Monday, August 22, 2011

Agent-Judged Contest with Vickie Motter of Andrea Hurst Literary Management!

THE CONTEST IS NOW CLOSED. Thanks for participating! 

The day of the contest with Vickie Motter of Andrea Hurst Literary Management is here, you guys!!!!

Time to post your pitches and your first page. GOOD LUCK.

Before posting, though, please read the rules carefully:

1) The contest will close as soon as 50 people enter.

2) Post your one-sentence pitch and your first page (250 words or less!!) on the comment section of this post. 

3) The contest is for finished YA and adult fiction novels (fantasy, urban fantasy, paranormal romance, dystopian, and post-apocalyptic). Please note that Ms. Motter doesn’t represent MG!!

4) This is only for unagented writers.

5) Since I’m doing this to help, you don’t need to be a follower, but I’d love it if you are. And I’d love it if you’d also follow me on Twitter.  And follow Vickie Motter too, of course!

What should you post below?

-Your Name
-Title of your book
-Word-count of your manuscript
-The one-sentence pitch
- Your first page (250 words). No more than 250, and please don’t stop mid sentence.
-Your email

If you’re a bit lost: I’m pasting a few links so you can read more about writing short pitches.


  1. Hi Monica, hi Ms. Motter. Thanks for this opportunity =)

    Name: Juliana Haygert

    Title of Book: DESTNY GIFT
    Genre: older YA Paranormal Romance (Or New Adult)
    Word-count: 80,000

    One sentence pitch:
    In a world of chaos, Nadine has visions she doesn't understand—she believes she might be hallucinating—until she meets the guy haunting her visions and everything starts to change … even the world.

    First page (250 words):
    Dark skies during an afternoon. Hookers, junkies and muggers pilling the streets. Tall buildings in decay. Litter tossed through the lanes. The ruffling of giant bat wings coming from above. The reek that made me gag. I ignored it all as I ran through the obscure streets, praying to get to my destination before the two guys got me.

    I didn’t know which one was louder, my feet pounding against the slick concrete or my heart hammering against my chest. It could also be the blood and adrenaline rushing through my ears or the laughs of the two guys pursuing me.

    I had noticed them eyeing me and whispering at the subway. They had weaved and swayed into one another, holding telltale brown bags covering what had to be bottles of booze. Only I hadn’t expected them to get out of the car at the same stop I did, nor had I expected them to run after me.

    From my purse, I retrieved the doctor’s business card and checked her address again. Yes, I was close. Three more blocks till Henry Street.

    As I ran, the Brooklyn crowd grew less rough-looking, with more people like me and fewer street dwellers.

    Avoiding eye contact with anyone, even the people who looked nice, I rushed toward the building where the office was located, trying to stick with streets where the lamps were not broken, trying to stay away from my drunken pursuers.

    Email: juliana.haygert (at) gmail (dot) com

  2. Name: Kate Iannarone

    Title: Underwood Academy

    Genre: Urban Fantasy

    Word Count: 96,500 words

    Pitch: Rosalind Banks, prep school student and closeted werewolf, must embrace her powers to save her friends when her blood-thirsty family invades campus.

    First Page:
    A friend once told me that I am too stubborn for anyone’s good. I remembered this as I ran past her house, quickening my pace. These were the last words she said to me, or the second last. The last were, “If I ever see you around here again, I swear, Rosalind, I will call the police.” I suppose I wouldn’t call her a friend.

    I pumped my legs harder, and my body whittled through the air, creating the illusion of a breeze. You needed to be fast, especially on Wiltshire Avenue. This part of Shrewsport was crawling with feral dogs and wilder men, pickpockets and junkies. But I wasn’t afraid, not a little. Night was coming and the street was about to get a lot more dangerous. Because I was out there.

    The pendant around my neck thumped against my chest and I glanced up; smog rolled across the trace of starlight. I ran faster still. A mile later, and I began to panic. I needed to get to the park before eight, for that’s when the moon rises in July.

    I didn’t hear the screaming at first. It was the baying, the howling that caught my attention. I followed the sounds into an alley fifty feet ahead. About a dozen of boney hounds had pinned a passerby against the wall, their circle slowly tightening in. Not thinking twice, I picked up a crumbled brick and hurled it into the mass and braced for retaliation.


  3. Name: Michael D. Young
    Title: Paladin Pawn
    Genre: Young Adult Fantasy
    Word-count: 85,000

    The one-sentence pitch:
    When nerdy sophomore Rich Witz unwittingly becomes a Paladin, a white knight in training, he is thrust into a world where flunking a test can change the course of history and a mysterious dark knight, masquerading as someone at his school, is playing for keeps with his life.

    Your first page (250 words).

    The knight’s armor caught the setting sun, and his horse whinnied and squirmed. “Easy,” soothed the knight, trying to still his own anxiety.
    His eyes stared from his open visor, fixing on a solitary target in the distance. They narrowed as he confirmed its identity. There had been many confrontations before, but this would be the final one.
    Without a word, he raised his lance and shut his visor, his ancient armor squeaking in protest.
    In a fluid motion, he spurred his horse forward and brought his lance to bear, leaning into the saddle with grim determination. Giant evergreens towered up on either side of him, providing a narrow corridor for his galloping steed.
    From the distance, a cry shattered the twilight stillness sending woodland creatures scrambling for cover. Hurtling in the opposite direction, a dark rider bearing his own lance, kicked at his horse’s flanks in a brutal attempt to coax a little more speed.
    The dark knight’s armor blended in with the dark trees, maintaining the shine of not having been struck too often. He rarely allowed opponents to get close to his armor.
    The two horses accelerated, their gaze fixed forward, neither rider deviating an inch from the impending collision. Two lances thrust forward, intent on turning their opponent into a metal-wrapped feast for wolves.
    Lances smashed into shields, and a cry pierced the deepening evening.
    “Rich! Come down for dinner!”
    The scene shattered into a million pieces as the voice snatched Rich out of his daydream.

  4. Brian Kell

    Email –

    Title -- Love Squirts

    Genre -- Humorous Pararomance (Paranormal/Romance)

    Word Count -- 53,000 words

    One Sentence Pitch:
    Love can cause the heart to break, but for a demon who’s fallen for a human girl he’s supposed to torture, it can also bring the shriveled dead organ back to life.

    First 250 words:

    Submerged in the murky water, Caymion Crud smoothed his claw over his chest. A cold sensation blistered behind his ribs, as if he’d been speared with an icicle. Normally frigid temps like that would kill a demon.

    But this feeling wasn’t bad, it didn’t hurt at all. As a matter of fact, he liked it. Very different from the searing heat of Boggy Lyer -- the bleak and repugnant subterrane in Hades he called home.

    “Out’a the way, handsome!” Caymion’s older brother ordered. Grittle, king of the insults, shoved Caym aside and hauled his colossal carcass out of the puddle. The water drizzled off Grittle’s red scales in syrupy dollops. Fibrous veins coiled around his leaden muscles, a picture perfect hell-born barbarian.

    Caym remained below; he had no desire to torture humans. No longing to skewer demonic urges into their mortal brains and turn them against each other. Not at all.

    Still, so as not to arouse suspicion, he had to go inside the house and pretend to make an effort at terrorizing souls for his family’s reputation. The Cruds created carnage like a rotting corpse created foul odors. But the unholy residents of the Underground wouldn’t bat an infected eye to take down Caym’s family. It’s what demons did, and did well, be it to humans or their own kind.

    Caym grasped the craggy edge of the puddle and yanked himself up, the effects of gravity doubling his weight. He lashed his tail about, flicking off droplets of turgid water.

  5. Thanks so much for this contest!

    Name: Alicia Gregoire

    Title: Phoenix Rising

    Genre: Urban Fantasy

    Word Count: 66,000

    When Kyla and Walker look for a way to break the lock that has trapped the earth’s magic and Kyla’s dad underground for 20 years, they there is a lot more at stake than pissing off a few government officials.

    First Page:
    Armed with nothing other than his knowledge of spells, Ianos made his final trek to the foothills. If he didn’t manage to capture the chimera today, it wouldn’t happen—the Thirteen would see to that. He had studied the pride for months waiting for an opportunity to snatch one of the hatchlings. Knowing the pride would eventually abandon the runt of the litter, he kept his eye on it. The pride abandoned it weeks ago. Each day it grew weaker, languishing without the companionship of it’s clutch-mates.

    He was much closer than he’d been in his previous visits to the chimera grounds and could see the beast in better detail. It lay in the sun; it’s paper lantern thin wings stretched across the scrub while the dragon and goat heads slept. The central head—the lion—mewled to the sky.
    No one in history had been able to capture a chimera. Ianos would both be the first and the last. He slowed his steps as he approached, careful not to draw attention to himself. The lion heard him anyway.

    It despondently watched Ianos approach. The reptilian tail flicked once in warning, but that was all until he crossed some unknown border. The runt roared, shaking the other two heads out of slumber. The beast rose to it’s full height, stretched it’s wings wide, and let out a cacophony of rage.

    Ianos snarled and crouched, ready to strike. Electricity spurted from his palms toward the chimera.


  6. Leatrice McKinney
    Title: Coveted
    Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
    Word Count: 79,000

    Pitch:In an ancient war being waged on modern streets, Caleb is an unwitting warrior and invaluable weapon that will guarantee victory, for whichever side can catch him first.

    First 250: I’m going to kill him.

    Caleb found comfort in that thought, and he meant it this time. A guy’s best friend should be the last person to bring out the murderer in him, yet lo and behold.

    “Lighten up Azzy-baby, it’s a party!” Martin sat oblivious of any plots to end his life, too busy being the ham in a babe sandwich.

    “Don’t call me Azzy-baby.” He knifed a scowl Martin’s direction. “Y'know I hate these places.” They sat in a sectional at the rear of Confessions, the newest club in downtown Kansas City. A wall of one-inch thick glass separated them from the dance floor, and the two hundred people grinding against each other to a dreadful techno oong-tss, oong-tss, oong-tss.

