Dear Agent X:
As a young medic Brett Johnson saw the atrocities perpetrated by the hive mind Alexander. A decade later the Space Force has sent him to the planet Oceania where the nanotechnology Alexander was based upon was developed. Oceania is home to the oldest and largest hive mind in existence, and the planet has derived many economic and medical benefits from it. Brett’s job is to convince the Oceanians that even those who voluntarily became part of the hive mind don’t fully understand the peril to their humanity, and that they must allow the nanotechnology and everything based on it to be destroyed rather than forcing the Federalist Worlds to fight a bloody war against them. He is also supposed to learn as much as possible about Oceanian technology and government to help win a war if one is inevitable.
At first Brett believes deeply in his mission. Then he rashly seduces a beautiful woman, knowing this may interfere with his mission, yet believing it the only way to distract her from giving her soul to the hive mind. With her help he learns more about Oceania than his superiors could have hoped – but begins to question what he’s been told. Is the hive mind truly a malignant entity seeking to trick humans into building the tools it needs to devour them – or a collaborative tool enabling people to perform superhuman feats of intellect? He can only know for certain by becoming part of the supermind. If he was right all along and no individual can ever leave, he will never know what he’s lost – and those who hear his report may not understand until it’s too late. If the Federalist Worlds have completely misunderstood what’s at stake, it may well be too late to convince them, and the home world of the woman he loves may be wracked by a devastating and unnecessary war.
Absorption is an eighty thousand word science fiction novel. Please write me for a full or partial manuscript. I received my MLS from the State University of New York at Albany.
Grateful Regards,
David Weisman
Feb 8, 2010
Feb 7, 2010
Sample Pages- AM I WORTH IT?
Click here to read the first sample page submission.
Click here to read the second sample page submission.
Click here to read the most recent query.
*** Just a side note - its been a few months since I posted a revision of this story because I got really frustrated trying to revise what already existed. Finally I decided to tone down the MC and give him a little more mystery in the first chapter. I still don't know if its the right place to start but at least I'm no longer stuck.
I attempted suicide exactly once a day. Twice would be excessive. It would lose its value. I was starting to think it already had and I was starting to like it here.
Enjoying a blistering cold November in Chicago after spending my entire seventeen years in California was not part of my plan. I should hate my life right now, but I didn’t.
And it was so wrong for me to be happy.
I made my usual climb up the rocky wall. My hands numb from the cold wind, but the feeling was exhilarating. I couldn’t deny that. San Jose had such mild weather compared to this. The way the bitter cold steals your breathe, stings the tips of your fingers and toe. It was fascinating.
When I reached the top of the mound of giant rocks, I looked out at Lake Michigan spread before my eyes. It wasn’t California, but damn, it was beautiful. Even with the bite of a cold winter.
I closed my eyes and I was there again, with her. The girl I was sentenced to spend a lifetime with.
“Every weekend it’s the same fucking thing, get drunk and party, maybe hook up with some random girl. Don’t you ever get tired of it?” I glanced over at my friend, he wasn’t even listening. He was watching a group of girls dancing.
“Hey Dan, someone’s checking you out,” Trenton sang.
He handed me another shot glass of whiskey and pointed at a short girl with dark hair across the room.
“What’s her name, Hailey or something?”I asked.
Trenton laughed and shook his head.”How many shots have you had? You never forget anyone’s name.”
“Six shots . . .Hannah,” I remembered.
He moved beside me leaning against the counter. “What do you say? I don’t think you’d have any trouble getting in that girls’ pants. She totally wants you.”
I laughed and my head spun even more. “You’re such an ass, Trent. If I were a chick there would be a warning label tattooed across your forehead, I’d make sure of that.”
“We can’t all be as God damn charming as you,” he said.
I rested my head in my hands massaging my temples, wishing I hadn’t drank so much. Exactly thirty seconds later, I got a whiff of perfume.
“Hannah Fuentes,” I said, without lifting my head.
“Dan Anderson,” she answered, giggling.
One strike against her already. Giggling girls were a little bit of a turn off for me, or maybe they just seemed fake, rehearsed.
“So you remember me?” she asked.
I lifted my head meeting her brown eyes. “Yes, we had Biology Freshman year. You sat in the third table on the window side of the room next to Byron Silverman.”
Her face lit up with a look of excitement- possibilities.
I cursed myself silently. Now she was going to think I spent the past two years dreaming about watching her bend over to pull a pencil out of her bag or something.
“See what I mean? God damn charming,” Trent muttered, as he walked away.
“You want to dance?” she asked.
Damn! Why didn’t I go home early like a good little Senator’s son? “Okay.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the middle of the giant living room with the rest of the drunken upper classman. The music was fast and loud, the beat, the lights, my spinning head, none of it allowed me to think clearly and I knew this wouldn’t end well.
Then she was kissing me, her tongue dancing around in my mouth. It wasn’t a bad kiss, but it wasn’t love.
And it should be.
The vibration coming from my pocket shook me out of this morning ritual. My pounding heart slowed just a little before I flipped open the phone.
“Hi Steve.”
“Dan, where are you? I got up at five thirty and you were gone. Did you go out last night?” he asked, putting on his concerned uncle hat.
“Do I ever go out?”
“No . . .well anyway, I have a favor to ask.”
I groaned more out of habit than real distress.
“It’ll get you out of first period,” he taunted.
“Alright.”
I sighed and start to climb down.
Not today. I was still a fucking coward. Again.
***
I walked in to the audio visual room a few minutes late. A blond haired woman stood in front of the T.V. with a notebook and a pen. She was the only one in the room.
“Are you Christian?” I asked.
She continued to stare at the T.V. “No, I’m atheist. My parents are Catholic.”
I laughed. “Okay, and you don’t have a French accent either.”
“Nope sorry, but I could give it a shot.”
I walked over and stood beside her, looking at the T.V.
“Damn, I thought we had it locked up.” She shook her head at the giant robot still intact and gloating after demolishing the other one in the ring.
I examined the screen a little more closely. “What materials are you using on the outside?”
She didn’t get to answer because a girl came skidding in the room, flustered and pink in the face. “Are you Christian?”
The woman next to me laughed. “This is still the audio visual room, isn’t it?”
The frantic girl put her hands in her face and moaned. “Oh God! He’s probably wandering around the school without a clue where to go.”
“You must be Claire Ramsey. The girl who’s battery died,” I said.
She looked up at me and I found myself staring a little too long at her green eyes. The genetic improbability of green eyes was so fascinating. Plus, she was gorgeous and something about her was different . . . honest maybe.
A virgin. She had to be a virgin.
“How did you know my name?” she asked.
“I was supposed to be your replacement, but if you’re here then my work is done.” I started to walk toward the door and she grabbed my arm.
"Wait, I’m not sure I can do this?” She bit her lower lip nervously.
“Do what?” I asked smiling because it wasn’t surgery or anything life or death.
“Translate.” She shook her head. “What if he uses slang or something not in my third year text book?”
The honest concern that filled her voice was so endearing. “Okay, I’ll stick around.”
This is bad Dan, resist the guilty pleasure. You’re already living with a girl. When I looked at Claire’s face again, I knew I couldn’t be an ass and leave her hanging, but I wouldn’t get personal either. Ever again. I committed myself for life to someone else. It was marriage in the worst sense.
Click here to read the second sample page submission.
Click here to read the most recent query.
*** Just a side note - its been a few months since I posted a revision of this story because I got really frustrated trying to revise what already existed. Finally I decided to tone down the MC and give him a little more mystery in the first chapter. I still don't know if its the right place to start but at least I'm no longer stuck.
I attempted suicide exactly once a day. Twice would be excessive. It would lose its value. I was starting to think it already had and I was starting to like it here.
Enjoying a blistering cold November in Chicago after spending my entire seventeen years in California was not part of my plan. I should hate my life right now, but I didn’t.
And it was so wrong for me to be happy.
I made my usual climb up the rocky wall. My hands numb from the cold wind, but the feeling was exhilarating. I couldn’t deny that. San Jose had such mild weather compared to this. The way the bitter cold steals your breathe, stings the tips of your fingers and toe. It was fascinating.
When I reached the top of the mound of giant rocks, I looked out at Lake Michigan spread before my eyes. It wasn’t California, but damn, it was beautiful. Even with the bite of a cold winter.
I closed my eyes and I was there again, with her. The girl I was sentenced to spend a lifetime with.
“Every weekend it’s the same fucking thing, get drunk and party, maybe hook up with some random girl. Don’t you ever get tired of it?” I glanced over at my friend, he wasn’t even listening. He was watching a group of girls dancing.
“Hey Dan, someone’s checking you out,” Trenton sang.
He handed me another shot glass of whiskey and pointed at a short girl with dark hair across the room.
