tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post3924899651483977556..comments2024-02-27T03:36:20.256-07:00Comments on Krista Van Dolzer: "Can You Hook a Teen?" ContestKrista Van Dolzerhttp://www.blogger.com/profile/08830193414560232842noreply@blogger.comBlogger147125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-17685148683649310422012-07-31T22:22:30.053-06:002012-07-31T22:22:30.053-06:00Thanks for all your entries! The contest is now cl...Thanks for all your entries! The contest is now closed. Because of the overwhelming response, it may take Kate a little longer to go through all the entries, but I'll announce the winner as soon as she picks one. Good luck!Krista Van Dolzerhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08830193414560232842noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-76859813905161821172012-07-31T21:45:27.366-06:002012-07-31T21:45:27.366-06:00Name: John Hansen
Title: INEVITABLE
Genre: YA thri...Name: John Hansen<br />Title: INEVITABLE<br />Genre: YA thriller<br /><br />Pitch: For sixteen-year-old Alex Tanner, finding a webpage of himself five years into the future is totally cool and all until he logs on one morning and his status reads: DECEASED. <br /><br /><br />First 250:<br /><br />[F-word is ***ed out. Please note that it is one of only two? F-bombs in the whole book, so it isn't like it's on every page. :-)]<br /><br /><br /><i>Sorry.</i><br /><br />It rolled off their tongues, sliding out before they even realized it was said. It was a simple word—so perfectly innocent and commonplace. Perhaps Alex Tanner shouldn’t have let it bother him. Perhaps he should’ve just kept his head down and let it go. It wasn’t like his father’s death was their faults. But in just a day, he’d heard “Sorry” so often that it was almost meaningless—and f***ing annoying. <br /><br />In reality, maybe it wasn’t the word that bothered Alex so much. Maybe it was the thought behind it that bothered him. By muttering a simple “sorry,” they thought they could make it all better. They thought everything would magically fall into place. Well, here was some news for them: <i>It never did.</i><br /><br />When Alex forced himself through the front doors of his school that first day back, things started to suck even more. Heads turned, students hushed each other, and within seconds, a thick silence washed over the locker area. A sea of curious faces stared. All eyes were trained on one unlucky soul. <br /><i>Oh, for the love of god.</i><br /><br />After a minute of exchanging stares, he took a tentative step forward. They shuffled to the side, huddled against each other. Were they scared of him or something? Another step. Another shuffle. A sigh propelled Alex down the hall, and they all parted to let him pass, as if the murder was somehow contagious. He broke into a fast walk. The berth between him and everyone else widened. He felt like he was walking down the aisle at his father’s funeral all over again. The slight nods, the fake sympathy, the grim faces.John Hansenhttp://www.twitter.com/aboredauthornoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-78731281720061703682012-07-31T21:33:42.086-06:002012-07-31T21:33:42.086-06:00Name: Jennifer Shelby
Title: The Incredibly Truthf...Name: Jennifer Shelby<br />Title: The Incredibly Truthful Diary of Nature Girl<br />Genre: middle grade fiction<br /><br />Things happen in the forest; things you would never believe.<br /><br />January 3rd<br /> I saw a unicorn once. I can feel the pages of this diary smothering their laughter so I’d best explain myself (very naughty of you, diary, considering we’ve only just begun).<br /> My family and I were camping in Fundy National Park when I rose early one morning to watch the forest. I wanted to walk in the enchanted Acadian Forest all alone in the dewy morning before any other human wanderers woke. I knew the low sun would set the golden tendrils of the yellow birch alight with faerie magic. I desperately wanted to be a part of the faerie world that would awaken there. I quickly scampered over the marshy boardwalks and into the forest where the wet ground muffled my footsteps, careful to make sure that Mom and Dad could still see me from the tent if they needed to. Few birds were chirping and the silence settled around me like a mist over the forest.<br /> Then one noise did come to me as I silently bounded up a small slope; a twig cracking to my left. I looked over quickly and caught sight of a lovely black rump disappearing silently into the forest. I instinctively knew, without a doubt, that it was a unicorn. For a moose, even a calf, was never so elegantly shaped. This was rather like a small thoroughbred, and the light that reflected off the well-muscled hindquarters revealed the coat to be short-haired, sleek, and black as night. A moose would have been shaggy and brown.JShelbyhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/11056322493645150752noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-49774038764275773202012-07-31T21:31:43.674-06:002012-07-31T21:31:43.674-06:00Name: Don McFatridge