    Martin grinned. “Not as much as you love me.” Under the black lights his teeth glowed a creepy purple. The girls on either side of him giggled, fueling the dull burn of irritation at the back of Caleb’s skull.

    “If love means a desire to bludgeon you to death in a back alley. I can’t believe I let you talk me into this.” He should be at home waiting for Connie, like a good big brother.

    “I can’t believe I had to talk you into it.”

    “We won’t be here for long, he says. Only saying ‘hi’ to a couple people, he says. Just five minutes, he says. That was over an hour ago. You always do this.” He gnawed the inside of his lower lip.


    Thanks so much for the opportunity, as always!

  7. NAME: Kimberly Lynn Workman

    TITLE: The Forces of Heaven and Hell Alike

    GENRE: Supernatural/Urban Fantasy

    WORD COUNT: 80,000

    PITCH: When the archangel Gabriel changes his game plan and seeks to use the demon Liam's angelic lover against him, the two must keep secret their connection while serving the roles of heaven and hell.

    Liam was a demon with a coffee addiction. Not a figurative “without his caffeine, he's a bit evil” demon, but more in the literal sense of “if you want to sell your soul, he's got the contract for you to sign right here.” He hadn't realized, when he took over the body of the railroad worker in Buffalo Gap fifty years ago, that he'd be suffering from withdrawal every morning.
    However, a few headaches and the inability to be pleasant in the early hours were the least of his issues. More pressing was the fact Gabriel had a continued desire to see him dead. The archangel hadn't waged another full-on battle since Liam left him scarred, but the minor ones kept popping up, and Liam knew that it was only a matter of time before another attack was imminent. Some demons battled humanity, or a lowly angel, but Liam had to go and tick off an archangel. Then again, he figured going big was the only way to go.
    Back on the road after only five hours of sleep, Liam would rather be holed up in a motel somewhere with a pillow and no one vying for his attention, but time was a luxury he didn't have. Instead, he was on his Harley, heading through Wyoming and trying to track down the address Sid had given him. Liam promised he'd meet Sid for breakfast on his way through town, but that was something he was really regretting now.


  8. -Rachel Marks
    -YA Post-Apocalyptic

    -Aryana's survived five years longer than a normal half-blood, buying time by working as an assassin, but with her magic awake, now time’s up.

    First 250:

    -The boys have this thing they like to do. A lunch game, they call it.

    First, you get yourself an abandoned building--not difficult around here. Wait until you’ve got good sunlight. Then, you catch yourself a night crawler--and I don’t mean a worm. I mean, one of the undead that come up from the holes and cracks in the earth at night and scrounge around the City for warm blood.

    After you’ve got that hundred-year-old corpse in your clutches--usually shot up with raig (the drug of choice for crawler-catching) and tied with a sheet--you lock yourself in the abandoned building, black the windows to keep the sunlight out, untie your captive, and tra-la, you have yourself a game. It should be called: Kill The People Eater, Before It Kills You.

    Being a girl, I’m constantly having to prove myself.

    Ray…bet you can’t jump to that ledge. Ray…bet you can’t hit that rat from here.

    Boys…bet your brains are as small as your wankers.

    This is how it is when you’re surrounded with male crazy 24-7. You have no choice except to beat them at their own game.

    And so, I’ll chop off this crawler’s head before it can bite off mine.

    One of the boys calls from his safe perch on the balcony railing above me, "Look at the H.B, all shivery and scared." It’s Fin, skinny as a zipper and dumb as dirt. He wipes snot from his nose and leaves a black swath of filth behind.

    pixydustin [AT]

  9. James Koonce
    YA contemporary/75,000 words

    Pitch: Following a scandal, TV icon Alex Reno is forced to do a reality show to save his reputation – and his costar is the teen son he never knew he had.

    First 250:
    If you want to meet your father, get in the car.
    The note is unmemorable, black words on white paper, but the gravity of what it means slams into me like a punch to the stomach. I’ve never known who my dad is. It sounds like some Bible belt hillbilly joke, but getting pregnant at twenty wasn’t exactly something my mom planned on, and I’m the nine-month dividend of her forgotten one-night stand. She says she never regretted her decision to keep me, but come on, nobody wants to check the “single mom” box on career day. It's something we don't talk about.
    My heart’s pounding. A black Escalade idles by the curb, and the driver who handed me the note holds open the door. His name tag says Carl, and sweat trickles down his beefy neck. Somewhere in the distance a dog barks.
    I read the message again. It’s addressed to me,, eliminating any possibility that this is a misunderstanding. So who sent it? And why? Why now, after eighteen years?
    I fold the paper in half. I hate my life sometimes -- I start college at the end of summer, but instead of being this new adventure I can’t wait for, the thought of it makes my stomach hurt. My girlfriend Charlie’s got big plans for us—-coordinated schedules, his-and-her Greek houses, an apartment together as upperclassmen--all the meticulous premeditations she mapped out (literally, in PowerPoint on her dad’s laptop) when we started going out junior year.

  10. Many thanks for holding the contest:)

    Name: Tania. F. Walsh

    Title of Book: Cloaked In Fur

    Genre: Urban Fantasy

    Word-count: 70K

    One Sentence Pitch:
    In a world where mythical wolves are born not made, Daciana must find a way to save her pack from an ancient dracwulf who is claiming their territory and killing humans.

    First 250 Words:
    I strolled inside the pack house and right into the middle of an argument. It was always tricky, dealing with an irate wulfkin pack. Yeah, there were egos and tempers the size of mountains, but the problem at hand never failed to cause pandemonium. And, as if on cue, the ache in my gut flared.

    The hearth's fire, the only source of light, painted the other occupants in a harsh burnished amber, and Radu sneered at a figure in the corner. “You’ve killed us.”

    Sandulf stepped out from the shadows, his chest puffed. “Is that the way you address your alpha?” Blood soaked through the bandages wrapped around his arm and torso, and the metallic sensation coated my tongue, but I shouldn’t have tasted blood from across the room. The full moon was days away, so it couldn’t be my inner wolf, not yet.

    “What’s going on?”

    Sandulf’s head jerked in my direction. His eyebrows lowered and his voice hardened. “Doesn’t concern you, Daciana.”

    Pack problems were notorious for ricocheting back my way. “Like hell it doesn’t.”

    The alpha said nothing, never lifting his gaze off me. Had humans discovered our existence and injured Sandulf, or had another pack entered our territory?

    Radu’s silvery eyes met mine for a split-second. His strawberry-blond hair, stubble and sideburns set him aside from the pack, and as the newest pup to cross over from moonwolf to wulfkin, I admired his courage to confront Sandulf.


  11. Jen Duffey
    Title: ZACH’S FIGHT
    Genre: YA Contemporary
    Word Count: 60,000
    Email: jenduffey81 (at) gmail (dot) com

    Pitch: For Zach, thanks to three fights in the last three weeks, any chance of a future hinges on learning to control his anger.

    First 250:
    “Son, take a step back. I don’t want to hurt you.”

    Damn it, not again. What the hell tripped me this time?

    Son of a bitch, I thought I had this under control. Three times in three weeks. I was screwed. Sweat dripped into the scratch just below my eye, and I winced in pain.

    “Don’t make me ask you again. If you don’t step away from the boy, I will do what is necessary.” The cop’s rough voice wasn’t as threatening as the words were meant to be.

    I sighed and took a step back then looked down at my feet to see who I’d gone for this time. I tried to search my thoughts for the reason this guy won the lottery as my most recent target. Nope, nothing. The crowd around me was a chorus of hushes, gasps, and cries. When I glanced up, I found myself staring at the net with the basketball on the ground below it, reminding me I was still at school. Oh I’m out for sure now. Great. I ran my hand down my face and felt the scratches on my knuckles where the skin split open.

    “What happened?” I asked. The officer behind me chose that moment to take a step forward. The air around me shifted and my personal space shrank.

    “Well, I’d hoped you could tell me.” A hand dropped to my shoulder.

    “Why are you standing over this boy with bloodied knuckles?”

    I shrugged and placed my hands behind my back.

  12. Christy Hintz
    YA Contemporary

    Pitch: A misfit who spent too many years hanging out with the wrong girls from the right crowd struggles to find happiness after being framed and losing the first real friends-and love-she ever had.


    “Seriously, Shelby Honey. You could put on a little bit more make-up. You look pale.” Mom held the steering wheel with one hand and grabbed her purse with the other. She plopped the large leather bag on my lap. “I know I have several shades of blush in there. Help yourself.”

    I glared at the purse for a moment before setting it at my feet. I’d rather be home cleaning the toilet bowl with my toothbrush or ripping out my fingernails than primping in the car on the way to a basketball game. “You didn’t have to drive me, Mom. I don’t want you to be late.”

    She glanced at the clock. “I’ll only be two minutes late. It was nice of Ashleigh to call and invite you.”

    I rolled my eyes. Yes, how nice of Ashleigh to call me at the last minute.

    “You should be a little more grateful.”

    Whatever. Ashleigh knew I wouldn’t want to go. She should have realized my mom would jump at the chance for me to be social. Of course, that would have required Ash to put more than one thought together at a time. A little too complicated for my “best” friend.

    “I don’t know why you gave her such a hard time about going. You’ll have a blast, I’m sure.”

    I sighed. “I don’t know, either, Mom.”

    Mom had gushed over Ashleigh for years. It wouldn’t matter if I told her the reasons I’d rather be home and bored than with The Terrible Trio.

    Email: nc_hintz(at)


  13. Sorry! Previous post came out in the wrong formatting. (I hope this is allowed!)

    Tamara Felsinger
    YA - Urban Fantasy
    Word count: 73,000
    Email: t.m_bailey(at)hotmail(dot)com


    18-year-old Tabby has two weeks to track a beast, two weeks to find her sister, and two weeks until she transforms into a Princess with an irrepressible urge to kill.

