When Katherine's son is mutilated and killed in the exact same manner as her brother, she becomes convinced that the perpetrator is the same man. She goes to the authorities, but even with new evidence, the killer continues to elude police.
Her search for answers puts her in contact with Jon, who presents damning evidence that the man who killed her son and brother and the man responsible for his daughter’s suicide are part of a network of pedophiles called The Convent. Unwilling to trust a system that has failed her twice, she bypasses the police and vows to help Jon stop The Convent before they hurt more children.
Together, Katherine and Jon stalk and gun down members of the group. But when their thirst for retribution lands them on the FBI's Most Wanted list, they must stay one step ahead of a tenacious lawman out to stop them. With the help of a few sympathizers they manage to outsmart the FBI but soon they find out that a member of The Convent is on their trail and looking for a little revenge of his own. If the FBI agent doesn’t catch Katherine and Jon, they stand the chance of losing their lives to one of the very men they are hunting.
Mar 12, 2009
Mar 11, 2009
Query: CONTROL ISSUES
Dear Secret Agent,
In a world where Thinkers control the population and Rules are not meant to be broken, fifteen-year-old Violet Schoenfeld does a hell of a job shattering them to pieces.
After committing her eighth lame-ass crime (walking in the park at night [after dark] with a boy, gasp!), Vi is taken to the Green, a group of Thinkers who control the Goodgrounds. She’s found unrehabilitatable (yeah, she doesn’t think it’s a word either) and exiled to the Badlands. Good thing sexy Bad boy Jag Barque will be going too.
Dodging Greenies and hovercopters, dealing with absent-father issues, and coming to terms with feelings for an ex-boyfriend—and Jag as a possible new one—leave Vi little time for much else. Which is too damn bad, because she’s more important than she realizes. When secrets about her “dead” sister and not-so-missing father hit the fan, Vi must make a choice: control or be controlled.
A dystopian science fiction novel for young adults, CONTROL ISSUES is complete at 82,000 words. Fans of Scott Westerfeld’s dystopian UGLIES series will enjoy similar elements, and a strong teen voice.
I am an elementary school teacher by day and a contributing author to the QueryTracker blog by night. If you would like to consider CONTROL ISSUES, I’d be happy to forward the complete manuscript to you.
Sincerely,
ElanaJ
In a world where Thinkers control the population and Rules are not meant to be broken, fifteen-year-old Violet Schoenfeld does a hell of a job shattering them to pieces.
After committing her eighth lame-ass crime (walking in the park at night [after dark] with a boy, gasp!), Vi is taken to the Green, a group of Thinkers who control the Goodgrounds. She’s found unrehabilitatable (yeah, she doesn’t think it’s a word either) and exiled to the Badlands. Good thing sexy Bad boy Jag Barque will be going too.
Dodging Greenies and hovercopters, dealing with absent-father issues, and coming to terms with feelings for an ex-boyfriend—and Jag as a possible new one—leave Vi little time for much else. Which is too damn bad, because she’s more important than she realizes. When secrets about her “dead” sister and not-so-missing father hit the fan, Vi must make a choice: control or be controlled.
A dystopian science fiction novel for young adults, CONTROL ISSUES is complete at 82,000 words. Fans of Scott Westerfeld’s dystopian UGLIES series will enjoy similar elements, and a strong teen voice.
I am an elementary school teacher by day and a contributing author to the QueryTracker blog by night. If you would like to consider CONTROL ISSUES, I’d be happy to forward the complete manuscript to you.
Sincerely,
ElanaJ
Query- Angel Undercover
A revision of this query has been posted, click here to read it.
Dear Mr./Ms. Agentperson
Paige Moss was an angel undercover long before she knew it. Her friend Dak (a real angel in disguise) told her she’s always had the heart and maybe she just needed the right situation for her courage to show.
After she is whisked far from home, fourteen-year-old Paige decides to escape her shyness by pretending to be like her hero, Everest. She maintains the façade to investigate when her beloved older sister is accused of endangering thousands of lives through an underhanded plot. Keeping up the boldness ruse, Paige exposes the real villain – a visionary with good aims and all the wrong means – and a whole new set of problems spring forth. But her pretending turns into something very real because, while she feels unconfident and fearful inside, others only see a brave and caring young woman. Paige learns that shyness is not a state of existence, but a choice; that her true character is really the sum of her actions. By the end of her myth-and-magic-filled adventures, Paige is organizing a militant force to save her fractured home city from rogues – a far cry from the girl who couldn’t even give a class presentation.
Paige always dreamed of making a difference, but never thought she could… until she did and became the unexpected hero. The angel undercover.
Angel Undercover is a YA fantasy and is complete at 95,000 words. It is the first in a planned quartet.
