Showing posts with label HOUND OF ANNWYN. Show all posts
Showing posts with label HOUND OF ANNWYN. Show all posts

Sunday, August 12, 2012

REVISING HOUND OF ANNWYN

As I drove to work last week, I let my mind sort of drift. I watched the cows in the pasture, stared at the hot pink, post apocalyptic looking sun, and despaired over the smoke from the wildfires burning in the foothills which made the pretty pink sunrise. Like I said, I wasn’t thinking about much of anything when my epiphany struck like an owl slamming into my windshield.

Let me back up to provide those of you who are new to this blog a bit of background for this particular ah ha moment. I began writing HOUND OF ANNWYN back in March of 2010. It features two of my favorite characters, Juliet and Jude.

Here's the query I used back then.

Juliet finishes Jude’s sentences, feels his pain, and gleefully exploits the fact that he can’t bluff her in poker. She takes their psychic connection for granted until her heart stops beating at the exact moment that her twin brother dies in a car accident. Nearly eight minutes elapses before their resurrection.

 

A year later, seventeen-year-old Juliet’s near-death experience continues to haunt her. A ghost contacts her in the high school bathroom and a sexy, albeit annoyingly conceited boy with wings—who claims to be her guardian, but definitely no angel—saves her after she’s attacked by a hell hound in the woods.


Her brother’s emerging, uncontrolled empathic and telekinetic abilities—he accidentally hurls an alarm clock at Juliet’s head while she sleeps—are eroding his humanity and threaten to blow their familial bond apart at a time when they need to be united.


Unaware that the darkness infecting their relationship is a manifestation of the evil that returned with them from the underworld, its taint spreads unchecked through their small mountain town. If the twins can’t resolve their differences and link their powers, neither they nor the people they care about will survive. And this time, death’s grip will be eternal.

This story owns a special piece of my heart because it was my first Young Adult endeavor. It is the reason I fell in love with YA. I worked on this story for three months, and then entered the story in the Speculative Fiction Marathon at agentquery connect. I then went through twelve intense weeks in which this manuscript was critiqued my peers. It was a total blast, and I found my critique partners through this process.

I wrote this story by alternating each chapter to tell the story from their view point. In the initial draft I used the Roshamon Effect, only at the time I didn’t know there was a name for this particular format. Here is the Wikipedia definition.

In the Roshomon style, I wrote the chapter from the protagonist POV; however, at certain times they would come together in a scene. The scene was written through the lens of the character whose point-of-view the chapter was written in. Then in the next chapter, the same scene was shown from the alternate twin’s point of view. I liked this effect because it showed how flawed Juliet and Jude’s relationships were with one another, and how their perceptions of their sibling’s motivations were skewed.

For example:


Jude's POV:

Electricity sparked between Juliet and Gwynn as they stepped toward each other. The hairs on Jude’s arms stood on end. The static hum in his head grew louder, almost distinct as if words were trying to break through the block that had been constructed in his mind.

Juliet gave Jude a tight smile then addressed the real subject of her ire. “I’m a grown woman, Gwynn. I’ll kiss anyone I choose. See that boy over there?” she pointed at Randy Lipshultz. “If I wanted too, I’d kiss him, right now. You wouldn’t be able to stop me.”


Juliet's POV:

Juliet gave Jude a tight smile, but her attention remained focused on Gwynn. “I’m a grown woman, Gwynn. I’ll kiss anyone I choose. See that boy over there?” She pointed at a random guy, praying she wouldn’t get called on her bluff, because... eww gross, she’d once caught Randy eating his boogers.

“If I wanted too, I'd kiss him, right now. You wouldn't be able to stop me.”

Unfortunately, seeing the scene multiple times regardless of the differences inherent to the point-of-view characters perceptions failed to hold the reader’s attention. It needed an in-depth overhaul,

Out of necessity, I put the revision on hold as I worked on other projects. That’s not to say that I haven’t worked on it for the last two years. I have. If you were to read the version I queried in 2010 to the current version, you would see that I've removed the Roshomon Effect. You can check out the updated sample pages here.