    First 250 words:

    Tabby stationed herself in the dead center of the doorway, flashing the social worker an extra-large, carefree smile.

    “Sorry,” she said, glancing back into the apartment to make sure there was no evidence in sight. “I’ve got to go. I’m late for work.”

    The social worker stopped trying to crane her neck to see over Tabby’s shoulder long enough to hand her a business card. “I’m Noleen Marks. We spoke on the phone.”

    The woman was squat and hunched with a brown dress and grey-streaked bun. She smelled how Tabby imagined a grandmother might smell; all lavender and wool and baby powder.

    Tabby shoved the card into the pocket of her work pants, trying to look harried. “Yes, I remember.”

    Her attempt to brush Noleen Marks away failed. The woman remained steadfast. “We had an appointment about your sister.”

    Tabby checked her watch. “I don’t think –”

    “I left a message days ago.”

    Tabby’s soft-cotton polo shirt was starting to feel scratchy. “Our answering machine’s been playing up –”

    Noleen nudged Tabby aside, bustling into the apartment. Not really like a grandmother, then.
    Tabby clung to the front door knob, her palm slippery with sweat. If the social worker found out…

    “Melissa’s really sick –”

    “So I’ve heard,” said Noleen, taking in her surroundings – the broken lamp in the living room, the stack of unopened mail on the coffee table, the overflowing washing basket on the couch.

  14. Title: HARP
    Word count: 72,000
    Genre: YA contemporary fantasy

    When young Irish gods flee their mythic world, only Roiseen O'Reilly can protect them and rescue her missing dad – but may risk destroying herself.

    1st 250

    Roiseen flattened her hands on the kitchen counter, bracketing the phone.

    Something flashed above her head: A lost firefly. She went to a window facing their overgrown back yard and pushed. Green paint flaked on her fingers but the sash wouldn't budge.

    "Sorry, Twinkle Butt. Guess you'll have to find your own way home." When the phone rang, she jumped to grab it.

    "Simone O'Reilly?" a woman asked.

    Roiseen groaned. It was a rant from a bill collector, not a call from her missing dad. She pinched her nostrils. "Wrong number."

    "Is Simone about?"

    "There's no Simone here. What don't you understand about 'wrong number'?" Fielding these calls was toughening her up. She hadn't yet decided if it was a good thing.

    The woman's Irish brogue became harsher. "Put your mother on, Roiseen. 'Tis Brigit."

    "Brigit from Cnoc Feeorin?" Roiseen eyed the phone, surprised. As far as she knew, her parents had broken off all contact with Dad's Irish godmother.

    "Aye. Fetch Simone."

    "You sure? I don't think Mom will want to talk to you."

    "Never mind that. Tell her your father will be here soon."

    Roiseen white knuckled the receiver. "You know where he is? Did you talk to him? Is he okay? We haven't heard anything since—." She looked at the dusty wall clock. Exactly 26 days and –– 12 hours ago.

    "I'll explain everything when ye arrive," Brigit said. Music played faintly in the background. The reception faded then hummed back into life. "Ye can have your old bedroom above the pub."

    Thanks so much!

  15. Thanks for the contest Monica!!

    Name: Melanie McCullough
    Title: Drowning in Hope
    Genre: YA Contemporary
    Word Count: 70,000

    One Sentence Pitch:

    Abby Rhoades has one goal-win the state championship, earn a free ride to Penn State, and leave her small town/crazy mother behind, but when the body of her mother's latest loser boyfriend is found and suspicion falls on Abby and her best friend Garrett she realizes that one moment can change everything and one misstep could send everything she's worked so hard for crumbling to the ground.

    First 250 Words:

    She never cut deep enough to finish the job, just enough to create a God-awful mess. Anger and disgust rippling through me, I wrung the wet rag out in the bathroom sink for a second time before returning to my hands and knees to remove the rest of the blood from the black-and-white checkered tile. This was attempt number six.

    The first time she did it, I was a little over five years old. So, for anyone who claims children can’t remember things from when they’re that young, you’re wrong. I remember. It’s embedded in my brain. As clear and as terrifying as the day it happened.

    “Abigail Britney Rhoades!” My mother Maggie shouted at me for the hundredth time that morning twelve years ago. “God damn it. Just shut up already. Shit.” She pulled the beat up Dodge hatchback she drove back then into a parking spot alongside the broad avenue and pounded on the steering wheel with her open hand. Even at that age, I knew she wished the steering wheel were my face.

    Hair swirled through the air as she thrashed her head and stamped her feet against the floorboard of the vehicle. It was long and bleached almost neon white. I watched her with my eyes wide, my mouth slack. If I’d thrown a temper tantrum like that, I’d have spent the rest of eternity in time-out.

    It’s hard for me to recall where we were going, but I remember the car ride being a long one.


  16. Thanks so much for this opportunity!

    Name: Megan
    Title: Half-Breed
    Genre: YA fantasy
    Word Count: 60,000 words

    One sentence pitch:

    Fourteen-year-old Harper Page is recruited to join The Fellowship, the group that hides the world's "imaginary" creatures, and soon discovers that the Fellowship's best-kept secret is her own existence.

    First 250 words:

    Harper stood at the edge of the moss-covered pond, gathering handfuls of the rounded pebbles near the water’s edge and skipping the rocks one by one across the surface. It would be more accurate to say she attempted to skip them. As a rule, her pebbles always sank with a taunting plop. She would have no future in rock-skipping.

    She laughed at that. As if she had any hope of a bright future at all, stuck in this shadow of a town.


    She turned away from the water. A young man was approaching her, lifting his feet a little higher than normal to trudge through the high grass around the pond. This must be him, she thought. Her social worker had called last night and set up this whole thing. “He has something very important to talk to you about,” Rebecca had told her. Harper just about always trusted what Rebecca said. It was a good strategy. After all, Rebecca had hand-picked Harper’s parents, so her judgment was obviously awesome.

    “You’re Seth?” Harper asked.

    “I am,” he replied, and smiled. “It’s nice to finally meet you. I've heard so much about you.” Seth removed one of his hands from his pocket to sweep a stray piece of sand-colored hair from his dark brown eyes, and then extended the hand toward her in greeting.

    Interesting, Harper thought, since she hadn’t heard a word about Seth until last night’s phone call from Rebecca.


  17. Name: Ben Spendlove
    Title: DRIVERS
    Genre: Psych thriller
    Word count: 79,000
    Pitch: They took the job expecting to die and then convinced each other to live—but the boss won't let them quit.

    I don’t exist anymore. Not as a real person, anyway. I’m more like cargo. Expensive cargo, with my own guard and a corporate jet. The steps down to the tarmac are steep but sturdy. The sky arches overhead, splashed with clouds. A city squats nearby, skyscrapers reaching. And the air smells foreign.

    I’m not a prisoner, exactly. I’m an employee. My first day on the job has been everything they promised—exciting, new, well-paying. My last day on the job is less than a week away, though they’re not certain exactly when. That’s too bad, because I’d really like to know when I’m going to die. Mostly, I just want to get through the days until then.

    My guard hands a passport to another man who must be airport security. “Ash Palmer,” he mutters, glancing up at me. I guess it’s my passport. This ain’t normal airport security. There’s no metal detector, no customs, not even a desk. Just the one guy who writes something in a book and doesn’t bother stamping passports.

    There were four of us on the plane, each with his—or her—own guard. Mine looks like Yul Brynner. Bald, sharp jawline, intense manner. He collects my passport and drops it into a small vinyl pouch with two others, then waits for the girl behind me.

    She’s the only girl. The guards, airport security, and the other recruits are all men. I suppose that applies to me as well, though I’m still more comfortable with ‘boy’.

  18. Name: Allie Schellong
    Title: Tell Me This
    Genre: YA urban fantasy
    Word-count: 88,000 words

    One sentence pitch:

    After seventeen-year-old Sophie befriends a family of Reddos—beings with extraordinary knowledge— she must decide how much she’s willing to sacrifice to save them when an enemy takes revenge for answers they refused him.

    First 250 words:

    Sophie braced herself for the fall the moment she felt her boot glide across the muddy surface of the trail. She tucked her chin into her shoulder, her muscles contracting so she crashed into the grime while sparing her face from the wave of mud that descended upon her.

    Of course, she thought, making sure the hood of her raincoat was secure around her face. I stop paying attention for a second and slip on the biggest trench of mud I’ve—

    She froze. Immediately in front of her was a large pair of boot prints, half hidden beneath bushes lining the edge of the trail. The impressions had to be fresh; footprints wouldn’t last more than a couple minutes in this kind of downpour. Sophie cautiously lifted a hand to examine the tracks. Her fingers skimmed across the indents the faint zigzag tread left.

    She frowned. These unidentified footprints started at the edge of the trail, which wasn’t possible . . . unless their owner had dropped out of the sky into the forest. Sophie had seen some strange things while working at Ellery Wildlife Preserve, but footprints appearing out of nowhere wasn’t one of them.

    Her hand instinctively clenched the muddy, stringy weeds beneath her fingers. Go see where the footprints lead, she urged herself. That’s your job. You’re here to stop people leaving the trails, and here’s proof that someone has.


  19. Name: Ashley Bruce
    Title: Death Seraph
    Genre: YA - Paranormal Romance
    Word Count: 90,000

    After witnessing Death himself procure the souls of her slain parents, seventeen-year-old Mina Katherine Rea (Minky) must make a choice—one that bears on the final destination of her eternal soul.

    First 250 Words:
    The day my life began was day the lives of my parents ended. After tragedy strikes most of us are given only two options. We can either continue on with our mundane existences as hollowed out ghosts ignoring our own foreseeable futures or we can simply choose to succumb to misery and end our own lives.

    All in all none of us really know what we are capable of until we are pushed to the brink. If door number two meant denouncing my destiny and saving the one meaningful person left in my life then so be it. My only regret would be that I’d hurt her. So as last stands go, I guess this is mine.