“What’s her name, Hailey or something?”I asked.
Trenton laughed and shook his head.”How many shots have you had? You never forget anyone’s name.”
“Six shots . . .Hannah,” I remembered.
He moved beside me leaning against the counter. “What do you say? I don’t think you’d have any trouble getting in that girls’ pants. She totally wants you.”
I laughed and my head spun even more. “You’re such an ass, Trent. If I were a chick there would be a warning label tattooed across your forehead, I’d make sure of that.”
“We can’t all be as God damn charming as you,” he said.
I rested my head in my hands massaging my temples, wishing I hadn’t drank so much. Exactly thirty seconds later, I got a whiff of perfume.
“Hannah Fuentes,” I said, without lifting my head.
“Dan Anderson,” she answered, giggling.
One strike against her already. Giggling girls were a little bit of a turn off for me, or maybe they just seemed fake, rehearsed.
“So you remember me?” she asked.
I lifted my head meeting her brown eyes. “Yes, we had Biology Freshman year. You sat in the third table on the window side of the room next to Byron Silverman.”
Her face lit up with a look of excitement- possibilities.
I cursed myself silently. Now she was going to think I spent the past two years dreaming about watching her bend over to pull a pencil out of her bag or something.
“See what I mean? God damn charming,” Trent muttered, as he walked away.
“You want to dance?” she asked.
Damn! Why didn’t I go home early like a good little Senator’s son? “Okay.”
She grabbed my hand and pulled me to the middle of the giant living room with the rest of the drunken upper classman. The music was fast and loud, the beat, the lights, my spinning head, none of it allowed me to think clearly and I knew this wouldn’t end well.
Then she was kissing me, her tongue dancing around in my mouth. It wasn’t a bad kiss, but it wasn’t love.
And it should be.
The vibration coming from my pocket shook me out of this morning ritual. My pounding heart slowed just a little before I flipped open the phone.
“Hi Steve.”
“Dan, where are you? I got up at five thirty and you were gone. Did you go out last night?” he asked, putting on his concerned uncle hat.
“Do I ever go out?”
“No . . .well anyway, I have a favor to ask.”
I groaned more out of habit than real distress.
“It’ll get you out of first period,” he taunted.
“Alright.”
I sighed and start to climb down.
Not today. I was still a fucking coward. Again.
***
I walked in to the audio visual room a few minutes late. A blond haired woman stood in front of the T.V. with a notebook and a pen. She was the only one in the room.
“Are you Christian?” I asked.
She continued to stare at the T.V. “No, I’m atheist. My parents are Catholic.”
I laughed. “Okay, and you don’t have a French accent either.”
“Nope sorry, but I could give it a shot.”
I walked over and stood beside her, looking at the T.V.
“Damn, I thought we had it locked up.” She shook her head at the giant robot still intact and gloating after demolishing the other one in the ring.
I examined the screen a little more closely. “What materials are you using on the outside?”
She didn’t get to answer because a girl came skidding in the room, flustered and pink in the face. “Are you Christian?”
The woman next to me laughed. “This is still the audio visual room, isn’t it?”
The frantic girl put her hands in her face and moaned. “Oh God! He’s probably wandering around the school without a clue where to go.”
“You must be Claire Ramsey. The girl who’s battery died,” I said.
She looked up at me and I found myself staring a little too long at her green eyes. The genetic improbability of green eyes was so fascinating. Plus, she was gorgeous and something about her was different . . . honest maybe.
A virgin. She had to be a virgin.
“How did you know my name?” she asked.
“I was supposed to be your replacement, but if you’re here then my work is done.” I started to walk toward the door and she grabbed my arm.
"Wait, I’m not sure I can do this?” She bit her lower lip nervously.
“Do what?” I asked smiling because it wasn’t surgery or anything life or death.
“Translate.” She shook her head. “What if he uses slang or something not in my third year text book?”
The honest concern that filled her voice was so endearing. “Okay, I’ll stick around.”
This is bad Dan, resist the guilty pleasure. You’re already living with a girl. When I looked at Claire’s face again, I knew I couldn’t be an ass and leave her hanging, but I wouldn’t get personal either. Ever again. I committed myself for life to someone else. It was marriage in the worst sense.
Feb 5, 2010
Query - Descent into Darkness
Dear Agent,
When Aiden’s ability to use the dangerous and forbidden art of Dark Magic manifests during an intense argument with his fiancée, his dream to marry and start a family is torn asunder. Betrayed by the woman he loves and embittered by a long imprisonment, he finds himself seeking salvation in the least likely of places: the Shadow.
But Aiden has to face more challenges than maintaining his sense of humanity under the influence of a magic which urges him to destroy while he fights to free the Shadow Lord from Hell. His fiancée joins the forces of the very Church he is fighting against, and a heated rivalry soon forms between Aiden and the ruthless commander of the Shadow himself, both for the power they both desire—and for love.
DESCENT INTO DARKNESS is a 129,500 word work of fantasy that retells the classic good vs. evil conflict from the perspective of evil. It is the first in a series of two books, the second of which is currently in progress. Thank you for your consideration.
Sincerely,
Author
When Aiden’s ability to use the dangerous and forbidden art of Dark Magic manifests during an intense argument with his fiancée, his dream to marry and start a family is torn asunder. Betrayed by the woman he loves and embittered by a long imprisonment, he finds himself seeking salvation in the least likely of places: the Shadow.
But Aiden has to face more challenges than maintaining his sense of humanity under the influence of a magic which urges him to destroy while he fights to free the Shadow Lord from Hell. His fiancée joins the forces of the very Church he is fighting against, and a heated rivalry soon forms between Aiden and the ruthless commander of the Shadow himself, both for the power they both desire—and for love.
DESCENT INTO DARKNESS is a 129,500 word work of fantasy that retells the classic good vs. evil conflict from the perspective of evil. It is the first in a series of two books, the second of which is currently in progress. Thank you for your consideration.
Sincerely,
Author
Query - The Butterfly Key - Revision 4
Click here to read the original query.
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Click here to read the third revision.
Dear Agent,
Shortly after Christian Bryson promises to fulfill his wife’s dream of starting a family, he learns his Army Reserve unit is deploying for war. Later, when he sustains a wound in battle that renders him incapable of fathering children he wrestles with the thought of letting Abigail, his wife, know.
Blaming his calamity on the so-called providence of God, and haunted by a promise he can no longer keep, Christian wishes death would have stolen him. Instead, he must now confront his fears and face his wife. Dreading the idea of breaking his promise to her, Christian decides against telling Abigail about his injury for fear of turning her dreams of motherhood into a nightmare.
While Abigail tearfully pleads for him to come home, Christian resolves he can no longer be the husband that she deserves. God believes otherwise, however, and intervenes by sending forth two special travelers – one alive, the other not – to help Christian allay the anguish buried deep within his soul.
With the guidance and love of God’s sojourners, Christian realizes he needs to return home and apologize to Abigail. Upon his homecoming, he is ecstatic to find not only his wife but also his unknown progeny awaiting him. Thus, Christian relearns a valuable lesson: God always has a plan in everything He does.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of Christian fiction. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
A.D.N
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Click here to read the third revision.
Dear Agent,
Shortly after Christian Bryson promises to fulfill his wife’s dream of starting a family, he learns his Army Reserve unit is deploying for war. Later, when he sustains a wound in battle that renders him incapable of fathering children he wrestles with the thought of letting Abigail, his wife, know.
Blaming his calamity on the so-called providence of God, and haunted by a promise he can no longer keep, Christian wishes death would have stolen him. Instead, he must now confront his fears and face his wife. Dreading the idea of breaking his promise to her, Christian decides against telling Abigail about his injury for fear of turning her dreams of motherhood into a nightmare.
While Abigail tearfully pleads for him to come home, Christian resolves he can no longer be the husband that she deserves. God believes otherwise, however, and intervenes by sending forth two special travelers – one alive, the other not – to help Christian allay the anguish buried deep within his soul.
With the guidance and love of God’s sojourners, Christian realizes he needs to return home and apologize to Abigail. Upon his homecoming, he is ecstatic to find not only his wife but also his unknown progeny awaiting him. Thus, Christian relearns a valuable lesson: God always has a plan in everything He does.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of Christian fiction. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
A.D.N
Feb 2, 2010
Query - The Butterfly Key - 3rd Revision.
Click here to read the original query.
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Dear Agent,
Shortly after Christian Bryson promises his wife, Abigail, a family, he learns he is deploying for war, something he views as just a temporary setback in fulfilling his wife’s dream of having kids. But when wounded in battle, he tragically discovers he can no longer father children.
