Thoughts on the Last Jedi: This contains Spoilers

Okay, so I’m going to write a post below these words and it’s going to contain spoilers. However, because I am a kind and generous soul, I’m going to give you a lot of space between this intro and Spoiler land.

*

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

**

I feel like the saddest girl in sad town.

Luke has always been there in my mind. I loved the movie, but I wanted Luke to join the league of Badass Old Dudes, you know, with Uncle Iroh, and Sifu the sword master.

On the other hand, Yoda’s words could have been written just for me. As in, I needed to hear those words, that failure is a teacher, not an ending. Mistakes were made, and we have to move on. That’s big stuff, and it’s big stuff that I needed to hear. But at what cost??? Why do the masters always go just when they reach enlightenment? It’s like there’s no room in the mortal realm for such powerful understanding.

Okay, enough of the navel gazing, on to the good stuff:

I love me some using a spacecraft to do things it’s not supposed to, and that was brilliant. Even more brilliant for the use of sound in that moment. A+

My favorite image is the moment of Luke standing in front of the At-Ats.

I loved that they let the droid drive some things.

I appreciated that they gave Luke an opportunity to come full cycle.

I’m enjoying Kylo Ren’s ascension to darkness.

I’m pleased that Rey is like “I’m not just a badass, but I’m more of a badass than Luke was at this stage in his training.”

The boy at the end. OMG I NEED HIS STORY, AND I NEED HIM TO BE OKAY!

I love that Leia got to use some Force Stuff, because Space Mom is Awesome.

I am completely down with how many women there were with speaking roles in this movie! Amazing! LOVE IT!

Middle Trilogy movies are always so difficult, but this one worked as a story. I can sense the next one will destroy me emotionally.

In short: I loved it. I loved it’s message. I loved the battle scenes. I enjoyed the humor. I LOVED the imagery (cinematography was ON POINTE!). Will see again, probably in theaters. WOW. 

Insecure about self-made barriers

Don't forget to check out all the other Insecure Writer's Posts at Ninja Captain Alex's blog, hop on the Linky and thank this month's co-hosts: Julie Flanders, Shannon Lawrence, Fundy Blue, and Heather Gardner!

This has been a heck of a year for me professionally and personally. On the writing side, I’ve done more new things than ever before.

I joined SCBWI

I went to a writer’s retreat

I went to a writer’s conference

I went to a class visit

All of these were terrifying to me, but I went and did them anyways. And, I didn’t die. I’d even be willing to do repeats on all of them. But the funny thing about these items were these were all items on my list of markers that denoted a “real author.” These were all things I had seen other writers posting about and feeling jealous about. And, like most things viewed from the outside, they are different once you do them.

I’m a little suspicious of Moving Target Syndrome, the sensation that you long for a thing, but once you achieve the thing, you long for something else to feel gratification. I’ve experienced this before with writing, and well, it’s real. But somehow these markers were a litter different:

I was the one lurking in the shadows not joining SCBWI for more than a year after publishing—you can join at any time, by the way! I just hadn’t felt worth it, somehow. Going to a writer’s retreat was amazing because there were people at literally every stage. There were people with multiple books, people with agents and sales, people with agents and no sales, people with no agent, and people who had never written a book. It was awesome. And that was another barrier I had given to myself, thinking that I needed to be wildly successful to participate in that.

I could go on (the class visit was fun, and I’ve taught a lot, so I already knew how to handle a group). My point is, these markers of success that I had were all things I could have done years ago, but I felt too much like an imposter to do them. If you can learn one thing from my fail, please learn this: if you’re writing, wherever you are in the journey, don’t write yourself out.

Anyone else suffer from False Barrier Syndrome?

Widow of Papina Reveal!

Widow of Papina
Katie Hamstead
Published by: Soul Mate Publishing
Publication date: December 2017
Genres: Adult, Mystery, Romance

Forrest and Braydon Miller moved to the small town of Papina to follow their dreams and start a family. Braydon loves her new life in the quiet town, kept alive by the prestigious boarding school overlooking the valley. She is so proud of her husband’s work, helping the teens on the reservation.

Until one day, Forrest doesn’t come home.

Scandal spreads when it’s discovered that one of the teenagers is missing, too. But, Braydon refuses to believe her husband would leave her. When the teen is found, she isn’t talking–literally.

While Braydon’s heart is breaking, she must hold her crumbling life together, raise her son, trust in the Sheriff’s loyal, and ever-growing devotion, and find a way to love the MUTE teenager enough to discover the truth of what happened to her husband.

Add to Goodreads

Author Bio:

Born and raised in Australia, Katie's early years of day dreaming in the "bush", and having her father tell her wild bedtime stories, inspired her passion for writing.
After graduating High School, she became a foreign exchange student where she met a young man who several years later she married. Now she lives in Arizona with her husband, daughter and their dog.
She has a diploma in travel and tourism which helps inspire her writing.
When her debut novel, Kiya: Hope of the Pharaoh, climbed into bestselling status, she believed she was onto something, and now has a slew of novels now available, and is published through Curiosity Quills Press, Soul Mate Publishing, and REUTS Publishing.
Katie loves to out sing her friends and family, play sports, and be a good wife and mother. She now works as an Acquisitions Editor to help support her family. She loves to write, and takes the few spare moments in her day to work on her novels.