    Aunt Maggie,

    I am so sorry for all the pain I have caused you. I know the stress of having me around has been unbearable at times but I hope you can find it in your heart to forgive me. I can’t promise you I will be going to a better place because truthfully I don’t know what kind of reception I will have on the other side. All I know is that they are coming for me and this is the only way I can protect you. Though it would be easier if you understood what was going on, it’s simply too dangerous.

    I have only one request I need you to honor when I’m gone. Try to live your life as if I were never part of it.

    Love always,

  20. Name: Amalia Dillin (amaliatdillin(at)gmail(dot)com)
    Title: Helen of Sparta
    Genre: Historical Fantasy
    Word-count: 112,000

    Pitch: Nightmares of a burning city haunt Helen of Sparta, and when Menelaus of Mycenae -- the man everyone thinks she should marry -- seems determined to bring her dreams to life, Helen turns to King Theseus of Athens, for help in averting them, even if she must trade her body, her beauty, and her life in exchange.

    First 250 words:

    I gasped for breath, but my head was already beneath the water again, hard fingers digging into the back of my neck, holding me down. Blue tile and dancing fish swam through my vision. I tried to force my body to relax and willed myself not to struggle while my lungs burned for new air. My scalp stung. It must have been bleeding.

    “How could you, Helen?” Leda said, pulling my head back up.

    The ochre and walnut dye from my hair stained the water a muddy brown. I stared at it, gripping the edge of the raised tub to support myself while I caught my breath in great gasping heaves. I was shaking all over.

    “Do you not realize how this affects us all? Your beauty will secure you the finest marriage, and secure Sparta the finest king!” Leda attacked my scalp and hair with more sand and lemon juice.

    Secretly, I wished the lemon juice would set the dye, but from the color of the water, I was beginning to lose hope. The servants would be scouring brown dye off the tiles for days. If they scratched the finish, Leda would never forgive me.

    “And just when your father is returning home with Menelaus!”

    “I don’t want to be beautiful,” I said. “I don’t want any of this.”

    “You are a princess of Sparta, Helen, and you will behave as one.” She shoved my head back down into the water.

  21. Name: Regina Castillo
    Title: Stand and Fight
    Genre: YA fantasy
    Word Count: 60,730


    As Maria and Joaquin navigate down the blurry road of fantasy and reality in a small Texas town, a battle begins brewing, a battle for justice, family, and love.

    First Page:

    Beep! Beep! Beep! BREAKING NEWS! (The song on the radio was cut short by a news caster.) A man is on the run after fatally shooting a prominent business man in Copperas Cove. The suspect is in his mid- to- late thirties, tall, medium build, with sandy colored hair. The details on the victim cannot be released at this time because the family has not been notified. Now, we will continue with regular broadcasting.
    It gave me a chill that literally ran from my head to my toes. Almost every detail of that day sticks in my mind. It was a brisk December afternoon so; I had the top on my jeep. I was one of the lucky kids; my parents had given me a jeep for my birthday. I was so surprised. I was a sophomore but, my birthday was in October, so I could drive. I did’t have to take the bus all the way from Cove to Temple. This was actually the first day I had gotten to drive. My parents didn’t want me driving that far until they felt comfortable, they are a bit protective. I was able to talk my parents into letting me drive the last day before break instead of waiting until we came back from break.
    I tried to let the news leave my mind but, for some reason the words returned to my thoughts. Do you ever get that eerie feeling that something is about to happen?


  22. Thanks for doing this! :)

    Name: Jessica Leake
    Title: Hunter & Hunted
    Genre: YA Paranormal Romance
    Word Count: 74,000

    One-sentence pitch: Ciera Fulbright, an inexperienced Huntress, has never really felt like she belonged in the supernatural world until she meets the handsome and mysterious Altair de la Rosa; he teaches her to embrace who she is, even if it means being hunted by her own parents.

    First 250 words:

    I hated hunting. Especially with my parents, who looked forward to each outing with disturbing anticipation.

    I only wished I was talking about hunting animals.

    Ireland was the one place where there were more supernatural creatures than humans. Today, we got the lucky job of tracking two merrows who had lured a few too many humans into the sea. Merrows were the Irish version of sea people, or mermaids, but these two had gone completely Feral.

    Usually I loved being anywhere near the ocean, but this definitely wasn’t the place to go for a casual swim. Craggy limestone rocks scraped against the thin t-shirt on my back as spray from the ocean rained down over me. The smell of sea and salt was so strong, my eyes burned with it. Huge walls of rock were against my back, dark and shiny from the water. The Atlantic was to my left, great swells of white-capped waves crashed repeatedly, so loud it was difficult to hear anything else. The shore stretched out in front of me, the sand pale but rocky.

    I told myself I chose the spot because it was a good vantage point, but the truth was I was hiding. Another wave crashed as I shifted my attention back to the tense scene before me.

    My parents, suited up in their leather battle gear, stalked toward their prey. My mother’s katana, with its long, curved blade, glinted in the sun. My father’s claymore was still sheathed across his back. As I crouched in relative safety with sour fear eating at my stomach, my father didn’t feel the need to even have his sword at the ready. I tightened my grip on my own weapon, a simple silver dagger.

  23. Name- Melissa Armstrong
    Title- Evergreen
    Genre- Urban Fantasy (Series)
    Word count- 100, 000

    Pitch- When Rain Harper falls for the arcane boy who collects dead animals, his powers don't just bind them together in love, they're slowly draining the life from her.

    First 250 words-

    Saying goodbye is never easy. It wounds the soul and sickens the heart. You find yourself missing the person before you part from them, before the words of farewell slip from your lips. There’s no way to escape from the inevitable longing and aching you will feel for that person. Sometimes saying goodbye is only the beginning. It marks the commencement of what lies ahead - A future, a path that leads through the deepest, darkest valleys and the highest, most glorious peaks. For some of us it is a moment that defines everything. Who you’ll become, what will change and how things may never be the same again.

    I never expected I would have to say goodbye so often. As I stared horrified, at my hands stained by his blood, I deemed this would be the last time. But in the course of all things, good and bad, they come to an end.

    Chapter 1

    I leaned my back against the blue 67 Camaro, with arms folded. I chewed my lip out of habit, like I always did when I was a little anxious. I looked at Josh, fiddling with his keys awkwardly. Head down, his light brown hair ruffled in the breeze.

    “So I guess that’s it then” he said, searching me with his brown eyes. “We have no choice but to break up now.”

    I took a sharp but silent intake of breath. “Josh, don’t say that.”

    “I’m being realistic,” he said pragmatically.

  24. Thank you so much, Monica and Ms. Motter, for the opportunity!

    Name: Leigh Ann
    Genre: YA Science Fiction
    Word Count: 81,000
    Email: leighannkopans (at)

    Nik forced her eyes to open and flexed her jaw against the rough carpet fibers of her bedroom floor, wincing when it popped.

    Ten years since her father died, and ten years since she’d been having these episodes, or visions, or whatever they were. Sometimes once in a month, sometimes twice a week.

    They all had three things in common. They only happened at night. They wracked her body with piercing, all-consuming pain. And in them, she saw the boy with the blue eyes. Every single time.

    She always felt his presence an instant before she saw him. A thrill ran through her, followed by a delicious warmth. No matter how terrifying the vision, when she met his gaze, she felt calm, confident, strong.

    Too bad she’d never seen him in real life. In the end, he twisted, confused and distorted, together with the asphalt or dancing candlelight or sounds of police sirens, into the same thing.

    Pain, stabbing at her skin from the inside and invading every inch of her body, so intense that nothing else mattered.

    Nik dragged her still-pounding head from the floor and glared at the useless pile of medical textbooks that sat on her desk, mocking her cluelessness. For years, she’d been trying to figure this out. Her blood pressure and sugar tested fine. No anemia. Three separate EKGs had shown her perfectly functioning heart.

    Narcolepsy could strike at any time of day, but didn’t cause pain. Epileptic seizures could be painful, but they happened any time, too. Besides, the MRI had come up with nothing.

  25. Alice Beesley
    Kala of the Kongo
    YA multi-cultural fantasy
    90,000 words

    KALA OF THE KONGO is an African Snow White story that follows Princess Kala across golden savannas, through steamy jungles, and up a high mountain as she flees death, develops her own magical powers, falls in love, and fights to save her kingdom from destruction at the hand of her stepmother.

    A cheetah crouched in the long, yellow grass only a few paces away, ears flattened, a growl rumbling in its throat. My feet felt as if they were baked into hardened clay. As always, I, Princess Kala, heir to the High Kongo throne, had dug myself into deep dung.
    Steady now, I thought, drawing back my bowstring and aiming at the cheetah’s chest. My palms felt sticky under the sweltering sun that sapped the moisture from the cracked, red earth. Though my hands trembled with trepidation, I hesitated to shoot the imposing creature I’d accidentally run into while hunting savannah rats. I could make out flecks of white in the animal’s tan coat, see its ribs expand and contract, and sense the life force radiating from its sleek body.
    I stared into the glowing red eyes and saw myself standing before the cheetah the way I could see my reflection in water. My coal-colored skin glistened, and the strong odor of salty sweat mixed with perfume from oils rubbed on my body hit me. I felt the cheetah’s powerful legs tense to spring, and yet, I knew it didn’t want to kill me anymore than I wanted to kill it. This creature of the wild feared my arrow as much as I did its bite, though it feared not for its own life. Overriding the impulse to run, a stronger protective instinct trapped the animal.
    The bushes beside the cheetah cracked and shook, and out jumped a cheetah cub.

  26. My apologies for the reposts!

    -Name: Jackie Felger
    -Title: Breathe For Me
    -Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
    -Word-count: 80,000
    -One-sentence pitch: Seventeen-year-old Hadley Blake is sentenced to a detention center where teens have powers and are forced to fight in cage matches, but Hadley’s allergic reaction to following orders could end her life.