Wishing death’s hand would have taken him instead of this second chance at life, Christian finds himself hopelessly lost, drowning in a world of despair. Blaming his calamity on God and His so-called providence and haunted by a promise he can no longer keep, Christian refuses to tell Abigail about his injury even as she tearfully pleads for him to come home.
With their marriage on the verge of collapse, Christian determines he can no longer be the man that Abigail deserves. However, God intervenes and sends two special travelers – one alive and the other not – to return Christian home to not only his wife, but also his unknown progeny.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of Christian fiction. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
A.D.N
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Dear Agent,
Shortly after Christian Bryson promises his wife, Abigail, a family, he learns he is deploying for war, something he views as just a temporary setback in fulfilling his wife’s dream of having kids. But when wounded in battle, he tragically discovers he can no longer father children.
Wishing death’s hand would have taken him instead of this second chance at life, Christian finds himself hopelessly lost, drowning in a world of despair. Blaming his calamity on God and His so-called providence and haunted by a promise he can no longer keep, Christian refuses to tell Abigail about his injury even as she tearfully pleads for him to come home.
With their marriage on the verge of collapse, Christian determines he can no longer be the man that Abigail deserves. However, God intervenes and sends two special travelers – one alive and the other not – to return Christian home to not only his wife, but also his unknown progeny.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of Christian fiction. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
A.D.N
Sample Pages- THE ELEANOR STORY (revision 1)
Click here to read the query.
Click here to read the original sample pages.
Chapter 1
Memories can stick like a tongue to a frosty pole in the middle of winter. Pulling and tugging to break free will only dismember the delicate skin leaving it raw and exposed.
I remember the exact day the spot light turned on me. And by spot-light, I don’t mean me slipping on a pair of tap shoes and performing an excerpt from a Broadway musical. More like I was standing naked with my classmates staring me down, memorizing every detail.
Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but seriously, it was bad.
Sister Clarisse calls it adolescence or puberty, but I call it exposure. The time when every girl’s self-esteem is mutilated, dismembered. For me, my moment of exposure happened at the beginning of eighth grade.
“What do you think we’ll have to do?” Alison whispered to me that morning in homeroom.
I opened my bag and started pulling out books, throwing them on top of the desk. “I don’t know. Sister Clarisse didn’t give us any details.”
My nervous tone reflected the buzz of voices drifting through the classroom. Everyone was feeling it. Today was different. Of course when you’re my age, you can’t let anyone but your very best friends know the idea of watching The Movie was freakin’ scary. Yes, that’s right, Ellie Cummings was petrified of this official rite of passage into the teenage world, but never in a million years would I have guessed how much was about to change after watching The Movie. If I had known I probably would have faked an illness this morning and never left my house.
I hung my bag on the back of my chair and tugged at my green and navy pleated skirt. It was identical to the one Alison wore, but on her the required uniform was a fashion statement. Alison was already five foot five and growing constantly. Not in the gangly awkward way, but in the I’m-thirteen-but-the-ninth-grade-boys-all-snap-their-heads-in-my-direction way. Mostly because this summer she started growing things I didn’t have yet.
Don’t think I spend all my time obsessing over the bra size of my classmates, but it was the first week of school and everyone changed over the summer. Alison changed the most of all the girls and, of course, it didn’t go unnoticed. Me, well let’s just say I have the flattest chest in my entire class. This is not opinion based. It’s a fact. Even Freddie Livingston has bigger boobs than me. Seriously, he does. I cringe every time Freddie is on the “skins” team when the boys play basketball in the gym.
I was beginning to realize everything is more complicated in eighth grade. For starters, we moved to the high school wing with the ninth graders and switched classrooms every hour, bumping into them in the hallway. And if you’re unlucky like me, and scored high on your standardized testing you might even end up in a few classes with them. Talk about feeling like a puny little girl.
My other best friend Hailey leaned in close to me and Alison and whispered, “My sister told me they make everyone put condoms on oranges.”
Hailey’s sister is in tenth grade this year and entertains herself by giving Hailey a load of crap to see if she’ll believe it.
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t put condoms on oranges. Bananas maybe?”
Alison giggled beside me then put her hand over her mouth when Sister Janet glared in our direction. The nun always did this if anyone appeared to be enjoying homeroom.
Hailey’s forehead wrinkled, and I could tell she was going to give herself a head ache thinking this hard.
I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her down before whispering as quietly as possible, “Hailey we’re not going to put condoms on anything . This isn’t public school. Catholics stress abstinence, not birth control, meaning don’t do it, so there’s no reason to know how to use a condom.”
Her face relaxed.
Alison shook her head, eyes glued to the folder in her hands. “Ellie’s right.”
TJ, the cutest boy in our grade, strolled past us and we immediately jumped apart from our huddled girl talk.
TJ’s eyes fell on Alison. His cheeks blushed a little, and he hurried over to his desk.
“Did you see that,” Hailey squealed.
I clapped my hand over her mouth to shut her up. Alison threw me a grateful look. Last year we made a pact to never be those girls. The squealing ones who pretend they’re idiots and refuse to eat in front of boys. Hailey can’t help herself. She’s naturally ditzy and forgetful. It has nothing to do with male presence, so we still love her.
“My house after school,” Alison reminded us of our Friday tradition.
It was nothing more than hanging out, pigging out, making fun of the popular girls (the Pact to stay “squeal free” evolved from one of these sessions), and occasionally inventing stories about what the nuns really do after school (my personal favorite).
“Sarah’s coming. I called her last night,” Hailey said, referring to our other best friend in a different homeroom this year.
“Alright, everyone get your Math books out and start with the problems on page ten,” Sister Janet said. She narrowed her eyes at me, pointing one hand toward the door. Freddie and Dara zipped past, books tucked under their arms. I swallowed hard and threw Alison and Hailey a desperate look. Alison bit her lower lip and Hailey chewed on her thumb nail. They were the most supportive friends a girl could have, but they didn’t have to leave. I did. Day five of Algebra with the ninth graders had officially begun.
I grabbed my book and hurried after Freddie and Dara. My stomach did flip-flops while I made the long walk down the hall. But the pukey feeling was completely unrelated to the impending movie and everything to with the older kids (I’d start worrying about the movie again after Algebra). Being forced into their world, even if only for academic reasons would frightened the coolest of eighth graders (which I wasn’t). They didn’t want me there anymore than I wanted to be there.
Sister Janet says there’s always something to be grateful for- someone who was worse off. Whenever I sit in class behind the most popular ninth grade girl, April Jenson, it’s difficult to be grateful for anything God has blessed me with. But then I look over at Jenny Ludwig and give thanks that my mother doesn’t make me wear the little girl jumpers instead of the skirts. Seriously, she’s fourteen with a plaid jumper, white button down Peter Pan collar shirt, knee socks and black Mary Jane’s.
I. Kid. You. Not.
After glancing at Jenny the first day of school, I forced myself to look down at my socially acceptable skirt, navy school polo and Nike’s then I said: Yes, there is a God. I may not be April Jenson, but Sister Janet is right. It could be worse.
I took in a deep breath before entering the classroom, letting my eyes drop to stare at my shoes like I was examining them for dog crap stuck to the bottom. It’s an unspoken rule not to make eye contact with the ninth graders while on their turf (which I was). I slid into my seat and noticed Mrs. Halloway wasn’t in the room yet.
Frightening.
I was writing the date on the top of my notebook page when someone tapped me on the shoulder. My heart started pounding in my chest. It must be a trick. I wasn’t turning around just to have someone shove my finger up my nose and ask me if I’m digging for gold (this happened to Freddie yesterday, I felt terrible for him).
“Ellie, are you ignoring me?” a voice whispered in my ear.
A familiar voice. But it couldn’t be. I turned quickly in my seat and stared right into Justin’s green eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help asking.
He smiled. “It’s not an all girl’s school.”
I rolled my eyes. “You wish. But I thought you were going to George Washington?”
“My parents had me on the waiting list all summer. A spot opened up at the last minute.” He frowned and reached his hand toward my shirt and pulled off a cat hair. “Albert Einstein’s been rolling in your laundry basket again, hasn’t he?”
I laughed and pushed his hand away. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t know you were here. Plus I’m an eighth grader. I’ll probably get hung or lynched just for this little chat.”
I turned around then because Mrs. Halloway walked in to the room and I realized immediately several pairs of eyes were on me.
Spotlight number one. I wished more than anything this was the only one. It wasn’t.
My cheeks burned and I slid down in my seat hoping Mrs. Halloway would jump right in to complex equations. She did jump into the lesson but not the long boring lecture I hoped for. No, that would be lucky (which I wasn’t). And that would be reserved for traditional teachers (which Mrs. Halloway wasn’t).