Website / Goodreads / Facebook / Twitter

Prom, Magic, And Other Man-Made Disasters: a Book Birthday!!

Today, I have unleashed my book onto the world:

Before Tessa can confess her feelings to her long-time crush, he beats her to the punch and confesses his love—for her best friend, Maria. Missing the crush of her dreams and her stag wingman for prom, Tessa’s on the prowl to make it a night to remember, and for more than the humiliation. Determined to not be the only dateless girl at the prom in Small Town USA, she asks the new guy. He has all the qualifications of a fun date: polite, mysterious―pulse―but the way Sean talks about magic like it’s real could ruin the illusion. But desperate times call for desperate dates.

To make matters awkward, Maria insists on double-dating for the pre-prom dinner. When a wizard shows up and kidnaps Maria, things go from jealous to deadly before the cummerbunds hit the floor. He’s mistaken Tessa’s friend for a powerful mage whose blood could help him conquer his world, but he’s got the wrong girl. Using the wrong blood wouldn’t make Maria any less dead, and Tessa has no plans to let some whack-job villain from another dimension murder her best friend. Working with Sean, she tracks the wizard to his home, a land filled with strange creatures, stranger customs, and a five-hundred year grudge match between three nations ready to explode into all out war.

Tessa’s starting to think she has a chance against the wizard so long as she has Sean by her side, but his kind words and sweet smile aren’t what they seem. He’s the wizard’s son.

Buy it on Amazon. 

Add it to Goodreads.

(Paperback versions available soon!)

Things I love: The Jack edition

This is Jack:

Yes, he's a cat

No he shouldn't be up there.

Note how much he cares about where he should or should not be

He likes to join in

And yes, he has a natural habitat:

Ragnarok: Things I love, now Spoiler Free!

I went and saw Thor: Ragnarok this weekend, and I gotta say, I thoroughly enjoyed it.

It was a fun romp, almost exactly as advertised. There is no romance (it's been replaced by the buddy feels), and it was always entertaining enough to keep my inner curmudgeon from raising it's head. Were there plot holes? Yes. Did they play gags? Yes. But it was fun. I cannot stress how awesome it is to have fun.

The interesting part is that it felt like the first Avengers movie.

I'd go see it again. Heck, I'd go pay to see it again.

Any thoughts? Any haters? No spoilers in the comments please, but if you want to have a longer discussion, you can always @RenaTheWriter and we can keep it going there (where I will talk to people in 280 characters, practically a novel, really!).

But teenagers aren't like that! An IWSG post

I think the thing I’m most insecure about is ever connecting with my audience and who that audience might be.

I am constantly under the attack of “that’s not what teenage girls are like.”

I think that’s my favorite statement ever. I love it because it seems to always come from men, but also because it completely ignores the fact that there’s no one thing that teenage girls are like. If you had fifty teenage girls in the same room, yes there are going to be some commonalities, but there’s going to be a huge spread about what they like and what they want to do. More importantly, there’s going to be a huge spread about who they think they are.

Caveat: I say think because the first encounters you have with college and adult life afterwards sometimes destroy who you thought you were in highschool. And sometimes, it only hardens it. One of my favorite quotes after coming back from college was that someone said “Wow, you haven’t changed a bit.” To which I replied, “I’ve changed a lot!” And the kind person said, “I know, but you’ve become so much more you than before!”

I digress. My point is that people are different and they have different desires. When I was in high school, there was this terrible choice you had to make: You could either be tough and sporty—able to change your own tire and throw a pass—or you could like pretty things. I see now that it was just another way for society to try to change me into a less powerful version of myself by letting me be tough, but denying me something that I really wanted.

As an adult, I see that it was a falsehood. Who would have stopped me from wearing pink fingernail polish while changing sparkplugs? Would the fashion police have stopped me if I’d worn a cute dress before the game? (okay, well, after the game, that might not have been as practical, but still). My point is I liked to do things where you got your hand dirty AND I liked pretty things.

This is something that I try to write into my characters, but it’s really hard because I’m constantly up against the “but teenage girls aren’t like that.” It’s something that I’m always insecure about. I’m always checking myself, when I start up a new character, are teenage girls like this?

And then I remember how I was forced to choose, how society didn’t seem big enough for my peers to not tease me mercilessly for have diametrically opposed likes. How could I possibly like fingernail polish and soccer? They teased me when I dressed nice. They teased me when I painted my nails. They told me I wasn’t taking my sports seriously enough.

It was all a lie.

Every scrap of it.

So when people tell me that “teenage girls aren’t like that,” I tell them to fly a kite. My only concern is that when you write a book with a character like the person I was, constantly rubbing against the grain of what others want you to do, it can be hard to find my audience.

Because my audience are the people who are still struggling with who they are and what they like and how life has pigeon holed them into “but that’s not what teenage girls are like.” I know there are people out there who are struggling, but trying so desperately to fit in, and I’m worried that their trying so hard to fit in makes them close off to the things they might actually love. And those people are my audience. I’m literally trying to reach the kids who are hiding who they are because they fear being called out the same way I was called out. In short, the people who might literally be afraid to pick up my book for fear of not fitting in.