    -First page
    “Next time, warn a girl before you show her a corpse.” I buried my nose in the sleeve of my hospital gown, but it did little to mask the stench.

    “He isn’t dead, Hadley.” Dr. Ramsey pushed down on the bed railing, causing a loud clank to bounce off the walls.

    I jumped.

    The body didn’t.

    Not dead, my ass. If that noise didn’t wake him, nothing will.

    I inched closer to the bed. Scarlet puddles seeped through the sheet at one end. Ten toes poked out at the other.

    Dr. Ramsey tugged on the fabric, revealing a guy who could’ve served as an extra in a horror flick. A deep gash on his forehead oozed blood and several wounds covered the rest of his face and head, making it look like he’d been used as a piñata.

    The smell of rancid meat grew stronger. I gripped the bed sheets to anchor myself. “What happened to him?”

    “That’s not your concern,” Dr. Ramsey said, ignoring my freak-out fest. “Your focus should be on healing him. In your mind, command him to heal. Now.”

    He slipped his hand inside the pocket of his white lab coat and produced a silver remote. Crap. That’s how I’d been treated back at Corvus Detention Center. Failure to do as I was told had earned me a nudge by way of a taser-gun. Guaranteed to make a girl piss herself.

    email: jackiefelger(at)gmail(dot)com

  27. Name: Ruth
    Title: Write Your Name
    Genre: YA contemporary
    Word count: 60,000

    One sentence pitch:

    A girl must choose between the self-made delusional world where her brother still exists and a guilt-riddled reality with the boy she loves.

    First 250 words:

    ‘What would you do if you ever saw another human being?’ I asked Caleb.

    He didn’t miss a beat. ‘I’d follow the rules. I’d watch them.’

    I shifted the weight of my crossbow on my shoulder. ‘Right. Extremely important not to engage with the enemy. No telling what might happen.’ I pressed my lips into a line so as not to laugh.

    Only Caleb’s eyes and mouth moved. ‘If it wasn’t your birthday, I swear to God this bow would be pointing at you right now.’

    ‘Then we’d never bag a deer, and you’d ruin my sweet sixteenth.’

    ‘If you don’t shut it and concentrate, we won’t anyway.’

    I settled into a crouch and swept my gaze across the rooftops below us. My crossbow rested on the twisted tendrils of a vine that had forced its way through the red brick of the spire we sat inside. Above my head the roof of the tower crumbled, dissected by a tangle of flora.

    Caleb’s breath puffed miniature clouds in my peripheral vision as sunrise cast yellow light on the dense foliage cascading over the scene below. Trees had burst through the old concrete of Market Street, saplings that seemed to pulse and flourish by the day. I followed the sun’s progress, marking shadows as they crept like passive ninja across Stourbridge Town.

    Caleb’s bow inched to the left. My eyes flitted along his line of sight. A young deer picked its way down the High Street. If it reached the clock tower it would be out of view. Caleb waited. Caleb always waited.

    email: ruthstvn at yahoo dot co dot uk

  28. Rena Ford


    Genre: Urban Fantasy

    Word-count: 63,000

    Pitch: When Steve—a half unicorn living as a human—is kidnapped, it’s up to Allyson, a half dragon, and her half-troll best friend to stop the kidnappers, but the kidnappers work for Allyson’s long lost father.

    First 250 words:

    I know it’s weird, but I like math. See, math doesn’t change. It doesn’t move every six months. If you divide an eight by a two, you get a four. I bet no one ever asked a one to dress a little nicer so she could fit in with the twos. Threes aren’t jealous of fours, and I doubt a five ever had to worry about which shade of foundation could hide her zits.

    As for six, well, we’re not exactly on speaking terms right now. Six zits sat in a line across my cheeks like war paint. Most people get zits when they’re eleven or twelve. I came into my acne at eight. Now I’m sixteen, and I’m still an A cup. Life really isn’t fair.

    I sighed and hopped into the shower, pulling my sleek black hair away from my face. Everyone loves my hair but me. It’s long, thick, and until I lived in the desert, constantly wet. I swear the individual strands could be used for cables. Not like my mother’s hair. Her hair is a shock of fire capping off her Irish green eyes. I look like a reject from a geisha convention. Well, except the eyes, I have my mother’s eyes.

    I shut off the water and climbed out of the shower, wrapping a towel around myself. The mirror had steamed over, but I didn’t need it. A face like mine doesn’t see the light of day without enough pancake to open a waffle house.

    Email: RenaLFord(at)

  29. Name: Ashley Maker
    Title: Under the Trees
    Genre: YA Historical Fantasy Romance
    Word Count: 46,000

    Pitch: A damaged princess and an impulsive prince find refuge in a sheltered forest, but falling in love isn't easy when one of them is a fugitive.

    First 250 Words: I clung to the saddle as Major tore down the moonlit path. My muscles burned and sweat dripped into my eyes, but I could not let my horse slow down. The heaving sound of his labored breathing tore at my heart, stinging like the scrapes and welts that covered my arms from crashing through bramble. A monstrous fallen log loomed before us, and I ducked low on Major’s neck, extending the reins forward. With a grunt, he launched us into the air.

    For the barest of moments, time hung suspended, leaving only the soaring.

    Then his hooves slammed back down. He stumbled on the landing, nearly throwing me out of the saddle. Disregarding the stirrup that now dangled uselessly beside my left foot, I struggled to regain my balance and pushed him back into a gallop. We could not stop. I closed my legs around Major’s sides and clutched handfuls of his black mane when we rounded a bend in the trail.

    The path opened up before us, and I let out the reins, urging him on as we followed the river that snaked through the Golden Woods. The moon’s glow turned the glassy water silver, and I knew the liquid ribbon wound its way to the kingdom of Braythel. If I could make it there, I might have a chance. I had to get there.

    Searching the trees in front of me, I looked for some sign this path would end, that it would take me someplace safe where armed guards could not find me.


  30. Name: Bri Knickerbocker
    Title: Species of Sin
    Genre: Young adult paranormal romance
    Word count: 60,000 words

    One-sentence pitch:

    Auze’s boyfriend turns her into an emotional vampire, then a blood vampire holds her hostage and swallows her soul; she’ll stop at nothing to get her soul back and be the human neither of them want her to be.

    first page (250 words):

    How could Eaden take her virginity, then her soul?

    “October 1, 3001. Technically, I’m not dead, but …. Eaden’s explained it to me ten times by now, but a part of me doesn’t want to hear it—that I am now tied to my butterfly brooch, my soul is locked away in it…yeah right, and vampires aren’t real.” She scoffed. “He won’t take me to a doctor or feed me—he says I don’t need those things. Three nights ago, that’s when I blacked out and turned. When I realized what had happened, I told him he could make me a vampire but I would never drink blood. Never. And then he said I don’t need that either.”
    She brushed her cool fingertips over her unharmed neck. “So, vampires aren’t real. But emotional vampires are; that’s what I am now. Every day I do not fall in love and make a human fall in love with me, is a day I die a little faster.”

    She stopped her pen, hearing a throat clear.


    “Don’t call me that,” she said.


    The stiff chilled air bit at her bare skin as the sheets flew off her.

    “What do you want?” She grabbed the sheets and pulled them back up to her chest, staring at his perfect brown wavy hair, perfect shave, perfectly pressed jeans and new grey wool coat. Who was this guy trying to convince that he had it all together?

  31. Another great contest, Monica, thanks for doing this! I'm not entering this one, but will be shamelessly lurking to see what catches Vickie's eye.

  32. This comment has been removed by the author.

  33. Thanks so much for this contest!

    Marquita Hockaday
    Title: The Blues
    Genre: YA Contemporary Mystery
    Word-count: 60,000

    Pitch: Blake uncovers a secret high school drug scene when his pill pushing best friend turns up dead.

    First Page:

    Thursday Morning 6:45 AM

    Henry Knight was found bludgeoned to death early this morning.

    I’m pretty sure I was whacking off to one of those phone sex commercials at the same moment that someone bashed Henry’s head in. The worst part about all of this…worst than his parents losing their kid, is the fact that Henry won’t be around to get high with. He was a good smoking partner. Sometimes, we would light up and try to name all of the members of the Avengers, or the order of the people kicked off of that karaoke singing competition on TV. We weren’t best friends or anything, but damn…he was pretty cool. When I picked Kyle up for school this morning, he was upset about Henry, too. But for different reasons.

    I look to my left and catch my best friend, Kyle Ingram, in mid transaction. Kyle slides a small baggie of pills inside of his history binder and pushes the binder to the brunette sitting next to him. The brunette takes the binder, removes the baggie and puts a twenty dollar bill in the pocket before sending it back Kyle’s way. Kyle is Robert E. Lee High School’s sole drug dealer. He makes tons of money, too. I’d join in the business if Ma wasn’t a cop. A mall cop, but a cop still. The drug deal was made so quick that if I blinked, I might have missed it. Just like our AP world history teacher, Mr. Kim, did.

  34. Christina GullicksonAugust 22, 2011 at 2:52 PM

    Fun contest!

    My Name: Christina Gullickson

    Title of your book: Demon Rising

    Genre: Fantasy

    Word-count of your manuscript: 90,000

    The one-sentence pitch: Seventeen-year-old Neva Roberts gets more than she bargained for when she steals a magical item and it breaks the binding spell that has kept her demon powers at bay since birth.

