250:

I slouched low in the dry cracked leather passenger’s seat seeking refuge from judgmental eyes.

“Did I really need to starch this shirt?” I yanked the collar’s fibers away from the spot on my neck rubbed raw.

“I don’t know, Marc.” Dad fluttered his whiskey chapped lips and leaned his shoulder into the driver’s door. “That’s a question for your mom.”

He only mentioned Mom when he didn’t want to answer a question.

Wasn’t there some rule people didn’t use a kid’s dead mother against them?

Dad didn’t get the memo.

I cringed as our Nissan’s balding tires skidded into the school’s gravel parking lot. The truck’s rickety fender clung by a single rusty screw, a painful daily reminder of the past four years. It begged to be fixed, but Dad ignored it.

He sought refuge in denial.

I rolled my eyes at the wave of students who parted twice as wide as necessary to safely let us drive past.

Idiots.

It used to be no one would accept a ride from us, but now they wouldn’t even get near the truck.

We jerked to a stop and Dad leaned back pinching the bridge of his crooked nose. “Do other dudes hear you talk like this? It’s gonna get you beat up.”

“How’s that different from any other day?” I picked at the exposed yellow padding brushing against my thigh.

“Guys pestering you?” His stare followed a cheerleader’s skirt.

“It’s called bullying.”

 I love the voice. I love the details. I love the emotion from Marc. And his dad is awesomely awful. I have a mc I am willing to follow. I would love a bit in here about his dad…if he’s changed…how he’s changed. And a bit of fear from Marc about how that could wait for him too. A hint of the horror to come. Great job! Think it’s been redone since I last read it.

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!

LUCID…#SonofaPitch: Entry 8 #TeamDarkSide

Tags

critique, psychological suspense, Son of a Pitch, thoughts, writing, YA

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 8!

Title: Lucid

Category and Genre: YA/Psychological Suspense

Word Count: 98,000

Query: 

The Diana Banesbury School for Exceptional Young Women is one of the last surviving members of its kind—a rigorous ivy and brick institution intended to propel its few lucky, wealthy students straight to the Ivy Leagues. So when popular, charismatic megalomaniac Marlowe Brady decides to stop sleeping, everyone notices. But when chronically depressed loner Gwyneth Rosewood decides to stop sleeping, eating, drinking, and living altogether, no one does. No one, except Marlowe, whose unwanted intervention lands them both in the school’s infirmary, where another student offers an unconventional solution to Marlowe’s insomnia: lucid dreaming, the ability to control one’s dreams.

Along with two students from the infirmary, the four form a club in the pursuit of lucid dreaming, and at Marlowe’s insistence, move into an abandoned classroom in the woods around the school where they can dream undisturbed. But as they learn more about their own identities and each other, Marlowe’s behavior becomes strange and restrictive, and Gwyn begins to suspect she has ulterior motives for bringing them together. As Gwyn leads the charge to uncover Marlowe’s motive and past, Marlowe works to maintain her control over the three of them by using gas lighting and manipulation to render them incapable of discerning reality from dream. To prevent the end she’s planned for them, the three girls must work together and find a way to wake themselves from her influence.

First 250: 

Marlowe Brady lay awake at three in the morning in the fourth bed in the first of two rows in the Goldfinch dormitory of The Diana Banesbury School for Exceptional Young Women. It was November ninth. She was wearing silk pajamas, and doing fairly well considering the circumstances. The circumstances were that she’d been awake since November sixth.

In the first fifty hours, nothing very interesting had happened. But during the fifty-sixth, a fly landed on the bulb of the green shaded lamp on her bedside table.

At first, Marlowe tried to watch it without turning her head, by shifting her eyes as far in its direction as they’d go. But this gave her a headache, so eventually she resigned to face it, pressing her cheek against the pillow, her dark hair falling over darker eyes.

