So how's everybody doing with that? I'm just checking in, because well.....remember that Critique Partner Auction Blogfest thingie I tried to do last year? Didn't really work out and I said I'd try again after NaNo....
Yeah, so...I'm not gonna do that. Got an epic workload in December and that's just asking for trouble. What I AM going to do however is host a Critique Partner Blogfest for everyone who wants another set of eyes to sign up. On the day/week of the Blogfest just post a logline and first 250 words of your MS and then click through other blogs in the blogfest in search of new Critique Partners to swap with. Easy peasy. So what I'm just curious about is when you think would be the best time for this? Is December 1st too soon? I know that even if people finished 50K in November that doesn't mean they'll be done with their book yet. So would people be interested in going ahead and starting with a Blogfest like this first week of December or would you guys prefer to wait a week or two and give people a little more time to finish their whole books first?
Feel free to chime in with thoughts, comments and suggestions and I'll post next week with an actual date and sign up sheet for the Blogfest once people have had time to weigh in.
Happy Thanksgiving weekend all and good luck on the last few days of NaNo!
Showing posts with label Critique Partner Auction. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Critique Partner Auction. Show all posts
Friday, November 25, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Critique Partner Auction Entry #6
TITLE: I Hate Algebra
GENRE: YA Contemporary
STATUS: Complete
For as long as she can remember, freshman Nicki Miller has been obsessed with the prom. The junior prom would have to wait, though, and three years is like fifteen in teen calculations! Waiting turns out to be the least of her troubles when her father moves out, leaving her depressed and empty. Not even trips to the mall or her sweet tabby can fill the void, but when a handsome upperclassman extends an invitation, her dream is finally within reach. With her baby blue dress hanging in the closet, she is ready for the big day until her grade in algebra class plummets to an F. She then finds herself grounded – no phone, no computer, and her biggest crisis – no prom. Now, she has eight weeks to bring up her grade.
In the longest two months of her life, Nicki wrestles with the separation of her parents, the rudeness of the teacher’s pet, and the frustration of negative numbers. To pass algebra, it will not only take the help of an unexpectedly hot math tutor but also an abundance of determination. In addition to learning some real math lessons, Nicki uncovers some surprising truths about both her family and herself. On the road to accomplishing her goal, she’s about to learn the most valuable lesson - failure does not always equal tragedy.
*******
Chapter 1- The End
“Nicki, I want you to come live with me.”
All I could do was stare across the kitchen table at him as he fidgeted with the gold band on his ring finger. At that moment I felt hopeful to still see it there. The cup of coffee I’d made for him sat untouched between us as well as the waffles in front of me that looked anything but appetizing.
His baby blue eyes were mirror images of mine, only more bloodshot. With his lips tight in a line, he looked as weary as I felt, that familiar smile that had comforted me for all of my fourteen years was absent from his face. I couldn’t help but ask myself: who was he?
Daddy had been my confidante, my buddy, my advisor. He was the man whose feet mine rested upon as we’d waltzed around the living room while Mom’s black sparkly cocktail dress hung from my small body. For as long as I could remember, he’d sit with me and tried to appear interested as I pored over prom magazines, listening while I obsessed with Mom over gowns and hairdos and shoes. When I struggled with pre-algebra in eighth grade, Daddy had helped me through it. And when I graduated from middle school with honors two months ago, his face beamed as though I had won the Nobel Prize.
He was a stranger to me now. After that bomb my parents dropped on me and my little sister yesterday, here he was asking the unthinkable.
GENRE: YA Contemporary
STATUS: Complete
For as long as she can remember, freshman Nicki Miller has been obsessed with the prom. The junior prom would have to wait, though, and three years is like fifteen in teen calculations! Waiting turns out to be the least of her troubles when her father moves out, leaving her depressed and empty. Not even trips to the mall or her sweet tabby can fill the void, but when a handsome upperclassman extends an invitation, her dream is finally within reach. With her baby blue dress hanging in the closet, she is ready for the big day until her grade in algebra class plummets to an F. She then finds herself grounded – no phone, no computer, and her biggest crisis – no prom. Now, she has eight weeks to bring up her grade.
In the longest two months of her life, Nicki wrestles with the separation of her parents, the rudeness of the teacher’s pet, and the frustration of negative numbers. To pass algebra, it will not only take the help of an unexpectedly hot math tutor but also an abundance of determination. In addition to learning some real math lessons, Nicki uncovers some surprising truths about both her family and herself. On the road to accomplishing her goal, she’s about to learn the most valuable lesson - failure does not always equal tragedy.
*******
Chapter 1- The End
“Nicki, I want you to come live with me.”
All I could do was stare across the kitchen table at him as he fidgeted with the gold band on his ring finger. At that moment I felt hopeful to still see it there. The cup of coffee I’d made for him sat untouched between us as well as the waffles in front of me that looked anything but appetizing.
His baby blue eyes were mirror images of mine, only more bloodshot. With his lips tight in a line, he looked as weary as I felt, that familiar smile that had comforted me for all of my fourteen years was absent from his face. I couldn’t help but ask myself: who was he?
Daddy had been my confidante, my buddy, my advisor. He was the man whose feet mine rested upon as we’d waltzed around the living room while Mom’s black sparkly cocktail dress hung from my small body. For as long as I could remember, he’d sit with me and tried to appear interested as I pored over prom magazines, listening while I obsessed with Mom over gowns and hairdos and shoes. When I struggled with pre-algebra in eighth grade, Daddy had helped me through it. And when I graduated from middle school with honors two months ago, his face beamed as though I had won the Nobel Prize.
He was a stranger to me now. After that bomb my parents dropped on me and my little sister yesterday, here he was asking the unthinkable.
Critique Partner Auction Entry #5
Hang on guys, this thing might not be a total bust after all! More entries have started coming in!
TITLE: The Kelvieri's Boots
GENRE: YA Urban science fiction romance
STATUS: Complete
Dear Agent,
In order to save the planet Kelari and earth, Venus must help a
complete ass of a boy fall in love. This same boy, Ethan must find a
way to destroy Dervinius, the leader of The Order of Eternal Fire. All
of this must happen in one week, or Venus will die, Ethan will lose
his chance to love and Dervinius will rule both worlds.
On her sixteenth birthday, alien princess, Venus, is supposed to
complete her rite of passage and become a kelvieri, immortal. Instead,
she’s sent to earth and accused of blasphemous crimes against Ith and
Aetha, their world’s deities and charged with killing her irrihunter,
Kelari’s sacred creature. The deities won’t allow her to return to
Kelari, to prove her innocence, until she helps Ethan with his love
life. The stupidest thing she’s ever heard, but she has to try or else
she’ll die.
It is one helluva week. Ethan hates her right away, someone’s trying
to kill her and she’s dealing with all of these human emotions for
Zarus, her guardian and Ethan, the ass. Lust? Love? She doesn’t know.
Her planet doesn’t require the use of feelings.
But, she’d better figure it out quick or both planets will be ruled by
Dervinius, a kelvieri who wants humans and kelarians destroyed. In
their place, he and his followers plan to create a new
race—humieris—kelarian/human hybrids.
Venus and Ethan are in a race against time, for their lives and for
love, but both have no idea as to the real reason why. And Dervinius
wants to keep it that way.
CONNECTED: The Kelvieri’s Boots is a young adult, urban science
fiction romance. It’s complete at 75,000 words and the first in a
trilogy or can be written to stand alone.
I belong to my local and national RWA. I have a blog, A No. 2 Pencil
Stat, which I contribute to daily. I have my own author page on
Facebook and I’ve given lectures at a local elementary school on the
mechanics of writing a novel.
Thank you for your time. I look forward to hearing from you.