Title: MY GIRLFRIENDS COMATOS...Name: Don McFatridge<br />Title: MY GIRLFRIENDS COMATOSE & I’M TOAST IF I CALL 911<br />Genre: Upper MG Fantasy<br /> <br />When thirteen-year-old Mike’s crush, HS freshie Teagan and her painful pal, Rachel get trapped in Teagan’s comatose twin’s nightmare, Mike must decide: call 911 and risk losing Teagan forever, or rescue the two Sleeping Beauties—oh, and maybe Rachel too.<br /><br />250:<br /><br />A bobblehead on steroids wobbled inside my chest as I waited to see Teagan in a dress, hair combed and not under a cap. She had decked out to visit her twin sister in chronic care, knowing somehow it made, Sleeping Beauty happy. <br /> <br />Well, she didn’t make me happy, stepping off the bus with her dress tucked into track pants. The ponytail draped outside her baseball cap along with pal, Rachel, whose nickname for me, MGM—middle-grade Mike, completed the disappointment. As they neared the porch, I touched my chin for sympathy.<br /><br />“Jaw hurt more than your pride?” Rachel asked.<br />I smiled at Teagan. “You could have punched my shoulder.” <br />Her eyes sparkled. “You could have asked permission to kiss me.”<br />“I got excited seeing the future Mrs. Grabczyński strikeout twelve guys.” <br />“Baker’s dozen counting you?” Rachel laughed. “Also, if you wanna crack at little Miss Teacup. You better take shop. Build a time machine, and have your parents drink that bottle of wine two years earlier.”<br /> <br />There, Rachel said it, the reason Teagan fouled my pitch. Simple as 1-2-3. One year. Two months. Three days. Our age difference and my Kryptonite. “Two years won’t matter after we’re married for fifty.” <br />“Careful,” Rachel said. “Hold hands during the séance and you might be engaged.”<br /> <br />I ignored Rachel, hoping she would leave on her broom. “Why we messing with voodoo dolls anyway?”<br />“I promised my sister, and they’re not voodoo dolls.”<br />“Good, because I forgot to bring a chicken.”Don McFatridgehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/13554281247528998061noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-69434217493174619342012-07-31T21:27:11.247-06:002012-07-31T21:27:11.247-06:00This comment has been removed by the author.Loriehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/02431295113722073255noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-24611066162745034902012-07-31T21:17:34.907-06:002012-07-31T21:17:34.907-06:00Name: Simeon G. Mann
Title: Magicia: Birth of the ...Name: Simeon G. Mann<br />Title: Magicia: Birth of the Twins<br />Genre: Adult Fantasy<br /><br />One sentence pitch: In a world permeating with magic, a teenage boy barrels down a dangerous path searching for truth about his father’s kidnapping while trying to resolve the surprise addition of twin siblings who possess unmatched magic for reasons no one can explain.<br /><br />First 250 words:<br />It was still a deep black outside when Jeeloo Choss and his mother, Elyla, left the house to participate in the Morning Bend. It had been over three years since they last participated, and it was something every Yoophorian looked ahead to eagerly. But as they walked along lantern-lit roads towards the Bend’s site, Jeeloo was focused on his mother, and not on the coming ceremony. She was fourteen months pregnant, almost at the end, and with Jeeloo’s father having been kidnapped by the Krawlings just after Elyla’s pregnancy showed itself, Jeeloo felt a bittersweet need to keep a watchful eye upon his mother.<br /> <br />So much had changed since their last time at the Bend. Then, Jeeloo was just fourteen and none would have mistook him for a man. Now, though his face was still young, his body was older, taller, broader. And his eyes were tired. Then, it was he who felt watched over, protected, as he walked between his father and mother. Now, he wasn’t sure who was leading who as his mother walked beside him, one hand on her belly.<br /><br />Reaching the site, Jeeloo and Elyla moved among the people, stopping to greet friends and neighbors. This latest site of the Morning Bend was just inside the border of their province, in front of the Banyan trees. The Banyans almost reached the clouds, but bent inward and intertwined at their tops, blocking the rays of the Sunstar, which hung permanently in the sky above. <br />Standing among the people, the Tatee waited patiently.Simeon G. Mannhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01464887851779822174noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-90176919802706975462012-07-31T21:03:05.515-06:002012-07-31T21:03:05.515-06:00Name: Deserae McGlothen
Title: PLANET WEIRD
Genre:...Name: Deserae McGlothen<br />Title: PLANET WEIRD<br />Genre: MG Science Fiction<br /><br />Pitch: Alien Drew Vardaman runs away to Earth in order to take control of her predestined life, but when a parasitic shadow starts possessing the students of Planet Jr. High, Drew has to learn to hone her powers in order to save her friends and change her own future.<br /><br />First 250: <br />Planet Jr. High is weird; there’re no ifs, ands, or buts about it. Hesitantly, I step out of the Beyond and into an indent in the dusty blue carpet. As I assess my surroundings, I decide that this room is strange, indeed. <br />A solid wall of books wraps around us: stacked one on top of another, thousands of tomes stare spine first into the circle, isolating us from the rest of the world. There are no windows but the Beyond radiates light. Behind me, the wisp of smoke that transported us here curls lazily around the beam shining through it, and ahead, the elder twin waits expectantly, his dark arms hanging rigidly at his sides. <br /> It is quiet here, wherever here is. My noiseless footfalls take me further into the open space. As Wyatt walks around the room running his hand along the wall, I watch him go around once, and then twice, and then a third time, for good measure. Then he stops, exhaling impatiently through his nostrils. I turn away from him as he crosses his arms and leans against the books. He is not easy to talk to, I’ve found.<br />My heart pounds against my chest. Finally, I’m on Earth, but I do not feel safe, yet. I fear this is a dream. That I am not here. That any minute, now, the sifka will be coming for me. I shudder at the thought of my commanding officer, Egrea, finding me gone in the morning.Deserae McGlothenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09181339040825589703noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-4800829349179542632012-07-31T20:54:52.613-06:002012-07-31T20:54:52.613-06:00Name: Morgan Hyde