People didn’t tend to believe that insects had free will, or made decisions, but Marlowe had never doubted. Sometimes she would mentally urge the fly to move in one direction or the other, and most of the time it wouldn’t. But on the rare occasion that it did, she became re-invigorated by the illusion that her will had been so strong that it’d been unable to resist, that it was the sheer force of her own thoughts that pushed it back onto the heat of the glass bulb when it wandered off. She indulged in the idea that this small living thing would burn itself alive if she wanted it.

Not that she did.

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: 

The Diana Banesbury School for Exceptional Young Women is one of the last surviving members of its kind—a rigorous ivy and brick institution intended to propel its few lucky, wealthy students straight to the Ivy Leagues. So (I’d delete the “So”.)  when popular, charismatic megalomaniac Marlowe Brady decides to stop sleeping, everyone notices. But when chronically depressed loner Gwyneth Rosewood decides to stop sleeping, eating, drinking, and living altogether, no one does. No one, except Marlowe, whose unwanted intervention lands them both in the school’s infirmary, (They end up in the infirmary…why? An unwanted intervention? That is a bit vague. Did Gwyn try to kill herself? Is everyone worried about Marlowe and that Gwyn tried to commit suicide?) where another student (Is this student important? Give her a name?) offers an unconventional solution to Marlowe’s insomnia (I thought she decided to stop sleeping. It’s insomnia?): lucid dreaming, the ability to control one’s dreams. (Why did she decide to stop sleeping? And now why would she want to start sleeping and control her dreams?)

Along with two students from the infirmary (who are they? Why are they joining?), the four form a club in the pursuit of lucid dreaming, and at Marlowe’s insistence, move into an abandoned classroom in the woods (There’s a room in the woods?) around the school where they can dream undisturbed. But as they learn more about their own identities and each other, Marlowe’s behavior becomes strange and restrictive, and Gwyn begins to suspect she has ulterior motives for bringing them together. (whose POV? If we’re with Marlowe. She doesn’t become strange and restrictive, she is driven to do what she needs to because of her desires. Is this ms multiple POV?) As Gwyn leads the charge to uncover Marlowe’s motive and past, Marlowe works to maintain her control over the three of them by using gas lighting and manipulation to render them incapable of discerning reality from dream. To prevent the end she’s planned for them (What end?), the three girls must work together and find a way to wake themselves from her influence. (And if they don’t escape her what will happen? What do they have to face to escape?)

I have POV questions…the beginning set up Marlowe, but the end was more Gwyn. If there are multiple POVs set up each character and what they want and what they will do to get it. The other girls in the club…are they important enough to name? Is this Marlowe vs Gwyn? What drives them to try lucid dreaming and what drives Marlowe to manipulate?

This ms sounds so cool! The premise is intriguing! Lucid dreaming. Manipulation. Sounds dark and awesome, like quite a ride! I would so read this.

 

First 250: 

Marlowe Brady lay awake at three in the morning in the fourth bed in the first of two rows in the Goldfinch dormitory of The Diana Banesbury School for Exceptional Young Women. (anyone else there? Sounds? Smells?) It was November ninth. She was wearing silk pajamas, and doing fairly well considering the circumstances. The circumstances were that she’d been awake since November sixth. (I’d combine those last two sentences, just hit us with “fairly well, considering she’d been awake since November sixth. BAM! And that’s crazy.)

In the first fifty hours, nothing very interesting had happened. (What is driving her to stay awake? Let us know her character by telling us if this is voluntary about what she intends to achieve.) But during the fifty-sixth, a fly landed on the bulb of the green shaded lamp on her bedside table.

At first, Marlowe tried to watch it without turning her head, by shifting her eyes as far in its direction as they’d go. But this gave her a headache, so eventually she resigned to face it, pressing her cheek against the pillow, her dark hair falling over darker eyes.

People didn’t tend to believe that insects had free will, or made decisions, but Marlowe had never doubted. Sometimes she would mentally urge the fly to move in one direction or the other, and most of the time it wouldn’t. But on the rare occasion that it did, she became re-invigorated by the illusion that her will had been so strong that it’d been unable to resist, that it was the sheer force of her own thoughts that pushed it back onto the heat of the glass bulb when it wandered off. She indulged in the idea that this small living thing would burn itself alive if she wanted it.