Kind Regards,
Dear Mr./Ms. Agentperson
Paige Moss was an angel undercover long before she knew it. Her friend Dak (a real angel in disguise) told her she’s always had the heart and maybe she just needed the right situation for her courage to show.
After she is whisked far from home, fourteen-year-old Paige decides to escape her shyness by pretending to be like her hero, Everest. She maintains the façade to investigate when her beloved older sister is accused of endangering thousands of lives through an underhanded plot. Keeping up the boldness ruse, Paige exposes the real villain – a visionary with good aims and all the wrong means – and a whole new set of problems spring forth. But her pretending turns into something very real because, while she feels unconfident and fearful inside, others only see a brave and caring young woman. Paige learns that shyness is not a state of existence, but a choice; that her true character is really the sum of her actions. By the end of her myth-and-magic-filled adventures, Paige is organizing a militant force to save her fractured home city from rogues – a far cry from the girl who couldn’t even give a class presentation.
Paige always dreamed of making a difference, but never thought she could… until she did and became the unexpected hero. The angel undercover.
Angel Undercover is a YA fantasy and is complete at 95,000 words. It is the first in a planned quartet.
Kind Regards,
Mar 10, 2009
Query:Realm of the Makers:The Legend
Dear Mr./Ms. ,
For the greater good; the unwritten code that all Makers follow to keep their world hidden. Zinnia, a Nature Maker, always thought she would be able to do whatever it took for magnum bonum, the greater good, until now.
The Makers, a race born with the ability to control either nature or the weather, educated by the Fairy in a world hidden within the human world; this is Zinnia’s home, the Realm of the Makers. But things have been spiraling out of control in the Realm for years; the Dark One has both Makers and Fairy in a steel grip of fear, looking to the time the promised Legend will be fulfilled.
Emotions collide inside Zinnia as she anticipates her first year at Edoceo, the school all Makers attend when they turn fifteen. The year stretches out in her mind; the Harvest Ball, new friends, and finally discovering her gift, things she has dreamed of doing for as long as she can remember. Then an electrical introduction to Stephan, a Weather Maker, changes everything. Suddenly the hope of her world rests upon Zinnia and Stephan’s shoulders.
Zinnia’s year takes her in a direction she never dreamt possible. Learning that the Legend is more than just a bed time story; falling in love, impending danger from the Dark One, running for her life, and an impromptu wedding are all things Zinnia never thought the year would bring. When faced with making the ultimate sacrifice, Zinnia must decide how much she is willing to loose for magnum bonum, and follow the Makers code.
The Realm of the Makers-The Legend is a Young Adult Fantasy, complete at 93,000 words.
Thank you in advance for your consideration and I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Sincerely,
Carley
CHAPTER ONE
Zinnia
Everyone has a secret that needs to be kept. Zinnia was no different; except for the fact that the very existence of her world, and the humans, hinged upon this secret remaining just that- a secret. Zinnia walked alone in the garden, absent mindedly stopping every now and then to pick a flower. Her father’s voice echoed again in her head, “The humans must never know!” Her delicate brow furrowed as she wondered, was it possible to be terrified and excited at the same time? It must be since that was the only way to describe how she felt.
She approached the weeping willow that stood in the center of the garden, and without missing a step nodded at the tree. The branches parted and Zinnia walked through. Once she was in the shelter of the great tree they fell silently back into place. She sat on the bench at the base of the tree. She had always known that their world was hidden within the human’s world; every Maker knew this and accepted the fact that they must protect this secret at all costs-for the greater good. Just like they all knew that centuries before, her kind- the Makers, had been forced into hiding from the humans. This was common knowledge, as was the fact that if the humans ever discovered them, it would begin all over again- the desire to steal the Makers power- a power that could not be stolen. That was why the Makers had fled and had remained hidden for all these years. Zinnia sighed and looked around her. Her world, the Realm of the Makers, was an ancient one governed by a magic even more ancient. And now, the Dark One threatened to expose it all. It was only a matter of time before the humans began to question the ripple effect the Dark One was causing, letting things seep into their world. She knew that her fathers concerns were justified. But she was still scared, terrified even, for reasons so selfish her cheeks burned.
There was only one week left until she would begin her time at Edoceo, the place all Makers went when they were fifteen to continue their education at the hands of the Fairy from the Eastern Vale. There they would learn the ancient ways as only the Fairy could teach them. That was the exciting part, for as long as she could remember she had looked forward to that day. Her mother and father had educated her in the ways of the Nature Makers; she had learned how to harness her powers over nature, and how to use them. She had been taught by her parents as all Maker children are, of the ancient Legend, and of the two Makers in the Legend who would save them from the Dark One. These days all Makers looked anxiously around them for the two in the Legend now that the Dark One was raining terror down upon them. But now it was time for her to learn more; it was time to learn of her gift, and to perfect that which she had already learned; just the thought of going to Edoceo put a smile on her ethereal face. To at last discover her gift! But now there was talk of not allowing the Maker youth to return this year to Edoceo. All because of the Dark One, and that terrified Zinnia. Not the Dark One exposing them all to the humans, although it should. The thing that scared her most was the possibility of not going to Edoceo. It didn’t seem like a reality! She had looked forward to it for years. Zinnia sighed out loud.