Whelp, if you made it this far, fantastic! Consider hopping on the link and checking out the Ninja Captain himself, Alex! And a special thank you to this month’s co hosts: Tonja Drecker, Diane Burton, MJ Fifield, and Rebecca Douglass! 

Things I love: The FLASH

Now let’s be clear, if we’re talking about the DC universe, my favorite has always been Green Lantern (though, Wonder Woman is making a heck of a comeback!), but Flash is a close second. And the Flash on CW has been no disappointment!

So yeah, I’m totally loving this TV show, and I have a hard time getting into TV shows (I blame the cancelling of Firefly and the wishy washy handling of the end of Babylon 5).  But why do I love The Flash?

I find there are some tropes that I love coming back to (super hero loses power, friend rescued, betrayal of teacher figure, magical girl transformation), so as you can see the first season absolutely played in my wheelhouse. Season two played it strong as well. For me, the weakest season so far was season three (with a few notable high points), but I suspect my not enjoying season 3 was that I have a hard time with the self fulfilling prophecy trope, which was played on REALLY big for the whole time. I have my fingers crossed for Season 4. 

Alright, this one’s just a short post because I’ve got some writing work to do (OMG, Less than a month before my next book comes out!!!!!). 

What TV shows are you into? What's are your favorite tropes in stories?

A terror of beauty, hungry and angry

There are fires all around, and luckily, many of them are starting to be controlled by the relentless work of some amazing fire fighters. The pictures are stunning. At one point, I was close enough to see the flames in action (at night), and the fire is both terrifying and beautiful in person. It is a force of nature, like the veil slipped open and spilled something uncanny on the world.

I’ve been struggling with what to write since last week when it started. I spent last week with my ear glued to a scanner, trying to follow the progress of the fire and the efforts to contain it. Lately, I feel guilty. It is a form of survivors guilt because everyone I know is safe, and my families’ homes are all okay. I sigh with relief, but there are hundreds of others whose houses burned down. My heart breaks for them. They are my co-workers, my neighbors, people I went to school with. It is horrible.

The stories that are coming out of these fires are harrowing to say the least. Fire is terrifying. Wildfire is like a march of demons set to destroy the world, and this one moved so fast, just so so fast.

I had started the month doing a bunch of #inktober drawings, but now, all I can seem to muster is fire paintings. I don’t think I’ll be sharing those any time soon.

There’s rain in the forecast, and I can honestly say, I’ve never hoped for rain more. 

I'll be back to my normal schedule soon, but in the meantime, stay safe people. 

A Thief or a Vanishing Act: IWSG

I once wrote about where I find the time to write. I said I didn’t look through my pockets to find loose time. I said it had to be stolen, pilfered, and sacrificed to the god of words.

I’m clearly not making the right sacrifices lately. My word counts have been REALLY low this year. I finally drew a line in the sand and said “enough.” I went to a retreat and pounded out 11,000 words to finish a book I started in 2014, (a small miracle as far as I can tell), but since that retreat, I haven’t been able to just sit down and make the magic.

I worry that I’m broken.

I worry that the magic is gone.

I listen to podcasts and they talk about writing exercises and I despair at ever having enough time to write those exercises to try things on. How would I find the time?

And that’s when I realize I’ve caught myself in a trap. Doing a writing exercise is a literal act of improving the craft for the sake of improving my craft. If I can’t improve my craft prior to writing a book (or the second draft of said book) then how will I write a better book? Yes, all writing moves a writer in the direction of better writing, but sometimes, you need to spend a couple dozen pages of words figuring out a character. It’s worth the time to hone the craft before diving into the words, as the choice is really write it better the first time, or rewrite it, it seems more efficient to take the time out of my writing schedule to work on the elements of craft.

But my writing schedule has been insanely tight with edits and proofs, and marketing plans.

So, I’m insecure about the fact that I’ve been writing and publishing and I feel like there is SO MUCH to learn, and I’ve been blithely sending books off into the world without these elements. Which isn’t true, they were just there without me having to think about them because my betas stuck them in, or my editors pushed me to write those things in. But it’s time to level up.

What about you, dear reader? Do you feel like you have the time to work on craft as well as piling on the word count?

Don't forget to visit the Ninja Captain, Alex and this month's lovely co-hosts: Olga Godim, Chemist Ken, Jennifer Hawes, and Tamara Narayan!

FALL

I’ve decided that it’s time for my internet version of me to start lining up a little bit more with the real me.

Wait, Rena, you LIED to us???

Oh, gosh, internet, how quickly we jump to conclusions. No. I haven’t lied. In fact, I’ve been super duper cautious to never lie on the interwebs (the Easiest to Fact-Check place ever). But, I have left certain things out. Like lots of things. I've spent a lot of my online existence trying not to "offend the wrong people" and I'm starting to realize, that's just silly. Who am I going to offend? My readers? My opinions are in my books! All writing, at some level is autobiographical, so it stands to reason many of my opinions have already been heaped on my readers. And many of my opinions are downright silly (Yes, I love Sailor Moon, and No, I don’t see a problem with how often she gets saved by Tuxedo Mask. She saves his buns a lot too. A LOT! That’s what we call partnership. Also, he’s never bummed out about being rescued by a girl, so in some ways, it’s pretty girl positive, but I digress).