Today we were doing a hands-on project- calculating angles of large objects outside using Algebraic and geometric formulas. So when she started to partner us up I glanced hopefully at Dara, even Freddie would do. Eighth graders needed to stick together, but instead I get-
“April Jenson,” Mrs. Halloway said.
April stood and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder.
Mrs. Halloway looked down at her clip board. “April your partner will be, Eleanor Cummings.”
My face turned even redder and I ducked down pretending to pick up something from the floor.
“Eleanor Cummings,” Mrs. Halloway spoke with such authority I jerked up quickly banging my head on the desk, hard.
I stood feeling the burn of everyone’s eyes.
Spotlight number two.
Mrs. Halloway was new and didn’t know name’s yet. She was just reading off the roster and the damage she caused was completely unintentional.
I heard Justin laugh a little under his breath and mutter, “Eleanor.”
I had been Ellie Cummings since preschool. Like every other day, I walked in as Ellie. But today, I left as Eleanor and today of all days Eleanor was the absolute worst name to have.
Click here to read the original sample pages.
Chapter 1
Memories can stick like a tongue to a frosty pole in the middle of winter. Pulling and tugging to break free will only dismember the delicate skin leaving it raw and exposed.
I remember the exact day the spot light turned on me. And by spot-light, I don’t mean me slipping on a pair of tap shoes and performing an excerpt from a Broadway musical. More like I was standing naked with my classmates staring me down, memorizing every detail.
Okay, that’s a bit dramatic, but seriously, it was bad.
Sister Clarisse calls it adolescence or puberty, but I call it exposure. The time when every girl’s self-esteem is mutilated, dismembered. For me, my moment of exposure happened at the beginning of eighth grade.
“What do you think we’ll have to do?” Alison whispered to me that morning in homeroom.
I opened my bag and started pulling out books, throwing them on top of the desk. “I don’t know. Sister Clarisse didn’t give us any details.”
My nervous tone reflected the buzz of voices drifting through the classroom. Everyone was feeling it. Today was different. Of course when you’re my age, you can’t let anyone but your very best friends know the idea of watching The Movie was freakin’ scary. Yes, that’s right, Ellie Cummings was petrified of this official rite of passage into the teenage world, but never in a million years would I have guessed how much was about to change after watching The Movie. If I had known I probably would have faked an illness this morning and never left my house.
I hung my bag on the back of my chair and tugged at my green and navy pleated skirt. It was identical to the one Alison wore, but on her the required uniform was a fashion statement. Alison was already five foot five and growing constantly. Not in the gangly awkward way, but in the I’m-thirteen-but-the-ninth-grade-boys-all-snap-their-heads-in-my-direction way. Mostly because this summer she started growing things I didn’t have yet.
Don’t think I spend all my time obsessing over the bra size of my classmates, but it was the first week of school and everyone changed over the summer. Alison changed the most of all the girls and, of course, it didn’t go unnoticed. Me, well let’s just say I have the flattest chest in my entire class. This is not opinion based. It’s a fact. Even Freddie Livingston has bigger boobs than me. Seriously, he does. I cringe every time Freddie is on the “skins” team when the boys play basketball in the gym.
I was beginning to realize everything is more complicated in eighth grade. For starters, we moved to the high school wing with the ninth graders and switched classrooms every hour, bumping into them in the hallway. And if you’re unlucky like me, and scored high on your standardized testing you might even end up in a few classes with them. Talk about feeling like a puny little girl.
My other best friend Hailey leaned in close to me and Alison and whispered, “My sister told me they make everyone put condoms on oranges.”
Hailey’s sister is in tenth grade this year and entertains herself by giving Hailey a load of crap to see if she’ll believe it.
I rolled my eyes. “You don’t put condoms on oranges. Bananas maybe?”
Alison giggled beside me then put her hand over her mouth when Sister Janet glared in our direction. The nun always did this if anyone appeared to be enjoying homeroom.
Hailey’s forehead wrinkled, and I could tell she was going to give herself a head ache thinking this hard.
I put my hand on her shoulder to calm her down before whispering as quietly as possible, “Hailey we’re not going to put condoms on anything . This isn’t public school. Catholics stress abstinence, not birth control, meaning don’t do it, so there’s no reason to know how to use a condom.”
Her face relaxed.
Alison shook her head, eyes glued to the folder in her hands. “Ellie’s right.”
TJ, the cutest boy in our grade, strolled past us and we immediately jumped apart from our huddled girl talk.
TJ’s eyes fell on Alison. His cheeks blushed a little, and he hurried over to his desk.
“Did you see that,” Hailey squealed.
I clapped my hand over her mouth to shut her up. Alison threw me a grateful look. Last year we made a pact to never be those girls. The squealing ones who pretend they’re idiots and refuse to eat in front of boys. Hailey can’t help herself. She’s naturally ditzy and forgetful. It has nothing to do with male presence, so we still love her.
“My house after school,” Alison reminded us of our Friday tradition.
It was nothing more than hanging out, pigging out, making fun of the popular girls (the Pact to stay “squeal free” evolved from one of these sessions), and occasionally inventing stories about what the nuns really do after school (my personal favorite).
“Sarah’s coming. I called her last night,” Hailey said, referring to our other best friend in a different homeroom this year.
“Alright, everyone get your Math books out and start with the problems on page ten,” Sister Janet said. She narrowed her eyes at me, pointing one hand toward the door. Freddie and Dara zipped past, books tucked under their arms. I swallowed hard and threw Alison and Hailey a desperate look. Alison bit her lower lip and Hailey chewed on her thumb nail. They were the most supportive friends a girl could have, but they didn’t have to leave. I did. Day five of Algebra with the ninth graders had officially begun.
I grabbed my book and hurried after Freddie and Dara. My stomach did flip-flops while I made the long walk down the hall. But the pukey feeling was completely unrelated to the impending movie and everything to with the older kids (I’d start worrying about the movie again after Algebra). Being forced into their world, even if only for academic reasons would frightened the coolest of eighth graders (which I wasn’t). They didn’t want me there anymore than I wanted to be there.
Sister Janet says there’s always something to be grateful for- someone who was worse off. Whenever I sit in class behind the most popular ninth grade girl, April Jenson, it’s difficult to be grateful for anything God has blessed me with. But then I look over at Jenny Ludwig and give thanks that my mother doesn’t make me wear the little girl jumpers instead of the skirts. Seriously, she’s fourteen with a plaid jumper, white button down Peter Pan collar shirt, knee socks and black Mary Jane’s.
I. Kid. You. Not.
After glancing at Jenny the first day of school, I forced myself to look down at my socially acceptable skirt, navy school polo and Nike’s then I said: Yes, there is a God. I may not be April Jenson, but Sister Janet is right. It could be worse.
I took in a deep breath before entering the classroom, letting my eyes drop to stare at my shoes like I was examining them for dog crap stuck to the bottom. It’s an unspoken rule not to make eye contact with the ninth graders while on their turf (which I was). I slid into my seat and noticed Mrs. Halloway wasn’t in the room yet.
Frightening.
I was writing the date on the top of my notebook page when someone tapped me on the shoulder. My heart started pounding in my chest. It must be a trick. I wasn’t turning around just to have someone shove my finger up my nose and ask me if I’m digging for gold (this happened to Freddie yesterday, I felt terrible for him).
“Ellie, are you ignoring me?” a voice whispered in my ear.
A familiar voice. But it couldn’t be. I turned quickly in my seat and stared right into Justin’s green eyes.
“What are you doing here?” I couldn’t help asking.
He smiled. “It’s not an all girl’s school.”
I rolled my eyes. “You wish. But I thought you were going to George Washington?”
“My parents had me on the waiting list all summer. A spot opened up at the last minute.” He frowned and reached his hand toward my shirt and pulled off a cat hair. “Albert Einstein’s been rolling in your laundry basket again, hasn’t he?”
I laughed and pushed his hand away. “I wasn’t ignoring you. I didn’t know you were here. Plus I’m an eighth grader. I’ll probably get hung or lynched just for this little chat.”
I turned around then because Mrs. Halloway walked in to the room and I realized immediately several pairs of eyes were on me.
Spotlight number one. I wished more than anything this was the only one. It wasn’t.
My cheeks burned and I slid down in my seat hoping Mrs. Halloway would jump right in to complex equations. She did jump into the lesson but not the long boring lecture I hoped for. No, that would be lucky (which I wasn’t). And that would be reserved for traditional teachers (which Mrs. Halloway wasn’t).
Today we were doing a hands-on project- calculating angles of large objects outside using Algebraic and geometric formulas. So when she started to partner us up I glanced hopefully at Dara, even Freddie would do. Eighth graders needed to stick together, but instead I get-
“April Jenson,” Mrs. Halloway said.
April stood and flipped her blonde hair over her shoulder.