Again, the two very contradictory emotions collided inside Zinnia’s mind-terror & excitement. At Edoceo she would meet for the first time those that lived above them in the clouds, the Weather Makers. All though her brother Cedrus, two years older than she, would be in his last year at Edoceo, had assured her there was nothing to fear of the Weather Makers, she was still a bit scared to finally meet one, even if it did sound a little bit exciting. After all, wasn’t her brother’s best friend a Weather Maker? And the stories he came home from school with made her, well, nervous. They were different from Nature Makers, and Zinnia had encountered very little in her life that was different from her.
Her most distant memories, when she was a very small child were of freedom. The freedom to roam where she would, freedom of running where she wanted and freedom of going where she wanted; as Zinnia grew older these memories faded into different memories. Memories of fear, uncertainty and not knowing; they began when the Dark One had began tormenting the Makers. Since that time Zinnia had rarely been allowed out from the walls surrounding her home-except for the weekly trip into town, but then that was always with her father or mother. Freedom had been replaced by fear, and although it was not meant to feel like it, her home had slowly become her prison, she could not have been more secluded if she had tried to be. Edoceo was to be Zinnia’s first taste of freedom in a long time. Zinnia watched as the sun danced on a window of her home. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way about her home; it really was so lovely, with turrets on the east and west, made from the whitest stone that glistened in the sunlight. There were places where the crystal windows caught the sunlight and cast rainbows all around. It was both magnificent and beautiful, but her home was also a fortress. Huge walls surrounded the entire house and grounds, keeping out those that were meant to be kept out, and those that wanted out in. Besides the walls, it was doubly protected by the enormous rocks that surrounded it, jutting up from the oceans floor. Zinnia’s home sat on the ocean, only her father, mother and now Cedrus could raise the bridge to cross over to land. As the daughter of Lord Creo, she had been closely guarded, and there fore very secluded.
And so it was that now, Zinnia, a Nature Maker, one of the race that ruled all things living- plants, animals, insects- all things, would quite possibly meet in a weeks time, her first Weather Makers, those who ruled the weather, everything to do with it, from the rain, to the wind, the snow, the ice, the heat & the cold. She understood that together the Makers kept the world in balance as they counseled with each other and the Fairy, but since they lived apart from each other, she knew very little of them, and it was the not knowing that terrified her. It was her over active imagination that excited her.
Zinnia jumped as the branches of the tree stirred gently. By the time she had walked to them and bade them open they were thrashing in the now ferocious wind. Why hadn’t she noticed the weather changing? Her blue eyes shone with fear as she stepped out from the shelter of the tree and looked to the sky. She watched the black clouds swirl ominously above her; the wind whipped her blue gown, pulling it taught against her slender figure. The flowers she had picked earlier fell from her hands as she began to run against the wind, towards her house. She had to get to the safe room, the room without any windows before this storm hit. With a wave of her hand a side door flew open, she bade it shut once through and continued running towards the safe room. The thick walls of her home shuddered with the increasing force of the wind. Zinnia pushed her long black hair from her face as she made her way to the safe room.
For the greater good; the unwritten code that all Makers follow to keep their world hidden. Zinnia, a Nature Maker, always thought she would be able to do whatever it took for magnum bonum, the greater good, until now.
The Makers, a race born with the ability to control either nature or the weather, educated by the Fairy in a world hidden within the human world; this is Zinnia’s home, the Realm of the Makers. But things have been spiraling out of control in the Realm for years; the Dark One has both Makers and Fairy in a steel grip of fear, looking to the time the promised Legend will be fulfilled.
Emotions collide inside Zinnia as she anticipates her first year at Edoceo, the school all Makers attend when they turn fifteen. The year stretches out in her mind; the Harvest Ball, new friends, and finally discovering her gift, things she has dreamed of doing for as long as she can remember. Then an electrical introduction to Stephan, a Weather Maker, changes everything. Suddenly the hope of her world rests upon Zinnia and Stephan’s shoulders.
Zinnia’s year takes her in a direction she never dreamt possible. Learning that the Legend is more than just a bed time story; falling in love, impending danger from the Dark One, running for her life, and an impromptu wedding are all things Zinnia never thought the year would bring. When faced with making the ultimate sacrifice, Zinnia must decide how much she is willing to loose for magnum bonum, and follow the Makers code.
The Realm of the Makers-The Legend is a Young Adult Fantasy, complete at 93,000 words.