*****
Chapter 1
Heart and Soul—Venus
“Happy immortality to me. Happy immortality to me. Happy immortality,
happy immortality. Happy immortality to me,” I sang softly, to the
tune of a human song I’d learned from a professor. Alone for the first
time all day, I sat on the chair next to my vanity. Off to my left, in
four perfect rows, were fifteen crystal bottles. Inside, they held
different smelling perfumes. My mother had given me a new scent for
each of my birthdays. Carefully, I added number sixteen, the red
liquid within smelled like Rosithia flowers, tempered by our juicy
citrus fruit, oraney. Then I turned my attention to my feet. On them,
my most prized possession. The gift I’d been dreaming of
since—forever. The Kelvieri’s Boots. Now that I had my own pair, I
knew my life would finally begin.
Inside the heels of the boots were symbols . . . of my imperfections.
That probably seemed odd, that I’d be so excited to receive a present
filled with my weaknesses. But, they were so much more than that.
Receiving the boots meant I’d reached the age of maturity, the age
when age no longer mattered. Now I was more than just “Venus, the
little Alayeahian princess”, as our people always called me. I’d
become a woman.
Eager, I removed one of the boots, the material smooth, and held it
up to eye level. Light, coming from the glow of our suns, shone
through my window, outlining its shape. Within the boots’ heel, an
arrow blazed, shiny and bright. It floated in the dark blue blood of
our sacred animal. I shook it, like I’d seen humans do with a snow
globe.
TITLE: The Kelvieri's Boots
GENRE: YA Urban science fiction romance
STATUS: Complete
Dear Agent,
In order to save the planet Kelari and earth, Venus must help a
complete ass of a boy fall in love. This same boy, Ethan must find a
way to destroy Dervinius, the leader of The Order of Eternal Fire. All
of this must happen in one week, or Venus will die, Ethan will lose
his chance to love and Dervinius will rule both worlds.
On her sixteenth birthday, alien princess, Venus, is supposed to
complete her rite of passage and become a kelvieri, immortal. Instead,
she’s sent to earth and accused of blasphemous crimes against Ith and
Aetha, their world’s deities and charged with killing her irrihunter,
Kelari’s sacred creature. The deities won’t allow her to return to
Kelari, to prove her innocence, until she helps Ethan with his love
life. The stupidest thing she’s ever heard, but she has to try or else
she’ll die.
It is one helluva week. Ethan hates her right away, someone’s trying
to kill her and she’s dealing with all of these human emotions for
Zarus, her guardian and Ethan, the ass. Lust? Love? She doesn’t know.
Her planet doesn’t require the use of feelings.
But, she’d better figure it out quick or both planets will be ruled by
Dervinius, a kelvieri who wants humans and kelarians destroyed. In
their place, he and his followers plan to create a new
race—humieris—kelarian/human hybrids.
Venus and Ethan are in a race against time, for their lives and for
love, but both have no idea as to the real reason why. And Dervinius
wants to keep it that way.
CONNECTED: The Kelvieri’s Boots is a young adult, urban science
fiction romance. It’s complete at 75,000 words and the first in a
trilogy or can be written to stand alone.
I belong to my local and national RWA. I have a blog, A No. 2 Pencil
Stat, which I contribute to daily. I have my own author page on
Facebook and I’ve given lectures at a local elementary school on the
mechanics of writing a novel.
Thank you for your time. I look forward to hearing from you.
*****
Chapter 1
Heart and Soul—Venus
“Happy immortality to me. Happy immortality to me. Happy immortality,
happy immortality. Happy immortality to me,” I sang softly, to the
tune of a human song I’d learned from a professor. Alone for the first
time all day, I sat on the chair next to my vanity. Off to my left, in
four perfect rows, were fifteen crystal bottles. Inside, they held
different smelling perfumes. My mother had given me a new scent for
each of my birthdays. Carefully, I added number sixteen, the red
liquid within smelled like Rosithia flowers, tempered by our juicy
citrus fruit, oraney. Then I turned my attention to my feet. On them,
my most prized possession. The gift I’d been dreaming of
since—forever. The Kelvieri’s Boots. Now that I had my own pair, I
knew my life would finally begin.
Inside the heels of the boots were symbols . . . of my imperfections.
That probably seemed odd, that I’d be so excited to receive a present
filled with my weaknesses. But, they were so much more than that.
Receiving the boots meant I’d reached the age of maturity, the age
when age no longer mattered. Now I was more than just “Venus, the
little Alayeahian princess”, as our people always called me. I’d
become a woman.
Eager, I removed one of the boots, the material smooth, and held it
up to eye level. Light, coming from the glow of our suns, shone
through my window, outlining its shape. Within the boots’ heel, an
arrow blazed, shiny and bright. It floated in the dark blue blood of
our sacred animal. I shook it, like I’d seen humans do with a snow
globe.
Monday, April 18, 2011
Critique Partner Auction Entry 4
Title: Judas Pistol
Genre: Mystery
Status: 81% complete
Judas Pistol, a 70,000-word amateur sleuth novel, is set in the gun culture of Montana during two weeks of April 2001. Les is deaf from the service in the Gulf War. He can barely get by on army disability and prize money from shooting matches, so he investigates historical sites and is hired to prove a popular sheriff and a young tribal policeman didn’t go bad. D’arcy and Gunz have different occupations and challenges of their own but find themselves working with Les to solve a series of murders linked to a futuristic weapon handgun and treasures of the "Treasure State."
******
Toole County, Montana, April 14, 2001
Saturday, high noon
Les Huntsman leaned against recoil as if bucking gusts of headwind. Flash! His revolver jumped again, sending a second ounce of lead to topple another silhouette. His front sight found a third set of head and shoulders. Flash! Muzzle blaze and bounce were all he perceived--no roar, no splat of bullets hitting home, not a sound when heavy figures smacked into skiffs of snow.
Three more shots and empty. One hand swung the muzzle up to thumb the ejector. Hot casings fell to melt holes around his boots, while his other hand blurred up with a fresh speed-loader. Burnt nitrates stung his nostrils. Shockwaves meant his opponent was still shooting. Les slapped another half dozen rounds into battery. Six more jolts up his arms. Six more silhouettes down. At twenty-five meters, only a trio remained. One more reload, three quick flashes, and the last form sprawled on its backside.
To his front, the green light winked off. The red cease-fire lamp blazed in its place. Les had already caught three empty cases and three unfired .480s in his glove, his Ruger held up and open for inspection.
He felt a touch on his shoulder and turned his head. Arthur Burnside had a microphone clipped to his coat collar, but loudspeakers did Les no good. He focused on the range officer’s lips. "Duel goes to shooter on the right . . . Huntsman." Les waited. "Clear on the right. Good to see you back in action, Doc. Go ahead and holster your weapon."
Genre: Mystery
Status: 81% complete
Judas Pistol, a 70,000-word amateur sleuth novel, is set in the gun culture of Montana during two weeks of April 2001. Les is deaf from the service in the Gulf War. He can barely get by on army disability and prize money from shooting matches, so he investigates historical sites and is hired to prove a popular sheriff and a young tribal policeman didn’t go bad. D’arcy and Gunz have different occupations and challenges of their own but find themselves working with Les to solve a series of murders linked to a futuristic weapon handgun and treasures of the "Treasure State."
******
Toole County, Montana, April 14, 2001
Saturday, high noon
Les Huntsman leaned against recoil as if bucking gusts of headwind. Flash! His revolver jumped again, sending a second ounce of lead to topple another silhouette. His front sight found a third set of head and shoulders. Flash! Muzzle blaze and bounce were all he perceived--no roar, no splat of bullets hitting home, not a sound when heavy figures smacked into skiffs of snow.
Three more shots and empty. One hand swung the muzzle up to thumb the ejector. Hot casings fell to melt holes around his boots, while his other hand blurred up with a fresh speed-loader. Burnt nitrates stung his nostrils. Shockwaves meant his opponent was still shooting. Les slapped another half dozen rounds into battery. Six more jolts up his arms. Six more silhouettes down. At twenty-five meters, only a trio remained. One more reload, three quick flashes, and the last form sprawled on its backside.