Mrs. Halloway looked down at her clip board. “April your partner will be, Eleanor Cummings.”
My face turned even redder and I ducked down pretending to pick up something from the floor.
“Eleanor Cummings,” Mrs. Halloway spoke with such authority I jerked up quickly banging my head on the desk, hard.
I stood feeling the burn of everyone’s eyes.
Spotlight number two.
Mrs. Halloway was new and didn’t know name’s yet. She was just reading off the roster and the damage she caused was completely unintentional.
I heard Justin laugh a little under his breath and mutter, “Eleanor.”
I had been Ellie Cummings since preschool. Like every other day, I walked in as Ellie. But today, I left as Eleanor and today of all days Eleanor was the absolute worst name to have.
QUERY- THE ELEANOR STORY (first revision)
Click here to read the original query.
Click here to read the sample pages.
On her fourteenth birthday, Ellie Cummings has one amazing seventy-two second kiss with the cutest boy in school. Three days later, she’s officially the slut of St. Vincent’s Academy.
Shy, quiet Ellie is in for a surprise when Justin, the boy she’s kept a secret from her friends all summer, transfers to her school. From the moment Ellie chooses a seat in the cafeteria next to Justin, she goes from flying under the radar, to being the center of gossip so juicy even the nuns are taking notice.
Her friendship with Justin is put under the microscope by everyone, including Ellie as she employs every method possible to protect her reputation, even forming her very own list of thirty items guaranteed to keep rumors from spreading. Eye gazing, hand holding, daydreaming (or vacant stare that might be mistaken for daydreaming), are all out of the question.
Despite her efforts to prove Justin is a friend and nothing more, Ellie’s true feelings creep in and she impulsively kisses him in front of twenty-six pairs of eyes and one hairy mole working for the evil HailMary22.
Three days later, HailMary22 has started a blog in her honor, Guess Eleanor Cummings Next Man. Rumors and lies fill the pages of the blog and Ellie can’t escape from an outcome she never asked for. Isolation from her friends and the boy she may love, lead to something far worse than any rumor spread. It’s up to Ellie to decide, hide from HailMary22 or stand up for herself for the first in her life.
THE ELEANOR STORY is a 54,000 word young adult novel. This is my first project.
Click here to read the sample pages.
On her fourteenth birthday, Ellie Cummings has one amazing seventy-two second kiss with the cutest boy in school. Three days later, she’s officially the slut of St. Vincent’s Academy.
Shy, quiet Ellie is in for a surprise when Justin, the boy she’s kept a secret from her friends all summer, transfers to her school. From the moment Ellie chooses a seat in the cafeteria next to Justin, she goes from flying under the radar, to being the center of gossip so juicy even the nuns are taking notice.
Her friendship with Justin is put under the microscope by everyone, including Ellie as she employs every method possible to protect her reputation, even forming her very own list of thirty items guaranteed to keep rumors from spreading. Eye gazing, hand holding, daydreaming (or vacant stare that might be mistaken for daydreaming), are all out of the question.
Despite her efforts to prove Justin is a friend and nothing more, Ellie’s true feelings creep in and she impulsively kisses him in front of twenty-six pairs of eyes and one hairy mole working for the evil HailMary22.
Three days later, HailMary22 has started a blog in her honor, Guess Eleanor Cummings Next Man. Rumors and lies fill the pages of the blog and Ellie can’t escape from an outcome she never asked for. Isolation from her friends and the boy she may love, lead to something far worse than any rumor spread. It’s up to Ellie to decide, hide from HailMary22 or stand up for herself for the first in her life.
THE ELEANOR STORY is a 54,000 word young adult novel. This is my first project.
Feb 1, 2010
The Butterfly Key -- Revision 2 (Revised)
Click here to read the original query.
Click here to read the first revision.
Dear Agent,
When Nicole Kuefler’s seemingly indelible faith crumbles after her miscarriage, she falls into an agonizing conflict against God. Concerned for his wife, Nicole’s husband Drew gathers his family around the Christmas tree to weave a story about God and His so-called providence. This is the allegory of The Butterfly Key.
Christian Bryson’s mother died after childbirth, his father recently lost his battle with cancer. Therefore, when Abigail, his wife, discovers she is pregnant, she is ecstatic to deliver him some good news. Sadly, before Abigail can tell him, Christian crushes her world by informing her that he is deploying for war. Consequently, Abigail reluctantly decides to keep her pregnancy a secret so Christian can focus on keeping himself alive.
When wounded in battle, Christian learns he can no longer father children, thus his promise of making Abigail a mother haunts his soul. Struggling to accept his calamity, Christian cannot bring himself to tell Abigail about his injury even as she pleads for him to come home. Believing Christian should return for love and not for a sense of obligation, Abigail wrongly decides not to tell him about the birth of their progeny.
With their marriage on the verge of collapsing, God intervenes and sends two special travelers to bring Christian back home to his family.
After Drew finishes his story, he is unsure if Nicole can forgive God. That is, until a unique present appears under the Christmas tree from an invented character in his story. A gift with the power to restore what Nicole had lost – her faith.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of literary fiction. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
Click here to read the first revision.
Dear Agent,
When Nicole Kuefler’s seemingly indelible faith crumbles after her miscarriage, she falls into an agonizing conflict against God. Concerned for his wife, Nicole’s husband Drew gathers his family around the Christmas tree to weave a story about God and His so-called providence. This is the allegory of The Butterfly Key.
Christian Bryson’s mother died after childbirth, his father recently lost his battle with cancer. Therefore, when Abigail, his wife, discovers she is pregnant, she is ecstatic to deliver him some good news. Sadly, before Abigail can tell him, Christian crushes her world by informing her that he is deploying for war. Consequently, Abigail reluctantly decides to keep her pregnancy a secret so Christian can focus on keeping himself alive.
When wounded in battle, Christian learns he can no longer father children, thus his promise of making Abigail a mother haunts his soul. Struggling to accept his calamity, Christian cannot bring himself to tell Abigail about his injury even as she pleads for him to come home. Believing Christian should return for love and not for a sense of obligation, Abigail wrongly decides not to tell him about the birth of their progeny.
With their marriage on the verge of collapsing, God intervenes and sends two special travelers to bring Christian back home to his family.
After Drew finishes his story, he is unsure if Nicole can forgive God. That is, until a unique present appears under the Christmas tree from an invented character in his story. A gift with the power to restore what Nicole had lost – her faith.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of literary fiction. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
The Butterfly Key -- Revision 2
Click here to read the original query.
Click here to read the first revision.
First off I would like to thank everyone for their comments. I'm trying hard to condense this down into its essence, hopefully I can get some more of your wonderful feedback. so... with no further ado.
Dear Agent,
When Nicole Kuefler’s seemingly indelible faith crumbles after her miscarriage, she falls into an agonizing conflict against God. Concerned for his wife, Nicole’s husband Drew gathers his family around the Christmas tree to weave a story about God and His so-called providence. This is the allegory of The Butterfly Key.
Christian Bryson’s mother died shortly after childbirth, his father recently lost his battle with cancer. Therefore, when Abigail, his wife, discovers she is pregnant, she decides not to tell him because he is deploying for war.
When wounded in battle, Christian learns he can no longer father children, thus a promise he made to make Abigail a mother haunts his soul. As Christian struggles to accept a pledge he believes he cannot fulfill, Abigail fights for a husband who does not want to come home. Believing he should return for their love and not for a sense of obligation, Abigail decides not to tell Christian about her recent birth.
With their marriage on the verge of collapsing, God intervenes and sends two special travelers to bring Christian home to his wife and unknown progeny.
After Drew finishes his story, he is unsure if Nicole can forgive God. That is, until a unique present appears under the Christmas tree from an invented character in his story. A gift with the power to restore what Nicole had lost – her faith.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of literary fiction, set within the small town of Columbus, Minnesota. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
A.D.N
Click here to read the first revision.
First off I would like to thank everyone for their comments. I'm trying hard to condense this down into its essence, hopefully I can get some more of your wonderful feedback. so... with no further ado.
Dear Agent,
When Nicole Kuefler’s seemingly indelible faith crumbles after her miscarriage, she falls into an agonizing conflict against God. Concerned for his wife, Nicole’s husband Drew gathers his family around the Christmas tree to weave a story about God and His so-called providence. This is the allegory of The Butterfly Key.
Christian Bryson’s mother died shortly after childbirth, his father recently lost his battle with cancer. Therefore, when Abigail, his wife, discovers she is pregnant, she decides not to tell him because he is deploying for war.
When wounded in battle, Christian learns he can no longer father children, thus a promise he made to make Abigail a mother haunts his soul. As Christian struggles to accept a pledge he believes he cannot fulfill, Abigail fights for a husband who does not want to come home. Believing he should return for their love and not for a sense of obligation, Abigail decides not to tell Christian about her recent birth.
