Can You Hit A Perfect Pitch? Blogfest Entry

Eucharisto, or Thank you to the illustrious Brenda Drake over at Brenda Drake Writes... for hosting this awesomesauce Can You Hit The Perfect Pitch? Blogfest. Agent, Ammi-Joan Paquette will be judging our entries which consist of:
-a two sentence (35 word mx) pitch
-First 150 words of the manuscript


Do click the link above to view the other entries.


So... here is my entry:


Title: The Sky Throne
Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 82,500


Pitch: When Zeus is uprooted from his home to attend a school for gods-in-training, he's drawn into a dangerous world where he'll have to battle Gods and negotiate with Goddesses to save the school.

The distance between darkness and light was a nano-moment, my mother once told me. A sliver of space. The breadth of a strand of hair. I hadn’t known what she’d meant until that day. And still wished I hadn’t.

I trudged up the darkened beach, digging my toes in the sand with each step. Visions of pearl-skinned sea nymphs still danced in my head. Their iridescent eyes and seductive charms made me smile.

"C’mon, Zeus" Anytos called, throwing a stick at my feet.

I held a finger in the air.

"Zeus, seriously!" He clapped his hands once loudly. 

"Wait. Hold on." I closed my eyes to enjoy the images of those sea nymphs. Just a splinter of time more.

"Zeus!" His words sliced sideways through my memories of them. "Sun’s nearly up. We don’t have much time!" Tos stood at the top of a dune calling down.

     I sighed. “I’m coming.”

Can We Guess Your Character's Age? Blogfest.

Thank you so much to Brenda Drake over at Brenda Drake Writes... for hosting this awesomesauce Blogfest. Here's the Blogfest rules in a nutshell. Post the first 250 words of your finished, or not quite finished, manuscript (any genre) to your blogs. This contest is about voice--whether or not your character's voice matches his or her age. From December 8th-9th hop around each others' blogs and try to guess the age of the character, give critiques, or praise. 


It's been a while since I participated in a Blogfest and I'm glad to be back on the circuit with a new WIP.
So here's my entry:


The distance between darkness and light was a nano-moment, my mother once told me. A sliver of space. The breadth of a strand of hair. I hadn’t known what she’d meant until that day. And still wished I hadn’t.


Earlier that morning, I trudged back up a darkened beach, digging my toes in with each step. Visions of pearl-skinned sea nymphs still danced in my head and I smiled.

“C’mon, Zeus,” Anytos called.

I held a finger in the air.

"Zeus, seriously," he insisted.

"Wait. Hold on." I closed my eyes to enjoy the images of the sea nymphs. Just a moment more. 

"Zeus!" He sliced sideways through my memories. “Sun’s nearly up. We don’t have much time!” Tos stood at the top of a dune calling down.

“I’m coming.” 

Life had been easy. All except the pre-dawn runs every morning. Hated them. I couldn’t wait to get back to the goats I tended with my mother. Against her wishes, I’d named each one. That’s why she never let me slaughter them for food. Or rather, why I never participated. 

There was nothing too terribly stressful about goat herding. They were a self-sufficient lot. Sometimes watching them was like watching the sun crawl across the sky. And, it had been in those moments that my mind wandered. 

I’d always felt like I could do more. Be more. Something inside of me clawed for the extraordinary. Yet I had to face that I’d likely never leave Crete.

<>

"Show Me The Voice" Critique Blogfest

Thank you so much to Brenda Drake over at Brenda Drake Writes for hosting this Critique Blogfest. And also big thanks to Agent Natalie Fischer for judging the entries. Make sure you click through the link above to see the rest of the entries.

We were charged with posting our first 250 words to be critiqued and judged. So I am opening the door again to my Caenus MS.. actually, now named "Banished." Following are the revamped first 250 words.

*****

Prince Caenus deflected a thrust from his friend’s sword. Dodging his friend’s advance, Caenus darted between fluted columns near the edge of the otherwise sparse palace courtyard. He sidestepped another advance while retreating several steps, but his friend’s sword point bit into Caenus’ ribcage.  Again.

No matter what he did, Caenus could neither escape his friend’s sword nor his father’s gaze, which needled his skin. During a lull in sparring action, the prince shot a brief sidelong glance toward where his father brooded. Disappointment bent the lines on his father’s forehead.

