Well, it’s been a while since I wrote a blog so here goes. I finished my first YA novel, tentatively titled DEAD TALKER, last weekend, and promptly entered it into a contest called Pitch Madness one week later. Just found out this morning I made it into round two, which means at least three “slush zombies” (readers) thought it was pretty good. 😀
So, if you’d like to know what it’s about, here’s the pitch that got me to round 2. Next up, I have to make it to round 3 to be put in front of a list of AWESOME agents (check ’em out! http://brenleedrake.blogspot.com/2013/03/pitch-madness-introducing-agents.html?spref=tw). And it’s here I must say, Brenda Drake and Kimberly Chase did an incredible job of organizing this contest. I can’t wait to see how it all turns out, even if I don’t make it to the next round.
Without further ado, my pitch. I’d love to hear what you all think!
Sydney knew helping that cranky dead guy would end badly. Now, more of them want her help. But not all spirits are lost. And not all ghosts are good.
First 250 Words:
There’s a dead man in my classroom.
The pale, portly man looks like a reject from a zombie movie set. Though his grayish skin seems to zap the light from the room, I’m the only one to notice this cloudy fixture amongst the sunlight pouring in through the wall of rectangular windows. Of course, that’s nothing new. I’ve always been the only one to see the dead people lurking around.
He looks confused so that means he probably doesn’t realize yet he’s no longer among the living.
Just what I need.
He’ll look to me for help, for a hand to guide him over to the other side, perhaps relay a message of love to his wife and kids. Sorry, I’ve got bigger worries.
Okay, not “bigger worries,” maybe, but after about ten years of this crap, I’m kind of over it. Surely, dead folks can go find some other medium in Wilmington who’s desperate to make a connection with the other side so she can pay off her debt. Come on. I don’t need this. I’d rather focus on my hottie English teacher, Mr. Bradford, and daydream about the day he’s going to realize I’m fifteen going on thirty, as my mom is so fond of saying.
I digress. While drowning happily in my thoughts of Mr. Bradford and his Clark Kent handsomeness, I’ve grabbed onto the dead dude as a life preserver in my zoned-out state. Now he realizes I can see him.
Great job, Syd. Seriously.