An Agent's Inbox #9

Dear Ms. Jeglinski,

Six years ago, Georgia Bowen started seeing the future instead of her reflection.

Five years ago, she vowed never to look again.

Four days ago, that promise was broken.

Now, she’s being hunted.

Focused on her summer job and matchmaking for her best friend, eighteen-year-old Georgia doesn’t know she’s almost out of time. The Guardians of Righteousness, a cult-turned-criminal-enterprise, wants to use her to build their empire. Before they can find her, however, Georgia is kidnapped by Galen, a day laborer on the farm where she works. Georgia hasn’t known Galen for very long, but she knows what he can do--knock her unconscious from twenty feet away--should be impossible. She soon learns something else: Galen isn’t really her co-worker. He’s an emissary, part of a resistance group that escaped the Guardians years ago and wants to harness Georgia’s ability in their fight.

While Georgia is grateful to be saved from the Guardians, she’s no damsel in distress…and she has no intention of becoming a pawn in someone else’s war. Spurred by the knowledge that her parents are the Guardian’s captives and that the resistance is doing nothing to help them, Georgia resolves to escape both Galen and her Guardian pursuers. But when she discovers a cryptic verse that might connect her grandparents--and possibly her Aztec heritage--to the resistance, Georgia must make a choice: escape in time to protect her parents, or join the fight against the organization that threatens them all.

Looking Glass Darkly is a 82,000 word YA fantasy set in the rural South. I hope it will appeal to fans of Bethany Wiggins’ Shifting and Mark Frost’s The Paladin Prophecy. As per your submission guidelines, I have pasted the first 250 words below.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

T.C.

LOOKING GLASS DARKLY

I’ve spent thirty-six months in therapy for “body image issues.” The funny thing is I haven’t looked in the mirror in six years so, when you think about it, it’d be almost impossible for me to hate the way I look. I don’t have a problem with my body. I have a problem with mirrors, which isn’t the same thing.

I see strange things when I look in the mirror. I know what you’re thinking and, no, my face isn’t one of them. I mean crazy, awful things, like earthquakes and people dying.

I’ll be honest: it was terrifying at first. I would start shaking whenever I saw a mirror, half expecting something to leap out and grab me. But now that I’ve trained myself not to look, it’s fine. I’m almost oblivious these days.

There’s no mirror in my room. I had to put my foot down about that; I needed a place where I could relax. That’s when my mom decided I had problems and stuck me in therapy.

I didn’t even try to correct her. Even a twelve-year-old can figure out that seeing death in the mirror isn’t something you can bring up with your parents--or anyone else--unless you want them to think you’re bats*** crazy. So therapy turned out to be a good thing, a convenient excuse for why I was acting weird. And, as an added bonus, now I feel great about my body.

An Agent's Inbox #8

Dear Ms. Jeglinski,

Three years ago Dylan took a life for the first time. To protect his friends, he must do it once again. Fortunately, it’s a task he enjoys performing.

Sixteen-year-old Dylan awakens in the hospital and discovers the army base he calls home is under attack. Someone has unleashed what appears to be sarin gas. Dylan stumbles across the airstrip barely making it onto one of the packed evacuation planes. The escape doesn't go as planned and the plane crashes on an uninhabited island.

Dylan gathers himself after the crash and discovers that five other army brats are also alive. Together they hunt for food, build a shelter, and search for a way home.  Dylan does his best to keep his distance from the group, both physically and emotionally. After all, having homicidal urges isn't something that makes people want to be your friend. Six-year-old David, the youngest survivor, has other plans and constantly follows Dylan around. Dylan gives into the boy’s need for friendship as it provides a nice distraction from the no-so-clandestine romantic dramas occurring within the group.

One day, soldiers appear on the island. But they aren't there to take the survivors home, they've come to finish them off. Dylan grows concerned over David's safety appointing himself the boy's guardian. After members of the group are killed, Dylan gives into his murderous urges to keep David safe. What starts out as a way to protect David quickly turns into an enjoyable game of predator and prey. Until David disobeys an order to remain hidden and witnesses Dylan dispatching a soldier. Dylan questions if the mercenaries or his carnal thirst is what David really needs to be protected from.

SURVIVING SARIN is a 69,000 word YA thriller and the first of a trilogy, best described as I Hunt Killers meets The 100.

I am a high school biology teacher and I also serve as chapter director of an organization that trains rescued dogs for military veterans. I belong to SCBWI, RWA, and Sisters in Crime. I have been published in Sisters in Crime’s First Draft July 2014. I agree with you that the phone call and getting to know someone personally should be just as important in deciding whether or not to offer representation. It would be hard to have the working relationship that an author and agent must have if the two clash. I would love to know if someone is blunt vs. sugar coats something, or if they are long winded vs. to the point. Kudos for being a furbabies foster parent. Many rescues & shelters could not do the work they do without people like you.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Warm Regards,

T.S.