With their marriage on the verge of collapsing, God intervenes and sends two special travelers to bring Christian home to his wife and unknown progeny.
After Drew finishes his story, he is unsure if Nicole can forgive God. That is, until a unique present appears under the Christmas tree from an invented character in his story. A gift with the power to restore what Nicole had lost – her faith.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of literary fiction, set within the small town of Columbus, Minnesota. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
A.D.N
Jan 31, 2010
QUERY: Around Egypt on One Foot
Dear Agent,
Marie broke her ankle, managing to do this in the washroom of the plane taking her to Egypt. After two days in a Cairo hospital, she decides to continue her voyage, but what was to be the trip of a lifetime for this French Canadian pharmacist has now become a trip on crutches with the occasional—and sometimes comically defective—wheelchair thrown in. All this, Marie is convinced, is the result of the curse of Ramses which has not only been delivered prematurely, but continues to dog her throughout the trip.
Marie candidly recounts her quirky misadventures with a heavy dose of humour, from the unexpected surgery in the Egyptian hospital where important things always get done at midnight, the witching hour, to an encounter with the crutch-sucking sand of the evil Beach of Torment.
To survive, Marie adapts and acquires new skills. She learns how to avoid face-first landings in the hummus when dealing with buffets—a dangerous activity for anyone on crutches who is not a three-handed mutant. She defeats the heaving, bobbing, and rolling Dock of Despair, and even manages to build a snowman while sailing down the Nile.
Marie further enlightens the reader on the mysteries of the pyramids, Egyptian mythology, and the art of building a proper mummy. She does this with the aid of Widget and Otitis, two ancient Egyptian cartoon characters who pop up throughout the book, interjecting their own interpretation of events.
AROUND EGYPT ON ONE FOOT is a non-fiction narrative of my trip to Egypt. It not only reveals the beauty of this country from the decidedly different perspective of a damaged tourist, but also shows the kindness and warmth of its people, without which, I would have been up the Nile without an oar. It is complete at 52,000 words and is my first book.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Marie Descent
Marie broke her ankle, managing to do this in the washroom of the plane taking her to Egypt. After two days in a Cairo hospital, she decides to continue her voyage, but what was to be the trip of a lifetime for this French Canadian pharmacist has now become a trip on crutches with the occasional—and sometimes comically defective—wheelchair thrown in. All this, Marie is convinced, is the result of the curse of Ramses which has not only been delivered prematurely, but continues to dog her throughout the trip.
Marie candidly recounts her quirky misadventures with a heavy dose of humour, from the unexpected surgery in the Egyptian hospital where important things always get done at midnight, the witching hour, to an encounter with the crutch-sucking sand of the evil Beach of Torment.
To survive, Marie adapts and acquires new skills. She learns how to avoid face-first landings in the hummus when dealing with buffets—a dangerous activity for anyone on crutches who is not a three-handed mutant. She defeats the heaving, bobbing, and rolling Dock of Despair, and even manages to build a snowman while sailing down the Nile.
Marie further enlightens the reader on the mysteries of the pyramids, Egyptian mythology, and the art of building a proper mummy. She does this with the aid of Widget and Otitis, two ancient Egyptian cartoon characters who pop up throughout the book, interjecting their own interpretation of events.
AROUND EGYPT ON ONE FOOT is a non-fiction narrative of my trip to Egypt. It not only reveals the beauty of this country from the decidedly different perspective of a damaged tourist, but also shows the kindness and warmth of its people, without which, I would have been up the Nile without an oar. It is complete at 52,000 words and is my first book.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Marie Descent
QUERY - NEAR EDGWARE (sixth revision)
Click here to read the original query.
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Click here to read the third revision.
Click here to read the fourth revision.
Click here to read the fifth revision.
Dear Agent,
I am seeking representation for NEAR EDGWARE, a YA paranormal romance complete at 72,000 words.
Sixteen year old Jess Trainer does not understand Caleb Ridgeway. He alternates between interested and the cold shoulder. She could manage her emotions if he did not give her reasons to hope, but this on-off attraction drives her to the brink of stalker status.
Aware that the insular Ridgeway brothers have abilities beyond a normal person, she suspects this is why Caleb says their relationship cannot develop. Only after she is attacked does Jess discover that Caleb’s secret is bitingly real and she is plunged into the seething war of attrition being fought in the woodland between those born human and those born were. When his pack in attacked, Caleb is singled out for brutal treatment. He is left traumatised and withdrawn. Jess chooses her side in the war when she runs for help, and risks her humanity, to reach out to Caleb. She helps him find his way back to a time before the pain, back to her love.
Jess’ problems lie in the secrets her parents keep from her; they prevent her from understanding why she is fast and strong, has an innate visual memory, and senses the true nature of others. Hoping to end a way of life built on hatred and annihilation, they have chosen to allow Fate to decide what will happen when the last-born Hunter meets the Alpha-to-be. Since an unscrupulous Were might see Jess’ ignorance as the perfect opportunity for revenge, it’s a good thing that Caleb fights for more than the right to love.
Thank your for your time and consideration.
My thanks to everyone who has contributed to the Query letter in its many forms. :)
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Click here to read the third revision.
Click here to read the fourth revision.
Click here to read the fifth revision.
Dear Agent,
I am seeking representation for NEAR EDGWARE, a YA paranormal romance complete at 72,000 words.
Sixteen year old Jess Trainer does not understand Caleb Ridgeway. He alternates between interested and the cold shoulder. She could manage her emotions if he did not give her reasons to hope, but this on-off attraction drives her to the brink of stalker status.
Aware that the insular Ridgeway brothers have abilities beyond a normal person, she suspects this is why Caleb says their relationship cannot develop. Only after she is attacked does Jess discover that Caleb’s secret is bitingly real and she is plunged into the seething war of attrition being fought in the woodland between those born human and those born were. When his pack in attacked, Caleb is singled out for brutal treatment. He is left traumatised and withdrawn. Jess chooses her side in the war when she runs for help, and risks her humanity, to reach out to Caleb. She helps him find his way back to a time before the pain, back to her love.
Jess’ problems lie in the secrets her parents keep from her; they prevent her from understanding why she is fast and strong, has an innate visual memory, and senses the true nature of others. Hoping to end a way of life built on hatred and annihilation, they have chosen to allow Fate to decide what will happen when the last-born Hunter meets the Alpha-to-be. Since an unscrupulous Were might see Jess’ ignorance as the perfect opportunity for revenge, it’s a good thing that Caleb fights for more than the right to love.
Thank your for your time and consideration.
My thanks to everyone who has contributed to the Query letter in its many forms. :)
Jan 27, 2010
Query - Shifting Sand
Dear Agent:
Those who ignore the past are doomed to repeat it. That sounds just fine to Sadie Sloan.
Welcome to Tybee Island! Savannah's Playground! Mayberry on Acid! The End of Highway 80! And maybe the end of Sadie's marriage. But maybe that's a good thing, because she doesn't even love her husband. Or maybe it's a bad thing, because he is exactly what she needs. She can't be sure.
While in self-imposed exile on this tiny Georgia island, Sadie runs into Kyle, the man who left her shattered eighteen years ago. Seeing him releases a torrent of suppressed memories of that summer after high school when she fell in love with Kyle, her boyfriend's best friend and her best friend's boyfriend. The shocking suicide of Sadie's best friend drove them apart and Sadie never quite recovered. Now it seems like they have another chance to discover the happiness that was denied them so many years ago.
Sadie is too busy trying to pretend to be a teenager again to listen to friends and family who are all warning her to stay away from Kyle. Sadie's husband is too busy trying to soothe his bruised ego to tell Sadie that he loves her and desperately wants her to come back home.
Before Sadie throws her life away for Kyle, she must learn for herself that the past only exists in her memories and that as much as she may want to, she can't go back again.
Shifting Sand, a work of women's fiction, is complete at 89,000 words. Please contact me if you are interested in seeing my novel. Thank you for your consideration.
Those who ignore the past are doomed to repeat it. That sounds just fine to Sadie Sloan.
Welcome to Tybee Island! Savannah's Playground! Mayberry on Acid! The End of Highway 80! And maybe the end of Sadie's marriage. But maybe that's a good thing, because she doesn't even love her husband. Or maybe it's a bad thing, because he is exactly what she needs. She can't be sure.
While in self-imposed exile on this tiny Georgia island, Sadie runs into Kyle, the man who left her shattered eighteen years ago. Seeing him releases a torrent of suppressed memories of that summer after high school when she fell in love with Kyle, her boyfriend's best friend and her best friend's boyfriend. The shocking suicide of Sadie's best friend drove them apart and Sadie never quite recovered. Now it seems like they have another chance to discover the happiness that was denied them so many years ago.