 “I need a strong son to reign when Hades darkens my doorstep!” The king barked. “You can’t beat your friend in a swordfight. You can barely ride a horse. When will you be strong enough to command the military?”

A shaft of sunlight streamed through thickening clouds and onto the royal palace. Caenus’ best friend, Galen cut off the prince’s evasive maneuvers. And again, wood beat against wood. Thrust. Swipe. Swing. Block. Dust rose from the ground in random clouds, kicked up by the swiftly moving feet of the two young men. Their sparring swords danced against one another as familiar foes.

 “Is that your best, Caenus?” Galen said, ducking a half-hearted swing of his friend’s sword. “Is there no more fight in you than this peasant’s display of swordsmanship?” 

Galen knocked the sword from Caenus’ grasp and, with the flick of his wrist, guided the tip of his own sword to Caenus’ throat.

“King Me!” Galen beamed.

 *****

Never Ending Scene Blogfest Entry

Thank you to Brenda Drake for hosting this blogfest. Please visit her page to get a list of the other entries. We were all charged with writing a scene with a cliffhanger of sorts. A scene that you would rather stab your eye out then stop reading. Hopefully my scene has done that.

My selection is from a short story in which I re-wrote a popular fairytale. I wrote it under a pen name because the entire work as pretty *romantic* we'll say. Again, hopefully the selection will leave you... hungry for more.

***

     “Thanks for the concern,” she casts a sarcastic glance up toward her strapping savior. “But, maybe I want a little danger in my life.”

     Scarlet pulls her hood down, allowing a wider range for her peripheral vision, and then sets off again. After several steps, her cloak sweeps up and her fiery tresses rustle as a sudden gust whips through the trees. Wrapping her cloak tighter around her shoulders, she strides on with purpose. Determined. Her feet crunch the goldenrod, crimson, and rusty sienna bed beneath her slippered feet, a rhythmic cadence pacing the cricket’s delightful chorus as she travels deeper into the darkness.

     Her eyes adjust to the unlit path, treetops shunning the moon’s attempts to light Scarlet’s journey. A sharp whistle sails past her ears. Tickling. Unnerving.

     A howl pierces the night’s crisp air, ripping through Scarlet’s consciousness. Faint footfalls gnaw at her soul. Beginning as a well-spaced, monotonous drone, the rate of them increases the faster Scarlet’s own feet move.

     Suddenly, they stop. Everything stops. Eerie silence cocoons her. Deafening. She looks cautiously. Nerves fraying. C’mon, girl! Get a grip!

     She steps forward again, feeling eyes on her skin. Their heat primal… inhuman. Her pale skin prickles beneath her cloak, goose bumps rising, hair standing on her neck. She rubs her arms as chills thread through her arteries, icing her blood. Her eyes dart from side to side. Searching. Combing the spaces between cold shafts of moonlight suddenly permitted to stream through the dense canopy of treetops.

     From the darkness appears a single pair of foreign eyes. Glowing. Sinister. A low growl reverbs. Scarlet’s heart rises into her throat, pulse racing madly as a huge, bristly wolf prowls from the abyss onto the path, blocking her advance.

     Snarling. Hissing, it speaks, “Grrrl, it’s a bit late for dinner. Evening snack, are you?”

     Scarlet stares into the teeth of the beast, into the heat of the slivered, lupine eyes, unable to break its gaze. Captive. She curses her folly in not taking the roundabout way. Her red lips purse tightly. She grips her basket tighter, pale, boney knuckles protruding to sharp points.

     “Did you not hear me, grrrl?” the wolf snarls. “Did no one warn you of me? Surely they must’ve.”

     “Your speech is rather proper for a w-w-wolf.”

     “The better to ease your fears, my dear, and lower your defenses…”

     Scarlet’s heart hammers in her chest. Her pulse drums in her ears. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Thump-thump. Her free hand twitches as she searches desperately for a witty remark to divert the wolf’s mind from devouring her.

     “What’s in the basket?” The wolf snarls, raising his eyebrows, drawing closer. “You smell, I mean, it smells… delicious.”