Title: WE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE
G...Name: Morgan Hyde<br />Title: WE WHO ARE ABOUT TO DIE<br />Genre: YA Fantasy<br /><br />When stealing her cousin back from the king goes horribly awry, 17-year-old farmer's daughter Renata lands in the gladiatorial arena, fighting for her own and her cousin's life.<br /><br />---<br /><br />When I arrived home from the market, Mother was waiting in for me the doorway, eyes wide.<br /><br />“What’s wrong?” I asked.<br /><br />“Rumour has it the High Priest is coming to town.”<br /><br />I swore. I knew what that meant. Still, I tried to reason with her. “If rumours are just starting, surely we have some time yet. Leta and I don’t need to -”<br /><br />“You’re going into the attic tonight.” Her tone brooked no dissent.<br /><br />“Yes Mother.” I dropped my market basket on the kitchen table with a sigh and joined my cousin Leta our room. <br /><br />I hated hiding. But it was better than being taken, and so I grumbled only quietly as Leta and I grabbed the personal belongings we would need for a few days living in the attic. It wasn't much, mostly knitting and books to stave off the boredom. We weren't even supposed to talk, not if we could help it, in case someone overheard.<br /><br />A few minutes later, the whole family gathered at the top of the stairs to open the hidden door to the attic. It was designed to be difficult to see and even harder to open. Father had to lead out precariously over the stairs and hoist little Theo onto his shoulders so he could press the catch.<br /><br />The trapdoor swung open smoothly. Once Leta and I were inside, we would pile heavy trunks atop it so even if the latch were pressed the door would not open. But first we had to get inside.Morgan Hydehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/14015982745505112813noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-15158329383437455902012-07-31T20:45:19.323-06:002012-07-31T20:45:19.323-06:00Name: Louisa Clarkson
Title: THE SILVER STRAND
Gen...Name: Louisa Clarkson<br />Title: THE SILVER STRAND<br />Genre: MG Fantasy Adventure<br />Pitch: Mastermind Academy’s latest recruit, twelve year old Isabelle Tresdon has five days to save her magical, silver strand of hair before it drains her life, but the two tricksters sent to revive it have other plans. <br /><br />250 words: <br />“Earth to Isabelle. Earth to Isabelle.” A computerised martian voice shook Isabelle from her thoughts. “Do you copy Captain Tresdon?” <br />Isabelle glanced up at the eyeball peeping through a scrolled up notebook. Normally her best friend, Bianca’s silly voices had Isabelle in stitches, but right now she wasn’t in the mood. Not when a dull ache had inflicted grief upon her scalp since mid-morning. One particular spot near her right temple felt like a needle was poking through her skin. If she had worn her shoulder length, auburn hair in a high pony tail she could blame that, but today she wore it out. <br />She massaged the top of her forehead for several moments hoping it might relieve the pain. Fat lot of good it did. The tender skin flamed at her touch and she winced. Squeezing her text book tighter to her chest, she groaned and leant her head against the row of lockers lining the wall. <br />“Major Higgins is preparing for takeoff,” Bianca repeated in her little, green man voice, gesturing with her stumpy thumb at the stream of seventh graders filing inside the classroom. <br />School shoes squeaking on the linoleum floor sent ripples of pain through Isabelle’s head. Clearly this was no ordinary headache. Maybe she’d copped a bruise from colliding with Jemima’s bangled wrist during gym class in first period. Whatever it was, why did she have to cop it right before Mr Higgins class? Out of all her subjects at Hilton High, science was by far her favourite.Louisahttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01941582936222540090noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-5341526391434965152012-07-31T20:18:53.283-06:002012-07-31T20:18:53.283-06:00NAME: Kathleen Doyle
TITLE: The Changeling
GENRE: ...NAME: Kathleen Doyle<br />TITLE: The Changeling<br />GENRE: YA Paranormal Romance<br /><br />PITCH:<br />Just released from a mental institution, Amanda comes face to face with the creature that sent her there in the first place.<br /><br />FIRST 250: (246)<br /><br /> I came home from the hospital on the anniversary of my sister’s death. Mom chatted away with nervous energy, fingers tapping on the wheel of the car as she drove. I watched the trees go by, wondering what the new house looked like. Mom brought pictures on a visit once, but pictures don’t always tell the whole truth.<br /> “I got you registered for school last week,” she said.<br /> I blinked. “What?”<br /> “I got you registered for school. Eleventh grade.”<br /> “Are you sure that’s a good idea?”<br /> “You have another week before school starts, so you’ll have time to prepare.” She cast a quick glance my way. “Besides, Dr. Morris said you should get used to a normal routine and what’s more normal for a sixteen-year-old than high school?”<br /> I shook my head and turned to the window again. Normal for me was different than most teenagers my age. I knew as soon as I stepped foot in the school everyone would know me as the crazy girl who spent four-and-a-half years in the nut house. <br /> “So you talked to Dr. Morris about this?”<br /> “Of course I did, honey,” she said, exasperated. “I’m not going to do anything that would-”<br /> “Send me to Nutsville again,” I said.<br /> “Hey, Dr. Morris has said time and time again the emotional trauma you went through would have left its mark on any young girl.” She choked up a little. There were tears in her eyes she refused to let fall.Katie Dunnhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/08915462239326916701noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-58120827095758913292012-07-31T19:34:40.388-06:002012-07-31T19:34:40.388-06:00Name: Heather Riffle