SURVIVING SARIN

“I want your dad to sign this and return it to me tomorrow,” Mrs. Harwood says as she slides my English essay across her desk for me to see.

She’s a real pain in my a**, and my step-father, Rob, is going to kill me when he sees I failed this paper. I tried my best, but a comparative essay on how life experiences shape who a person becomes is not something that comes easy. Then to have to relate it back to a character from a book… I don’t think a character even exists that has gone through what I have. Or has the secrets I have.

“Whatever,” I mumble, grabbing the paper as I head out the door.

The walk home is arduous, and my headache doesn’t help. This is the fifth time I have gotten a headache in the past two days.

“Hey Cynthia. Where’s Rob?” I ask when I get home, preparing for at least an hour long lecture.

“Work.” Her tiny eyes focus on the singing horses on the screen.

“He just left and didn’t get you a babysitter?” Strange, Rob never leaves Cynthia home alone--she’s only four. And he has been very overprotective since the implementation of the base curfew.

She shrugs then adds, “Daddy said not to answer the door, and that you would be home soon. And you have to make dinner.”

Most likely this has something to do with why there is a curfew on the base. 

An Agent's Inbox #7

Dear Melissa Jeglinski:

Instead of putting her telepathy and ability to see sound as color to good use, rebellious sixteen-year old Lottie would rather be listening to Sonic Youth. A mysterious group from a world called Karnock gave Lottie her powers, but she has never known why she was granted these abilities, nor has she known anyone with powers like hers.

That is, until she meets Charlie.

Charlie is a quirky bookseller who can manipulate light into tangible matter. After Lottie catches Charlie displaying his power, she coerces him to admit that he too, is aware of Karnock’s existence. For the first time, Lottie doesn't feel so alone with her abilities, and realizes that Charlie can help her understand more about Karnock. 

Lottie and Charlie journey to Karnock where they see how Earth’s climate change has affected Karnock’s population and landscape. The two worlds have a symbiotic relationship, linked through ecological disaster; for what happens on Earth is paralleled on Karnock.

 

With Karnock’s landscape in ruin, an enchantress named Theodora wants to reverse the ecological destruction on Karnock and obliterate Earth. Soon, Lottie and Charlie must flee from Theodora who is determined to kill Lottie before she can use her powers to stop the enchantress’s plans. 

On Earth, Lottie never had high expectations for herself, but she knows that with her abilities, a good dose of stubbornness, and maybe some assistance from Charlie, she can figure out how to defeat Theodora on Karnock before Earth is destroyed. 

TWICE AFFECTED is an 80,000 word YA light science fiction/fantasy novel with an environmental twist. The manuscript has elements of A WRINKLE IN TIME and ULTRAVIOLET, with a dash of AN INCONVENIENT TRUTH. 

I have included the first 250 words of the manuscript for your review. 

I worked on this manuscript at Simmons College as a project toward the completion of my Master of Fine Arts degree in Writing for Children, which I received in May 2014. 

Thank you for your time and consideration. 

Sincerely, 

C.H.

TWICE AFFECTED

Evelyn was always full of idle threats. I never thought she’d do it. I never thought my mother would actually follow through and dump me off here. 

I’d been at my great aunt's for two weeks, and was bored out of my mind. The day, like every other day before it, had been gloomy and humid, with a thick air of stillness about it. Now, at dusk, the most exciting thing that was happening was that I was precariously hanging out of a window. 

This wasn't my idea of a good time, but it was the only option that I’d had. 

Evelyn had threatened with shipping me away a hundred times before, if I didn't turn things right. It’s not like I wanted trouble, or that I went looking for it. But I sure as hell don’t back down when trouble finds me. 

It was the fight at school that landed me here, though it probably would have been something eventually to trigger Evelyn's decision to deploy me. 

When I slammed my fist into Jennifer’s jaw, the noise had resulted not in me seeing red, as the saying goes, but a dancing pattern of teal and lavender. 

Harold’s disembodied voice was loud in my head, and interrupted my thoughts:

--Lottie, you know that there are easier ways to break your neck. Are you trying to get caught?

I responded back:

--But I’m not trying to break my neck. I’m just trying to get out of here.

An Agent's Inbox #6

Dear Ms. Jeglinksi:

I seek representation for my young adult science fiction novel, WHERE THERE WERE DESERTS, I SAW FOUNTAINS, complete at 91,000 words.

