Brenda Drake is hosting a super amazing first page/pitch blog fest!
Why so amazing?
1) The judges are from her teen book club. Yep. That's right. Teens. As in MY prospective audience. I have a few trusted students who read my stuff, and they give me incredibly awesome feedback, but WOW - what an opportunity for complete objectivity!
Side ramble: Hosting a teen book club? Totally cool. Will definitely be trying this with my daugher and her friends.
2) It's also a contest! The winner will receive a 10 page plus a synopsis critique, and two runners up will receive either a 10 page or a synopsis critique from the fabulous Cassandra Marshall agent intern/editor/cover art designer/writer extraordinaire. Mucho exciting!
Andbutso, I'm posting my pitch and the first 250 words from my manuscript. Then, I'll edit based on feedback and enter on Brenda's blog on July 20. Cool! I'll also be providing feedback to others. A list of all the entrants can be found here. (Psst - you should check them out too!)
Some of you helped me out BIG TIME when I entered my first 250 for Shelley Watters Contest of Awesome, sooo I was, uh...hoping you'd help me again. Please.
ANY feedback is fabulous, so feel free to be constructively brutal! Thanks!
Without further ramblings, my pitch and excerpt from Envious...
Pitch: Seventeen-year old Becky’s best friend kills himself without leaving a single clue. Yet as memories of that fateful night emerge from her subconscious, she suspects she may have had something to do with his death.
And now the first 250...
Mookie’s suicide hit like a sledgehammer to my chest.
He didn’t leave a note. No call. Not even a farewell text. Not a single clue as to why he jumped off the top of our bleachers—over fifty feet up.
They found his body early Sunday morning. They being Mr. Graham, my tenth grade Geometry teacher with a pug nose and a body to match. He arrived at school for a pre-dawn run and spotted Mookie’s sneaker sticking out of the new fallen snow. Then a frostbitten hand nearby it. A frozen pool of blood.
A police car arrived shortly after, then an ambulance. Even a fire engine although I wasn’t sure what that was for. A fire had already been put out—a burning heat that used to fuel my existence was gone.
Mookie lay on his stomach at the bottom of the bleachers, a short rusty stake the claim to his demise. The police concluded he hurdled the protective back, and the stake gouged his heart when he fell on it. Tox reports would take a week, but I knew Mookie’s system contained a combination of weed and booze—how much remained the question. Enough to delude my carefree best friend into thinking he should jump, ending what had seemed to be a great life with a bright future.
Yep. Mookie was my best friend. Most of the time—my only friend. And on January 3 he took his life.
This is where his story ends.
And mine begins.
Thanks everyone! Looking forward to your feedback!