To that end, I'm going to run a bit of a series this fall to get back into the swing of blogging. This series is going to be pretty simple: Things I love, enjoy, or am generally obsessed about. Expect a lot of book and movie reviews, lots of talk about painting and museums, and some pictures. 

I want to talk about the things that make me really excited, and right now, it’s Fall.

I LOVE FALL. It is easily my favorite time of year. I know people like the other seasons, but I’m all about Fall. I love turning leaves and grass getting green again (yeah, I live in California, and our wild grasses go blond for the summer, but with the coming rains of fall, they green up again). I love how the days can’t decide and start with frost that melts into day with skies blue like glacier, but a sun bright enough to cut your eyes. I love the stars of fall, turning overhead to the great lanterns of winter, guiding us (in my melodramatic feels) through the darkness.

I love Halloween, and only wish that we could celebrate it a little differently.

And yes, I even love pumpkin spice latte. I know, I’m a walking cliché, but there it is. I love Fall. (Spoiler alert, I also really dig Spring!)

Son Of A Pitch #1: FROM SMOKELESS FIRE

Son Of A Pitch Entry #1:

Title: FROM SMOKELESS FIRE
Category and Genre: Adult Fantasy
Word Count: 90,000


Query:
When Zahara floats up from a lamp in Daniel Goldstein's NYC apartment, she's a jinn with her own wish: fulfill an easy request from a modern-day sorcerer and trick him into eternal servitude.

Zahara's never been able to live up to her infamous mother's demonic expectations, and a binding magical contract that guarantees her a human thrall would be just the thing to impress her family. But newbie magician Daniel, whose Moroccan grandmother has reached out from beyond the grave to command him to raise a jinn, wants to do good—to the tune of stopping two fallen angels bent on revenge against humanity. Daniel and Zahara end up on the run in Morocco, dodging paranormal mercenaries and bumbling terrorists, while trying to foil a massacre that will rip open the barrier between the jinn and human worlds and plunge the two sides into a devastating war. As Zahara and Daniel try to keep their friends close, they end up discovering their enemies are even closer.


First 250 Words:
Coming out of the lamp was such a rush. One minute Zahara was nothing but vapor, swirling in the icy storms of the last level of hell. The next, she streamed out into the mundane air of the human sphere. Her flesh solidified into a floating upper torso, while her lower body remained only a tail of black flames licking up around the brass vessel used for the summoning.

And what flesh it was.

Zahara pinched back her shoulder blades and posed with her hands on her hips to better accentuate her breasts. They were huge, because she liked her first impression to be a lasting one.

The resounding crack of thunder that marked the transition into the world of man faded away. With a fanged smile, she faced the sorcerer who had dared to call her, the most notorious jinnayah this side of Baghdad.

"Behold. It is I, Zahara, Dread Spirit of the Endless Desert." She’d made that up on the spot, and it sounded great. "I have journeyed, O Child of Mud and Dirt, from the land of smokeless fire to your dreary realm. What do you call yourself, and what is it you demand of me?"

She had decided to put as much formality into her speech as possible, to further impress upon him how fortunate he was to have summoned such a powerful jinn to do his evil bidding. Not too traditional, of course, since she was speaking in flawless English, not classical Arabic.

Son Of A Pitch # 2: SENESTRE

Son Of A Pitch #2:

Title: SENESTRE
Category and Genre: Adult Fantasy
Word Count: 93,000

Query: 

Ten-year-old bastard Maleficent (renamed Senestre for this retelling) is painfully aware that she should never have been born. Her mother is hell-bent on revenge against the Vesii who abducted her when she was just a teen. If Senestre can’t prove herself valuable to her mother’s quest, she won’t live to turn eleven. When Senestre’s gift for magic flares to life during her testing ritual, she escapes death at her mother’s hands only to find herself embroiled in a convoluted plot against her will.

As she grows, so do her powers. Soon she surpasses all the other Wise Women in her village in both strength and skill. Hungry for more, she secretly learns the spells that are reserved for male magicians, hoping the knowledge will keep her safe—maybe even earn her mother’s love. But all the magical power she possesses isn’t enough to protect her mother and sisters from the brutality of life in the village. When her mother dies at the hands of a lecherous warrior, sixteen-year-old Senestre dedicates herself to vengeance in her mother’s name.

Blinded by hate, she sets in motion a tangled plot that she does not fully understand. Determined to prove her worth, she carries out her mother’s strange last wish and curses an unknown baby girl to die. Only when she comes face to face with Aurora on the princess’ sixteenth birthday will her mother’s plot—and its price—become clear.


First 250 Words:

My eyes darted to the bedroom window. The sun hung halfway below the horizon—I’d almost run out of time. “Please help me. You know how awful the testing is.”