Not that she did. (Oh…but maybe she did.)

Dude. A great start! I am very interested. I love being in Marlowe’s head and learning how she likes to manipulate. This is definitely not going to lead anywhere good! I like the writing and tone.

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!

 

Cover Reveal…HAUNTED

Tags

book, Brian LeTendre, cover reveal, Harrowed, Haunted, horror, Jolene Haley, YA

I am very excited to help spread the word about the upcoming second book in The Woodsview Murders series! Because the first one was super creepy and slasher-y!

Let me introduce the cover of…

HAUNTED (The Woodsview Murders, #2)

By Brian LeTendre and Jolene Haley

Doesn’t that look wonderfully ominous. I know you want to know more…

Book Name: Haunted

Book Genre: YA Horror

Book release date: 10/11/16 by Horror Twins Press

Haunted on Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/26010171

Haunted blurb:

Last October, corpses piled up in Woodsview, Massachusetts faster than autumn leaves in the dead of fall. The small town changed forever when Jeremy Kane, known as the Harvester, slaughtered Avery Blair’s classmates, her friends, and Jason, the love of her life. Avery was supposed to die too, but she narrowly escaped, killing the Harvester in the process.

Avery and her best friend are trying to move on and leave their horrible past behind. They’ve enrolled in college, and taken on new challenges. Avery has a campus radio show, and Quinn has found a release—and a new relationship—on the roller derby track.

The Harvester nightmare was laid to rest, along with the bodies of her friends and the remains of the killer. But what’s dead doesn’t always stay buried. With the anniversary of the slayings, comes a suspicious death on campus. When two of their dorm mates disappear, Avery suspects that the Harvester is back to finish what he started.

Avery Blair is haunted by the ghosts of her past—memories of the slayings that torment her days and curse her sleepless nights. She can dismiss the visions of Jason she sees everywhere, but she can’t ignore the signs that scream the Harvester is back…for blood.

One thing is certain—people are dying, and the killer is determined to add Avery and Quinn to the carnage. Can Avery separate fiction from reality and find the killer, or will the ghosts of the past finally consume her? Jeremy Kane is dead. He can’t possibly be back from the grave, can he?

Read the first half of HARROWED (book #1 in the series) for free on Wattpad or buy the entire thing on Amazon for only 99 cents!

 

 

The authors are simply fabulous people! You should definitely find them and get to know them. Seriously they will make your life better.

About Brian LeTendre:

Brian LeTendre is the writer of the Parted Veil horror series, which includes Intrusive Thoughts, Courting the King in Yellow, Lovecraft’s Curse, and Lovecraft’s Pupil.

A gaming, comics and horror lover, Brian has co-hosted and produced a podcast about geek culture called Secret Identity since 2006, producing well over 1700 hours of programming. He also hosts and produces podcasts about writing (See Brian Write), music (Thrash It Out) and gaming (Co-Op Critics).

Brian lives and works in Massachusetts.

Brian on Twitter

Brian’s Blog

Brian on Amazon

Brian’s Podcasts

 

About Jolene Haley:

Jolene Haley is the author of the Woodsview Murders series (Harrowed and Haunted) and the Orchard Pointe series. She’s also the curator of the best-selling horror anthologies The Dark Carnival, Halloween Night: Trick or Treat, and the upcoming first of its kind, a YA pizzathology titled A Pizza My Heart.

She runs a YA horror blog The Midnight Society, self-love blog and magazine Shine Bright Gang, and Hocus Pocus & Co., a small horror press. She writes every genre under the sun, but prefers horror.

When she’s not writing she can be found cuddling her two dogs and enjoying the beach, where she lives.

Jolene on Twitter

Jolene’s Blog

Jolene on Goodreads

Jolene on Facebook

Join the book buzz using hashtag #WoodsviewMurders

 

#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…All the World’s a Stage

Tags

comtemporary, critique, feedback, Son of a Pitch, thoughts, YA

Welcome to Son of a Pitch! The tenth 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: All The World’s a Stage

Age and Genre: YA Contemporary

Word Count: 73K

Query:

Seventeen-year-old London Campbell has a knack for new identities. Reinventing herself has helped her survive the past four years of being shuttled around the US. But when she lands in a small town dressed more like a zombie ninja than a normal teenager, the new kid protocol goes out the window. And so does her control. As the clothes in her closet change to match her new identity, London begins to wonder where the real London is.