The last issue I need to correct is my inability end the story without a cliffhanger. I think my epiphany will solve this problem. What is funny is that I should've seen the answer to this issue a long time ago. It is so freaking obvious. I guess I needed distance from the story to be able to see the answer to the problem I was having with finishing it.

So, I'll let you know when I finish this final (okay, it probably won't be the last) revision.



Thursday, April 19, 2012

YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL- Minami Shineyo




My amazing critique partners sent back their edit notes for Quest, and I’ve been busy with revisions. I haven’t had as much time to devote to my K-dramas, but that doesn’t mean I’ve given them up completely. Kiwi and I found a new show to watch together. It’s called YOU ARE BEAUTIFUL (aka YOU ARE HANDSOME).

It’s quite funny and we’re enjoying it.


Here is the synopsis:

When the lead vocal of the pop idol group A.N. JELL, Hwang Tae Kyung (Jang Geun Suk) injures his voice, the management company insists on adding a new singer to the group. Unfortunately, the new member, Mi Nam’s (Park Shin Hye plays both the male and female roles) botched plastic surgery won’t allow him to close his eyes, and he has to go to the States to repair the damage just before signing the contract.

His agent comes up with the idea of having his twin sister, Mi Nyu, pretend to be him since they’re identical in appearance. Mi Nyu, who was planning to go to Rome to be a nun, has to man-up and convince everyone she is worthy of being in a boy band without getting caught and spoiling her brother’s chance of fame.


Other members of A.N. Jell are Jung Yong Hwa as Kang Shin Woo and Lee Hong Ki as Kang On Yu / Jeremy. 

Monday, March 26, 2012

HIBERNATION COMA, WAKE ME WHEN IT'S WARM

I'm sorry to say I don't have a Sharing Our Voices Post today. I love learning about what inspires my fellow writers. If anyone would like to volunteer and share, please email me.

I've been hibernating. For some reason, March puts me in a foul mood. I always catch some nasty virus. Right now, I'm fighting off a sinus infection. Hopefully, it won't be a repeat of last March when I was down with bronchitis for a week and had crazy fever dreams featuring the cast of Laurell K. Hamilton's Anita Blake novels. Wicked crazy.

I haven't felt inclined to start a new writing project. I still need to finish editing the three wips, DJINNI, HOUND OF ANNWYN, and QUEST lounging about in my computer. I rotate my efforts between them, because I'm always thinking of new ways to improve upon the existing storylines. A story isn't done until the ideas dry up, right? Or until it's published.

I've been critiquing for my partners, and they're reciprocating by reading my latest wip, QUEST. I still love this story, and I’m learning more about the elements needed to make it middle grade. I'm still trying to convince my daughter to draw character sketches. She started one last week, but got distracted by Naruto (she's totally addicted now). Maybe I should just do it myself. Sigh.

So, how’s everyone doing? Any new projects?

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

I'm Back!

Did you miss me?

I have to admit, I've missed posting and my responses from my readers. Thank ya’ll very much for supporting me.

I spent the holidays in Virginia and Washington DC. If I ever find my camera, I'll post pictures. I had a wonderful time and the weather was beautiful. After we returned, I spent the rest of my blog hiatus editing.

Yeah, typically I’d say I’d rather be doing anything but editing. I include poop scooping during my dog’s evening walk in this list. However, do you know what I’ve noticed during this last round of editing—I love it.

How the world did this happen?  

I’d like to think it’s because I’m better at self-editing while writing the story. I tend to catch my tense slips, run-on sentences, and lapses into telling not showing. I’ve also learned a ton from my critique partners. They tend to catch the invisible words in the ms. You know, the words my brain tells me are there, but not. See, I forgot—they’re—in that sentence. I’m still sketchy on comma placement, but I’m learning.

I finished editing Djinni. It’s ready for my critique partners, but I’m holding off sending it to them for the simple fact that I’d prefer for them to read Quest for the Golden Apple first. I so totally love this story.