Joni Margulis and her best friend Kelly Grebe don’t know where in the world they are. Or even which world.

Three days ago, the pair snuck into her parents’ lab and, after fiddling with some suspicious equipment, discovered something astounding: namely, that their world is but one of many, extending in bubbles all around them.  Not even Joni’s parents know this, but they will in the future, because somehow Joni’s dad sent the girls a transmission across time. And his advice was to run.

Joni and Kelly soon find themselves chased through several of these worlds. They steal cars in a futuristic, gang-infested underground city, repel invaders in a tiny medieval-like kingdom, and duck gunfire at a chilidog stand on the Sunset Strip. They meet assassins and spies, earls and innkeepers, many of whom believe that Joni is the latest of the Josephines, extraordinary young women who have repeatedly changed the course of history. Joni must decide if she believes this too, and how much she is willing to sacrifice for these newly found worlds.

Where There Were Deserts, I Saw Fountains has the cohesive worldbuilding and gripping adventures that SF and fantasy fans expect, but will attract non-genre readers with its strong, engaging characters. Add in a bit of romance, a little mystery, some Japanese folklore set in center city Philadelphia, and a few Vikings (or at least their descendants) and this is a book that will appeal to a diverse audience.

After reading your various interviews, I was really drawn to the care that you put into your agent-client relationships. I want an agent for the long haul, someone who will be there because she has a passion for my work and my potential.

Thank you for your time and consideration of this proposal. I look forward to hearing from you.

Sincerely,

W.W.

WHERE THERE WERE DESERTS, I SAW FOUNTAINS

It was a beautiful spring afternoon in Philadelphia and a crowd had gathered along the Schuylkill River to look for monsters. Joni Margulis climbed over the art museum hill, saw the spectators spread out on the grass, and gritted her teeth.

“Idiots,” she told her dog Bramble. “They’re such idiots. And they’re in the middle of your spot. Well, that’s their problem.”

She tugged on Bramble’s leash and together they jogged down to the grass by the old water works. They set up on the grass behind the crowd, which was mostly near the river’s edge. Bramble ran out twenty meters in front of her and plopped on the grass, staring at Joni. Joni loaded up her tennis ball launcher and reared her arm back for the throw.

“Ow!” yelled a voice behind her.

“I’m so sorry,” Joni spun around. “I didn’t see you there.”

A young man was rubbing his head where she had struck him. Joni pegged him at a couple of years older than her, maybe seventeen or eighteen. Good looking, but smiled like he didn’t know that. He was tall and thin, with light brown skin and dark brown hair down to his shirt collar. He pocketed his cell phone.

“It’s all right,” he said, with a faint accent that Joni couldn’t recognize. “I should have been watching where I was going.”

“Yes, you should have. But I probably shouldn’t have hit you with my atlatl.”

“Your what?”

“My atlatl. Isn’t it awesome?”

An Agent's Inbox #5

Dear Ms. Jeglinski, 

Seventh-grader Rae has several problems. There’s her humiliating, botched try-out for the middle school newspaper. There’s her sister morphing into a boyfriend-hiding, b-word calling teenager. There’s her mother, Austin’s Feminist Jackson Pollock, withdrawing further into her art studio every day. And now there’s her mom’s hidden childhood journal, reeking of mothballs and a secret.

Through the journal’s entries, Rae catches a glimpse of an ebullient girl growing up in small town Texas who is nothing like the melancholy woman her mom has become. The jarring revelation on the last page leaves Rae with a ton of questions and a lousy feeling in her gut, which can mean only one thing.

Rae’s found her lead and, with it, a chance to redeem herself as a journalist and salvage her writing career. 

As her investigation unfolds, Rae confronts the truth about a religious boarding school called the Rebekah Home for Girls, her mother’s conservative upbringing, and her own changing opinions on faith, family, and the pursuit of facts. Rae knows she can prove her writing chops, if only she can unravel the story in time.

THE COUNTLESS THREADS OF RAE JULY is a contemporary realistic Middle Grade complete at 53,000 words and a simultaneous submission. Summer Mitamoto’s sincerity in THE THING ABOUT LUCK meets Mo LoBeau’s pluck in THREE TIMES LUCKY as Rae struggles to find her voice in the world and on the page.

I am a former sixth grade teacher and a member of SCBWI. My personal essays have been published in the Harvard Educational Review, as well as a smaller literary journal. I really appreciate your honest candor and industry knowledge, and have learned a lot by reading blogs on which you’ve been interviewed. I am grateful for this opportunity to offer my manuscript for your consideration.