After a wreck side-lined eighteen-year-old Jacob Nolan from his BMX passion, he suffers from a bit of an identity crisis. With his friends nagging him to be social and his father drilling him for being a disappointment, Jacob wants them all to go away. And when the new chick rolls into town dressed like the plague, he hits his tolerance limit.

During an after school visit, one of the teachers suffers a heart attack and London administers CPR, a skill she learned in a former identity. She hides when help comes and forces Jacob to take credit. The benefits Jacob receives don’t outweigh the burden of living with the lie, but Jacob soon learns that some truths are not any easier.

FIRST 250

Thanks to Mr. Ferguson, Tuesday quickly became my least favorite day of the week. My footsteps boomed down the deserted halls. I wondered if this is how I’d remember this place. Dark and empty. Once I preferred the halls to be lined with familiar faces. Not so much now.

I found Ferguson hunched over his desk, alone in his classroom, scanning the paper he held. I cleared my throat and walked through the door, finding that a sufficient substitute for knocking.

“Your punctuality pleases me, Mr. Nolan.” Ferguson glanced at the clock, an impish grin already in place.

I dropped into the chair at the table directly facing his desk, per the requirement. Any measure of personal space wasn’t allowed. Ferguson wanted our meetings to be the epitome of discomfort.

“Pleasing you is my top goal.” I pressed my spine to the back of the chair. Slouching felt too relaxed. I needed to be alert.

“We agreed that sarcasm would be checked at the door.” He folded his hands across his chest. “Didn’t we?”

I blinked in agreement. Rhetorical questions were traps. Like most adults, Fergie thought he knew what was best for me. He thought he knew what I needed.

“Tell me about your day.”

“Why do we have to start here each time?” I drummed my fingertips across the table. Time crawled during these sessions, supporting my belief this special purgatory was designed to test my will.

 

Oooh…a contemporary…not my normal thing, but here we go! Hold on tight.

Query:

Seventeen-year-old London Campbell has a knack for new identities. Reinventing herself has helped her survive the past four years of being shuttled around the US. (Why is she being shuttled around? Parents’ jobs? Foster homes?) But when she lands in a small town dressed more like a zombie ninja than a normal teenager (because she wanted to be different? She thought she would blend in? Why dress like that?), the new kid protocol goes out the window. (Why? What exactly is the new kid protocol for her?) And so does her control. (and she doesn’t like that? Is she used to having control? How does she usually react to moving, to new schools? Why is this one different?) As the clothes in her closet change to match her new identity, London begins to wonder where the real London is. (Love this.)

After a wreck side-lined eighteen-year-old Jacob Nolan from his BMX passion, he suffers from a bit of an identity crisis. With his friends nagging him to be social and his father drilling him for being a disappointment, Jacob wants them all to go away. And when the new chick rolls into town dressed like the plague, he hits his tolerance limit. (why? What is it about her that pushes him over the edge?)

During an after school visit, one of the teachers suffers a heart attack and London administers CPR, a skill she learned in a former identity. She hides when help comes and forces Jacob to take credit. (This sentence might read better if it’s switched a bit…When help comes, she hides, forcing Jacob to take credit.) The benefits Jacob receives don’t outweigh the burden of living with the lie, but Jacob soon learns that some truths are not any easier.

Overall…From the query, I expect a dual POV ms. I am left wondering what the characters want and what they fight to get it. I know their past…I know a bit about them and their stories intrigue me…I know London cause a problem for Jacob…but what is the final choice here, the stakes for their decisions? What is this ms building up to?