Title: CREEPING SLOWLY & ...Name: Heather Riffle<br />Title: CREEPING SLOWLY & EVAPORATING<br />Genre: YA Urban Fantasy<br /><br />Hypnotherapy confirms Ali’s suspicions that a Vampire illegally glamoured away two days of her memory – and she wants to know why – but she never counted on having fallen for him or that she has become the target of another, more powerful Vampire.<br /><br /><br /><br />A tear rolls down his cheek. His hands are cold on my face, and the intensity of his eyes hold me enthralled. Their blue depths swallow me like a wintery river. I struggle against the current but quickly realize the futility. I can’t make it back to the surface. He won’t let me. I am drowning. I’m freezing… But, somehow, I hear his voice through the ice above.<br /><br />“This is the only gift I can give you, Ali. Forget. I do not exist. I never did. I am but a figment of a memory of a dream you cannot recall.” <br /><br />And, just like that… all I have of him is gone. <br /><br /><br />#<br /><br /><br />I sit across from my new therapist and study my interlocked fingers with the utmost diligence. The black polish on my nails is in need of a touch up. <br /><br />“So. Alison – ”<br /><br />My head jerks up. “Ali. Everyone calls me Ali.”<br /><br />He stares at me for a moment before nodding. “Ali. Why don’t we start at the beginning? Why are you here?”<br /><br />“Dr. Albert – my old therapist – had a couch. You don’t have a couch.” I glance at the matching armchair beside me.<br /><br />“Would you be more comfortable if you could lie down?”<br /><br />“No. I was just making an observation. I never used Dr. Albert’s couch. I’d feel too vulnerable lying down.” My eyes go back to my fingers, as I chip at the polish.<br /><br />“You seem nervous. Why do you think that is?”Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-42866089314955735352012-07-31T19:07:28.298-06:002012-07-31T19:07:28.298-06:00Sarah Negovetich
THE WATCHERS
YA Urban Fantasy
Wh...Sarah Negovetich<br />THE WATCHERS<br />YA Urban Fantasy<br /><br />When Stacie learns she can hear thoughts, theoretically, she finds out even powers you don’t want come with strings attached.<br /><br /> Leaning against the wall of lockers, staring at room 103, I pictured a flashing, neon sign glowing above my head. Amidst all their cheerful greetings, exaggerated due to a three month summer hiatus, the subtle whispers of 'new girl' scratched at my ears. In a town this size, new faces stuck out like a church in Hell. What I wouldn't give to peek inside a few heads and find out what they thought of me. Although, what I wanted even more was Anna standing next to me.<br /> Thinking about the best friend I left behind wrapped a wide band around my chest and squeezed. I blinked my eyes in rapid succession to fight back the tears prickling up. Crying on the first day of school was not an option. Anna wasn’t here and no amount of boo-hooing on my part would change that. Her voice rang loud and clear in my head. Stacie Marie Gunthar, they are gonna love ya. Do you think I’m best friends with a big ol’ looser? Heck no! Now get in there and show ‘em what you’re made of. <br /> Despite growing up in Memphis, where the southern accent isn’t nearly as thick as the movies would have people believe, Anna talked like molasses flowing in January. She always complained about inheriting her parent’s Louisiana way of speaking, but I knew she secretly loved it. Anna had a way of making different fabulous. Today, different was the last thing I wanted.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/01052604405996474436noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-30653954159201838962012-07-31T19:05:42.248-06:002012-07-31T19:05:42.248-06:00Name: Kristy Shen
Title: THE OTHER SIDE
Genre: YA ...<b>Name</b>: Kristy Shen<br /><b>Title</b>: THE OTHER SIDE<br /><b>Genre</b>: YA Fantasy<br /><br /><b>Pitch</b>:<br /><br />15-year-old Persephone is obsessed with getting into Heaven, but she just can’t seem to stay dead and she has no idea why.<br /><br /><b>First 250 words</b>:<br /><br />You know that ringing you get in your ears? Like, when you stand too close to a speaker at a concert? Not a lot of people know this, but that’s actually the sound of the cells in your ear dying. What you’re hearing is actually the last time you’ll ever get to hear that particular note. When it’s gone, it’s gone forever.<br /><br />And when your eardrum gets blown apart like mine just did, it’s kind of like that, times about a million.<br /><br />It was as if there was an entire orchestra of notes, all ringing, all dying, and even though my other ear still worked I couldn’t hear a thing. That sound just drowned out everything. It drowned out the sirens, it drowned out the screaming. It even drowned out the firefighter who was trying to drag me to safety. I think he was yelling something at me. Was he saying “No”? Or maybe “Go”? I couldn’t tell. I couldn’t hear. And I was never really good at reading lips.