To his front, the green light winked off. The red cease-fire lamp blazed in its place. Les had already caught three empty cases and three unfired .480s in his glove, his Ruger held up and open for inspection.
He felt a touch on his shoulder and turned his head. Arthur Burnside had a microphone clipped to his coat collar, but loudspeakers did Les no good. He focused on the range officer’s lips. "Duel goes to shooter on the right . . . Huntsman." Les waited. "Clear on the right. Good to see you back in action, Doc. Go ahead and holster your weapon."
Critique Partner Auction Entry 3
Title: Pictures of You
Genre: Romantic Suspense/commercial fiction
Status: Complete
While it is true that the course of true love doesn’t ever run smoothly, why must it be cluttered with stalkers, murders, and a rumor column edited by a student with a grudge? Vida Adamson thought that teaching at a small university would be the perfect place to recover from a bad and very public break up. She was wrong. She is not in the market for another man, until she meets Jack Hughes. The handsome dean of the school of arts and sciences is recovering from his own bitter marriage mistake. Even before the romance takes off, rumors and pictures begin flying around the campus. Privately they also discover that everyone has demons to overcome, some are within, and some come snarling via nasty text messages. With the demise of Jack’s soon to be ex father-in-law, the school’s president, followed by the death of Vida’s unpleasant ex, they see that their stalker is willing to pay any price to get what she wants. As the threats pile up Jack and Vida realize they must get the police to see the connections between the two deaths and the mysterious messages they are receiving before the final message becomes a deadly reality.
Carly Phillips’ fans would certainly enjoy PICTURES OF YOU, a sexy romantic suspense that will keep readers guessing until the end. The college setting was a natural choice for me, since I taught at small university in New Jersey for ten years.
PICTURES OF YOU, a single title, is complete at approximately 75,000 words.
*******
It was humiliating. Who was he talking to? She had spent hours getting ready: a new outfit, hair and nails done, even endured a Brazilian waxing, and now he was standing across the room talking to some unfamiliar girl. She felt her heart racing. She clenched and unclenched her fists a couple of times before walking across the room in slow, measured steps.
Her eyes gently grazed his face; her voice was composed as the words dripped out more for the girl’s benefit than his, “Your wife is looking for you.” Her gaze moved back and forth, narrowing as she focused on the girl in the David Bowie tee shirt. She turned to back to him, her face changing at lightening speed to a more conciliatory look. She felt her disgust level rising.
Still facing the girl, he let out small breath. “Well, good luck with your classes. Maybe I’ll see you around on the campus.” Once they made their way across the room, he snapped, “So where is she? What’s the emergency?” She stammered something about Johanna having just been there. “Well, go find her.” He watched the girl wade through the crowded room to a small group of professors that he recognized from the math department. She tugged at a guy’s jacket sleeve like a bored child and whispered something in his ear; he put his arm around her shoulders and continued talking. She folded herself into him. Again she whispered in his ear; he laughed and kissed the top of her head. He caught sight of them again as they made their way single-file out of the room. She walked behind him, holding onto the bottom of his jacket. He watched, feeling a little pang of disappointment.
Genre: Romantic Suspense/commercial fiction
Status: Complete
While it is true that the course of true love doesn’t ever run smoothly, why must it be cluttered with stalkers, murders, and a rumor column edited by a student with a grudge? Vida Adamson thought that teaching at a small university would be the perfect place to recover from a bad and very public break up. She was wrong. She is not in the market for another man, until she meets Jack Hughes. The handsome dean of the school of arts and sciences is recovering from his own bitter marriage mistake. Even before the romance takes off, rumors and pictures begin flying around the campus. Privately they also discover that everyone has demons to overcome, some are within, and some come snarling via nasty text messages. With the demise of Jack’s soon to be ex father-in-law, the school’s president, followed by the death of Vida’s unpleasant ex, they see that their stalker is willing to pay any price to get what she wants. As the threats pile up Jack and Vida realize they must get the police to see the connections between the two deaths and the mysterious messages they are receiving before the final message becomes a deadly reality.
Carly Phillips’ fans would certainly enjoy PICTURES OF YOU, a sexy romantic suspense that will keep readers guessing until the end. The college setting was a natural choice for me, since I taught at small university in New Jersey for ten years.
PICTURES OF YOU, a single title, is complete at approximately 75,000 words.
*******
It was humiliating. Who was he talking to? She had spent hours getting ready: a new outfit, hair and nails done, even endured a Brazilian waxing, and now he was standing across the room talking to some unfamiliar girl. She felt her heart racing. She clenched and unclenched her fists a couple of times before walking across the room in slow, measured steps.
Her eyes gently grazed his face; her voice was composed as the words dripped out more for the girl’s benefit than his, “Your wife is looking for you.” Her gaze moved back and forth, narrowing as she focused on the girl in the David Bowie tee shirt. She turned to back to him, her face changing at lightening speed to a more conciliatory look. She felt her disgust level rising.
Still facing the girl, he let out small breath. “Well, good luck with your classes. Maybe I’ll see you around on the campus.” Once they made their way across the room, he snapped, “So where is she? What’s the emergency?” She stammered something about Johanna having just been there. “Well, go find her.” He watched the girl wade through the crowded room to a small group of professors that he recognized from the math department. She tugged at a guy’s jacket sleeve like a bored child and whispered something in his ear; he put his arm around her shoulders and continued talking. She folded herself into him. Again she whispered in his ear; he laughed and kissed the top of her head. He caught sight of them again as they made their way single-file out of the room. She walked behind him, holding onto the bottom of his jacket. He watched, feeling a little pang of disappointment.
Critique Partner Auction Entry 2
Title: GYPSY SOUL REAVER
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Percent Complete - A third of the way done.
Query Letter
Dear Potential Critters:
Dyad Gypsy Rue Maddox thought her life was tough enough, having to share body and soul with the demon that almost killed her.
Daily yoga classes, a lifetime of stubborn will, and a steady dose of hot chocolate have brought her closer to being able to cope with the darkness growing inside, but only the soul of an angel can bring permanent balance and relief from the monotony of her rituals.
When Rue moves away from her caravan to the otherworldly territory of Mavra, she starts her new life as the owner of a tea and tarot shop. When the bills start piling up, she’s forced to take a second job and ends up working for the Mavra Inspection Agency, collecting un-collared demons.
Soon, word about her rare heritage, makes it outside the walls of the MIA and she becomes a target for an undead soldier fighting on the frontlines of a war that’s headed to the trenches.
He kidnaps her and uses her, first, as a living demon detector and then as the Ziploc bag for its soul that he’ll need to contain it.
Rue wants to take the demon back to Hell, but the soldier needs it and he’ll do whatever it takes to stop her if he can.
The alpha male of the local feline shifter pride is her only hope of escaping the truth.
If she doesn’t get away, she’ll have to decide if the risk of helping the cause is worth the risk of losing what’s left of her soul.
GYPSY SOUL REAVER, an urban fantasy, has a projected word count of 70,000. Thank you for your time and attention.
****
Eli Robert’s black eyes gave me the willies.
It wasn’t because he was a snake shifter, it was because we had the same eyes. He was born with his — mine were as unnatural as the platinum in a box blonde’s hair. I got them courtesy of the demon fused to my soul.
I didn’t stop arranging the canisters of Earl Grey tea until the entire row was pulled neatly to the edge of the shelf, then I put the extras in the cardboard box at my feet as Eli walked towards me.
“I need your help Rue,” he said. Not even a smile.
“Hello to you too? And help with what?”
When he didn’t answer me right away, I shook my head. “The answer is no. That’s no. Big. Fat. No. Helping you means trouble.”