    My first page (250 words):
    The instant Neva realized someone was in the suite with her, she froze, remaining crouched over the warded chest for a moment before silently sliding away. The noble’s tower quarters had been empty when she climbed through the window, and no one was expected to return until morning. Whoever this intruder was, she suspected he had ill intent — not that her own objective was virtuous.
    Neva frowned in the darkness and backed against the study’s wall near the door. She calmed her breathing and called on her favorite glamour, willing herself not to be seen. The telltale sting of invisibility washed over her. The illusion was well worth the gold she’d paid, and the pain of having it stitched into her skin, but she felt as though she’d rolled in poison ivy each time she invoked it. She had to avoid scratching even as the sensation faded.
    The moment she disappeared from sight, a man in black britches and a matching tunic and belt strode into the study. He inspected his surroundings, proceeding in a slow turn around the room so his soft-shoed feet whispered on the floorboards.
    He didn’t carry even as much as a candle, but Neva’s sight allowed her to see the expression on his clean-shaven face was one of intense concentration. His short blond hair was almost as light as her own, and his hazel eyes were probing. His nose was bent because of more than one poorly healed break.

    My email: christinahlg (at)

  35. Title : Spring Tide

    Genre : YA Paranormal

    Word Count : 62000

    Author : Sheritha Singh

    Pitch: All sixteen year old Sarah Parker has to do is attend a party Friday night and pretend she's having fun. Instead she bumps into her long time crush, Marcus David, saves the party's hostess from bleeding to death, destroys a faceless Dark demon, ruins the party and ends up in hospital.

    First 250 words:

    The Indian Ocean ground to a halt before sucking its waters back and spewing another violent onslaught on the unsuspecting golden shores.  There was nothing sparkly about the majestic swell of the annual spring tide. 
    I had a few seconds to back my ass off the Indian Ocean’s turf.  Untamed waves powered closer to my favorite spot in a decayed parking lot. Not that this parking lot would exist after the annual spring tide had ploughed through it.
    I stared at the ocean, breathing in her magnificent, brine odor and awed by her phenomenal strength.  She’d sweep me away if I didn’t get off her ground.  I wanted to stay here just a few seconds longer…the endless stretch of deep blue ocean held me captive.  Crumpled blankets of waves collapsed backward before heading inland in a massive wave.  And out of nowhere three crazy boys rode the crest, whooping in the sheer thrill of riding the deadly monster.
    No way.  I’m going crazy.   Nobody in his or her right mind would surf a spring tide.  They disappeared beneath a brutal mix of surf, sand and water before resurfacing to conquer another impossible wave. I struggled to make out the figures playing crazy games with their lives.  They were too far away for me to recognize them. 

  36. -Suzi McGowen
    -Urban Fantasy
    -A lonely troll hopes to prove that if you scratch a monster, you might find a hero.
    -Blogged about the contest here:

    "Bye baby bunting
    Daddy's gone a-hunting
    To catch a little rabbit skin
    To wrap my baby bunting in"

    The monster hummed the song to herself as she crept into the not-child's room from the shadows of the closet. For weeks, the then-child had been begging her parents for a nightlight. Once, that would have worked, but not anymore. The monster crouched down by the bed and watched the not-child sleep. The not-child had lost her first tooth three days ago. The monster had waited for the pact to be kept, but no one came.

    The monster extended one claw, reached out, and oh so gently left a tiny scratch on the not-child's arm. "Forget", she whispered to the not-child.

    Tomorrow, her parents might not notice the change in their daughter. If they were "practical" people, they might be delighted to find that she was more like them. Neat, tidy, sensible, and above all, did not believe in fairies.


    I was itching for the sun to set. The librarian was helping a little girl get her first library card, so she never gave me a second glance while I paced by the front door. As soon as the sun was safely down, I headed out for my nightly cuppa tea. The sky was just dark enough to see a shooting star cross the sky, and I crossed my fingers to make a wish before thinking. It was a kid thing and I was too old for that now. How many times had I wished for friends?

  37. Name: Kate Larkindale
    Title: Chasing the Taillights
    Genre: YA Contemporary
    Word Count: 87K
    email: katelarkindale(at)gmail(dot)com

    Pitch: If Lucy doesn’t confess her secret about the accident that killed her parents, she might lose her mind – if she does, she may lose the only person left who loves her.

    First 250: The darkness is absolute. I’m not sure if my eyes are open or closed. I strain to push the lids up, but they’re already wide. Something covers my mouth and nose, making breathing difficult. My lungs burn for air, but I can only suck in tiny mouthfuls through whatever smothers my face.

    I turn my head, crying out as a savage bolt of pain shoots through it. Teetering on the edge of consciousness, wavy grey lines waft across the blank space before my eyes. I struggle to keep my wits about me - what’s left of them - fighting the darkness threatening to drown me. Certain now I won’t pass out, I gasp for breath. There’s nothing covering my face. It was the ground my nose and mouth were pressed into.

    The ground? Wet. Greasy. Reeking of something that reminds me of… gas? Reaching out my left hand, I try to find something to hold onto. My fingers scrabble over small objects, pebbles perhaps, that skitter away beneath my touch. I reach further, wrapping my fist around them. Pain prickles my fingertips. Not pebbles. Glass. Small, sharp shards of glass.

    Using my torn hand, I drag myself forward, an inch, maybe two. I can’t move my legs, can’t even feel them. Raising my head, I see light. Not a lot of light, but light. Red light, bright at one end, dull at the other. I know what this is. I do.

  38. Your Name: Tamara Hart Heiner

    -Title of your book: Shadows Keep

    -Genre: YA post-apocalyptic

    -Word-count of your manuscript: 63,000

    -The one-sentence pitch: In a frozen, dying world, seventeen-year-old David knows he must make the dangerous journey west to save his and his sister’s lives.

    - Your first page (250 words). No more than 250, and please don’t stop mid sentence.:

    Day 1

    David dropped the pickax in the quartz pit and yanked his torn glove off. A jagged rock stuck out of his palm, bright red blood weaving a path down his chalk-covered hand. He gritted his teeth and pried the sharp stone from his hand.


    David glanced at Jed and scowled. "Got a cut."

    Jed stepped over. A scarf covered most of his face, leaving only a small opening for his eyes. Tufts of dark brown hair peeked out from beneath it to curl around Jed's shoulders.

    David wished he had a scarf. The microscopic dust particles in the air filled his lungs with every breath. Just thinking of them made him want to cough.

    "Spit on it and wipe it off." Jed's dark blue eyes met David's. "No cleaner?"

    "Right." David rolled his eyes. Of course he didn't have any. Any disinfectant left over from the plagues was kept at the sick house, and he'd have to be dying to step foot in there.

    Jed hefted his own pickax and moved away, getting back to work in the quarry. "Don't let it get infected."

    David was not about to let that happen. "We have some water left. And I've got my iron."

    Jed coughed and nodded. He raised his hand and shouted, "Cart!"

    David cursed himself for worrying about his hand when he should be working. He had to finish this second block of quartz if he wanted to make quota for the day.

    email: tamara at byu dot net

  39. -Author: K. Trap Jones

    -Title: The Sinner

    -Genre: Dark Fantasy

    -70,000 words written in Classical Narrative Format

    -The one-sentence pitch:

    A lone farmer, chosen by God to test the boundaries of sin, is isolated in a darkened cave accompanied by a burden to awaken each day within predetermined encounters involving the seven deadly sins and their associated demons.

    -First page (250 words)

    As I lay dying in my own blood
    Waiting for death to greet me,
    The punishment has ceased, but my wounds
    Serve as remembrance of the turmoil
    I have endured.

    My life’s liquid displays like art
    Against the dirt grimed floor
    With small rivers of blood
    Twisting into the black.
    It quickly flows from me
    As if it is disgusted with my shattered body
    And no longer desires me as its owner.
    Each drip adds to the red current
    And carries me closer to my demise.

    Fear of the unknown unites me with this quill.
    I do not know why I have been chosen,
    But this darkened cave
    Filled with shadows is now my home.
    My fingers are blistered from dragging them
    In the darkness across the rocky walls
    Searching for a path leading outward.
    My eyes no longer shed tears and
    Have become as dry as the dust consumed air.
    My aches from being huddled in this pit
    Reflect the length of my stay here.
    The dryness has murdered any moisture within my mouth.
    My tongue fails to provide my cracked lips with any such relief.

    I am deathly alone with my mind and
    He offers no care for my well being or mental state.
    He is against me now; an enemy to my livelihood.
    He portrays evilness in the forms of unexplainable sounds
    And mysterious movements that lurk within the shadows.
    All of which does not assist me with maintaining my sanity.


  40. Sarah Belliston
    YA Fantasy
    86,000 words
    Title: The Nightmare

    Saying no to an invitation to a creepy theme park seems obvious for Morgan, but after her mother is kidnapped, Morgan and her brother are on a boat to an island where the rules change, the monsters are real, and one mistake could mean the end of everything.

    First Words:

    “I looked up the definition of nightmare last night,” Owen says as he flips back his black hair and spits on the top of our wall of snow.

    I recoil from the clump I was adding. “Is that necessary?”

    “Yes.” He uses his bare hands to smooth the wet snow. The freezing temperatures make it ice. “It makes the wall stronger. But you aren’t listening. I looked—”

    “I heard. I’ll tell Mom you were in the dictionary, she’ll be thrilled.” I’m not completely sarcastic; she really will be.

    “I’m serious,” he says. He’s making a neat line of ammunition; his gloves forgotten. “There was the normal ‘a dream that scares you’ but there was something else, what nightmare used to mean. People used to think a nightmare was an evil monster.”

    I snort a laugh. “Monster?”

    “Why else would it be all night, every night? I think aliens abducted you on your birthday and did tests. They don’t see many six foot tall albino girls with blue eyes and a literal ton of white hair, not on our world at least.”

    “First of all,” I stand up straight, “I’m five foot eleven with fair skin and hair; you try getting a tan in winter in the middle of Lake Erie. And I like my long hair; and when did we switch from monsters to ali—Ow!” A snowball explodes against my head and I crash into our wall. I hear Coach’s whistle a second later.

    “Game on!” he yells.

  41. Thank you so much for the contest.

    Name: Kimberly Afe
    Title: HyperVision
    Genre: Dystopian
    WC: 61,000
    Pitch: Fifteen-year-old Brin Woodson is the only resident that sees how corrupt the officers in her city really are – that’s because in the year 2072, the police are invisible.