<br /><br />I blinked, staring up at the sky. Everything was coming in and out of focus for some reason. Blurry, sharp, blurry, sharp. Was there something wrong with my eyes too?<br /><br />Ironically, it was actually a nice day.<br /><br />The sky was blue, bluer than I had ever seen before. And in the distance, flocks of birds twittered, darting this way and that, chasing each other like playful children. Briefly, the sun winked at me before disappearing beneath a group of puffy white clouds and I sighed as a warm summer breeze washed over me.Kristy Shenhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15895893708061208660noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-63339885381636127102012-07-31T18:56:47.082-06:002012-07-31T18:56:47.082-06:00Name: K. Garnick Giarratano
Title: Grunge Gods &am...Name: K. Garnick Giarratano<br />Title: Grunge Gods & Graveyards<br />Genre: YA Paranormal<br /><br />Pitch: Set in 1996, seventeen-year-old Lainey Bloom must uncover a greedy politician's hand in the murder of her ghostly boyfriend, but in order to save her lover's soul, she must lose him forever.<br /><br />First 250 words:<br />June 1996<br />My skin ignited where he kissed me. His soft lips brushed the nape of my neck and I shivered despite the warm summer night. He brought his mouth to mine and kissed me harder this time. His fingers played with the hem of my worn cotton t-shirt, grazing the skin above my hip bone. I could barely catch my breath.<br />“I can’t believe this is happening,” I whispered into his chest.<br />“Me neither,” Danny said. He moved back slightly, separating us by inches, and tilted up my chin. “Lainey, I’ve always liked you.” It didn’t sound like a line or maybe I just didn’t want it to be, even though I was hooking up with Winter Woods’ boyfriend, my high school’s reigning mean queen. But Danny and I were at Irving Plaza, at least eighty miles from our isolated town. No one knew us here. <br />It seemed like forever ago when The Afghan Whigs fan club newsletter arrived in the mail. I waved the piece of paper at my sister Liz, who had been home from college for the weekend. “Take me, will ya?” I asked, my eyes bright with excitement. It was not everyday The Whigs went on tour and I just had to go. Had to. I mean what if I died tomorrow and never saw them perform live. <br />Liz just shook her head no. “Take Wilder,” she said.<br />I put my hand on my hips. “You know her uncle hates me. He won’t allow it.”Kimberly G. Giarratanohttps://www.blogger.com/profile/03983330164849240374noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-17672554635661378842012-07-31T18:36:57.398-06:002012-07-31T18:36:57.398-06:00Name - Bill Scott
Title - MARGARET ETHEL
Contempor...Name - Bill Scott<br />Title - MARGARET ETHEL<br />Contemporary YA<br /><br /><br />Electrocuted in sixth period physics lab, sixteen-year-old Margaret Ethel is given two options — go to Heaven or return to Earth to save the girl who killed her.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> It's not every day someone dies in Mr. Sample's sixth period physics class. I guess if Freddie Johnson were telling this story, she'd say, "It's not every day you kill your best friend in the Samp's sixth period physics class." But she's not telling this story. I am.<br /><br /> Killed, not murdered. It was an accident. Freddie's crazy, but not psycho crazy. She doesn't go around willy-nilly killing people. But she is always getting into trouble, which was both great fun for me and a royal pain in my you know what.<br /><br /> We were in lab and Mr. Sample was going on about something, but I wasn't listening. I was updating my Facebook page to say I'm now completely and definitely single. Just so you know, we're not supposed to use our cell phones during class or even in the hall, but this was an emergency. Thankfully, I did, and just in time. Now Kent Adams will always be remembered as the guy who broke up with me on the day I died. <br /><br /> Perfect, it's what he deserves. He dumped me at lunch. I was devastated during fourth period, angry in fifth, and over him by sixth. I'm a quick griever. I told him I wasn't ready. I'm barely sixteen and we'd only been dating for three measly little weeks. I guess when it didn't happen at prom, he figured he'd move on. That's fine. Bye-bye.Bill Scotthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12727407427730937429noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-35609837635765256242012-07-31T18:35:02.603-06:002012-07-31T18:35:02.603-06:00This comment has been removed by the author.Bill Scotthttps://www.blogger.com/profile/12727407427730937429noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-5365154840758409262012-07-31T18:23:35.132-06:002012-07-31T18:23:35.132-06:00Name:Maribeth Graham
Title:Scents
Genre:YA