Yes, I’m biased. A bad mommy to play favorites, but this story has wiggled its way into my heart, and I’m not ashamed to admit it. Still, I have a wee bit of a problem. I think subconsiously, or rather consciously now I've figured out my issue, I love Quest so much that I can't bear to finish it. I still have one last chapter to write. I've put it off for two months. It's outlined in my head. I know exactly what needs to happen, but I haven't put The End down on paper.

It's purely a matter of not wanting to abandon my characters. How can I say goodbye?

I guess I'll have to come up with a sequel.

Monday, December 5, 2011

NaNoWriMo ALMOST DROVE ME INSANE, Kidding.

Or am I?

Dramatic wiggle of the eyebrows.

Would I even know if I’m cuckoo-ca-choo…huh, huh?

Surely, someone would tell me if I’ve lost it. It’s not like walking around for hours with a price tag on your shirt that everyone sees, but nobody bothers to point out…‘cause you know…hmm, bad analogy. Maybe it’s just my friends who can be so oblivious.

Don’t get me wrong. I loved participating in NaNo. I experimented writing within a new genre, new tense and duel POV’s. I love how Quest for the Golden Apple came out. Actually, I just plain adore everything about this story. I had no problems with writers block, and two weeks in, I was on track to finish early.
So why is it that on November 29th, I was at
36k. 

A few things.

The most significant and heartbreaking was that my uncle, Charles Baldon, passed away the week before Thanksgiving. He and his family live across the country, so I wasn't able to attend his funeral. I found out he wasn't doing well the day before he passed. I called too late to say goodbye.

Charles Baldon 1930-2011
My motivation waned.
The following week, Thanksgiving. I'll admit being in a turkey coma added to my lethargy. Add a Vampire Diaries marathon into the mix, and I sat on the couch with my sister and daughter for two days eating leftovers and working through season one instead of working on the NaNo project.

I really wanted to reach my goal. So bring on the insanity. I wrote 10k in two days—a fairly decent 10k, because I can’t write without editing for some reason. I threw in the towel and crashed on the 30th at ten pm. My brain felt mushy. I was afraid if I shook my head to hard, brain matter would pour out my ears and damage my keyboard.

My final NaNo word count was 46,148.

This puts my actual word court (I had to deduct 10k because I started early) at 56,148. I’m four chapters from writing the END-Hallelujah.

It’s been five days since NaNo ended, and I’ve spent my time recuperating. I’ve enjoyed recuperating, which basically means I’ve finished up the second season in Vampire Diaries and have started on the third.

However, playtime is over. It’s time to get back to work. My goal is to finish Quest for the Golden Apple by this weekend, and then I’ll put it aside to simmer. Djinni should be nicely cooked by now, so I’ll start on my edits. I’d like to have ready for my critique partners before Christmas. That way I can start editing Quest in January.

How did ya’ll do with NaNo, if you participated? Are you editing right now or letting the story simmer for a while before diving in?


Thursday, November 17, 2011

NaNoWriMo UPDATE

I’m still working on my NaNo project, which is why I haven't had any new posts. I'm totally enjoying this story. The best validation I've received for it is from my whip cracking daughter who doesn’t let me slack off.

She eagerly awaits each chapter, to the point where I have to fend her off so I can edit it before she reads it. It’s a wonderful feeling since I decided to have some fun with it by playing around with a different style, genre, tense, and pov’s.

In case anyone missed the earlier post, this is Middle Grade, and is written in present tense with dual points of views. Not a very popular style and difficult to pull off, I hear. I can't deny it's been a challenge.

I think it’s finally becoming second nature to write in the present tense without constantly slipping into past. The POV's are male and female. They are very different kids. Malik is rough and tumble, but emotionally needy and selfish at the moment. Nevan is sweet and shy, but also has a core of steel underneath her frills. They're view of the adventure they're on is completely different, yet also the same.

Now, for my project goal.