    First 250:

    Like the other girls in the dressing room, my life changes today one way or another. For better or worse as they say. In my case, better would be following in my father’s footsteps as an apprentice in the medical profession. Worse would be the council selecting me to attend their killer academy, where their disciples learn how to form laws that terminate our society’s residents.

    “We require extra clips. Does anyone have extra clips?” I hear one girl’s housebot say.

    I had Netty do my hair before I came and even though she’s a perfectionist with my chignon, she always sends me everywhere with extra clips. “I do.” I fetch a couple from my bag and wave them in the air.

    The housebot’s owner, who introduced herself earlier to me as Aliss, runs over half-naked with her base-suit only zipped to her waist, the arms hanging freakishly down her sides, and her breasts bouncing practically up in my face. I step back, smile and hand over the clips. “I owe you,” she says.

    I’m nodding like I really believe she’ll repay me in some special way when the door slides open and another Petitioner walks in. I gasp under my breath, not because she’s one minute shy of being late, but on account of the ghost that followed her in.

    While Aliss bounces back to her housebot unaware, I hold my breath and tell myself to remain calm.

    Too late.

    email: kimberlyafe @ comcast. net
    Again, thank you so much. P.S. For some reason I wasn't able to post using my blog account.

  42. -Your Name: Caitlin Swift
    -Title of your book: CRACKED
    -Genre: YA Urban Fantasy
    -Word-count of your manuscript: 64,000
    -The one-sentence pitch:

    Charmingly wicked half-demon Meda is forced to hide from hell's army in a school for demon-hunters--who mistakenly believe she's a saint.

    - Your first page (250 words):

    There are some people you know you shouldn’t make angry because it isn’t right. Like your mum--if she’s the nice sort.

    There are other people you know you shouldn’t make angry because they have the authority to punish you. Police officers, politicians, insane asylum wardens, your mum--if she’s the bad sort.

    But there are some people you shouldn’t make angry that you don’t know about, because no one ever survived to warn you.

    I’m the third kind.

    I eat souls. The packaging can be tricky, but fortunately I am blessed with special skills to pry my meals from their pesky shells. My teeth rip skin, my jaws snap bones. I am fast, lightning-fast, snuff—oh-was-that-your-life? fast. I try to stick to bad souls, in the memory of my own mom (the nice sort). There were other reasons, reasons I used to understand, but they are reasons for a good person. I am not that.

    That might be why I feel so at home here.

    Small rooms, thick walls. Hushed whispers and ear-grating wails. A symphony of misery set to the beat of beatings. An insane asylum, prison of the cracked and grey.

    Cracked windows, cracked walls, cracked minds. Don’t make them angry or there will be cracked skulls!

    Grey stone walls, grey stone floors. Once-white nightgowns now grey. The skin of the inmates. Grey. The metal-framed bed. The bedding. Grey, grey, grey. The bars on the window…Black. Imagery ruined. Correction—Prison of the cracked, grey and black.

    Email: Caitlinvail(at)gmail(dot)com

  43. Name: Lisa Aldin
    Book Title: SLUMBER
    Genre: YA Thriller
    Word Count: 54,000 words

    A depressed teenager agrees to switch places with the version of herself who inhabits the dream world, but when she discovers her replacement is a cold-hearted murderer, she must find a way back to reality to save those she loves.

    First 250 words:

    "What do you want to talk about today, Kate?"

    Every session, Dr. Gray starts with this question, but we both know it doesn't matter what I want to talk about. She's driving this therapy train and I'm just a passenger along for the ride.

    I shift in the chair that’s the color of pink vomit and glance at the notes scrawled on my arm. Hungover, I can’t pretend to pay attention.

    "We can talk about this being my last year of high school," I say, assuming this a relatively harmless topic.

    Dr. Gray nods. "How are you feeling about that?"

    "I guess how every other senior feels."

    "And how's that?"

    I answer with a lie, stifling a yawn. “Um. Nervous?’

    I haven’t slept in seventy-six days, or maybe it’s been eighty. The number on my wrist written in faded black marker says seventy-six, but as I look at the black digits again, I think I lost track somewhere. According to Dr. Gray, after a certain amount of time, insomnia will start to erode my organs. Without a cure, vital parts of me will switch off, one-by-one, like carnival lights at the end of a season. I don’t know how much time I have.

    Hot milk. Counting sheep. Heat pads. Sleeping pills. All failed cures.


  44. Name: Iris St. Clair

    Title: Louder Than Words

    Genre: Contemporary

    Word Count: 87,000 words

    Ellen Grayson’s trust has taken a beating from her drug-addicted mother, a favorite teacher who’s offered tutoring of an adult nature, and a charming new boy who can’t decide if he wants to be her friend or her boyfriend.

    First Page:
    I hadn't meant to say a word, hadn’t meant to talk about my whacked out home life—that was nobody’s business but mine—but he was Mr. H. He said he wanted me to open up to him. I didn’t realize he meant my legs. Bastard.

    He said he understood my unique "situation", said he wanted to help. Everybody loves Mr. H, the most popular teacher in school. He listens when kids talk to him. He nods and asks gentle questions, never pushes, never judges. Why wouldn't I have trusted him?

    Maybe it was my fault. Maybe I looked at him the wrong way, said something more suggestive than I'd intended.

    Why was I so stupid? I didn't pull away...not soon enough. So that had to be my fault, didn't it?

    I can't believe he kissed me. Why'd I let him? I should have dodged him when I first saw him moving closer. I should have pulled away, shouldn't have let it go on as long as it did.

    But I didn't want to be rude in case I'd misunderstood. Was that my fault?

    Of course it was! What was there to misunderstand? Someone puts their lips on yours, it's not because they fell there and gravity prevented a quick peeling off and retreat.

    No. He kissed me. I didn't kiss him. It was his fault.

    But how was I so naive I didn't see it coming? Pathetic, thy name is Ellen.

  45. My Name: Dustin


    Genre: YA Paranormal

    Word-Count: 65,000

    One-Sentence Pitch:
    George, a teen reality TV star, is the police’s only suspect when his vampire roommate gets a stake through her heart.

    First Page:

    “Can someone get rid of the flies? They’re ruining my shot,” a cameraman said.

    “It’s Brain-Breath’s fault. They follow him like pets,” Annabelle said. She flashed a spiteful smile at me.

    “Don’t call me that,” I said, frowning.

    “What would you prefer? Rotting Flesh? The Walking Corpse?” Annabelle’s smile widened to reveal her fangs.

    “You’re one to talk, Blood Sucker,” I said.

    “Oh, how clever! I’ve never heard that before. It must’ve taken you all week to come up with something so creative.”

    Annabelle’s hand shot out, quick as lightning, and closed around one of the flies. She squeezed and then opened her hand. The lifeless bug dropped to the ground.

    “Was that your best friend? I’m so sorry you didn’t get a chance to say goodbye.” She only needed a few seconds to dispose of the rest of the flies circling me.

    I opened my mouth, but nothing came out. I couldn’t come up with a decent response.

    Wicked delight flashed in Annabelle’s eyes. She knew she’d won this round, not that she ever came close to losing a verbal spat with me. She was quick-witted, even for a vampire. A zombie like me had no chance of matching her repartee for repartee.

    “Tell me you’re getting all this,” Scott, the shoot director, whispered to one of the cameramen.

    “Oh yeah,” the man said from behind his camera.

    I grimaced. Next week’s episode of “Unlives of the Undead” would feature yet another scene where Annabelle embarrassed me.

    My Email: duwarrs @

  46. Name: Monica Zepeda
    Genre: YA Contemporary
    Word Count: 57K
    Pitch: After her journalism teacher dies, Keely gets censored for her article on the school paper closing and organizes a free speech protest.

    250 Words:
    Ariel Bailey is a lying bitch.

    I flip through my notes from the interviews I did on the sly during second and third period. I’ve tracked the source of the rumor about my best friend Taylor to Ariel.

    We’re seniors, for crap’s sake. What’s with the middle school drama? Why would Ariel start a stupid rumor about --

    “Keely, I’ve got a job for you.” Mr. Stokes’ gravelly voice startles me. I hide my notebook and pretend I’m working on the sports page layout.

    “I need an article on how sleep deprivation affects teens,” he says. “Three hundred words.”

    “Isn’t Molly supposed to do that?” I glance over at Molly, the newspaper’s editor, who chews on a few strands of her butterscotch blonde hair as she reads an article. I really want to get back to figuring out what to do about that rumor whore Ariel Bailey.

    “Molly asked to have it reassigned,” explains Mr. Stokes. “She’s prepping for Quiz Bowl regionals and she’s a little overwhelmed right now.”

    I don’t mean to, but I roll my eyes. Mr. Stokes nods his head in sympathy, his Einstein-like mop of hair bobbing up and down.

    “I know, I know,” he says. “This isn’t your normal thing. But it’s good to stretch yourself. Remember what Emerson said, ‘Always do what you are afraid to do.’”

    Mr. Stokes loves using that quote, as though that’s a good enough reason for doing something you don’t want to do.

    Email: libwriter (at)

  47. Name: A.J. Mullarky

    Title: Dei

    Genre: YA Fantasy

    Word Count: 59,000

    One-Sentence Pitch: The children of the gods are being hunted down and killed, one by one.

