An Agent's Inbox #7

Dear Ms. Gref,

I am querying you because of your interest in middle grade manuscripts. I admire the Lowenstein Associates' hands-on approach in contributing to their writers’ careers, and would be honored to be represented by such an outstanding agency and agent.

River has always been a misfit among trolls. He prefers the open sky to the muddy underside of a bridge, and he’d pick Brussels sprouts over bone-bread any day. On top of that, he’s the ugliest troll in the entire forest of Mystwood. But at least his unusual features make him the perfect spy against the enemy fairies. When his father, the Troll King, entrusts him with a dangerous mission, River hopes that this time, finally, he will make his father proud.  

Unfortunately, River is captured by a fairy hunter--a girl, no less--but he realizes that Astrid is different, unlike the terrible stories of winged monsters that go around snatching troll children from their beds. She doesn’t want to kill him, and her reasons for sparing him are more terrifying than the fierce crystal blade she wields. Astrid believes there’s more to River than there appears, and he’s afraid she’s right.

But the truth of his origin is locked deep within Mystwood, and bringing it to the light of day will unleash war and chaos throughout the forest, putting everyone River cares about in mortal danger. To save those he loves, River will have to choose between what he was born to be, and who he really is.

THE TROLL DIARIES is an upper middle grade adventure/fantasy, complete at 46,000 words.

I am a full-time mom with a teaching background in middle school art, and a member of the Houston chapter of SCBWI. I have included the first page, and I can send the completed manuscript upon request.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

J.P.

THE TROLL DIARIES

I know what you’re thinking. Trolls; nasty, ugly creatures that live in caves and under bridges. And you’d be right, for the most part.

I come from a long line of proud, ugly bridge trolls. It’s what we do. We guard bridges, take tolls, and occasionally grind bones to make our bread.

I’m kidding.

Well, sort of.  

See, I’m not really a normal troll. I guess you could call me the black sheep of the family. Maybe not a sheep though, since my family eats those. I’m pretty sure they don’t want to eat me. I’m a vegetarian, which doesn’t sit well with them at all.

My mother is considered to be the best bone-bread maker in the whole forest of Mystwood, or at least here in the Hob, our home. It’s really the truth. Of course, the last troll who challenged her sort of disappeared. Permanently. I tried to eat it once. Not by choice, mind you. My brothers Bog and Mud held me down and forced me to eat a whole loaf. It was kind of dry… and crumbly, like you would expect bone-bread to taste, I guess.

I prefer to eat things that didn’t scream in fear when they died. Like berries, and mushrooms, and whatever I can poach from the farmer’s crops at the edge of the forest. I’m not proud of stealing the food, but at least I’m not trying to eat the farmer. One night I took my baby sister, Ivy, with me, and things got a little ugly.