He held his hands up in the air. “Woah. Be fair. What happened last time wasn’t my fault. This time is important.”
I stared at him, mouth gaping. “Are we talking about the same situation? Because the last time I helped you out, I ended up inside a Mavra jail cell with a power drunk pixie puking her margherita on my lap right before her excess magic surged in my face.” I glared at him. “She singed my hair! I had to cut it.”
He stood up to his full height, which brought him up to my shoulders. "You were in jail for less than a day, and it grew back. Don't be so dramatic."
Genre: Urban Fantasy
Percent Complete - A third of the way done.
Query Letter
Dear Potential Critters:
Dyad Gypsy Rue Maddox thought her life was tough enough, having to share body and soul with the demon that almost killed her.
Daily yoga classes, a lifetime of stubborn will, and a steady dose of hot chocolate have brought her closer to being able to cope with the darkness growing inside, but only the soul of an angel can bring permanent balance and relief from the monotony of her rituals.
When Rue moves away from her caravan to the otherworldly territory of Mavra, she starts her new life as the owner of a tea and tarot shop. When the bills start piling up, she’s forced to take a second job and ends up working for the Mavra Inspection Agency, collecting un-collared demons.
Soon, word about her rare heritage, makes it outside the walls of the MIA and she becomes a target for an undead soldier fighting on the frontlines of a war that’s headed to the trenches.
He kidnaps her and uses her, first, as a living demon detector and then as the Ziploc bag for its soul that he’ll need to contain it.
Rue wants to take the demon back to Hell, but the soldier needs it and he’ll do whatever it takes to stop her if he can.
The alpha male of the local feline shifter pride is her only hope of escaping the truth.
If she doesn’t get away, she’ll have to decide if the risk of helping the cause is worth the risk of losing what’s left of her soul.
GYPSY SOUL REAVER, an urban fantasy, has a projected word count of 70,000. Thank you for your time and attention.
****
Eli Robert’s black eyes gave me the willies.
It wasn’t because he was a snake shifter, it was because we had the same eyes. He was born with his — mine were as unnatural as the platinum in a box blonde’s hair. I got them courtesy of the demon fused to my soul.
I didn’t stop arranging the canisters of Earl Grey tea until the entire row was pulled neatly to the edge of the shelf, then I put the extras in the cardboard box at my feet as Eli walked towards me.
“I need your help Rue,” he said. Not even a smile.
“Hello to you too? And help with what?”
When he didn’t answer me right away, I shook my head. “The answer is no. That’s no. Big. Fat. No. Helping you means trouble.”
He held his hands up in the air. “Woah. Be fair. What happened last time wasn’t my fault. This time is important.”
I stared at him, mouth gaping. “Are we talking about the same situation? Because the last time I helped you out, I ended up inside a Mavra jail cell with a power drunk pixie puking her margherita on my lap right before her excess magic surged in my face.” I glared at him. “She singed my hair! I had to cut it.”
He stood up to his full height, which brought him up to my shoulders. "You were in jail for less than a day, and it grew back. Don't be so dramatic."
Critique Partner Auction Entry 1
Title: Playing God
Genre: YA Dystopian
95% drafted
Query:
God is dead. After the War of the Religions, humans proved that nonsensical deities and copout beliefs damaged society. Less than a year later, scientists found a portal to a fantasy world a writer had just created. This discovery, christened Animation, made people accept that no one needs to look up to find a creator--he needs only to look inside himself.
Kalyn Gale has two goals in life: marry her best friend Tony and Animate something--anything. When he Animates first, she begins to wonder if the two aims are irreconcilable. Through a new friendship as she tries to get free of his overbearing influence, she finds traces of a dark secret about Animation which may just mean that the dangerous myth of religion is true.
With the help of a girl nursing a grudge, a woman who still believes in a God long dead, and two boys, one from her past and one perhaps in her future, Kalyn sets out to discover is Animation is one big government hoax. But when a portal to the world she just wrote appears, she must decide if the quest for truth is more important than her desire to be renowed.
PLAYING GOD, my YA dystopian, is (almost) complete at 75,000 words.
****
The inscription was faded and scratched, but Kalyn Gale had never seen such potent words.
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
They’d probably been there for centuries—one, at least, since no one had believed in the silly myths of religion for over a hundred years—and age had weathered them to insignificant gray markings.
Every time she came to this spot, they seemed bolder, deeper, brighter, than the last, as if time itself were going backward and erasing the very marks of age. Of course this wasn’t true. Kalyn gave a rueful laugh which echoed in the empty ruins of the old stone building. Progress. That was the key word of this era. Moving forward step by step and leaving behind anything that would suggest man did not have control of the world.
She dragged her gaze from the thick gray wall and tilted her head back. From her point inside the crumbling structure they used to call a chapel, she could just barely make out a sliver of sky. The moon hung like a fat fist amongst a glimmering array of stars, and some bursts of light cut the darkness in half for a moment.
In that split second, Kalyn could almost bring herself to believe she’d seen a shooting star before reality reached her dreaming mind. It had been a shuttle, or a passenger plane, or even a ship off to the colony on Mars. Not a shooting star—never something that natural or uncontrollable or beautiful.
Genre: YA Dystopian
95% drafted
Query:
God is dead. After the War of the Religions, humans proved that nonsensical deities and copout beliefs damaged society. Less than a year later, scientists found a portal to a fantasy world a writer had just created. This discovery, christened Animation, made people accept that no one needs to look up to find a creator--he needs only to look inside himself.
Kalyn Gale has two goals in life: marry her best friend Tony and Animate something--anything. When he Animates first, she begins to wonder if the two aims are irreconcilable. Through a new friendship as she tries to get free of his overbearing influence, she finds traces of a dark secret about Animation which may just mean that the dangerous myth of religion is true.
With the help of a girl nursing a grudge, a woman who still believes in a God long dead, and two boys, one from her past and one perhaps in her future, Kalyn sets out to discover is Animation is one big government hoax. But when a portal to the world she just wrote appears, she must decide if the quest for truth is more important than her desire to be renowed.
PLAYING GOD, my YA dystopian, is (almost) complete at 75,000 words.
****
The inscription was faded and scratched, but Kalyn Gale had never seen such potent words.
In the beginning, God created the heavens and the earth.
They’d probably been there for centuries—one, at least, since no one had believed in the silly myths of religion for over a hundred years—and age had weathered them to insignificant gray markings.
Every time she came to this spot, they seemed bolder, deeper, brighter, than the last, as if time itself were going backward and erasing the very marks of age. Of course this wasn’t true. Kalyn gave a rueful laugh which echoed in the empty ruins of the old stone building. Progress. That was the key word of this era. Moving forward step by step and leaving behind anything that would suggest man did not have control of the world.
She dragged her gaze from the thick gray wall and tilted her head back. From her point inside the crumbling structure they used to call a chapel, she could just barely make out a sliver of sky. The moon hung like a fat fist amongst a glimmering array of stars, and some bursts of light cut the darkness in half for a moment.
In that split second, Kalyn could almost bring herself to believe she’d seen a shooting star before reality reached her dreaming mind. It had been a shuttle, or a passenger plane, or even a ship off to the colony on Mars. Not a shooting star—never something that natural or uncontrollable or beautiful.
Critique Partner Auction Blogfest
So its Monday the 18th, and as promised, its Critique Partner Auction Blogfest time!
However, first I have to say something.
I am occasionally, perhaps, a little bit, a teensy weensy smidgen - overambitious.
Yes. Shocking. I'm as surprised by this stunning revelation as you are.
But what can I say? I'm a big believer in HYPE. Put it out there, in excess amounts of sugar-induced manic glee, and the universe will give you what you ask for, if only to shut you the hell up. Hey, its worked for me this far.