I started the project a week early. On November 1st I had 9781 words written, so I'm deducting those from my total. So while the word count is now at 35,286, I'm only at 25505 for NaNo. I hope to be able to make this up over the holidays, except Black Friday when I'll be shopping, ha ha!

So that's where I am at the halfway point.

Please, wish me luck.

Monday, October 17, 2011

FRAK, STOP PUTTERING AROUND

For the last few weeks, I’ve done a lot of puttering around.

I like the way that sounds, puttering…

It’s not as controversial as the actual word I’m thinking and using it won’t make my kids banish me to the time-out chair for using inappropriate language. Always a plus in my book. Being a good role model means remember to use words like puttering or sugar, hot dog, holy cow, Dude…or my favorite, frak (the kids say they know what the BSG translation for that one means…bad Mommy).

Sorry, I’m rambling. I do that.

Back to my puttering, which included fiddling with my blog? Urgh. I think I've finally worked out the kinks—those hair pulling, hive inducing, screaming into my pillow, most frustrating idea ever issues.

Work has been super busy. It must be the crazy weather: hot, cold, sunny, pouring rain. It confuses the heck out of people, which means an increase in my workload. Once I get home the last thing I want to do is write so I've been avoiding my computer.

The new fall shows have started, and I’m all caught up on Supernatural, Vampire Diaries, and Secret Circle. I’m also addicted to a few more (The Walking Dead premiered on Sunday). I won’t waste space by detailing all my TV viewing vices. Thank goodness for DVR. I can watch my shows whenever I want and not take time away from writing.

This brings me back to my work-in-progress and the lack of effort I’ve put into finishing it. That’s actually where I am right now in the story. The last chapter. Or what I thought would be the last chapter when I started puttering around two weeks ago. I had the ending outlined in my head, but I couldn’t force myself write…The End. It didn’t feel right. I wasn’t completely invested in how the story would wrap up. So I procrastinated.

I thought about it. Daydreamed out multiple scenarios.

Luckily, I have a twenty minute commute home with nothing to worry about except whether the herd of buffalo broke through the fence and blocked the freeway again (I missed that major accident by an hour). This is the time of the day when my creativity flows without boundaries or the stressors of daily life. The idea for an alternate ending started to form, and I let it take its own shape and consistency.

Those of you who write know this feeling. The giddy relief when inspiration strikes. )

Whew.

The new ending is different from the one I had two weeks ago. It just goes to show how important it is to follow your instincts. I’d promised I’d finish by November 1st (#WIPFTW) and pushed myself toward that goal. But in trying to finish, I almost lost sight of where the story needed to go.

Live and learn, right.

So, I sat down to write it up and couldn’t do it. I waffled. I liked the idea of the new ending, but I couldn’t decide if I liked it better than the old one. So, I puttered around some more. Finally, I talked to my friend JAllen, and he suggested writing both endings. So, that’s what I’m doing. I’m hopeful that one will be more dynamic than the other and my decision on which one to use will be clear. If not, then I’ll let my critique partners take a vote and decide.

So I'm curious. How does inspiration strike you? Do you know how your book will end before you start writing, and then follow your strategically laid out plan all the way to the conclusion? Or does the story morph as you write? Do you ever dig yourself a plot hole then wonder how you will ever get out? And if you do, how do you find your answer?





Monday, August 29, 2011

Almost Dear John Letter To my Work-In-Progress

Dear W.I.P.,
I’m writing today to express my heartfelt apologies to you, my work-in-progress, Djinni. The beginning of our relationship started off rocky. I was at war with your protagonist. At the time, I feared we would never move past our differences to find a balance of mutual respect. However, with much effort we formed a bond, and we seemed to be heading into a mutually beneficial direction.

Now four months later, I realize that we haven’t been able to take our relationship to the next level. We have gotten stuck in the “friend zone” and have been unable to form a deeper union of—exclusivity.