Thank you in advance for your consideration and I look forward to hearing from you soon.
Sincerely,
Carley
CHAPTER ONE
Zinnia
Everyone has a secret that needs to be kept. Zinnia was no different; except for the fact that the very existence of her world, and the humans, hinged upon this secret remaining just that- a secret. Zinnia walked alone in the garden, absent mindedly stopping every now and then to pick a flower. Her father’s voice echoed again in her head, “The humans must never know!” Her delicate brow furrowed as she wondered, was it possible to be terrified and excited at the same time? It must be since that was the only way to describe how she felt.
She approached the weeping willow that stood in the center of the garden, and without missing a step nodded at the tree. The branches parted and Zinnia walked through. Once she was in the shelter of the great tree they fell silently back into place. She sat on the bench at the base of the tree. She had always known that their world was hidden within the human’s world; every Maker knew this and accepted the fact that they must protect this secret at all costs-for the greater good. Just like they all knew that centuries before, her kind- the Makers, had been forced into hiding from the humans. This was common knowledge, as was the fact that if the humans ever discovered them, it would begin all over again- the desire to steal the Makers power- a power that could not be stolen. That was why the Makers had fled and had remained hidden for all these years. Zinnia sighed and looked around her. Her world, the Realm of the Makers, was an ancient one governed by a magic even more ancient. And now, the Dark One threatened to expose it all. It was only a matter of time before the humans began to question the ripple effect the Dark One was causing, letting things seep into their world. She knew that her fathers concerns were justified. But she was still scared, terrified even, for reasons so selfish her cheeks burned.
There was only one week left until she would begin her time at Edoceo, the place all Makers went when they were fifteen to continue their education at the hands of the Fairy from the Eastern Vale. There they would learn the ancient ways as only the Fairy could teach them. That was the exciting part, for as long as she could remember she had looked forward to that day. Her mother and father had educated her in the ways of the Nature Makers; she had learned how to harness her powers over nature, and how to use them. She had been taught by her parents as all Maker children are, of the ancient Legend, and of the two Makers in the Legend who would save them from the Dark One. These days all Makers looked anxiously around them for the two in the Legend now that the Dark One was raining terror down upon them. But now it was time for her to learn more; it was time to learn of her gift, and to perfect that which she had already learned; just the thought of going to Edoceo put a smile on her ethereal face. To at last discover her gift! But now there was talk of not allowing the Maker youth to return this year to Edoceo. All because of the Dark One, and that terrified Zinnia. Not the Dark One exposing them all to the humans, although it should. The thing that scared her most was the possibility of not going to Edoceo. It didn’t seem like a reality! She had looked forward to it for years. Zinnia sighed out loud.
Again, the two very contradictory emotions collided inside Zinnia’s mind-terror & excitement. At Edoceo she would meet for the first time those that lived above them in the clouds, the Weather Makers. All though her brother Cedrus, two years older than she, would be in his last year at Edoceo, had assured her there was nothing to fear of the Weather Makers, she was still a bit scared to finally meet one, even if it did sound a little bit exciting. After all, wasn’t her brother’s best friend a Weather Maker? And the stories he came home from school with made her, well, nervous. They were different from Nature Makers, and Zinnia had encountered very little in her life that was different from her.
Her most distant memories, when she was a very small child were of freedom. The freedom to roam where she would, freedom of running where she wanted and freedom of going where she wanted; as Zinnia grew older these memories faded into different memories. Memories of fear, uncertainty and not knowing; they began when the Dark One had began tormenting the Makers. Since that time Zinnia had rarely been allowed out from the walls surrounding her home-except for the weekly trip into town, but then that was always with her father or mother. Freedom had been replaced by fear, and although it was not meant to feel like it, her home had slowly become her prison, she could not have been more secluded if she had tried to be. Edoceo was to be Zinnia’s first taste of freedom in a long time. Zinnia watched as the sun danced on a window of her home. She knew she shouldn’t feel this way about her home; it really was so lovely, with turrets on the east and west, made from the whitest stone that glistened in the sunlight. There were places where the crystal windows caught the sunlight and cast rainbows all around. It was both magnificent and beautiful, but her home was also a fortress. Huge walls surrounded the entire house and grounds, keeping out those that were meant to be kept out, and those that wanted out in. Besides the walls, it was doubly protected by the enormous rocks that surrounded it, jutting up from the oceans floor. Zinnia’s home sat on the ocean, only her father, mother and now Cedrus could raise the bridge to cross over to land. As the daughter of Lord Creo, she had been closely guarded, and there fore very secluded.