So this is to say, much as I must accept that my first novel MIGHT NOT BE the 'next Harry Potter', I'm afraid I did not get the scads and hordes and hundred of entries for this that I hoped. Instead, its a small, humble, but AWESOME start, with a few entries that TOTALLY DESERVE SOME MC'LOVIN and get to horde ALL THE ATTENTION. All of it! So yeah. There's that.
However (I do like my buts NO INNUENDO INTENDED OR IS THEEEEERE?), I still want this blogfest to be all that it can be. Rather like the army. I'm all patriotic like that and stuff, yo. So I'm amending things a bit. I'm a game changer like that. What can I say?
At the bottom of this post, you will find one of Mr. Linky's wonderful magical widgets. There is still a way to partake in the blogfest, if you missed the initial announcement and deadline, or perhaps see someone else with a story you love SO MUCH that you just cant resist jumping in for a chance at critiquing it. Just sign up in the widget below, link to your blog, and post the first 250 words of your WIP on your blog, along with the other necessary info. Because we want to get this thing popping, you don't have to do the sample query letter to participate, though I LOVED our entries' query letters and think its totally worth it. But do include at least some kind of pitch so that people have an idea what your story is about, in addition to your sample page. If you don't have a blog, but still want to jump in, email me your entry at kalenodonnell@gmail.com and I'll put it up as soon as I can.
So there you have it. I'll begin posting the entries received thus far now, and entrants and everyone else can start going through and seeing what they like. We're ditching the whole Batch number idea, because like, yeah, that was dumb. Not gonna work. But anyways, once something hits your sweet spot, just comment with how many pages you'd like to swap to test things out and where they can take a look at your entry - whether its already up on this blog, is waiting to be added here, or if they've linked to it on their own blog. As more people (hopefully) sign up on the widget below and starting posting entries on their own blogs, you can click through the links below and search through other blogs for entries you might want to read.
And when multiple people start 'bidding' on the same entries - well, let the games begin!
I will be adding entries throughout the day, as its kinda a hectic time for me, sorry, so please bear with me and be patient, and email me if you sent yours in to be hosted on this blog and don't see yours up by tonight. This blogfest will run through the weekend, but the sooner you jump in, the more people are going to get a chance to see your stuff, so....have at it! The original post for this blogfest is here in case you need a refresher in the start of all this madness.
However, first I have to say something.
I am occasionally, perhaps, a little bit, a teensy weensy smidgen - overambitious.
Yes. Shocking. I'm as surprised by this stunning revelation as you are.
But what can I say? I'm a big believer in HYPE. Put it out there, in excess amounts of sugar-induced manic glee, and the universe will give you what you ask for, if only to shut you the hell up. Hey, its worked for me this far.
So this is to say, much as I must accept that my first novel MIGHT NOT BE the 'next Harry Potter', I'm afraid I did not get the scads and hordes and hundred of entries for this that I hoped. Instead, its a small, humble, but AWESOME start, with a few entries that TOTALLY DESERVE SOME MC'LOVIN and get to horde ALL THE ATTENTION. All of it! So yeah. There's that.
However (I do like my buts NO INNUENDO INTENDED OR IS THEEEEERE?), I still want this blogfest to be all that it can be. Rather like the army. I'm all patriotic like that and stuff, yo. So I'm amending things a bit. I'm a game changer like that. What can I say?
At the bottom of this post, you will find one of Mr. Linky's wonderful magical widgets. There is still a way to partake in the blogfest, if you missed the initial announcement and deadline, or perhaps see someone else with a story you love SO MUCH that you just cant resist jumping in for a chance at critiquing it. Just sign up in the widget below, link to your blog, and post the first 250 words of your WIP on your blog, along with the other necessary info. Because we want to get this thing popping, you don't have to do the sample query letter to participate, though I LOVED our entries' query letters and think its totally worth it. But do include at least some kind of pitch so that people have an idea what your story is about, in addition to your sample page. If you don't have a blog, but still want to jump in, email me your entry at kalenodonnell@gmail.com and I'll put it up as soon as I can.
So there you have it. I'll begin posting the entries received thus far now, and entrants and everyone else can start going through and seeing what they like. We're ditching the whole Batch number idea, because like, yeah, that was dumb. Not gonna work. But anyways, once something hits your sweet spot, just comment with how many pages you'd like to swap to test things out and where they can take a look at your entry - whether its already up on this blog, is waiting to be added here, or if they've linked to it on their own blog. As more people (hopefully) sign up on the widget below and starting posting entries on their own blogs, you can click through the links below and search through other blogs for entries you might want to read.
And when multiple people start 'bidding' on the same entries - well, let the games begin!
I will be adding entries throughout the day, as its kinda a hectic time for me, sorry, so please bear with me and be patient, and email me if you sent yours in to be hosted on this blog and don't see yours up by tonight. This blogfest will run through the weekend, but the sooner you jump in, the more people are going to get a chance to see your stuff, so....have at it! The original post for this blogfest is here in case you need a refresher in the start of all this madness.
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Writing Wednesday
So a couple of notes. First off, remember to get your entries in for the Critique Partner Auction Blogfest by noon PST on Friday! And if you're not participating, then say Critique Partner Auction Blogfest five times fast and like, just spread the word and stuff!
Also, I have to give a big shout out and thank you to Chersti Nieveen for hosting the First Line Contest over at her blog, where my first line for Dust to Dust won me a query letter critique from fab lit agent extraordinaire, Mary Kole! So I've been getting that all super spiffy to send off to Ms. Kole, and it was an amazing opportunity and I love how creative and proactive and supportive Chersti and all the others in our little blogosphere are! You all rock!
And also in terms of you all rock, I continue to be blown away by reactions to Dust to Dust. Between that contest, and comments and responses to the Show Your Voice Contest and March's Secret Agent contest, y'all are making me feel so happy and confident about Dust to Dust that its just....its just like crack to a writer. Or this writer anyways. And since you all know I love me some crack (shifty eyes, don't read into that, totally kidding, etc, etc) and because a few people have asked to see some more of it, and because its Writing Wednesday already in some time zones but still my birthday in this time zone and that means I can do whatever the hell I want, here's a scene pulled at random from Dust to Dust. I don't want to spoil anything in case you all do get the opportunity to find it in bookstores someday, so all I'll say is this exerpt may or may not be a scene from my scratch file, and may or may not have actually made it into the final book, and either way, its not actually spoilerific though it looks like it could be. ;) Mostly its just Serena being badass and a little bit scary, with hints of creepy. Because well, that's Serena for you. Enjoy!
I dropped to my knees, choking - but it wasn’t his grip on my neck that had me gasping for air. His magic was a sandstorm swirling in my lungs. Every breath I took stabbed the walls of my throat with shards of spells and broken glass. Paul grinned down at me through the white spots dotting my vision and I batted at his arm, trying desperately to break free. Dude was on steroids or I was really just that scrawny, but either way, I was still going to die here. Young. Virginal. Alone.
Epic fail, universe. Epic fail.
And then winter came early.
The sharp crackle of ice knifed through the empty food court like an overactive toddler popping bubble wrap without supervision. And if you don’t like my similes, blame my brain’s current lack of oxygen. Paul let his magic and me slip free and I slid bonelessly to the floor, wheezing and flopping around like a geriatric trout with asthma and a smoking problem. I raised my head in search of whoever had kicked the AC into overdrive and found my sister standing regally at the top of the escalator.
God. She was such a drama queen.
Serena was soaked head to toe from her impromptu swim in the fountains earlier, but if it bothered her you’d never know. A silent wind tossed her raven hair behind her, and an endless stream of water dripped from her t-shirt and jeans, pooling around her bare feet and cascading down the steps of the escalator in far more quantities than her clothes could have ever contained. Her face was pinched tight with cold fury, and a chill leaked from her bone-white skin. Frost coated the railing of the escalator beneath her hand and three frozen tears tracked slowly down her cheeks. Big Sis was pissed, and I was just glad that for once it didn’t seem to be at me.