While I feel you have many characters which I admire and respect. I feel our bond isn’t as strong as it should be given the amount of time we’ve spent together. This I fear is my fault. I know it is a cliché to say, “It’s not you, it’s me,” but it is the truth. You are wonderful, dynamic, and possibly one of the best stories I’ve ever written.

Yet for all your wonderful attributes, I find I am unable to commit my heart and soul to just one manuscript at this time. To quote Sookie Stackhouse in Trueblood, “I love you both.”

For now I must be selfish and share my thoughts between you and your sibling work-in- progress, Hound of Annwyn. Who is in need of tender loving revision. I’m sorry I’m taking time away from you when you need me most. Please forgive me.

Your loving author,

Angie Sandro





Saturday, January 1, 2011

HAPPY NEW YEAR- Also dubbed, 2011, the Year of Fun!!

2010, the year I turned 38. I looked back on the last decade and wondered when the heck did I make the conscious choice to put aside my dream of becoming a published author. Then, I realized it hadn't been a conscious choice. I got married, started a family, and a full time job in a career I love. Writing took too much time. I forgot how much I love creating new worlds, characters that tend to take over and do their own things. I forgot how passionate--how obsessive writing makes me.

Yes, that's right, obsessive.

Pre-family (college) I'd spend ten to fourteen hours in front of the computer, lost in the lives of my creations. I didn't go anywhere. My friends, yes, I managed to keep some, had to drag me out of the house. The glazed look in my eyes as I sat in a corner at the club didn't come from partying too hard--nope, I was outlining my next chapter in my head. When lost to the creative muse, I was truly LOST. I'd forget to eat. Personal hygiene (what's a shower?). It's a miracle I managed to find a husband.

But, back then, writing made me deliriously happy.

Over the years, I tried to keep up with my writing. I have about six projects that I started when the kids were small, but never finishing them. One time-travel romance is 104,000 words. Whew, someday I'll go back and finish: cut the fat.

Then I turned 38, and had my 20 year high school reunion. Whoa, way to make a person take a good hard look at the direction their life had taken. I had everything I ever wanted-- so I couldn't complain too much or I'd look silly. But I still had my dream.

2010, the year I put myself on a deadline. Finish a book, find an agent, and get published before the big 40. Two years.

The biggest hurdle, finishing a book. Check. My husband suggested writing the ending first. Finally, I had a goal and didn't spin of on random tangents. I finished my first manuscript-a paranormal romance called DYING FOR A KISS. Started editing--kill me now! Who knew! Anyone who has ever edited their story knows what I'm talking about. Find good critique partners, buy a copy of Browne and King's "Self-Editing for Fiction Writers" and a book on punctuation (still, suck at this). And study, study study.

I joined a couple of fantastic online sites for writers agentqueryconnect.com and querytracker.net. Learned how to write a query letter and the dreaded synopsis and started the long search for an agent. Meanwhile, I finished a second book, HOUND OF ANNWYN and started on a third, JUJU'S CHILD. I slowly came to realization, I'd become obsessive again. Whoops.

I'd gotten so wrapped up in finding an agent that I started getting stressed out. Writing became work, a chore that I had to complete.

So after a heart to heart talk with my fantastic critique partner, Kate Evangelista gave some sage advice and it led me to an epiphany--ha ha, Nip The Laughter.

2011 is the year when I write for fun. My resolution is to stop obsessing over finding an agent or getting published. If it comes, obviously I'll be happy. But I have great critique partners and friends and I'm doing what I love. Carpe Diem. I'm going to enjoy the art of creation while I have the chance and stop stressing over the future.

After all, I'm only 38, at least for seven more months.

Thursday, December 30, 2010

HOUND OF ANNWYN - Chapter Two- Jude

HOUND OF ANNWYN is written from alternating chapter viewpoints for Juliet and Jude. This enabled me to explore the twin's motivations and misconceptions in a unique way--through the eyes of their sibling.

CHAPTER TWO
JUDE
7:15 a.m.