Sadie is too busy trying to pretend to be a teenager again to listen to friends and family who are all warning her to stay away from Kyle. Sadie's husband is too busy trying to soothe his bruised ego to tell Sadie that he loves her and desperately wants her to come back home.
Before Sadie throws her life away for Kyle, she must learn for herself that the past only exists in her memories and that as much as she may want to, she can't go back again.
Shifting Sand, a work of women's fiction, is complete at 89,000 words. Please contact me if you are interested in seeing my novel. Thank you for your consideration.
Query -- The Butterfly Key (First Revision)
Click here to read the original query.
Dear Agent,
Devastated by the recent miscarriage of her baby and inundated by a constant, never-ending crush of emotions, Nicole Kuefler is embroiled in an agonizing conflict against God and His so-called providence.
Upon reaching her breaking point on Christmas Eve, Nicole is losing her battle. With her soul fractured like a broken pane of glass, she is unable to purge the brutal despair that has seeped in through the cracks. Moreover, her seemingly indelible faith is at risk of erosion.
Determined to mend the shards of his wife’s shattered soul, Nicole’s husband, Drew, gathers his wife and children around the Christmas tree. Guided by something he could only consider extraordinary, Drew narrates a made-up tale of a young couple who also want children, but find themselves struggling amidst the providence of God.
As Drew spins his yarn, he is hoping to weave a story that will show Nicole that God has a purpose for all that happens – even the heartrending events in life.
When Drew finishes his emotional story, he is still unsure if Nicole can find it in her heart to forgive God. That is until a special gift appears under the Christmas tree from one of the invented characters in his story, which completely changes everything for both Drew and Nicole.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of literary fiction and is set within the small town of Columbus, Minnesota. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
A.D.N
Dear Agent,
Devastated by the recent miscarriage of her baby and inundated by a constant, never-ending crush of emotions, Nicole Kuefler is embroiled in an agonizing conflict against God and His so-called providence.
Upon reaching her breaking point on Christmas Eve, Nicole is losing her battle. With her soul fractured like a broken pane of glass, she is unable to purge the brutal despair that has seeped in through the cracks. Moreover, her seemingly indelible faith is at risk of erosion.
Determined to mend the shards of his wife’s shattered soul, Nicole’s husband, Drew, gathers his wife and children around the Christmas tree. Guided by something he could only consider extraordinary, Drew narrates a made-up tale of a young couple who also want children, but find themselves struggling amidst the providence of God.
As Drew spins his yarn, he is hoping to weave a story that will show Nicole that God has a purpose for all that happens – even the heartrending events in life.
When Drew finishes his emotional story, he is still unsure if Nicole can find it in her heart to forgive God. That is until a special gift appears under the Christmas tree from one of the invented characters in his story, which completely changes everything for both Drew and Nicole.
THE BUTTERFLY KEY is a 72,000-word work of literary fiction and is set within the small town of Columbus, Minnesota. A completed manuscript is available upon your request. I look forward to working with you.
Regards,
A.D.N
Query: TEMPUS VIATOR (draft two)
Click here to read the original query.
Dear Agent,
Knees bent and body poised, Rochelle was ready to pounce with her knife. She kept her gaze on the man who above all wanted her blood. Little did he know it was his that would be spilled.
Twenty year old Rochelle was warned he was coming for her. Hadrian, a tempus viator, or time traveler like herself, is threatening the very existence of their kind. He has been killing off viators one by one for the past twenty odd years. His lust for power and envy for Rochelle's unique ability to see into the past, a trait not common among the time travelers, makes her his number one priority. Rochelle, together with a group of loyal friends, set out from her hometown of Franklin, Tennessee to make the hell Hadrian's created a thing of the past. A thing that cannot be changed.
TEMPUS VIATOR is science fiction complete at 73,000 words. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Joy Wilson
Dear Agent,
Knees bent and body poised, Rochelle was ready to pounce with her knife. She kept her gaze on the man who above all wanted her blood. Little did he know it was his that would be spilled.
Twenty year old Rochelle was warned he was coming for her. Hadrian, a tempus viator, or time traveler like herself, is threatening the very existence of their kind. He has been killing off viators one by one for the past twenty odd years. His lust for power and envy for Rochelle's unique ability to see into the past, a trait not common among the time travelers, makes her his number one priority. Rochelle, together with a group of loyal friends, set out from her hometown of Franklin, Tennessee to make the hell Hadrian's created a thing of the past. A thing that cannot be changed.
TEMPUS VIATOR is science fiction complete at 73,000 words. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Sincerely,
Joy Wilson
QUERY- YOUNG ADULT PARANORMAL THRILLER TAKE TWO: NEW TITLE: WHISKERS: HARBINGERS OF CHANGE
Click here to read the original query.
Dear [Agent Name]:
[Personalized opening sentence] I am seeking representation for my Young Adult paranormal thriller, WHISKERS: HARBINGERS OF CHANGE, complete at 77,000 words.
Sixteen year old Nickie Leone will do whatever it takes to find her father—even if it means trusting a stranger with her most guarded secret.
As if that isn’t bad enough, she discovers the leader of an opposing clan wants to kill her father and adopt her into his pride. When uber-handsome Xavian confesses his knowledge of the danger, Nickie wonders if her classmate is tricking her or trying to help. Before she has a chance to question him, her body undergoes changes no teenager would expect—pointed ears and whiskers are not the fashion statement she wants to make. Xavian witnesses her new appendages and when he transforms into a panther, Nickie is introduced to life as an Ailuranthrope, or shapeshifter.
Now Nickie must pair up with Xavian and find a way to win her father’s freedom—before she becomes a captive and her father becomes a murder victim.
[Bio]
Thank you for your consideration,
[Me]
[Contact Info]
http://lbdiamond.wordpress.com/
Dear [Agent Name]:
[Personalized opening sentence] I am seeking representation for my Young Adult paranormal thriller, WHISKERS: HARBINGERS OF CHANGE, complete at 77,000 words.
Sixteen year old Nickie Leone will do whatever it takes to find her father—even if it means trusting a stranger with her most guarded secret.
As if that isn’t bad enough, she discovers the leader of an opposing clan wants to kill her father and adopt her into his pride. When uber-handsome Xavian confesses his knowledge of the danger, Nickie wonders if her classmate is tricking her or trying to help. Before she has a chance to question him, her body undergoes changes no teenager would expect—pointed ears and whiskers are not the fashion statement she wants to make. Xavian witnesses her new appendages and when he transforms into a panther, Nickie is introduced to life as an Ailuranthrope, or shapeshifter.
Now Nickie must pair up with Xavian and find a way to win her father’s freedom—before she becomes a captive and her father becomes a murder victim.
[Bio]
Thank you for your consideration,
[Me]
[Contact Info]
http://lbdiamond.wordpress.com/
Jan 25, 2010
QUERY- YOUNG ADULT PARANORMAL THRILLER AILURANTHROPE
Dear [Agent Name]:
[Personalized opening sentence] I am seeking representation for my Young Adult paranormal thriller, AILURANTHROPE, complete at 77,000 words.
Sixteen year old Nickie Leone will do whatever it takes to find her father—even if it means trusting a stranger with her most guarded secret.
When uber-handsome Xavian hints at knowing how to find her dad, Nickie notices his unnatural grace. But before she has a chance to question him, her body undergoes changes no teenager would expect—pointed ears and whiskers are not the fashion statement she wants to make. Too bad she’s not alone when it happens. Her worries are erased when Xavian transforms into a panther. With Xavian's help, Nickie is introduced to life as an Ailuranthrope.
As if that isn’t bad enough, she discovers the leader of an opposing clan wants to kill her father and adopt her into his pride.
Now Nickie must pair up with Xavian and find a way to win her father’s freedom—before she becomes a captive and her father becomes a murder victim.
[Bio]
I would be happy to send a complete manuscript of AILURANTHROPE upon your request.
Thank you for your consideration,
[Me]
[Contact Info]
http://lbdiamond.wordpress.com/
[Personalized opening sentence] I am seeking representation for my Young Adult paranormal thriller, AILURANTHROPE, complete at 77,000 words.
Sixteen year old Nickie Leone will do whatever it takes to find her father—even if it means trusting a stranger with her most guarded secret.
When uber-handsome Xavian hints at knowing how to find her dad, Nickie notices his unnatural grace. But before she has a chance to question him, her body undergoes changes no teenager would expect—pointed ears and whiskers are not the fashion statement she wants to make. Too bad she’s not alone when it happens. Her worries are erased when Xavian transforms into a panther. With Xavian's help, Nickie is introduced to life as an Ailuranthrope.