I scooted out of the way just to be on the safe side.
“I think you‘ve been a pain in my family‘s collective asses long enough.” Serena announced into the vastness. Only the rhythmic trickle of water rushing forth from her kept her voice from echoing like a bell. Like a death knell. “And no one gets to kill my baby brother except me.”
Now that was just unnecessary. I frowned. “Okay, see, stuff like this is exactly the reason Megan’s my favorite sister.”
They ignored me in favor of making angry eyes at each other. Serena started slowly down the escalator. One frozen tear dripped free of her cheek and fell into the water puddled at her feet, freezing it over in an instant. It spread forth from there in a river of blue-white light, rattling like dancing ice cubes. Unlike the glaciers they resembled, there was nothing slow moving about either her anger or her magic. The ice coated the escalator in seconds and raced towards Paul.
He swore and leapt into the air, twisting, shimmering until he was nothing but fog and mist. Pale smoke riding the wind. Serena smiled, showing teeth, and raising a hand to her cheek collected a second frozen tear on her fingertip. She flicked it at the rising fog and Paul crashed into a near table, all tangled limbs and solid, weighty flesh. He scrambled to his feet but the ice reached him before he could take a step. It locked him in place and kept climbing slowly up his legs.
“Bitch -” he snarled as Serena reached him. She silenced him, pinching his lips together between her fingers. His eyes bulged, furious, but the ice had reached his arms by then and locked them at his sides.
“What do men like you really think they‘re proving with that word?” She asked rhetorically. “All it really says is we both know I’m bigger and badder than you are. And where’s the insult in that?”
Paul tried to shout something between smashed together lips, but Serena just reached her finger to her cheek again and collected her last tear, placing it on the tip of his nose.
“No more talking now,” she whispered. His eyes widened but too late. The ice rushed over his face and down his chest, pale blue forks of frost burrowing deep beneath his skin and replacing his veins. In moments he was completely translucent. Not just covered in ice, but become ice. Serena pushed gently and he toppled over backwards, shattering with a sharp screech like a single, stunted scream.
“Well I could have done that,” I said into the sudden stillness, peeved. “Okay, maybe not that exactly, but I could have just turned him into dust or something!”
My sister stared at the broken pieces of Paul, face unreadable. “Then why didn’t you?”
“Umm, because killing people is baaaaaaaad.” I stretched out the syllable extra long for good measure. I hadn’t realized I was talking to a five year old.
“Not when they’re trying to kill you.” Serena sighed and walked off towards the entrance. “Grow up, Micah. It’s the twenty first century. There’s no place for martyrs anymore.”
“But, but -” I sputtered for words, because seriously, what the hell do you even say to that? I settled for scrambling to catch up with her. Given the choice between magical corpse and magical corpse-maker, it was a toss up which was better company, but I had promised to at least try and make nice with my siblings. And Paul did try to kill me, and its not like he was family or cursed either, so there was that. Douche bag.
“It’s called survival of the fittest, little brother. It’s hardly my fault if you’ve neglected your schooling.”
“It kinda is,” I muttered. “You’ve tried to kill me more than anyone else.”
“Token efforts. If I really wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh stop, you’re making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
“I just saved your life. Must you be such an ungrateful turd?”
“Must you be such an ungrateful turd, Micah?” I mimicked. And then a little resentfully: “I totally could have handled it myself.”
“I’m sure you could have, baby brother.” A ghost of a grin swept across Serena’s face, there and gone again in an instant, like a patch of fog glimpsed by moonlight. Still there all the same, just long enough to picture her as she had been, once upon a time. Wild, dancing and fey. The girl who made the sky cry just so the flowers would grow. It seemed like a very long time ago.
I lunged forward on a sudden whim and wrapped my arms around her. “I missed you.”
Even if she was a super scary magical corpse maker now.
She tensed in surprise, but her arms wrapped tentatively around me in response. “I missed you too, baby brother.“
I couldn’t be sure, the way my face was buried in her back, but a sound suspiciously like a sniffle made me think that maybe she wasn’t a total super scary corpse maker. Maybe she was still a little bit Serena too.
“Now tell anyone I said that, and I’ll kill you, you little shit.”
Then again, maybe not. With my family, who can really say?
Also, I have to give a big shout out and thank you to Chersti Nieveen for hosting the First Line Contest over at her blog, where my first line for Dust to Dust won me a query letter critique from fab lit agent extraordinaire, Mary Kole! So I've been getting that all super spiffy to send off to Ms. Kole, and it was an amazing opportunity and I love how creative and proactive and supportive Chersti and all the others in our little blogosphere are! You all rock!
And also in terms of you all rock, I continue to be blown away by reactions to Dust to Dust. Between that contest, and comments and responses to the Show Your Voice Contest and March's Secret Agent contest, y'all are making me feel so happy and confident about Dust to Dust that its just....its just like crack to a writer. Or this writer anyways. And since you all know I love me some crack (shifty eyes, don't read into that, totally kidding, etc, etc) and because a few people have asked to see some more of it, and because its Writing Wednesday already in some time zones but still my birthday in this time zone and that means I can do whatever the hell I want, here's a scene pulled at random from Dust to Dust. I don't want to spoil anything in case you all do get the opportunity to find it in bookstores someday, so all I'll say is this exerpt may or may not be a scene from my scratch file, and may or may not have actually made it into the final book, and either way, its not actually spoilerific though it looks like it could be. ;) Mostly its just Serena being badass and a little bit scary, with hints of creepy. Because well, that's Serena for you. Enjoy!
********
Epic fail, universe. Epic fail.
And then winter came early.
The sharp crackle of ice knifed through the empty food court like an overactive toddler popping bubble wrap without supervision. And if you don’t like my similes, blame my brain’s current lack of oxygen. Paul let his magic and me slip free and I slid bonelessly to the floor, wheezing and flopping around like a geriatric trout with asthma and a smoking problem. I raised my head in search of whoever had kicked the AC into overdrive and found my sister standing regally at the top of the escalator.
God. She was such a drama queen.
Serena was soaked head to toe from her impromptu swim in the fountains earlier, but if it bothered her you’d never know. A silent wind tossed her raven hair behind her, and an endless stream of water dripped from her t-shirt and jeans, pooling around her bare feet and cascading down the steps of the escalator in far more quantities than her clothes could have ever contained. Her face was pinched tight with cold fury, and a chill leaked from her bone-white skin. Frost coated the railing of the escalator beneath her hand and three frozen tears tracked slowly down her cheeks. Big Sis was pissed, and I was just glad that for once it didn’t seem to be at me.
I scooted out of the way just to be on the safe side.
“I think you‘ve been a pain in my family‘s collective asses long enough.” Serena announced into the vastness. Only the rhythmic trickle of water rushing forth from her kept her voice from echoing like a bell. Like a death knell. “And no one gets to kill my baby brother except me.”
Now that was just unnecessary. I frowned. “Okay, see, stuff like this is exactly the reason Megan’s my favorite sister.”
They ignored me in favor of making angry eyes at each other. Serena started slowly down the escalator. One frozen tear dripped free of her cheek and fell into the water puddled at her feet, freezing it over in an instant. It spread forth from there in a river of blue-white light, rattling like dancing ice cubes. Unlike the glaciers they resembled, there was nothing slow moving about either her anger or her magic. The ice coated the escalator in seconds and raced towards Paul.
He swore and leapt into the air, twisting, shimmering until he was nothing but fog and mist. Pale smoke riding the wind. Serena smiled, showing teeth, and raising a hand to her cheek collected a second frozen tear on her fingertip. She flicked it at the rising fog and Paul crashed into a near table, all tangled limbs and solid, weighty flesh. He scrambled to his feet but the ice reached him before he could take a step. It locked him in place and kept climbing slowly up his legs.