And so it was that now, Zinnia, a Nature Maker, one of the race that ruled all things living- plants, animals, insects- all things, would quite possibly meet in a weeks time, her first Weather Makers, those who ruled the weather, everything to do with it, from the rain, to the wind, the snow, the ice, the heat & the cold. She understood that together the Makers kept the world in balance as they counseled with each other and the Fairy, but since they lived apart from each other, she knew very little of them, and it was the not knowing that terrified her. It was her over active imagination that excited her.
Zinnia jumped as the branches of the tree stirred gently. By the time she had walked to them and bade them open they were thrashing in the now ferocious wind. Why hadn’t she noticed the weather changing? Her blue eyes shone with fear as she stepped out from the shelter of the tree and looked to the sky. She watched the black clouds swirl ominously above her; the wind whipped her blue gown, pulling it taught against her slender figure. The flowers she had picked earlier fell from her hands as she began to run against the wind, towards her house. She had to get to the safe room, the room without any windows before this storm hit. With a wave of her hand a side door flew open, she bade it shut once through and continued running towards the safe room. The thick walls of her home shuddered with the increasing force of the wind. Zinnia pushed her long black hair from her face as she made her way to the safe room.
Mar 7, 2009
Don't Be Afraid to Submit
Don't be afraid to submit your query for review, even if you know it needs work. This is a great way to validate where it needs work the most.
I'm projecting my own experience onto you all when I say the biggest fear is that someone will find something that warrants a re-write in the manuscript, and none of us want to go through that (again!). But truth is, if it's needed, it's needed. And you're better off knowing where it's needed if you want to sell your manuscript.
That's what agents and editors look for. What will sell. Even if it's a sold to a smaller audience, like many argue the true "literary" market to be, if it is a known market and there is predictable revenue from the sale of your manuscript, agents and editors will put it on the market. You may get a smaller advance and less overall income, but you'll get the sale. If, of course, the manuscript is up to par.
I know that when I give advice and criticism, a lot of it is filled with nuggets I gleaned from the agent and editor blogs. Not plagiarism - just learning from them and re-telling their wisdom in my own words. I do it for people who may not have seen that particular post, or follow that agent's blog It's a great way to pass on valuable information. Plus I do have my own ideas to share...
The link to submit is at the top right of this blog.
I'm projecting my own experience onto you all when I say the biggest fear is that someone will find something that warrants a re-write in the manuscript, and none of us want to go through that (again!). But truth is, if it's needed, it's needed. And you're better off knowing where it's needed if you want to sell your manuscript.
That's what agents and editors look for. What will sell. Even if it's a sold to a smaller audience, like many argue the true "literary" market to be, if it is a known market and there is predictable revenue from the sale of your manuscript, agents and editors will put it on the market. You may get a smaller advance and less overall income, but you'll get the sale. If, of course, the manuscript is up to par.
I know that when I give advice and criticism, a lot of it is filled with nuggets I gleaned from the agent and editor blogs. Not plagiarism - just learning from them and re-telling their wisdom in my own words. I do it for people who may not have seen that particular post, or follow that agent's blog It's a great way to pass on valuable information. Plus I do have my own ideas to share...
The link to submit is at the top right of this blog.
Mar 5, 2009
QUERY- FATE'S GUARDIAN
A revision of this query has been posted. Click here to read it.
Attn: Mr. /Ms. Agent,
Gil Jacobs must die in order to save his soul. After living through dozens of lives spanning hundreds of years, the events of Gil's distant past are catching up with him, and he is powerless to prevent it.
It is Gil’s destiny to die in a car crash, but a malicious ghost who blames Gil for the tragedies that ended its life hundreds of years ago seeks retribution by attempting to prevent the fatal accident. If Gil lives, he will not be able to cross over when death eventually claims him, and his soul will be ripe for the taking. If Gil dies, he will escape to his next life and the ghost's chance at vengeance will be lost.
Gil is unaware of the danger he is in or the fate that awaits him. Fortunately, Gil is not alone in his fight. The soul of a friend he lost as a child watches over him, and she alone has the capacity to keep the ghost at bay long enough for Gil to die, even if it means sacrificing her own soul. For Gil Jacobs, she is Fate’s Guardian…
Fate’s Guardian is complete at 120,000 words. It is a supernatural thriller directed toward a commercial fiction audience, and first in a series titled Destiny’s Will.
I have been writing professionally for the past eight years, although admittedly not in my preferred style or market. I welcome the opportunity to embark on a career as a novelist.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Regards,
Rick Daley
Prologue- Columbus, OH 1995
The Mustang sped down Riverside Drive. The driver glanced at the clock. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath.
Down the road, an eighteen-wheeler rumbled toward him. A long, straight stretch of road, he could see the truck off in the distance but he paid it no mind. His thoughts were on his family, specifically his daughter’s birthday party, which started fifteen minutes ago.
He missed her birthday last year. He had worked late, as always. He didn’t mean to. He loved his wife and both of his daughters, but when you are CEO of a growing corporation, balancing work and family is a daunting task, and time is a precious – and rare – commodity. Nevertheless, he promised her he would be there this year. “Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said.