My fingers tightened around the lump of hard brown bread I held out to my half-sisters. Rhea and Starling eyed the bribe from the corner where they crouched, swallowing as hunger made their mouths water. I swallowed too—I’d scrimped the bread from my own meager dinner.

“All I’m asking is if you’re up first, wake me. That’s it. I know I can’t get out of the testing tomorrow, but maybe I can avoid being scared awake.” I shivered. “That’s the worst part.”

I took a step forward and stretched my hand out further, emboldened at a hint of a sympathetic nod from little Starling. Fabric rustled behind me. I froze.

Wren darted into the room and snatched the bread from me. Clutching her prize to her chest, she glared at Rhea, the only one of our sisters large enough to challenge her. But Rhea suddenly found the sunflower-colored braid circling Starling’s head fascinating. Wren relaxed. She raised the chunk of bread to her mouth and tore off a bite.

My own mouth watered. The others watched as intently as a flock of birds hoping for crumbs. I should have known none of them would brave the Woman’s wrath for me. Unless I could come up with another plan, I’d have an empty belly followed by a terrifying morning.

Son Of A Pitch #3: THE UNBROKEN

Son Of A Pitch #3

Title: The Unbroken
Category and Genre: Adult Fantasy
Word Count: 108,000

Query:
Catori is a peasant. She grew up picking flowers to sell in the streets of Mennos’ main cities and she’s served ale to many a lord in her home town’s tavern. But this barmaid has a dangerous hobby. To protect herself and her family, Catori’s picked up the art of swordplay. Her skill with her blades has earned the admiration of passing travelers, including some with hidden ties to powerful families.

When war breaks out following an orc invasion, Catori knows she must help. She leaves her infant son under the patronage of a noble family and joins the Mennosi auxiliary, where she begins to rise through the military ranks on the recommendation of a mysterious hero. Soon she stands at the head of a broken and neglected army against the might of a massive orc army. But enemies lurk under the guise of support. Catori will need friends old and new to end a brutal war and keep her son out of a feud that could end his life.


First 250 Words:
Bitter’s body was lying on a table inside his tent, the same table that only a day before had been covered in various papers including her last letter to him, creased and worn as if he’d read it repeatedly. His armor had been removed and was hanging on a post beside him, just waiting for him to get up and pull it on. It looked almost as if he were sleeping but for the noticeable pallor in his skin and the deep, bloody wound in his stomach.

Catori stood just inside the tent, staring. This was the man she loved, the father of her child, the man she was supposed to marry. No—it was his body, but the man had gone. She was half afraid to move closer, as though doing so would cement his death forever, but the lure of him was too strong. It had always been too strong.

With slow, hesitant steps Catori stepped closer. Fresh tears welled in her eyes as she gazed down at her lover. He didn’t look like the Bitter she had known and loved, but it was unmistakably him. His pale skin lacked any color now and his lips were turning grey. Someone had closed his eyes, thankfully. She didn’t think she could handle him staring up at her, unseeing. She reached out and touched his cheek lightly. Yes, he was real. His skin was cool to the touch.

Son Of A Pitch #4: FLESH AND INK

Son Of A Pitch #4:

Title: FLESH AND INK
Category and Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 87,600

Query:
When the blue stains growing on her stomach are exposed, 17 year-old Lilivan knows she must abandon her dream apprenticeship as a holy inker-of-flesh. Only enemies of the Goddess bear these stains.The church’s soldiers will kill her for her marks and sentence her family, even her favored sister, Naoma, to a life of servitude.

On the run from the church, Lilivan tracks down a hidden sanctuary for those who bear stains like hers. There, she learns the church lied. Her stains are a blessing, marking her as a wielder of non-church magic. The church uses earth magic and seeks to eradicate all who possess magic they can’t control.

Protected in her new home, a nightmarish vision awakens Lilivan—the church has trapped Naoma and is draining her earth magic and her very life. If Lilivan wants to save her sister, she must embrace her new powers and the elemental beings she once shunned as evil spirits. But first, she must win her freedom from a sanctuary that doesn’t think she’s ready to leave.


First 250 Words:
The window above the sink lit the half-subterranean kitchen a little too well. When I raised my arms after dinner to put a plate away, my ill-fitting shirt exposed more than just my light-brown stomach.

I’d grown careless since the blue stains first appeared on my stomach two years ago. The dark-brown dye I used to conceal the marks was currently faded and patchy. I should have permanently inked over them.

“Oh, Holy Goddess!” Papa's face paled as a mug slid from his fingers and splashed into the sink. “Demon-stains, Liligirl?”

I shoved the plate onto the shelf and yanked my hem down.

“Papa, I didn't do anything,” I said, breaking into a cold-sweat, “I swear, by Domina Earth, the Goddess Nelopai Herself!”

Papa had to believe me. No matter what the church said, the stains had arrived like acne right after my fifteenth birthday. They weren't heralding some imaginary deal I’d made with demons. Despite my prayers, the angular cobalt-blue stains spiraling out from my navel had spread. They now brushed my sides, contrasting against my rounded belly when I neglected to cover them in nut dye. Maybe the myths were true, the Goddess couldn’t hear the prayers of the soulless.