 

FIRST 250

Thanks to Mr. Ferguson, Tuesday quickly became my least favorite day of the week. (Love this opener!) My footsteps boomed down the deserted halls. I wondered if this is how I’d remember this place (What place? Where is the mc? Sights, sounds, smells?). Dark and empty. Once I preferred the halls to be lined with familiar faces. Not so much now.

I found Ferguson hunched over his desk, alone in his classroom, (he’s a teacher? Of what? What’s in the room?) scanning the paper he held. I cleared my throat and walked through the door, finding that a sufficient substitute for knocking.

“Your punctuality pleases me, Mr. Nolan.” Ferguson glanced at the clock, an impish grin already in place.

I dropped into the chair at the table directly facing his desk, per the requirement. Any measure of personal space wasn’t allowed. Ferguson (What does he look like?) wanted our meetings to be the epitome of discomfort.

“Pleasing you is my top goal.” I pressed my spine to the back of the chair. Slouching felt too relaxed. I needed to be alert.

“We agreed that sarcasm would be checked at the door.” He folded his hands across his chest. “Didn’t we?”

I blinked in agreement. Rhetorical questions were traps. Like most adults, Fergie (Nice nickname! HAHA!) thought he knew what was best for me. He thought he knew what I needed.

“Tell me about your day.”

“Why do we have to start here each time?” I drummed my fingertips across the table. Time crawled during these sessions, supporting my belief this special purgatory was designed to test my will. (So…some type of therapy?)

Overall…I get a great sense of the character’s frustration. Mr. Nolan has problems and I am curious to know what. I like the voice. I’d like a bit of description, just a few brushstrokes to add dimension and character development.

 

Thanks for submitting! I hope this helps and if not simply ignore me.

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 Starlight Crown

Tags

critique, feedback, sci-fi, Son of a Pitch, YA

Welcome to Son of a Pitch! The eighth 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 STARLIGHT CROWN

Age and Genre: YA Sci-fi

Word Count: 70,000

 

Query:

16-year-old Eden has always dreamed of life among the stars, and when she’s chosen to compete in the Starlight Princess pageant, her wish has come true. But her fight for the title won’t just determine who wins a crown – it will decide the fate of a galaxy on the brink of war.

For Eden, the competition is a chance to explore planets forbidden to Earth for centuries. For her new friends, it’s their only hope of escape from a tyrannical theocracy, an apartheid state, or a dying home world. With a promise to unite their fractured solar system, the girls enter the pageant’s labyrinthine compound on the Moon, where one of them will take home a crown and a position as an ambassador for peace. Or so they believe.

Behind the glitz and glamor, this pageant hides a dark secret. By day, hopefuls learn decorum and diplomacy; by night, they train in elemental arts both dazzling and dangerous. When disqualified contestants start disappearing, Eden and her friends suspect there’s a more sinister purpose to this contest than choosing a beauty queen.

Aided by an ally with an agenda of his own, the girls learn that hidden within the labyrinth is the real reason they were brought here: a weapon with the power to destroy planets. One which can only be used by a daughter of the lost world that created it.

She’s the one many have died to protect. The one many more would kill to find. The one who will become the Starlight Princess – and she’ll hold the fate of the galaxy in her hands.

 

First 250:

I’m alone in the Universe, for a while.

Floating here in the blackness of space, my body has no weight, and my mind no sense of time. There’s a stillness, a peaceful quiet, far beyond the Earth below. In the silence and the dark, a single star among thousands twinkles, as if to say hello. And into the emptiness, I smile back.

Eden.

Who’s calling me? It’s a whisper, the kind that never reaches the ear but the mind swears it heard; I know, because what I do hear is a ringing. It starts out quiet, and I’m sure somehow that it’s from my friend on that far-away sun, but it grows. It gets louder, piercing, cutting, and if I could I’d cover my ears. Even so, it’s too late. The star isn’t twinkling – it’s exploding, then imploding, disappearing in a flash until nothing remains but a black hole where that solar light had once given life.

I am alone in the Universe. And I am afraid.

I fall. It should be impossible – falling means gravity – and with my eyes clamped shut, I slam into the surface behind me. My body is back. My mind isn’t.

“Eden!”