“Bitch -” he snarled as Serena reached him. She silenced him, pinching his lips together between her fingers. His eyes bulged, furious, but the ice had reached his arms by then and locked them at his sides.
“What do men like you really think they‘re proving with that word?” She asked rhetorically. “All it really says is we both know I’m bigger and badder than you are. And where’s the insult in that?”
Paul tried to shout something between smashed together lips, but Serena just reached her finger to her cheek again and collected her last tear, placing it on the tip of his nose.
“No more talking now,” she whispered. His eyes widened but too late. The ice rushed over his face and down his chest, pale blue forks of frost burrowing deep beneath his skin and replacing his veins. In moments he was completely translucent. Not just covered in ice, but become ice. Serena pushed gently and he toppled over backwards, shattering with a sharp screech like a single, stunted scream.
“Well I could have done that,” I said into the sudden stillness, peeved. “Okay, maybe not that exactly, but I could have just turned him into dust or something!”
My sister stared at the broken pieces of Paul, face unreadable. “Then why didn’t you?”
“Umm, because killing people is baaaaaaaad.” I stretched out the syllable extra long for good measure. I hadn’t realized I was talking to a five year old.
“Not when they’re trying to kill you.” Serena sighed and walked off towards the entrance. “Grow up, Micah. It’s the twenty first century. There’s no place for martyrs anymore.”
“But, but -” I sputtered for words, because seriously, what the hell do you even say to that? I settled for scrambling to catch up with her. Given the choice between magical corpse and magical corpse-maker, it was a toss up which was better company, but I had promised to at least try and make nice with my siblings. And Paul did try to kill me, and its not like he was family or cursed either, so there was that. Douche bag.
“It’s called survival of the fittest, little brother. It’s hardly my fault if you’ve neglected your schooling.”
“It kinda is,” I muttered. “You’ve tried to kill me more than anyone else.”
“Token efforts. If I really wanted you dead, you’d be dead.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh stop, you’re making me feel all warm and fuzzy inside.”
“I just saved your life. Must you be such an ungrateful turd?”
“Must you be such an ungrateful turd, Micah?” I mimicked. And then a little resentfully: “I totally could have handled it myself.”
“I’m sure you could have, baby brother.” A ghost of a grin swept across Serena’s face, there and gone again in an instant, like a patch of fog glimpsed by moonlight. Still there all the same, just long enough to picture her as she had been, once upon a time. Wild, dancing and fey. The girl who made the sky cry just so the flowers would grow. It seemed like a very long time ago.
I lunged forward on a sudden whim and wrapped my arms around her. “I missed you.”
Even if she was a super scary magical corpse maker now.
She tensed in surprise, but her arms wrapped tentatively around me in response. “I missed you too, baby brother.“
I couldn’t be sure, the way my face was buried in her back, but a sound suspiciously like a sniffle made me think that maybe she wasn’t a total super scary corpse maker. Maybe she was still a little bit Serena too.
“Now tell anyone I said that, and I’ll kill you, you little shit.”
Then again, maybe not. With my family, who can really say?
Friday, April 8, 2011
Critique Partner Auction Addendum
Just a quick administrative type note, but I've already had entries start coming in for the CP Auction blogfest, and they're great! Apparently though even with Auction Entry in the subject line, some are getting sent to my spam folder. I DO check that regularly, but just to be sure, I am sending a confirmation for every entry I receive. So if you do send in an entry and don't hear a response back from by the end of the day, just resend as it means it probably fell through the cracks.
Wednesday, April 6, 2011
Critique Partner Auction Blogfest
They say you can never have too many critique partners or beta eyes on your manuscripts. I disagree, as I think having several thousand people trying to offer you feedback would simply be all kinds of impractical.
But you know, a few more here and there is never a bad thing! Finding quality critique partners or beta readers, however, is all kinds of tricky. So I propose a blogfest!
Mostly because all the cool kids are doing them and peer pressure is a bitch, man.
SO. Here's how its going to go down. And yes, credit where credit is due, the format is blatantly plagiarized from a combination of MissSnarksFirstVictim's Baker's Dozen Auction and a few other sources. Because I am a bad man who plagiarizes.
(In my defense though, being original is HAAAAAAAAAAARD.)
The auction is open to anyone and everyone with a current work in progress, no matter the current length of it. The rules are simple and finite! To enter, simply email me at kalenodonnell@gmail.com by Noon of Friday, April 15th. Put 'Auction Entry' somewhere in the subject line, and your email should include the following:
Your Screen Name/Blogger Name/Website
Percent Complete (How far along are you in your WIP? Do you consider yourself a third done, half finished, three quarters?)
Query Letter: Yup, I want you to write one of those dreaded query letters, even though you're not finished with your ms! Oh shush, its good practice! Instead of writing to potential agents, you're writing it to your potential critique partners, trying to hook them on your book the same way you would an agent. It's okay if you don't know how your MS is going to end yet, most query letters don't give away the ending! What your query letter SHOULD have for purposes of this blogfest however, are your TITLE, GENRE, PROJECTED WORD COUNT, and of course tell us about your story! The act of writing out a query letter for it might spark some ideas or connect a few dots for you in ways you hadn't antcipated!
First 250 words of your WIP: Exactly what it says, just enough to let potential CP's have a sense of your writing style and see if they want to read more.
Then check back here on Monday, April 18th, when I will be posting all your entries anonymously. They will be divided into THREE categories. WIPs that are anywhere from 1% to 33% completed will be grouped together in Batch A, WIPs that are anywhere from 34% to 66% finished will be grouped in Batch B and all WIPs that are 67% to 100% complete will make up Batch C.
Once the entries are up, entrants are encouraged to go through the entries from THE SAME BATCH AS THEMSELVES. The goal of this particular blogfest is to make an even swap. Quid pro quo. I want you guys to find CPs that are on the same page as yourselves, even footing as it were. So hunt around through other entries from your batch. Find the query letter that gets you most excited to read on down the page and check out the sample of their writing. And when you find one that has you completely excited to read on further and leaves you wondering where the hell is the rest, yo - then place your bid on that entry in the form of a comment. A bid is simply you saying which entry is yours and how many pages you'd like to swap with them, to see if you might be a good CP match. It doesn't come with a guarantee of critiquing anything, its just to access compatibility and gauge how excited you are to see more of a manuscript. If you're intrigued, but not totally sold, then start small. Offer to swap the first ten pages, test things out. If an entry just has you drooling for more, go for broke, bid on the first fifty pages, whatever.
One thing we all have in common as writers is we LOVE seeing people get excited about our work. And the best critique partners are the ones who are the most invested naturally, the ones who in addition to being our CPs, are our biggest fans as well - because they're the ones who're going to put the most effort into making your MS the best it can possibly be. We all write in different genres, in different styles, for different audiences. So the point of this blogfest isn't to try and match you up with CPs who write the same thing as you, or who write for the same audience as you, or who even write in a similar style. With this, I'm just trying to provide a forum for people to find CPs who match them in EXCITEMENT LEVEL. An opportunity to go 'Oh wow, this person wants to read my first fifty pages just from what I wrote in my entry? Huh, let me check out their entry - OH HELL YEAH I WANT TO READ THEIR FIRST FIFTY PAGES!!'
I would like to ask that people not reveal who wrote what until the end of the blogfest however, as we all have a lot of mutual acquaintances, thanks to blogfests past, haha. We want this to be about the work, first and foremost, so let your entries speak for themselves and have fun revealing your true identity when you've decided who you're going to swap pages with. Have fun with this in general, bidding against each other on entries you really love - getting competitive with the other bidders is encouraged! Be realistic with your bids - every one you make is one you should be prepared to commit to, so don't ask to swap full manuscripts right off the bat with all ten entries you kinda like - unless you really think you have the time to sit down and read ten manuscripts in a timely fashion. Start small, and build on the ones you're most excited for. If another entrant dares swoop in and try and trump your bid on your number one pick, let her know, oh hells no, that ain't gonna fly, and raise your bid another ten pages! When all's said and done, entrants can swap pages with as many people as they want. You can swap with everyone who ends up bidding on your entry, you're not just confined to the highest bid. BUT, again it comes back to being realistic. We're all busy and time is finite - so the idea again, is finding those potential CPs who seem most excited about our work and starting there. Build the excitement guys!