My dream apprenticeship as a holy inker-of-flesh had seemed a chance at redemption for whatever I’d done to deserve the stains. How could a soulless one have been allowed to perform such a sacred task? For over a year I’d been doing dye prep and touch-ups on the faithful.

Son Of A Pitch #5: IMMUNITY HUNTER

Son Of A Pitch #5

Title: IMMUNITY HUNTER
Category and Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 98,000

Query:
Two years after Sasame’s parents were devoured alive by undead mutants known as Konadai, she joined an agency that helped turn her grief into revenge. Now an Immunity Hunter, seventeen-year-old Sasame kidnaps those who are immune to the Konadai virus. Her victims are harvested for their blood and bones by the agency so they can create a stronger antidote.

Although the work tears at her conscience, Sasame trusts her boss, Omi, and his belief that this is the only way to save her island city.

Then she meets Konan, a persistent teen working with a group fighting to figure out why people are vanishing. His passion and dedication to the city reel her in, but she fights her attraction to him—connections lead to distractions and heartache. Eventually, Konan’s constant interference breaks down her guard and Sasame uses his attention to distract from the madness.

Her weakness angers Omi. His Immunity Hunters are well-oiled machines, and a petty romance is a distraction he won’t tolerate. After forcing her to watch the murder of another agent's girlfriend, Omi presents Sasame with a choice: kill Konan to prove her loyalty to the cause, or be killed herself.

First 250 Words:
Prey comes in different forms. Luckily for me, my target is an idiot.

With his face glued to that small, bright screen, this will be an easy hunt. Forget sneaking—short of yelling his name, he won’t notice me.

I follow him past decorated storefronts and dull office buildings. The faint scent of pastries and coffee still lingers in the midnightair. Sakura trees line the sidewalks a few feet apart. Pink and white petals give pleasant color to the concrete surroundings.

Downtown is deserted this late at night. Few people live close to the oversized buildings towering just high enough to see the top of the concrete wall surrounding our city. And around this time, most people are locked safely away in their cozy beds. They prefer living in the smaller homes in quiet neighborhoods and farmland.

Anything to avoid reminding themselves of the outside world.

Usually, my prey takes the time to enjoy the lasting smell of baked goods and the blossomed sakura, or at the very least, care. But this guy refuses to turn around or take his eyes off the screen. I could’ve taken him down at any point during this seemingly endless trek through the empty downtown streets, but his attentiveness to the phone intrigues me. How can someone get attached to something so trivial?

Irritation rushes over me—both from the fool I was sent to capture and the too-tight bra strap cutting into my shoulder. Then it hits me.

Son Of A Pitch #6: ODRIEL'S HEIRS

Son Of A Pitch #6

Title: Odriel's Heirs
Category and Genre: YA Fantasy
Word Count: 90,000

Query:
As the Dragon Heir, seventeen-year-old Kaia inherited the power of flame to protect her homeland from a demon Necromancer’s resurrected army of Lost.  But after centuries of peace, the ancient Necromancer has faded to myth, and the Dragon Heir’s formidable power is feared by normal folk. Persecuted as a child and cast out by paranoid villagers, Kaia struggles to embrace and control her seemingly useless gift while confined to her family’s secluded sheep farm.

When the Necromancer’s Lost terrorize the land once again, the elder Dragon Heir, Kaia’s father and mentor, calls for her to join him in battle. Kaia leaps at the chance to escape exile and seek adventure. It doesn’t take long though before Kaia learns just how unprepared she is to battle not only demons, but the prejudiced Okarrians she's sworn to protect. When Kaia’s father sacrifices himself to his sadistic nemesis for Kaia’s freedom, Kaia is sucked into a downward spiral of despair and doubt.

With her father dead, the handsome but unsympathetic Shadow Heir and a snarky, cursed cat offer their aid. The three reluctant companions cross the land to intercept the Necromancer’s impending army before he engulfs the land in darkness. On the way, Kaia must figure out how to regain control of both her confidence and her fire in time to save Okarria. If Kaia is to protect her home, she will have to embrace the gift that has always tormented her. If she fails, she will sacrifice her family, her new friends, and the enchanting world she has only just begun to see.


First 250 Words:

The brave, empowered with fire,

Raged like a dragon.

The cunning, veiled from the world,

Walked like a shadow.

The gentle, blessed with life,

Healed like time itself.


Burning rivulets of blood and sweat stung his eyes. Torn boots sunk deep into loose sand. Muscles cramped with ruthless intensity. Legs buckled in near collapse. Deep in a fugue of despair, Guardian Jago Brigg was only dimly aware of these difficulties as he grunted under the load of his father's broken body. With grim determination, he lurched forward in a wobbling trot to flee the carnage behind him.


Dirty smoke, stinking of charred flesh, billowed into the desert night. Cackling flames towered in searing pillars that cast an orange pall across the sky. Amid the fire and smoke, a cacophony of agonized screams, panicked shouts, and desperate pleas rose above it all.