My vision swims as the Universe gives way to the blinding light of a round, sterile white room. One by one, faces come into focus, most familiar – and one not.

 

Thoughts anyone…*jumps up and down* Me! I do!

Query:

16-year-old Eden has always dreamed of life among the stars, (She wants to go to other worlds? Travel on space ships?) and when she’s chosen to compete in the Starlight Princess pageant, her wish has come true. (How does being chosen to compete give her a life among the stars? Because it will make her famous, or it takes her into space?) But her fight for the title won’t just determine who wins a crown – it will decide the fate of a galaxy on the brink of war.

For Eden, the competition is a chance to explore planets forbidden to Earth for centuries. For her new friends (Are also from Earth?), it’s their only hope of escape from a tyrannical theocracy, an apartheid state, or a dying home world. With a promise to unite their fractured solar system, (Is this something Eden wants? Cares about? How has living in the fractured solar system affected her?) the girls enter the pageant’s labyrinthine compound on the Moon (that sounds fun! Let’s go!), where one of them will take home a crown and a position as an ambassador for peace. Or so they believe. (Ruh-Roh)

Behind the glitz and glamor, this pageant hides a dark secret. (DARK SECRET? YES!) By day, hopefuls learn decorum and diplomacy; by night, they train in elemental arts both dazzling and dangerous. When disqualified contestants start disappearing, Eden and her friends suspect there’s a more sinister purpose to this contest than choosing a beauty queen. (How does Eden learn of the mystery? How does she feel about it? How is this changing her? What does she want?)

Aided by an ally with an agenda of his own (a bit vague…what does Eden think of him?) , the girls learn that hidden within the labyrinth is the real reason they were brought here: a weapon with the power to destroy planets. One which can only be used by a daughter of the lost world that created it. (And it was hidden in the labyrinth to keep people from finding it and using it? This lost world though…that’s interesting!)

She’s the one many have died to protect. The one many more would kill to find. The one who will become the Starlight Princess – and she’ll hold the fate of the galaxy in her hands. (What is her choice? To use the weapon or not? To compete or quit? What is her reaction to being the Starlight Princess if it’s not what she wanted?)

Overall…this sounds fun! A beauty pageant with a twist. I feel this query is missing Eden. What does she want? Who is she? Where does she come from that she wants to go to the stars? What is this pageant like? Give me some details that will make me see the uniqueness of the story…and the final labyrinth? What can we expect, what does Eden go through?

 

First 250:

I’m alone in the Universe, for a while. (I like this!)

Floating here in the blackness of space, my body has no weight, and my mind no sense of time. There’s a stillness, a peaceful quiet, far beyond the Earth below. In the silence and the dark, a single star among thousands twinkles, as if to say hello. And into the emptiness, I smile back.

Eden.

Who’s calling me? It’s a whisper, the kind that never reaches the ear but the mind swears it heard; (Love this line!) I know, because what I do hear is a ringing. It starts out quiet, and I’m sure somehow that it’s from my friend on that far-away sun, but it grows. It gets louder, piercing, cutting, and if I could I’d cover my ears. Even so, it’s too late. The star isn’t twinkling – it’s exploding, then imploding, disappearing in a flash until nothing remains but a black hole where that solar light had once given life.

I am alone in the Universe. And I am afraid. (Why?)

I fall. It should be impossible – falling means gravity – and with my eyes clamped shut, I slam into the surface behind me. My body is back. My mind isn’t. (Isn’t…or refuses to come back. Does she want to come back? Is she afraid of going back? Does she try to stay in her calm?)

“Eden!”

My vision swims as the Universe gives way to the blinding light of a round, sterile white room. One by one, faces come into focus, most familiar – and one not. (I have been drawn in.)

Overall…this captured my attention. It has a mysterious beauty. Where did Eden go in her mind? Where is she in reality? Who is the face she doesn’t know? I need to know all this and will happily read to find out. I do have to say…the query and first page feel disconnected. Write the query like the first page. Write Eden into it.

 

Thanks for submitting! If this helps…GREAT! If not ignore it.

Writers unite!