Thank you for your time.

Sincerely,

N.H.G.

THE COUNTLESS THREADS OF RAE JULY

Fact: The last time I wore a skirt someone died. I put one on to visit Dad’s Aunt Ethel who was sick with pneumonia and by the time we got to her house, there were ambulances in the driveway. Aunt Ethel was fine but her neighbor, Mr. Weatherwood, was not. Tripped bringing Ethel a pot of matzo ball soup, bless his heart.

Needless to say, I had mixed feelings walking through the doors of Lamar Middle School in a black cotton skirt and grey Beatles tee. But when your sister is sixteen and gorgeous, and tells you to wear a skirt “because only twelve year old boys wear basketball shorts and not the cool ones,” you tuck your blue mesh gently into the back of your sock drawer and hope for the best.

The first day of seventh grade was a whole lot like the first day of any other grade, which is to say we did a whole lot of nothing. That a half-day could drag on in such a way did not bode well for the year ahead, but after three excruciating hours of icebreakers and a sloppy Sloppy Joe lunch, it was at least nearly done. Finally, at twelve-oh-five sharp, I entered my first Lamar Lookout meeting. It felt like reaching the surface after sitting too long at the bottom of a pool: my heart raced, my fingers felt pruney, but I could breathe.

An Agent's Inbox #4

Dear Ms. Jeglinski:

At 12.9 years old, Kade Walker has never heard of death. Literally. But neither has anyone else he knows. Kade is one of hundreds of kids living across the solar system through the use of robotic avatars while their real bodies sleep in pods on Earth. Nothing can hurt him this way; the adults all said so. They just never said how to survive middle school when only one person on the planet will talk to him.

Kade will admit, his obsession with numbers might deter 35.7% of kids from hanging out with him. But the bigger issue is his best friend--Princess Tamika of Venus. So her mom almost let a crazed hacker take over everyone's bodies twelve years ago. The queen is locked away, and Tamika herself is really nice. Kade needs to give her reputation a serious reboot. He starts off simple: an interstellar tour using an old teleportation machine that he's reconstructed. But the machine's not rigged for current use, so when Kade fires it up, he unwittingly kills a major security wall and unleashes the same hacker from twelve years ago. Panic rating: ten times infinity. The hacker shuts off all communications with the adults and begins to take control of the royal avatars. If Kade doesn't want to see his best friend used as a puppet, he needs to stop the hacker fast--even if that means waking up on Earth to fight with a body he never realized could be hurt.

MY BEST FRIEND RUNS VENUS (45,000 words) is an MG science fiction novel. I am a Clarion West alumna whose work has sold to True Confessions, Every Day Fiction, and Highlights for Children. Thank you for your consideration.

Sincerely,
K.S.F.


MY BEST FRIEND RUNS VENUS

It wasn't the first time Kade had hacked the Venusian maintenance system, but it was one of the best. If he had to put a number on it (and there was little he didn't put a number on), he'd give it a 9.7.
The 9.8 and 9.9 scores were reserved for something epic he hadn't thought of yet, and 10.0 was for the day he would finally reprogram how his robotic body looked.

Still, assuming he didn't get caught, his skills today would land him on a totally different planet. Maybe that deserved the 9.8 slot after all. If Tamika would hurry and get here, he could ask for her opinion.

Kade straightened against a metal door embedded in a burnt orange mountainside and flicked his left wing. A line of glowing text scrolled across his view: 5:03:34pm. He'd checked the time fifty-three
seconds ago, but whenever he wasn't reading data, he felt lost. The adults called it unhealthy. Healthy people could watch a sunset without calculating its luminosity every thirty seconds, but healthy
people sounded boring. Besides, the numbers comforted him. Nobody got weirded out by seeing their own hands all the time, did they? His numbers were just that--an extra set of hands. Or wings. Or
whatever.

Kade froze. His sensors detected a deep clunking sound that echoed across Venus's stone-hard surface. Low volume, maybe twenty to thirty decibels. His first thought was that it was a patrol robot, but it was coming too fast.

An Agent's Inbox #3

Dear Ms. Jeglinski,

When fifteen-year-old David O’Reilly passes out in English Lit, he wakes to find things different. His classmates carry swords at their hips, and Magical Aptitude has replaced Algebra. Even his town has changed. The pavement has turned to cobblestone and half the homes have gone from vinyl siding to wattle and daub. 

David’s bouts of unconsciousness don’t stop there, and neither do the changes to Ithaca, PA, which is becoming more and more Medieval. Soon David’s coal miner dad undergoes a strange transformation that leaves him dwarfed in height and incredibly strong. When he and the other miners heed an irresistible call down to the depths of the earth, David must find the one responsible and put a stop to it. Ideally before these coma-inducing temporal shifts send Ithaca back to the Dark Ages. 