Jago shifted the body on his shoulder and glanced back at the chaotic ruin of Moorvale.  In truth, the Lost had taken the village before the Time Heirs had even arrived. Nonetheless, the Heirs had fought alongside the townsfolk, healing as many as possible in a futile bid to forestall the inevitable. When the Lost breached the hall in a savage rush, Jago's father was caught with his yanaa completely spent. Surrounded by a horde of howling Lost, his father held them off for only a few moments before disappearing under their frenzied attack. When Jago finally fought his way to his father’s aid, the horde had moved on.

Son Of A Pitch #7: THE GIRL IN MAN'S ARMOR

Son Of A Pitch #7

Title: The Girl in Man's Armor
Category and Genre: YA (High) Fantasy
Word Count: 88.000

Query:
Seventeen-year-old Dalila has no friends of her own and is desperate to marry soon. Her older brother Don is called off to fight in a war against foreign invaders. Because Don is a devoted husband and expectant father, Dalila feels like her brother has too much to lose and leave behind, while she sees herself as a girl of little worth. So, she disguises herself as her brother to go to war in his stead.

General and Prince Kazim is excited to meet the skilled warrior Don Bau. Determined not to reveal her inexperience, Dalila starts training immediately. Favored by the gods, the god of war himself - known as Heru - grants her mastery of the bow and arrow, as well as the sword, helping her win Kazim’s trust. But Heru has plans for her in this war.

But when the camp is ambushed by Kashian soldiers, Dalila freezes in fear and even her new fighting skills can’t keep herself and the other soldiers – including Kazim - from being captured. The goddess of magic then comes to her aid, telling Dalila that she has her own combat magic that could save both her and the prince. If she manages to waken and master it.

Meanwhile, the country of Medea remains vulnerable without its prince. If Dalila doesn’t help the prince escape from the enemy camp soon, the invaders could destroy everything she loves. But in order to do so, she will have to learn to believe in herself and see her own worth, so that her magic may awaken.


First 250 Words:

When the night began, I had expected it to be full of old women, not foreign soldiers. After all, the war took place in the borderlands, which was at least a day’s travel from where we lived. And our prince and his elite warriors kept the enemy away from the mainland.

Caressing worn leather in my hands, I inhaled the humid jungle air and listened to the thump of our horse’s hooves. Wooden wagon wheels clattered against the sandy road.

The blazing heat dried my throat and soaked my lower back. The strong rosy fragrance of Nana’s overwhelming perfume made it impossible for me to know if I smelled as bad as I felt.

I gripped the reins, my hands slick with sweat. Shades of green, brown and beige blurred the edges of my vision as we rode past.

I thought the scene would make for a great painting and regretted not taking some papyrus, paint and brushes with me on this journey. Although I doubted Nana would have allowed me to take a break from the ride to paint the scenery.

The passage through the jungle was tight, and we were unable to see too far ahead. I kept looking around as though I was being watched, but it was just the drooping branches touching my shoulder. My horse Monifa was skittish, too, and it made guiding the wagon through the thick underbrush even more difficult.

Son Of A Pitch #8: THE SILVER GATE

Son Of A Pitch #8

Title: THE SILVER GATE
Category and Genre: YA  Contemporary Fantasy
Word Count: 95,000

Query:
When 17-year-old Nora gives CPR to a stranger on the beach, ancient magic awakens in her blood, making her a target of the goddess of magic. Her plan to finish senior year, leave her hometown, and escape the terrifying visions that haunt her when she is there shatters when her parents reveal she is half-magical shapeshifter, from a hidden land where gods, magic, and mythical creatures exist.

Rule number one when living a double life is don't get caught, but Nora finds herself distracted by a new student who can hear her thoughts. She tricks him into revealing he is also a shapeshifter in hiding.. They’re drawn to each other but fear the gods may be using them as pawns.  

 To make matters worse, Nora begins dreaming of a stranger killing everyone she loves, one-by-one. The stranger, working for the goddess of magic, will make Nora’s nightmares a reality unless she complies with his demands. Nora must decide if she is strong enough to protect everyone, or if she will follow him through the Silver Gate and take her chances with the dangerous unknowns of the hidden land.


First 250 Words:
All I’d wanted was a quiet walk. My parents and I had just spent a month in our tiny, remote mountain cabin during summer break, and I missed my beach. I parked in the sandy pull-off as heavy raindrops dotted my windshield. A few of the regulars made a run for the dry shelter of their cars, but I ignored the cold drops speckling my skin and started walking. The beach was alive when it rained.

Strolling towards the shoreline, I inhaled the heady mixture of salt, sand, and ozone, and smiled as the beach emptied. All mine. My smile fell when I spotted a hand sticking out from behind a large piece of driftwood.

The body was face down on the sand. White sea foam bubbled around faded blue jeans and muscular arms. His skin was pale, too pale, almost translucent. Not a good sign.

I crouched down, praying I could see a slight tick in his jugular. My pulse hammered through my veins and pushed against my skin, but I couldn’t see similar movement against his. I knew what to do, but I really didn’t want to.

My hand shook as I placed two fingers on his carotid artery. His skin was soft, firm, but lacking the thump, thump, thump I so desperately hoped to find.

Sadly, the beach near my hometown was known for bodies washing up. Steep cliffs rose close to the shore, and too many times, people on dares, drugs, or ego thought they could beat the odds at cliff diving in shallow waters.