The truck-driver reached into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He flipped the box open and fished one out. He held the butt in his lips while he grabbed his lighter from the seat beside him. He lit the end and took a deep drag, holding the smoke in while he cranked the window down a little bit.
He exhaled, blowing the smoke toward the open window. As he brought the cigarette to his lips to take another hit, the wind caught the glowing embers at its tip and carried a hot piece of ash toward his face and into his left eye.
He flinched and jerked the wheel ever so slightly. His truck edged across the double yellow line in the middle of the road.
The Mustang accelerated slightly, its driver accidentally hit the gas while he reached for the birthday card that fell to the floor in front of the passenger seat. As he sat back up he turned the wheel, just a little bit, and the Mustang veered across the center of the road.
The truck driver rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. He stopped and looked back at the road, his left eye in a tight squint. He saw the Mustang racing toward him, left of center, and he tried to cut the wheel to the right. It was too late. He slammed on the breaks and his rig started to jackknife.
The Mustang plowed into the corner of the truck’s grille. The driver never saw it coming. The force of the impact broke the back of his seat and he fell backwards as the back of his car spun to the right.
The two vehicles came together like long lost lovers in an impassioned embrace. The Mustang slid under the belly of the trailer. The roof caved in, and the interior of the car was hidden from view. The truck slowly skidded to a stop, the Mustang grinding along the asphalt underneath it.
The truck driver was dazed but unhurt. But the man in the Mustang, the one who crossed his heart and hoped to die? It remains to be seen how prophetic those words actually were.
Chapter 1- Southern France, 1287 A.D.
Death was in the air. Its foreboding almost took a visible shape, an effect heightened by the flicker of the campfire. It was the bitter end of a lover’s quarrel, and it already claimed one life. Now two more lives were on the line.
It started to rain. It was a misty drizzle that added weight to the darkness of night. The shadows danced through the trees as the rain hit the burning logs of the campfire, sizzling as it landed and lending a new voice to the choir of insects that sang the night through.
The Troubadour stepped quickly to the base of the oak tree and grabbed the mandolin leaning against it. He picked up his songbook and wrapped it in his leather satchel along with his instrument.
He turned to her. She was still so beautiful, even after all she had been through. After all he put her through. Even the dull, wet glow of the waning fire could not cast her in a bad light. Her body flashed as she swung back and forth, drifting through light and shadow.
He loved her, there was no doubting that. He loved her as much as he loved his own mother. His love is what drove him to this point. It drove him to madness. It drove him to murder.
She swung back and forth. He smiled as he watched her. He thought back to the first time he saw her. She looked so elegant then, almost ceramic in her beauty, like a porcelain doll. Only that was a different place. A different time.
What was most intriguing about her, what fueled his desire, was her smile. It revealed her pain. And through the strained smile he felt the pain, too. He wanted to help her. Everything he did, it was because he wanted to help her. Now the smile was gone, and he was sure she would not live long enough for him to see it again. And it was all his fault.
Her body was broken. She was as quite fortunate, though, because it all happened so quickly. He hated to hurt her, but he could not stop himself. Now more than ever she reminded him of his mother, the only other woman he truly loved, and the first person he ever killed.
“I want to be with you forever,” he said as he reached out to steady her. Her hands and feet were bound behind her back and she was suspended face down, swinging from a rope tied to one of the higher branches of the grand oak tree.
She lifted her head and tried to focus her eyes on his face, but she could not find the strength. She let her head drop.
“I have no love for you,” she whispered.
“My dear, I have enough love for us both, don’t you see that?”
“I see only the blood on your hands,” she spat back. “And this time it’s mine.”
The Troubadour looked down at his hands. “But I do this out of love. Your husband abused you all those years. I had to take his life. I love you too much to watch you suffer at his hand any longer. Right now I know how strong my love is for you, and I will prove it to you.”
He withdrew his dagger from its sheath. “You are broken. Even if I wanted to save you, I could not. I can join you, though.”
He turned the point of the blade to his left breast and without hesitation he plunged the dagger deep inside his chest. This time she found the strength to lift her head and watch.
The Troubadour felt the tip of the blade penetrate his flesh, cutting deep into his chest. He felt his heart deflate like a balloon, and he staggered as the blood filled his chest cavity. His fingers tingled and grew cold. His body folded forward and he crumpled to the ground as his legs gave way. His world went black, and death claimed his body.
The Troubadour’s soul lifted from his lifeless remains, rising into the air. He saw his body, the red stain seeping into the ground beneath it. He saw her, head lifted, eyes focused, staring at his body. And smiling.
Smiling! Not just smiling, but laughing at him. Rage filled him and he swiped at her, but his hands made no contact with the physical world. He circled her. She would die soon, and he would be waiting. At last he would have her.