Pitch:...Name:Maribeth Graham<br />Title:Scents<br />Genre:YA<br /><br />Pitch:<br />Mel Whitlock thinks doing “Scents” at the secret underground clubs of NYC is awesome until she gets kidnapped and taken to The Orphanage. A place where people are hypnotized into believing it’s where they belong.<br /><br /><br /><br /><br /> Someone once asked me how it felt to have faith. My reply was, “Having faith when you know you are a sinner gives you promise that even you can be saved.” I never thought that my faith would make me a catalyst to defeat evil. I wasn’t looking to save anyone. I was just hoping that in the end I would be saved<br /><br /><br /><br />Abducted<br /> <br /><br /><br /> I am sitting on a cold floor in a dimly lit hallway. In the distance I could see the glow of fluorescent lights. Random shuffles of movement can be heard. I squint. Three figures are moving towards me.<br /> My breath escapes me as the figures get closer. My body is paralyzed with fear. I want to get up and run but instead I do nothing. Two beautiful boys stand in front of me smiling while a beefy woman in the center looks at me cautiously. My eyes dart from each face. The boy to the right of the woman looks like a Greek god with caramel colored hair. The style reminds me of Michelangelo’s famous David sculpture. His dangerously inviting smile illuminates the darkened space. <br /> The second boy is just as stunning as the first. His body is leaner. His hair is darker and his bangs are longer but his wicked smile replicates the first boys. I am looking at their faces but not their eyes. An inexplicable instinct warns me not to look straight into their eyesAnonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-57963488598024330212012-07-31T18:16:09.518-06:002012-07-31T18:16:09.518-06:00Name: John Sankovich
Title: The Gifted
Genre: YA S...Name: John Sankovich<br />Title: The Gifted<br />Genre: YA Supernatural<br /><br />One-Sentence Pitch: When people with supernatural gifts are hunted, sixteen-year-old telekinetic Rebecca Stevens has come to terms that people want her dead—her brother included.<br /><br />First 250 words:<br /><br /> Rebecca Stevens stared at the crate twenty yards away; the breeze blew her hair across her eyes. The weight of the railroad spike hovering nearby rested on her mind. The sensation of a foreign object inside her head quickened her pulse like always. At her command the spike spun. Her skill had improved over the past months, during her very limited practice time, but one thing remained constant; if she didn’t manage her emotions she lost any sort of accuracy. Perfect concentration was required, and she hardly ever achieved that.<br /> With her energy focused, sweat ran down her back and neck. A stiff wind chilled her cheek and rattled the nearby trees. A twig snapped and she glanced toward the sound. A dog stood in the clearing, its brown eyes studying her. At least he wouldn’t give away her secret. <br /> A tingle intensified in her fingertips to the point of triggering an adrenaline rush, and she flung the spike toward the target. With a whoosh, the spike nailed the target a bit to the left. The wood box splintered, the crack of the wood echoed, and birds scattered from the nearby trees and the dog barked once before his escape. The spike drove into the ground, out of sight, behind a puff of dirt, as the force propelled it deep. Someone shouted in the distance, and she bolted toward the cover of the trees. She hid in the shadows of the trees like a criminal. Her body shook from the telekinetic exertion and with someone hearing the sound, they would come investigate.John Sankovichhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/09997285299003496458noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-37139507664852615002012-07-31T18:08:18.006-06:002012-07-31T18:08:18.006-06:00Name: Rachel
Title: VIOLENT DELIGHTS
Genre: YA edg...Name: Rachel<br />Title: VIOLENT DELIGHTS<br />Genre: YA edgy contemporary<br /><br />One-sentence pitch: Told in non-linear chronology, 16 year old Jenna tries to figure out how she spiralled out of control and ended up with her parents divorced and a dead boyfriend.<br /><br />First 250 words sample: <br /><br />Today was the day.<br /><br />My fingers drummed impatiently on desk as my ears honed in on the hands of the clock inching forward. <br /><br />Tick, tick, tick... <br /><br />God, could it go any slower? <br /><br />I slid my gaze over to glance at Cass. He grinned back at me, tapping the pocket of his jeans. My eyes were immediately drawn to the bulge there. I couldn’t suppress the smile that took over my face and he winked back at me. Our flirting caused Mr. Garrison to cough impatiently in our direction, but I ignored him. Right now, nothing mattered to me but Cass and our plan. <br /><br />I couldn’t wait. I couldn’t wait to prove them all wrong. They were all a bunch of idiots if they thought they could keep us apart. My pulse danced inside my wrist and I flicked my hand back and forth, stopping for only a moment to realize this would be the last time I ever felt it.<br /><br />The bell rang, sending everyone scattering out the door. I raised my eyebrows at Cass, but he shook his head, “Timing is everything, Jenna.” <br /><br /> As we filed out into the hallway, Cass grabbed my hand in his sweaty palm. How was it possible for Cass to be nervous? He was the one had suggested this. Did it mean he was having second thoughts? Should I be having second thoughts? He must’ve been reading my mind because he squeezed my hand tightly.Rachelhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18076907708483883575noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-24526997832020668732012-07-31T16:48:17.719-06:002012-07-31T16:48:17.719-06:00(Pen) Name: Carrie-Anne Brownian