Son Of A Pitch #9: ELISE AND THE SEER

Son Of A Pitch #9

Title: ELISE AND THE SEER
Category: Young Adult, Contemporary Fantasy
Word Count: 69,000 words

QUERY
Space opera nerd Elise Kan only wishes there was a Dark Side to defeat.

Instead, she’s stuck with Calc problem sets, pseudo-friends who throw up M&Ms in class, and (literally) hovering Asian parents who keep nagging her about how much she eats. Yes, half the population may manifest unique Gifts when they reach their teens, but most of these abilities are useless, and others completely suck.

So Elise counts calories. Obsessively. Because maybe the most significant thing she can do right now is prevent the Freshman Fifteen.

Then a shapeshifting fiasco forces her to cross paths with Tanata, a new kid with Gift-related problems of his own. As they bond over eighties space opera Third Millennium, Elise’s eating disorder tightens its downward spiral. Elise has to decide if she’ll open up about her mental health—and in the process, learn how to fight for good even when there’s no clear Dark Side.


FIRST 250 WORDS

By October, no one cares that Ms. Stickelman steps in through the back wall to start first period Econ, but she keeps doing it anyway.


“Okay, AP guys, I’d say we’re eighty-seven-point-five percent awake,” she says, solidifying as she sits down at her desk. Her words come rapid-fire like she’s on Five Hour Energy, except she doesn’t drink caffeine. If she did, I think the world might explode. “Which is decent, considering last week it was only--” she picks up her attendance sheet-- “seventy-five. Kevin Shao?”


Kevin jerks awake. His butt is starting to float a few inches above his seat-- only his knees, which knock on the underside of the desk, keep him from drifting to the ceiling. “Huh?”


“G’morning to you too,” Stickelman says, smiling pleasantly. “Can you give us a reason why a firm’s supply curve might move right?”


Kevin flushes all the way up to his carefully sideswept bangs. Stickelman moves on with her attendance/cross-examination, calling on Jane Meyerowitz (Gift: making cutesy rain clouds above the heads of people she doesn’t like), Mara Dale (Gift: baking perfectly round macaroons), and James Jorgensen (Gift: running super fast, so he can’t compete in regular track meets but all the girls flock to him anyway).


I stuff my cold hands under my legs. The heater roars, but there has to be a draft from the window because I always have goosebumps crawling up my neck and my fingers are blocks of ice.


Not enough body fat, Mom nags in the back of my head. You get too cold, you will die of pneumonia. 


Yeah, right. I push her voice away.

Son Of A Pitch #10: THE MAGIC WITHIN

Son Of A Pitch #10

Title: THE MAGIC WITHIN
Category and Genre: YA CONTEMPORARY WITH ELEMENTS OF MAGIC
Word Count: 73,000

Query:

When introverted albino teen Ana Samuels moves to a tiny town in the rainy PNW, she expects to be wet, lonely, and miserable—and she is. What she doesn't expect is to fall for James, an adorably awkward deaf boy, or to find an enchanted violin in her attic, one that offers her a mysterious gift if she can play it. As an accomplished fiddle player, Ana is convinced this will be easy: play the violin, receive the gift, fix her life—too bad the damn thing shocks the hell out of her every time she tries.

Instead of trying to fit in at her new school, Ana focuses all her attention on trying to play the violin. Each failed attempt drives her obsession. Her previously perfect grades take a nosedive, and her blossoming romance with James threatens to crumble. Then the side effects begin. If Ana waits too long between attempts, she experiences severe headaches and bouts of inexplicable itching, which are relieved only by touching the violin again. Now she's trapped. She can't play, but she can't stop trying. As Ana's obsession continues to grow, her grasp on reality wavers. And if that's not bad enough, Ana discovers the magical offer has a rapidly approaching expiration date. She must hurry and find a way to endure the magic long enough to play before time runs out, or the violin's gift won't be all she loses.

First 250 Words: 

Sweat dripped down the back of my neck beneath the weight of my blue curls. I swear it was hot enough to melt the lips off a chicken. A vision of a plump hen with liquefying lips flitted through my mind. I smiled at the ridiculous image. Clearly, the desert sun had finally fricasseed my brain.

I slid deeper into the shade of our old willow tree, careful to keep my pale, melanin-free skin under cover. As far as I could determine, the only positive feature of our impending move to the rainy and miserable Pacific Northwest was the promise of cooler temperatures.

After spending the morning helping my parents do a final sweep of our house, searching through closets and empty rooms for forgotten items, I'd escaped outside. Despite the heat, I needed to get away from the memories that pulled at me from every corner. 

I leaned against the tree and opened my book, trying to lose myself in the magic of Gabriel Garcia Marquez's One Hundred Years of Solitude. I read for a few minutes, then the words began to dance and blur. The world around me hushed and became silent.

#

I’m sitting on a dirty, wooden floor. A dim light filters in through the two stained glass windows at each end of the long narrow room. Thick wooden beams run overhead. There is a roof, but no actual ceiling.

The air is cool and musty with a hint of something more unpleasant. It catches at the back of my throat and I sneeze.