As a final note, please keep in mind that what I am doing here is simply providing a forum and a framework for this. I can not and do not make any guarantees - the simple truth is yes, not everyone is going to get the same level of excitement for their entries. Not everyone is going to get as many bids, and not everyone is going to get bid on by the entrants they really want to swap with most. This can be VERY discouraging. But it is also what you make of it, and even if you end up being the only entry that gets zero bids, instead of letting that eat you alive, I encourage you to step back, take some time and distance, and then come back with some perspective a couple days later and turn that into an opportunity. Use a critical eye on your query and sample, and compare it to your favorite entries or the entries that got the most bids - see what they did differently. Maybe its not as simple as them just being a better writer than you - maybe they just wrote a more effective query letter, and if so, can you figure out what made it work so well? I can't promise anyone an amazing CP out of this blogfest, though I wish I could. The only thing I can and will guarantee is that if nothing else, its an opportunity to see what kind of stories, query letters and writing seem to build the most -and most immediate - excitement.
Alright, so that's all he wrote for today folks! Any questions or clarification you need, feel free to ask in the comments here! Now go forth and spread the word!* The more entries, the more awesome stories to sample, and the more fun for everyone, right?
*Any self-serving side effects of this blogfest should be seen as entirely coincidental and not at all the ultimate aim of the hoster of this blogfest. He is not actually an evil genius. Merely a giver. Who likes to give. Now please stop looking atme him like that.
But you know, a few more here and there is never a bad thing! Finding quality critique partners or beta readers, however, is all kinds of tricky. So I propose a blogfest!
Mostly because all the cool kids are doing them and peer pressure is a bitch, man.
SO. Here's how its going to go down. And yes, credit where credit is due, the format is blatantly plagiarized from a combination of MissSnarksFirstVictim's Baker's Dozen Auction and a few other sources. Because I am a bad man who plagiarizes.
(In my defense though, being original is HAAAAAAAAAAARD.)
The auction is open to anyone and everyone with a current work in progress, no matter the current length of it. The rules are simple and finite! To enter, simply email me at kalenodonnell@gmail.com by Noon of Friday, April 15th. Put 'Auction Entry' somewhere in the subject line, and your email should include the following:
Your Screen Name/Blogger Name/Website
Percent Complete (How far along are you in your WIP? Do you consider yourself a third done, half finished, three quarters?)
Query Letter: Yup, I want you to write one of those dreaded query letters, even though you're not finished with your ms! Oh shush, its good practice! Instead of writing to potential agents, you're writing it to your potential critique partners, trying to hook them on your book the same way you would an agent. It's okay if you don't know how your MS is going to end yet, most query letters don't give away the ending! What your query letter SHOULD have for purposes of this blogfest however, are your TITLE, GENRE, PROJECTED WORD COUNT, and of course tell us about your story! The act of writing out a query letter for it might spark some ideas or connect a few dots for you in ways you hadn't antcipated!
First 250 words of your WIP: Exactly what it says, just enough to let potential CP's have a sense of your writing style and see if they want to read more.
Then check back here on Monday, April 18th, when I will be posting all your entries anonymously. They will be divided into THREE categories. WIPs that are anywhere from 1% to 33% completed will be grouped together in Batch A, WIPs that are anywhere from 34% to 66% finished will be grouped in Batch B and all WIPs that are 67% to 100% complete will make up Batch C.
Once the entries are up, entrants are encouraged to go through the entries from THE SAME BATCH AS THEMSELVES. The goal of this particular blogfest is to make an even swap. Quid pro quo. I want you guys to find CPs that are on the same page as yourselves, even footing as it were. So hunt around through other entries from your batch. Find the query letter that gets you most excited to read on down the page and check out the sample of their writing. And when you find one that has you completely excited to read on further and leaves you wondering where the hell is the rest, yo - then place your bid on that entry in the form of a comment. A bid is simply you saying which entry is yours and how many pages you'd like to swap with them, to see if you might be a good CP match. It doesn't come with a guarantee of critiquing anything, its just to access compatibility and gauge how excited you are to see more of a manuscript. If you're intrigued, but not totally sold, then start small. Offer to swap the first ten pages, test things out. If an entry just has you drooling for more, go for broke, bid on the first fifty pages, whatever.
One thing we all have in common as writers is we LOVE seeing people get excited about our work. And the best critique partners are the ones who are the most invested naturally, the ones who in addition to being our CPs, are our biggest fans as well - because they're the ones who're going to put the most effort into making your MS the best it can possibly be. We all write in different genres, in different styles, for different audiences. So the point of this blogfest isn't to try and match you up with CPs who write the same thing as you, or who write for the same audience as you, or who even write in a similar style. With this, I'm just trying to provide a forum for people to find CPs who match them in EXCITEMENT LEVEL. An opportunity to go 'Oh wow, this person wants to read my first fifty pages just from what I wrote in my entry? Huh, let me check out their entry - OH HELL YEAH I WANT TO READ THEIR FIRST FIFTY PAGES!!'
I would like to ask that people not reveal who wrote what until the end of the blogfest however, as we all have a lot of mutual acquaintances, thanks to blogfests past, haha. We want this to be about the work, first and foremost, so let your entries speak for themselves and have fun revealing your true identity when you've decided who you're going to swap pages with. Have fun with this in general, bidding against each other on entries you really love - getting competitive with the other bidders is encouraged! Be realistic with your bids - every one you make is one you should be prepared to commit to, so don't ask to swap full manuscripts right off the bat with all ten entries you kinda like - unless you really think you have the time to sit down and read ten manuscripts in a timely fashion. Start small, and build on the ones you're most excited for. If another entrant dares swoop in and try and trump your bid on your number one pick, let her know, oh hells no, that ain't gonna fly, and raise your bid another ten pages! When all's said and done, entrants can swap pages with as many people as they want. You can swap with everyone who ends up bidding on your entry, you're not just confined to the highest bid. BUT, again it comes back to being realistic. We're all busy and time is finite - so the idea again, is finding those potential CPs who seem most excited about our work and starting there. Build the excitement guys!
As a final note, please keep in mind that what I am doing here is simply providing a forum and a framework for this. I can not and do not make any guarantees - the simple truth is yes, not everyone is going to get the same level of excitement for their entries. Not everyone is going to get as many bids, and not everyone is going to get bid on by the entrants they really want to swap with most. This can be VERY discouraging. But it is also what you make of it, and even if you end up being the only entry that gets zero bids, instead of letting that eat you alive, I encourage you to step back, take some time and distance, and then come back with some perspective a couple days later and turn that into an opportunity. Use a critical eye on your query and sample, and compare it to your favorite entries or the entries that got the most bids - see what they did differently. Maybe its not as simple as them just being a better writer than you - maybe they just wrote a more effective query letter, and if so, can you figure out what made it work so well? I can't promise anyone an amazing CP out of this blogfest, though I wish I could. The only thing I can and will guarantee is that if nothing else, its an opportunity to see what kind of stories, query letters and writing seem to build the most -and most immediate - excitement.
Alright, so that's all he wrote for today folks! Any questions or clarification you need, feel free to ask in the comments here! Now go forth and spread the word!* The more entries, the more awesome stories to sample, and the more fun for everyone, right?
*Any self-serving side effects of this blogfest should be seen as entirely coincidental and not at all the ultimate aim of the hoster of this blogfest. He is not actually an evil genius. Merely a giver. Who likes to give. Now please stop looking at
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