She stopped laughing and the smile faded as she slipped from consciousness. He thought she would die right away, but she did not. He felt something pulling at him, and he turned to see a small point in the distance grow to be a huge white light. As the light came closer, a tunnel appeared in its center. He was drawn to it. The urge to go through the tunnel was almost irresistible. Almost.
He turned back to her. Her heartbeat was slow, her breathing shallow, but she lived. He waited. The light behind him vanished.
He kept his vigil as the hours passed. Eventually she did give in. The Troubadour watched as her soul lifted from her body. She looked at him and smiled. He reached out to her, but she turned away.
The light appeared off in the distance, and the tunnel became visible in its bright center as the circle of light grew. This time the Troubadour did not feel drawn to it. Desperate, he reached out and grabbed her. He struggled to go into the tunnel with her, but he felt a force pushing him away. He watched, helpless, as she slipped from his grasp and crossed over to the other side. The light in front of him vanished. She was gone.
Attn: Mr. /Ms. Agent,
Gil Jacobs must die in order to save his soul. After living through dozens of lives spanning hundreds of years, the events of Gil's distant past are catching up with him, and he is powerless to prevent it.
It is Gil’s destiny to die in a car crash, but a malicious ghost who blames Gil for the tragedies that ended its life hundreds of years ago seeks retribution by attempting to prevent the fatal accident. If Gil lives, he will not be able to cross over when death eventually claims him, and his soul will be ripe for the taking. If Gil dies, he will escape to his next life and the ghost's chance at vengeance will be lost.
Gil is unaware of the danger he is in or the fate that awaits him. Fortunately, Gil is not alone in his fight. The soul of a friend he lost as a child watches over him, and she alone has the capacity to keep the ghost at bay long enough for Gil to die, even if it means sacrificing her own soul. For Gil Jacobs, she is Fate’s Guardian…
Fate’s Guardian is complete at 120,000 words. It is a supernatural thriller directed toward a commercial fiction audience, and first in a series titled Destiny’s Will.
I have been writing professionally for the past eight years, although admittedly not in my preferred style or market. I welcome the opportunity to embark on a career as a novelist.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Regards,
Rick Daley
Prologue- Columbus, OH 1995
The Mustang sped down Riverside Drive. The driver glanced at the clock. “Come on,” he muttered under his breath.
Down the road, an eighteen-wheeler rumbled toward him. A long, straight stretch of road, he could see the truck off in the distance but he paid it no mind. His thoughts were on his family, specifically his daughter’s birthday party, which started fifteen minutes ago.
He missed her birthday last year. He had worked late, as always. He didn’t mean to. He loved his wife and both of his daughters, but when you are CEO of a growing corporation, balancing work and family is a daunting task, and time is a precious – and rare – commodity. Nevertheless, he promised her he would be there this year. “Cross my heart and hope to die,” he said.
The truck-driver reached into his shirt pocket for a pack of cigarettes. He flipped the box open and fished one out. He held the butt in his lips while he grabbed his lighter from the seat beside him. He lit the end and took a deep drag, holding the smoke in while he cranked the window down a little bit.
He exhaled, blowing the smoke toward the open window. As he brought the cigarette to his lips to take another hit, the wind caught the glowing embers at its tip and carried a hot piece of ash toward his face and into his left eye.
He flinched and jerked the wheel ever so slightly. His truck edged across the double yellow line in the middle of the road.
The Mustang accelerated slightly, its driver accidentally hit the gas while he reached for the birthday card that fell to the floor in front of the passenger seat. As he sat back up he turned the wheel, just a little bit, and the Mustang veered across the center of the road.
The truck driver rubbed his eye with the heel of his hand. He stopped and looked back at the road, his left eye in a tight squint. He saw the Mustang racing toward him, left of center, and he tried to cut the wheel to the right. It was too late. He slammed on the breaks and his rig started to jackknife.
The Mustang plowed into the corner of the truck’s grille. The driver never saw it coming. The force of the impact broke the back of his seat and he fell backwards as the back of his car spun to the right.
The two vehicles came together like long lost lovers in an impassioned embrace. The Mustang slid under the belly of the trailer. The roof caved in, and the interior of the car was hidden from view. The truck slowly skidded to a stop, the Mustang grinding along the asphalt underneath it.
The truck driver was dazed but unhurt. But the man in the Mustang, the one who crossed his heart and hoped to die? It remains to be seen how prophetic those words actually were.
Chapter 1- Southern France, 1287 A.D.
Death was in the air. Its foreboding almost took a visible shape, an effect heightened by the flicker of the campfire. It was the bitter end of a lover’s quarrel, and it already claimed one life. Now two more lives were on the line.