Jude listened to Juliet clanking about in the kitchen, and knew he had less than ten minutes to think up a reason for her to ride the bus to school that morning. When they were kids, she could read him like a Dr. Seuss book, and proved a couple of times that he shouldn’t bet his allowance when playing against her in poker. Over the last year, she’d either gotten less perceptive or he’d gotten better at hiding his emotions because she seemed clueless about the many lies he had been feeding her lately.

Too bad the stench of charred eggs wafting from the kitchen made it almost impossible to think up a good excuse. He shoved his fist against his churning stomach and breathed in through his mouth. The vomit creeping up his throat settled back down. For now.

The flickering television screen captured his attention as a dark, storm cloud with a frowny face floated over the map of Ponderosa. The Weather Channel forecasted a severe winter storm—white-out conditions—totally treacherous and the perfect excuse for him to take the car so he could get home after tonight’s basketball game. Juliet wouldn’t want to be stuck at school. School spirit didn’t go with her “everyone go to hell” attitude.

He focused on the television screen and managed to ignore the burble in his gut until Juliet called him to come eat. His stomach’s reaction to her voice doubled him over.

No way. No way could he stomach another attempt at her being Susie Homemaker. He needed to get out of the house—fast.

 Jude glared at his sister, wishing she’d back off. “What? Did I ask you to fix breakfast?”

Juliet’s trademark scowl creased her forehead. “No.”


“Do you think I’m stupid?”

She turned her kohl-rimmed eyes toward him in disdain. “Am I supposed to answer that?”

Jude threw the television remote. It bounced off the edge of the sofa, hit the floor, and rolled under the coffee table. Don’t throw up…don’t throw up. He balled his fists tight to hide their trembling and sucked in a deep breath.

“Cut it out! I made myself breakfast. I thought I’d play the good twin and make extra. Why are you being such a jerk?”

Be calm, don’t lose it. Not now. The problem was that he couldn’t seem to calm down. Juliet watched him, studying his expressions, looking for a weakness that she could use against him. God, I gotta get out of here! The smell—ugh, thinking about the burnt sulfur taint in the air made bile rise in his throat, but he swallowed it back down. He winced at the sound of the plate being slammed on the table. The eggs slid off the edge in a greasy waterfall. Shit, how can she screw up eggs? Even he knew enough not to cook them in day old bacon grease.

He felt a twinge of guilt at the hurt stamped on her face. She’d tried. True, breakfast was a disaster of epic proportions, but he appreciated the effort. Under normal circumstances, he’d sneak into the bathroom for a preemptive swig of Pepto Bizmol and force a few bites. Given the way he felt this morning, he’d probably die from indigestion even with the pink stuff coating his stomach.


Jude wished he could explain, but she’d be hurt less if he kept the ‘you’re trying to murder me with your cooking’ defense to himself. “If I was hungry—I’d eat. You’re not my mother. Being born five minutes earlier doesn’t give you the right to boss me around.”

He leaned back on the sofa in surprise, listening to himself. Where in the hell had those words came from? They sort of flew out of his mouth. Now that they’d been said, he realized he meant them. He shoved his feet into his hiking boots, but his eyes remained glued on his sister.

Juliet met his glare with one of her own. “Eighteen years is too long to stay pissed off about birth order. Get over it.” She rolled her eyes. “Socks, Jude.”

Get over it? That’s all she had to say?

“Back off!” Jude slapped his hands against the edge of the sofa. As he rose, the sofa shot out from beneath his hands. He stumbled, off balance for a second then froze. It had only moved a few inches, but the screech of the sofa’s wooden feet scraping against the hardwood floor seemed loud in his ears. His gaze darted to his sister, horrified.

“Fine baby brother, walk around with wet feet. Be angry. I don’t know why I care.”

Jude blinked sweat out of his eyes. She hadn’t noticed. How could she miss the sofa sliding out of his hands as if running away from him? He latched onto her words, focusing on his anger to cover his growing panic. “That’s the problem,” he said. “You don’t care. If you did, you’d cut it out! All you care about is being right. Being smarter …”

Juliet’s hands flew to her hips. “Is that why you tried to brain me with the alarm clock? ‘Cause if anyone should be having a temper tantrum it’s me. But, oh no, as usual it’s all about poor Jude. Nobody cares. Nobody understands his pain, blah...blah, blah.”