Title: THE VERY...(Pen) Name: Carrie-Anne Brownian<br />Title: THE VERY FIRST<br />Genre: Upper MG historical with elements of social satire<br /><br />Pitch: When Katherine Brandt immigrates to an unusual Atlantic City neighborhood in 1938, she dreams of becoming a real American girl without compromising her Jewish faith, while her new best friend Cinnimin learns there’s more than one way to be an American.<br /><br />First 250: <br /><br />Cinnimin Filliard reached for the candy bowl on her father’s desk and popped a handful of gumdrops into her mouth. Her father had said the five longterm houseguests they were expecting would arrive today, and she figured indulging her sweet tooth would help get rid of her nervousness and put her mind on other things.<br /><br />“Can I see your photo albums, Daddy? I wanna know what they look like before they move in. I hope they’re nicer houseguests than Aunt Lucinda, Uncle Jasper, and stupid Elmira.”<br /><br />Mr. Filliard smiled indulgently at his pet child. “You know you never need my permission to do anything.” <br /><br />Cinni took a photo album and plopped down on the floor. “Oh, brother, this Katherine girl really needs a makeover. No one wears long skirts anymore.” She pushed her long curly hair out of her face. “Who better than the Most Popular Girl to make her over?”<br /><br />“They’re religious Jews, I told you. They do things a little differently. I don’t know much about Jewish denominations, but they’re not the strictest one. I’m sure Katherine will tell you she’s got reasons of her own for wearing clothes that look a little out of fashion to you. You know most girls these days have much shorter hair than yours, but you have your own reasons for never wanting another haircut.”<br /><br />Cinni went to the front window and raised the curtain. “I don’t see their taxi yet. Do you think they got lost?”Carrie-Annehttps://www.blogger.com/profile/05810154378449825641noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-65670430140277147482012-07-31T16:34:50.565-06:002012-07-31T16:34:50.565-06:00Name: Jennifer M. Hartsock
Title: Battleground
Gen...Name: Jennifer M. Hartsock<br />Title: Battleground<br />Genre: Realistic YA<br /><br />Pitch:<br />Sixteen-year-old Lilly Dawson was never one to question fate, but after befriending Gabriel Parker, new meaning shapes Lilly’s world — our choices, not some ultimate plan, define who we are.<br /><br />First 250 Words:<br />In the city of Kinhedge, California, surrounded by the loud buzz of party chatter, horns and cheers boomed from outside in celebration of the New Year. With the last few days of Christmas vacation drawing near, everyone was eager to have a bit of fun before sophomore year started again. People in party hats with whistles and streamers gathered in clusters throughout the house—smiles and laughter galore—guzzling down alcohol. I remained seated in the kitchen corner, imagining myself somewhere different.<br /><br />Samantha Withnell stood across the kitchen island from her friends, Ping-Pong ball in hand. She had teased her blond-streaked chestnut hair, but from the humidity of many people in a small space, it looked like a sticky mess of styling product. Her eyes peaked over her shoulder, and my hands shielded my face.<br /><br />“I’m not here.”<br /><br />“Lilly, quit pouting and help me.” The stern look in her eyes confirmed her impatience with my attitude. Sam abandoned the island, catching me up in her whirlwind, and plummeted into the armchair with me. “Young lady, we’re getting down to the wire!”<br /><br />The small crucifix around my neck rested at my collar, and I gripped it in my hand, making sure the pendent was tightly secured to the chain. If I was stranded in a pit of drunken classmates, I needed the best guidance possible.<br /><br />“I’ll play only if we go home early.”<br /><br />Sam furrowed her eyebrows. “Deal.”Anonymousnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-32170992556662655152012-07-31T16:27:23.653-06:002012-07-31T16:27:23.653-06:00Name: Amy Smith
Title: THINDERELLA
Genre: YA Magic...Name: Amy Smith<br />Title: THINDERELLA<br />Genre: YA Magic Realism<br /><br />Pitch: When a fairy godmother grants an obese teen's wish to be thin, she finally pursues the guy of her dreams.<br /><br />When Tanner Knight asked me to the Winter Ball, I lied and said I’d go with him. Seriously, I’ve had a crush on him forever. He’s kind of tall with messy brown hair, hazel eyes, and the most amazing smile. <br /><br />We’ve been messaging and texting for the last couple of months but he thinks my name is Ella and I go to a charter school and compete in equestrian shows. He has no idea I sit one row over and a desk behind him in AP English. And he has no idea how much I notice about him like the little rip in the cuff of his favorite gray hoodie, or the tiny scar on his jaw, or how he always folds his gum wrapper instead of wadding it into a ball.<br /> <br />But Tanner never really notices me because I wear my biggest flaw for the whole world to see. Some girls cheat on their boyfriends or backstab their friends, but you can’t tell that just by looking at them. Everyone sees I’m 127 pounds overweight—I’m basically the elephant in the room. <br /><br />So no way am I going to the Ball. I’d rather die than see the shock and disappointment on his face if I went. Part of me knows I should give up even thinking he’d ever be interested in me, but part of me can’t give up dreaming that if he knew the real me, he’d see past my weight.LadyBughttps://www.blogger.com/profile/15090647097572172151noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-54264212467246458742012-07-31T16:02:07.246-06:002012-07-31T16:02:07.246-06:00Name: Leiann Bynum
Title: Superteens in Training