It started to rain. It was a misty drizzle that added weight to the darkness of night. The shadows danced through the trees as the rain hit the burning logs of the campfire, sizzling as it landed and lending a new voice to the choir of insects that sang the night through.
The Troubadour stepped quickly to the base of the oak tree and grabbed the mandolin leaning against it. He picked up his songbook and wrapped it in his leather satchel along with his instrument.
He turned to her. She was still so beautiful, even after all she had been through. After all he put her through. Even the dull, wet glow of the waning fire could not cast her in a bad light. Her body flashed as she swung back and forth, drifting through light and shadow.
He loved her, there was no doubting that. He loved her as much as he loved his own mother. His love is what drove him to this point. It drove him to madness. It drove him to murder.
She swung back and forth. He smiled as he watched her. He thought back to the first time he saw her. She looked so elegant then, almost ceramic in her beauty, like a porcelain doll. Only that was a different place. A different time.
What was most intriguing about her, what fueled his desire, was her smile. It revealed her pain. And through the strained smile he felt the pain, too. He wanted to help her. Everything he did, it was because he wanted to help her. Now the smile was gone, and he was sure she would not live long enough for him to see it again. And it was all his fault.
Her body was broken. She was as quite fortunate, though, because it all happened so quickly. He hated to hurt her, but he could not stop himself. Now more than ever she reminded him of his mother, the only other woman he truly loved, and the first person he ever killed.
“I want to be with you forever,” he said as he reached out to steady her. Her hands and feet were bound behind her back and she was suspended face down, swinging from a rope tied to one of the higher branches of the grand oak tree.
She lifted her head and tried to focus her eyes on his face, but she could not find the strength. She let her head drop.
“I have no love for you,” she whispered.
“My dear, I have enough love for us both, don’t you see that?”
“I see only the blood on your hands,” she spat back. “And this time it’s mine.”
The Troubadour looked down at his hands. “But I do this out of love. Your husband abused you all those years. I had to take his life. I love you too much to watch you suffer at his hand any longer. Right now I know how strong my love is for you, and I will prove it to you.”
He withdrew his dagger from its sheath. “You are broken. Even if I wanted to save you, I could not. I can join you, though.”
He turned the point of the blade to his left breast and without hesitation he plunged the dagger deep inside his chest. This time she found the strength to lift her head and watch.
The Troubadour felt the tip of the blade penetrate his flesh, cutting deep into his chest. He felt his heart deflate like a balloon, and he staggered as the blood filled his chest cavity. His fingers tingled and grew cold. His body folded forward and he crumpled to the ground as his legs gave way. His world went black, and death claimed his body.
The Troubadour’s soul lifted from his lifeless remains, rising into the air. He saw his body, the red stain seeping into the ground beneath it. He saw her, head lifted, eyes focused, staring at his body. And smiling.
Smiling! Not just smiling, but laughing at him. Rage filled him and he swiped at her, but his hands made no contact with the physical world. He circled her. She would die soon, and he would be waiting. At last he would have her.
She stopped laughing and the smile faded as she slipped from consciousness. He thought she would die right away, but she did not. He felt something pulling at him, and he turned to see a small point in the distance grow to be a huge white light. As the light came closer, a tunnel appeared in its center. He was drawn to it. The urge to go through the tunnel was almost irresistible. Almost.
He turned back to her. Her heartbeat was slow, her breathing shallow, but she lived. He waited. The light behind him vanished.
He kept his vigil as the hours passed. Eventually she did give in. The Troubadour watched as her soul lifted from her body. She looked at him and smiled. He reached out to her, but she turned away.
The light appeared off in the distance, and the tunnel became visible in its bright center as the circle of light grew. This time the Troubadour did not feel drawn to it. Desperate, he reached out and grabbed her. He struggled to go into the tunnel with her, but he felt a force pushing him away. He watched, helpless, as she slipped from his grasp and crossed over to the other side. The light in front of him vanished. She was gone.
Submit Queries Here!
Attention Writers!
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QUERY- TITLE OF YOUR WORK
NOTE: I am not an agent or a publisher. I am an aspiring novelist, and I am doing this because I think it's a cool idea, and a good way to get feedback from other writers on the structure and content of a query.
If you have a query, and you would like it to be available for public viewing / critique, enter it as a comment to this post. Feel free to include 3-4 sample pages with your query.
I will post your query exactly as I receive it, and it will be open for comments and criticism. I've kicked things off with my own query.
I WILL USE THE FIRST LINE OF THE COMMENTS AT THE TITLE FOR THE POST!!
Look at the first comment on this post as a point of reference. I recommend something like
QUERY- TITLE OF YOUR WORK
NOTE: I am not an agent or a publisher. I am an aspiring novelist, and I am doing this because I think it's a cool idea, and a good way to get feedback from other writers on the structure and content of a query.
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