    First 250: Even in the dark, the tower dominated the city. No light nor life flickered around its base; for miles in every direction it was dark as a dead world. Above, in the skies, it blotted out the stars. A sight to bring anyone to a standstill.
    “Do you ever wonder what it would have been like?” asked Nina, appearing beside me with a jug of wine in her arms identical to that which I carried. “If it had been completed. If it had really broken into the vault of heaven as it was supposed to.”
    When I didn’t respond, she went on. “We would have lived like gods. If they hadn’t put a stop to it ... I like to imagine it.” She paused. “Is that what you were thinking about?”
    I looked at her askance, then shook my head. “Not exactly.”
    She continued with patience. “The Fury must have been something to witness, huh?”
    I smiled and nodded.
    “How terrifying – to be on the ground, seeing people thrown to their deaths, the gods in the skies, the storms, the floods, the ground shaking –”
    “They need the wine inside, girls!” called a figure from the temple doorway, cutting Nina off mid-flow. I turned on the steps, shifting the weight of the wine-jug on my hip.
    “Actually,” I said, “I was imagining what it must have been like to be a god that day.”


  48. Name - Rubianna Masa
    Title - Lightning Streaks
    Genre - YA Fantasy
    Word-count - 74,000
    Email -

    Pitch -
    Kyra's abilities awaken and lightning streaks towards her ‘bolting’ her through time and space to distant planets within shafts of energy, and she struggles for control of her gifts before she’s ripped apart.

    First 250 Words

    I tiptoed up the spiral staircase through darkness. My plan, crazy. Breaking curfew, insane. This wasn’t me. I’d never broken a rule at boarding school in my life. But the whispering stone from the forbidden library, beckoned me, again.

    My hands gripped the wrought iron banister. Please don’t let me get caught. Lightning sliced the sky, illumining the stairs through the cathedral-style windows. I faltered, anyone could see me as clear as day. I loved watching lightning dance, but tonight was different. It complicated everything.

    A crash below ricocheted off the stone walls. But which corridor did the sound come from? A shadow flitted below and footsteps approached. Panic gripped me. Hide. The stairs loomed above me, too high to make it. I dropped down, and the stairs cut into my ribs through my worn gown.

    I peeked through the railing and froze. The outline of a thin watchman approached. He stopped and lifted a paraffin lantern, squinting through the darkness and searching the stairs. His gaze flitted past me, over me, through me until fear jolted through me, cold as ice. Another burst of lightning flashed above the boarding school and thunder shook the stairs. A shiver ran down my spine.

    Maybe I should give up and beg for mercy. Plead not to be thrown out onto the streets. I pushed the thought down. My muscles complained, and each second stretched on forever.

    The watchman turned and strolled away. I released the breath I held.

  49. Hey guys, if my calculations are correct, there's room for three more writers!

    Good luck everyone!!



  50. Sentence pitch:
    Dreams & mystical crow help a girl uncover a missing grandmother & terrible secret taking place in her abandoned cottage.
    80,000 words
    Abegal Force:Dream of the Crow
    Hallam/Abegale Force
    I’ll never get to Maiden Villas before Stephanie gets back from church.  I have to find out what Mrs. Egremony meant when she told me, “Your Grandmother Rose is far--but near?”
    I take a deep breath and push down on my pedals to make it up the last of the hill to Ridge Road, racing like a firebird on my bicycle. I call Phoenix.
    Mrs. Egremony is Stephanie’s new landlady. She seems nice, I guess. But now she tells me, she knew my Grandmother Rose years ago--before she disappeared--and before I was born.  
    Nam vanished in the Andes Mountains three years ago, searching for herbal remedies with the Quechua people.  The police never found her; so I guess there’s always been hope. I’ve always had hope.  
                    I turn right onto Ridge Road-- a crow swoops in front of me, and squawks, piercing my eardrums; I swerve my bike, hit a rock and fall facedown, into the asphalt rubble.  

  51. This comment has been removed by the author.

  52. Let's try this again:

    Name- Lindsey Loucks
    Genre- YA dark modern fantasy
    Word-count- 63,000
    Email- loucks(dot)lindsey(at)yahoo(dot)com

    The one-sentence pitch- Two resurrected sorceresses are looking for a special someone to put inside a certain empty grave to create a trio powerful enough to destroy the world; fifteen-year-old Leigh Baxton sure hopes that special someone isn't her.

    First page-
    Dad, Darby, and I stood rooted in place long after Mom’s funeral. The weight in my chest threatened to suffocate me if I looked at the lid of her gleaming casket any longer. I focused on the sky instead, at the black birds cutting across the wisps of clouds in a sharp V formation. The thump of my heart echoed the rhythm of their beating wings. They pressed on until the clouds took them from me.

    A different flutter in the corner of my eye pulled me back to earth. The movement took a few seconds to penetrate my numb brain until I realized I was staring at a girl. She crept in and out of the crumbling headstones, her body thick with mud and grime. Torn scraps of what looked like a prom dress hung from her scrawny frame. Her mouth sagged open like she was about to scream.

    A shudder chased across my shoulder blades. I shook my head, afraid I might be dreaming. Darby stood next to me, and I reached out to touch her. She was real. Her ache was real. I felt it in the quiver of her bony body. But beyond her and the heaviness pinching my lungs, I couldn’t be sure of anything.

    Inky black footprints tracked behind the dangling hem of the girl’s dress like a trail of burnt breadcrumbs. She stopped beside a tree and leaned her back against it. More darkness pooled at her feet and crept up the trunk behind her.

    Thanks for the opportunity!

  53. Name- Sandi Jones
    Title- Feral Instinct
    Genre- YA paranormal
    Word-count- 59,000

    One line pitch:
    As the daughter of a monster-hunting scientist, KATE MCCREADY craves a normal teenage life more than anything, but her world turns topsy-turvy when her hot new boyfriend turns out to be one of the creatures her father is chasing—a shapeshifting black panther.

    First page:

    Chapter One

    When I was little, my mom gave me a pocket atlas. Every time we moved I circled our new hometown with a red ballpoint pen. I still use the book, even now. I bought a pack of red pens just in case I ran out of ink because I never expected there would be a last town.

    “Girls, you’re going to love it here.” Dad flashed a big grin in the rearview mirror at Taylor, who acknowledged him only by burying her face deeper in the new issue of Teen People.

    I tucked my pocket atlas into my backpack and zipped it shut.

    His hopeful gaze swung toward me, riding shotgun. “Kate, I was talking to the KOA manager last night, and she says there’s a bus stop right outside the RV Park. The school district is so small you’ll both be on the same campus. So starting this afternoon, you can ride home from school together. Isn’t that a nice change?”

    “Uh huh. I guess.” I shrugged.

    Gee, who wouldn’t want to spend her junior year at some podunk school, riding the school bus with her nine-year-old-sister while most kids her age were driving themselves? But I didn’t dare share my sarcasm with Dad.

    Losing Mom had been bad enough. I didn’t want to make him feel like a jerk because of his job or because he couldn’t afford to buy a second car for me.

    Mom had always been on his side. Now that she was gone, who would take up for him?


    Thank you for participating!! ;)

  55. Sorry, I was out of range to post today, and freaked out a little when I came back into range and saw how few slots were left. I revised my pitch after awesome, but couldn't access it until now. (My daughter's 15th B-day!) If possible could this replace my pitch post above?

    Pitch: Hoping to leave the headmistresses and walls of her boarding school didn't mean Kyra wanted to leave Earth too, ‘bolting’ through time and space; now every time the lightning flashes she wonders where she’ll end up and what she risk to survive.

    If not - still a big thanks and love this blog and contests too!


  56. Rubianna, Vickie Motter will read this thread and she will decide. Wish you luck :)

  57. OMG--what a mess my post is.
    I copy and pasted yesterday via iPhone with only seconds of battery life left.

    I was trembling. Just after I posted my link, my phone went black and I realize I didn't include an email. (though thru blogger, I suppose you could find it)
    karenhallam (at) ymail (dot) com ANd Thank YOU both for this.

  58. Name: Brittny Wallis
    Genre: YA dystopian
    Word Count: 63,000

    Pitch: In a world that fell to Ruins, survival is the only goal of seventeen-year-old Victoria “Vic” Shields—until she unwittingly rescues a B.E.A.S.T. named Charles and her plan to retrieve a family memento becomes a quest to save the entire city.

    First Page:

    “Don’t move, girl.”

    His breath stirred the wayward hairs drifting across her cheek and caused her nose to wrinkle with distaste. The smell was rank, which she attributed to his brown, rotted teeth, currently bared in a semblance of a smirk. Cold metal pressed under her chin—the barrel of her own gun, stolen by this Scum—but she didn’t flinch. He wouldn’t blow her head off, she knew; that would be too easy. He looked like the type to savor the experience, especially from the gleam in his glazed eyes. He’s a User, too, she grimly thought. Great.

    “Smart,” he commented, his smirk widening. She wanted to kick all of those decaying teeth right out of that grin. Normally, it would be easy; her boots were thick leather, reinforced with thin steel plates around the soles, toes and shins. However, she was currently incapacitated. She had walked right into his trap.

    It made her furious.

    As a Scavenger, she never fell for traps, especially not idiotic ones like his. Being able to sense danger was key to survival, especially in her profession, if it could be called that. She went into the abandoned or collapsed buildings and scavenged parts and supplies, some of which she kept herself, the rest which she traded for food, shelter, and clothing. Scum set up traps all the time around the buildings, hoping to catch Scavengers and Vagabonds and take their supplies, but she always managed to avoid or disarm them.


    Thanks for the opportunity!

  59. Whoops, didn't see it was closed! Sorry about that; please ignore my post.

  60. What an awesome contest! Takes a lot of work, I know, but what a great way to give to the writing community.

  61. I sat this one out, but wish best of the best to all the contestants.

  62. BTW, Monica. We were doing a geography scavenger hunt the first week of school and one of my kids said "It must be cold in Chile," but spelled it Chilly. I thought of you. Clearly I need to do more work on geography.

  63. Thanks for taking the time to discuss this, I feel strongly about it and love learning more on this topic. If possible, as you gain expertise, would you mind updating your blog with more information? It is extremely helpful for me.

  64. Please keep us informed when next contests will be opened.

    buy twitter followers

    1. Hi, Isufyan, next writing contest is in August. It's Pitch Wars. And I will keep posting more about contests in this blog.