G...Name: Leiann Bynum<br />Title: Superteens in Training<br />Genre: YA Urban Fantasy with Sci-fi elements<br /><br />Pitch: Five sixteen-year-old girls of various races develop a bonding friendship while dealing with the stress of becoming secret teenage superheroes.<br /><br />First 250 words:<br /><br />The seatbelt restraints barely held her in place as she was jolted in her seat. The whole spaceship rumbled and shook as it came to an abrupt stop. Its engines purred softly as they powered down. Then, silence.<br /><br />Malaysa breathed a sigh of relief, and figured it was safe to open her eyes. The way her seat was slanting, she could tell the ship hadn’t landed as it should have. She glanced at the control panel in front of her, and saw its multi-colored lights flashing wildly. She guessed that meant something had malfunctioned, but since the ship’s course hadn’t been set by her, she couldn’t have done anything wrong.<br /><br />Her hands fumbled with the clasp of her restraints, and when she had freed herself, she stood up out of the half-spherical seat, holding onto the sides as she tried to get her wobbly feet to support her. The flight had lasted about six hours, and she had barely moved at all in that time, which was why she was so stiff. Her anxiety about traveling so far away from home for the first time had left her paralyzed.<br /><br />She felt alone…but then, she wasn’t alone.<br /><br />She looked up and checked the five other occupied seats. To her relief, all the babies appeared safe. She stumbled her way over to each child, giving them closer inspections. The Sleep Plugs in their ears had kept them from waking during the ride, but the devices only lasted for eight hours. In less than two hours, Malaysa would be dealing with five hungry, crying infants all by herself.Shanika L. Bynumhttps://www.blogger.com/profile/18212374073199005198noreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-70005629460437460662012-07-31T15:55:26.345-06:002012-07-31T15:55:26.345-06:00Name: Dana Edwards
Title: HAROLD – THE KID WHO RUI...Name: Dana Edwards<br />Title: HAROLD – THE KID WHO RUINED MY LIFE AND SAVED THE DAY<br />Genre: MG, contemporary<br /><br />Pitch: Harold has ruined twelve-year-old Jake’s social life for the last time, but his knowledge of expert plays might come in handy when Jake’s baseball team plays the undefeated Comets and perhaps Harold can teach Jake that friends come in all sorts of packages.<br /><br /><br />On the first day of sixth grade, I cracked open the door and looked outside. The bus stop was empty. So far, so good. I’d figured Harold’s mom would drive him this year like she did when he was in kindergarten. <br /><br />Harold has trouble when it comes to new things. Well, that’s one of his problems.<br /> <br />I walked toward the stop a free man. Then from behind I heard, “Hey Jake! Jake! Wait up, Jake! It’s 8:03. Bus Number 6 will be here at 8:07.”<br /> <br />I walked faster and called over my shoulder, “Thanks for the update, Harold. I didn’t know I was so early. Tomorrow, I’ll sleep in a whole 4 minutes.”<br /> <br />Harold caught up with me and said, “I woke up at 6:32, but Mom said I couldn’t come out until I saw you.” <br /> <br />Great. <br /> <br />“Hey, Jake, have you ever heard of Harvey Haddix?” he asked while he rummaged through his bookbag.<br /> <br />I knew what he was looking for. Each year before school started, Harold added one green composition notebook to his school supply list and in that notebook he kept track of the times he beat me at anything—Texas Hold’em, NCAA 12, checkers. He’d write down the date, the game, and the score. He also wrote down baseball stats.<br /> <br />“Yeah, Harold, I know all about Harvey.” <br /> <br />I didn’t have a clue but I thought just this once, Harold wouldn’t go into his never-ending monologue about one more Major League ballplayer I’d never heard of.Dana Ehttp://momslifeponderings.wordpress.comnoreply@blogger.comtag:blogger.com,1999:blog-4250988928163509961.post-46366502432342771662012-07-31T15:48:44.634-06:002012-07-31T15:48:44.634-06:00Name: Rachel Solomon
Title: THE ALMOST ADULTS
Genr...Name: Rachel Solomon<br />Title: THE ALMOST ADULTS<br />Genre: NA contemporary<br /><br />Pitch: <br />Jordan, a grad school dropout with inescapable debt, is waiting tables at a failing Indian restaurant. With kadhi-stained clothes, she craves a real career but can’t resist fixing the restaurant — or romancing a sweet customer. <br /><br />First 250:<br />I knew that face. Unblinking eyes. Stiff jaw. Brows parallel to the line of his lips.<br /><br />The customer was recalculating my tip. He’d whittle it from eighteen percent to ten, or maybe down to an insulting fistful of coins that had attracted lint in his pocket all day. Quarters if I was lucky, nickels and pennies if I wasn’t. <br /><br />“Doesn’t this come with chapatis?” he asked before the thali plate touched down at his table, like I had already ruined his dinner.<br /><br />Someone had told me what a chapati was. In fact, I was certain several someones had, probably followed by a list of ingredients. But the word banged around in my brain’s dictionary, the entry blank. Maybe it was the oily bread bloated with potato crumbs, or the minty yogurt customers used to dilute the curries they insisted on ordering five-stars, too spicy for most American palates. I hoped the customer couldn’t sense my panic.<br /><br />“I'm sorry?” I asked, sliding the plate and accompanying tin of rice onto the table. The bowl of red goo I was balancing for table two was starting to burn my other hand.<br /><br />“Doesn’t. This. Come. With. Chapatis?” He metered out the sentence, a frustrated breath punctuating the final word. <br /><br />“Let me check,” I promised, but then the woman at the table spoke up.<br /><br />“You don't know?” she asked. I shook my head and smiled forcedly, as though the corners of my mouth were magnetically opposed to twitching so far upward.Anonymoushttps://www.blogger.com/profile/06445748005510936697noreply@blogger.com