As if that isn’t bad enough, she discovers the leader of an opposing clan wants to kill her father and adopt her into his pride.
Now Nickie must pair up with Xavian and find a way to win her father’s freedom—before she becomes a captive and her father becomes a murder victim.
[Bio]
I would be happy to send a complete manuscript of AILURANTHROPE upon your request.
Thank you for your consideration,
[Me]
[Contact Info]
http://lbdiamond.wordpress.com/
QUERY - NEAR EDGWARE (fifth revision)
Click here to read the original query.
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Click here to read the third revision.
Click here to read the fourth revision.
Dear Agent,
I am seeking representation for NEAR EDGWARE, a YA paranormal romance complete at 72,000 words.
Sixteen year old Jess Trainer does not understand Caleb Ridgeway. He alternates between interested and the cold shoulder. She could manage her emotions if he did not give her reasons to hope, but this on-off attraction drives her to the brink of stalker status.
Aware that the insular Ridgeway brothers have abilities beyond a normal person, she suspects this is why Caleb says their relationship cannot develop. When she finds out he is part of a pack rather than a family she is plunged into the seething war of attrition being fought in the woodland between those born human and those born were. Caleb is traumatised after the attack. Can Jess help him back to reality, back to a time before the pain, back to her love?
Thank your for your time and consideration. I would be happy to send you the synopsis and first three chapters.
Sincerely,
Elaine Piedmont Writer Smith :)
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Click here to read the third revision.
Click here to read the fourth revision.
Dear Agent,
I am seeking representation for NEAR EDGWARE, a YA paranormal romance complete at 72,000 words.
Sixteen year old Jess Trainer does not understand Caleb Ridgeway. He alternates between interested and the cold shoulder. She could manage her emotions if he did not give her reasons to hope, but this on-off attraction drives her to the brink of stalker status.
Aware that the insular Ridgeway brothers have abilities beyond a normal person, she suspects this is why Caleb says their relationship cannot develop. When she finds out he is part of a pack rather than a family she is plunged into the seething war of attrition being fought in the woodland between those born human and those born were. Caleb is traumatised after the attack. Can Jess help him back to reality, back to a time before the pain, back to her love?
Thank your for your time and consideration. I would be happy to send you the synopsis and first three chapters.
Sincerely,
Elaine Piedmont Writer Smith :)
QUERY: The Bachelor Company
In my historical novel, “The Bachelor Company,” Anthony Ward and Fitch Cunningham meet on board a ship leaving England. Anthony has just dropped out of seminary. Fitch has just committed a crime. Together they befriend a shy cabin boy, Otis Allen.
The three friends settle into menial jobs in Massachusetts. They jump at the chance to join a group headed west to seek their fortune on the route of the Erie Canal, still under construction. As the Bachelor Company, the men pledge not to marry until they have built a home and a business for each of them
But pioneer life in the 1820s is hard. One man turns back as soon as they arrive in upstate New York. Another leaves to take a safer job in a bigger town. Yet another, beset by superstition, drowns himself after his wife dies in childbirth. Anthony, Fitch and Otis stand together, even as their former comrade, the greedy, envious Russell St. John, schemes against them.
The town grows as the canal succeeds, and the men prosper – until Otis is killed in a knife fight, defending his Seneca Indian bride. Without his gentle influence, the bond between Anthony and Fitch frays. Anthony misses the church; Fitch regrets his marriage to the wealthiest – and coldest – girl in the territory.
Russell, who uses blackmail and arson to further his ambitions, rejoices when a bitter quarrel divides the two old friends.
Then the Main Street Bridge, crowded with folks eager to watch a daredevil cross the canal on a tightrope, collapses into the water, and Anthony and Fitch have one last chance to save their town, their families and each other.
“The Bachelor Company” is complete at 165,000 words.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
The three friends settle into menial jobs in Massachusetts. They jump at the chance to join a group headed west to seek their fortune on the route of the Erie Canal, still under construction. As the Bachelor Company, the men pledge not to marry until they have built a home and a business for each of them
But pioneer life in the 1820s is hard. One man turns back as soon as they arrive in upstate New York. Another leaves to take a safer job in a bigger town. Yet another, beset by superstition, drowns himself after his wife dies in childbirth. Anthony, Fitch and Otis stand together, even as their former comrade, the greedy, envious Russell St. John, schemes against them.
The town grows as the canal succeeds, and the men prosper – until Otis is killed in a knife fight, defending his Seneca Indian bride. Without his gentle influence, the bond between Anthony and Fitch frays. Anthony misses the church; Fitch regrets his marriage to the wealthiest – and coldest – girl in the territory.
Russell, who uses blackmail and arson to further his ambitions, rejoices when a bitter quarrel divides the two old friends.
Then the Main Street Bridge, crowded with folks eager to watch a daredevil cross the canal on a tightrope, collapses into the water, and Anthony and Fitch have one last chance to save their town, their families and each other.
“The Bachelor Company” is complete at 165,000 words.
Thank you for your time and consideration.
Query: TEMPUS VIATOR
Dear Agent,
Rochelle kept her body posed, ready to ponce with her knife. She kept her gaze on the man who above all wanted her blood. Little did he know it was his that would be spilled.
Twenty year old Rochelle was warned he was coming for her. Hadrian, a tempus viator, or time traveler like herself, is threatening the very existence of their kind. His greed for power and envy for her ability to see into the past make her his number one priority. Rochelle must leave her small town of Franklin, Tennessee and face the man who has ruined so much of her life already.
TEMPUS VIATOR is science fiction complete at 73,000 words. I would be happy to send a manuscript upon your request.
Sincerely,
Joy Wilson
Rochelle kept her body posed, ready to ponce with her knife. She kept her gaze on the man who above all wanted her blood. Little did he know it was his that would be spilled.
Twenty year old Rochelle was warned he was coming for her. Hadrian, a tempus viator, or time traveler like herself, is threatening the very existence of their kind. His greed for power and envy for her ability to see into the past make her his number one priority. Rochelle must leave her small town of Franklin, Tennessee and face the man who has ruined so much of her life already.
TEMPUS VIATOR is science fiction complete at 73,000 words. I would be happy to send a manuscript upon your request.
Sincerely,
Joy Wilson
Jan 24, 2010
QUERY: THESE ARE THE END OF DAYS - Third Revision
Click here to read the original query.
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Dear Mythical Agent.
November 28th, 2012. Mechanical equipment and technology begin to fail worldwide, inflicting severe casualties. Already nervous, the planet is plunged into a frenzy when days later, news is leaked that an entity is travelling towards earth.
Howard Andersen, a cynic who believes that people are fundamentally untrustworthy and those who appear to be different are simply good actors, is unexpectedly appointed to head FEMA when the Continuity of Government Plan is activated. He faces contempt and hostility from his boss, the Homeland Security Secretary who resents the appointment and wants him out.
Howard’s investigations swiftly allow him to conclude that the disasters affecting the planet are linked to the approach of the craft. Is the planet truly under attack, or is it something else, something that is linked to an ancient Mayan prophecy about the end of days? Even as he grapples with those questions, Howard’s unconventional methods of solving issues gives his boss the leverage needed to oust him. As a sequence of events begins that pushes the planet to the brink of becoming a nuclear wasteland, Howard will have to release the cynicism and bitterness within and embrace the good that is hidden deep within his soul in order to save lives.
THESE ARE THE END OF DAYS is a completed manuscript of 115,000 words. Thank you for your consideration. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely
Lenworth Wesley
Click here to read the first revision.
Click here to read the second revision.
Dear Mythical Agent.
November 28th, 2012. Mechanical equipment and technology begin to fail worldwide, inflicting severe casualties. Already nervous, the planet is plunged into a frenzy when days later, news is leaked that an entity is travelling towards earth.
Howard Andersen, a cynic who believes that people are fundamentally untrustworthy and those who appear to be different are simply good actors, is unexpectedly appointed to head FEMA when the Continuity of Government Plan is activated. He faces contempt and hostility from his boss, the Homeland Security Secretary who resents the appointment and wants him out.
Howard’s investigations swiftly allow him to conclude that the disasters affecting the planet are linked to the approach of the craft. Is the planet truly under attack, or is it something else, something that is linked to an ancient Mayan prophecy about the end of days? Even as he grapples with those questions, Howard’s unconventional methods of solving issues gives his boss the leverage needed to oust him. As a sequence of events begins that pushes the planet to the brink of becoming a nuclear wasteland, Howard will have to release the cynicism and bitterness within and embrace the good that is hidden deep within his soul in order to save lives.
THESE ARE THE END OF DAYS is a completed manuscript of 115,000 words. Thank you for your consideration. I look forward to hearing from you.
Sincerely
Lenworth Wesley
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