All the clues lead in one direction: Town Hall and a mayor who has closeted himself behind spear-wielding guards. David decides to break in, or he would if he could make it through the week without being harassed by school bullies who now carry lethal weapons. When David manages to penetrate Town Hall, he finds the mayor dangling by strings from the ceiling; a puppet literally and figuratively. From the mayor’s animated lips comes a mocking voice. “Stop me if you can, David, but isn’t this the way the world should be?” 

My first novel, MYTHACA, is a 55,000 word upper MG contemporary fantasy with series potential. Thank you for your time and consideration.

Sincerely,

P.S.

MYTHACA

It felt kind of like a granny squeezing your cheeks, except instead of just squeezing, she pulls your face in three different directions and pushes on your eyes with her thumbs. My body felt disjointed too, like I’d lost all my bones and was being twisted into a tight knot.

“David?”

The bones slid back into place, but granny was still having her way with my face.

“What’s wrong with him?”

I opened my eyes a little. The world stopped spinning long enough for me to tell where I was. At first, all I saw was the underside of my desk, pink globs of dried up gum and little indentations that had been drilled into the particle board with the tip of a pen. I noticed that most of the class was crowded around, staring down at me.

“I’m alright. I’m good.” I sat up and gripped the edge of my chair in case the floor decided to smack me again.

“Was that a seizure?”

“Do you smell burnt toast?”

I sat down at my desk and tried to sort out my hair, but the red curly fuzz ball did what it wanted. The other kids were still staring at me, probably wondering when I would flake out next. I held out both my hands to show that they weren’t shaking. 

“See, solid as a rock.”

The show was over. Starting with a few of the more popular girls who didn’t want any of my weirdness to rub off on them, they all headed back to their desks.

An Agent's Inbox #2

Dear Ms. Jeglinski,

Following the death of her father, shy, bi-racial eleven-year old Wren doesn't know where she belongs. Her mother spends most of her time locked in her healer's hut, hardly noticing her daughter. This leaves Wren to fend for herself in their little town of Edgeton, the only human settlement in the Never Never, a land where mythical creatures like the Irish Sìdhe and the Cherokee Nunnehi live together in less than perfect harmony.

When Wren is kidnapped and locked in a tower woven of living trees, she learns that a Sìdhe girl, Finola has taken her place in Edgeton. The dangerous and cunning Finola intends to gain access to Wren’s mother’s work and start a war with the Nunnehi, Wren’s mother’s people. The Queen of the Sìdhe comes to Wren with an offer. She will help Wren escape, but Wren has to find a way to stop Finola from destroying the delicate peace of the Never Never. In order to win this battle, Wren must learn to control the wild cords of magic hidden within her, all the while knowing magic is prohibited by her mother and her town.

Complete at 70,000 words, STRANGE KIN is a middle grade fantasy with series potential that explores folklore from all over the world. I’ve included the first 250 words of the manuscript, per contest guidelines.

After completing my Bachelor’s in Creative Writing at the University of Tennessee, I graduated from the University of Memphis in 2012 with a MFA in Creative Writing. I am a member of SCBWI, and I am hard at work on my next manuscript. While I am currently teaching English in South Korea, I will be returning to the U.S. in early October.

Thank you for your consideration.

Best,
K.P.


STRANGE KIN

Wren was not pleased with the bargain she had made for herself. She should have been happy to be outside instead of tied to her desk and her studies. She should have been excited to be kicking her way through last fall’s leaves, swinging a bucket and whacking the ground with a broom. But her mother had made certain sure that Wren’s punishment would be nothing like fun. If Wren had been able to control her temper, she would have been studying for her test on edible plants rather than making her way through the woods with an impossibly long list of chores. She swiped at a tree trunk, using the broom as a sword. Her mother was intent on punishing her, and no one, not her mother, not her teacher, not even the head of school, had listened when she had told them that it hadn’t been her fault.

The first item on her list of chores was cleaning the tree house. She couldn't really even call it a tree house. The little shack perched on a steep hill was surrounded by trees, but it wasn’t in one. There was no rope ladder, no limbs to climb onto, nothing to keep anyone out of her space except a door with rusty hinges. The door squealed when she pushed it open. Wren shivered as she set down her bucket. Cooler inside than it was outside, something about this room always made her skin crawl. Wren grimaced at the cobwebs hanging around the single, grimy window and fervently wished she hadn’t lost her temper at school.