He wanted to close his eyes, wanted to block out the image of the clock. He had to focus—think calming thoughts—but his heart raced and his breaths came in ragged gasps that he could barely keep quiet. Each derisive word she spoke stung like splinters being jabbed under his fingernails, dulling his ability to concentrate.

He blinked, a red tint blurred his vision, and it looked like his sister had been washed in blood. He tore his eyes from her face, staring over her shoulder at the skillet sitting on the stove.

No. Don’t think about it. 

The skillet shuddered. To anyone else, the minute vibration would have gone unnoticed.  Desperate to keep Juliet from turning around, he blurted out the worst thing he could think of and hated himself when the words crossed his lips. “Mom’s dead. I don’t need the person who killed her taking her place. Stop trying. It makes you look desperate.”

Juliet’s face drained of color, and her caramel skin took on a greenish-yellow tint. She looked about to vomit in her plate of scrambled eggs. She squeezed her eyes shut, but tears escaped from the corners to trickle down her cheeks. She pulled out a chair and dropped onto it.

Jude took a deep breath, heart thudding in his chest when he tore his eyes from Juliet and focused again on the skillet. Shit!

He hadn’t seen it move. He sure as hell hadn’t directed it toward his sister, but it floated through the air until it hovered in silent menace directly behind Juliet’s head. He’d lost control again, and he didn’t know how to get it back.

Calm down. Deep breaths…focus. The skillet spun in a lazy circle as if taunting him. He imagined a giant hand of air wrapped around the handle and concentrated on pushing the skillet toward the stove, one slow inch at a time. It fought him. His subconscious appeared to be stronger than his conscious mind. And for some reason, it wanted to kill his sister.

Catch Juliet's Chapter ONE along with the QUERY LETTER  for Hound of Annwyn by clicking on the link.

Friday, November 19, 2010

QUERY LETTER- HOUND OF ANNWYN & Chapter One- Juliet

This is the query I'm currently using and it's working. Yay!! Happy dance. Of course, any suggestions to improve are welcome. I love feedback. I've also included the first two pages of the story. Let me know what you think?

Juliet finishes Jude’s sentences, feels his pain, and gleefully exploits the fact that he can’t bluff her in poker. She takes their psychic connection for granted until her heart stops beating at the exact moment that her twin brother dies in a car accident. Nearly eight minutes elapses before their resurrection.

A year later, seventeen-year-old Juliet’s near-death experience continues to haunt her. A ghost contacts her in the high school bathroom and a sexy, albeit annoyingly conceited boy with wings—who claims to be her guardian, but definitely no angel—saves her after she’s attacked by a hell hound in the woods.

Her brother’s emerging, uncontrolled empathic and telekinetic abilities—he accidentally hurls an alarm clock at Juliet’s head while she sleeps—are eroding his humanity and threaten to blow their familial bond apart at a time when they need to be united.

Unaware that the darkness infecting their relationship is a manifestation of the evil that returned with them from the underworld, its taint spreads unchecked through their small mountain town. If the twins can’t resolve their differences and link their powers, neither they nor the people they care about will survive. And this time, death’s grip will be eternal.


CHAPTER ONE
JULIET
5:45 a.m.


Juliet jerked awake as the alarm clock smashed against the headboard and rained thick chunks of plastic onto her pillow. The jagged faceplate, landed with the pointy end an inch from her eye. She fought free of the blanket tangled around her arms and legs and rolled off the edge of the bed. As she fell, her chin slammed against the edge of the nightstand. She touched the tip of a trembling finger to her swelling lip.

Damn it! Not again.

The jerk wad.
It wasn’t that Jude had frightened her, oh no, she’d never admit to that, even under pain of torture, and especially not to him. What pissed her off so bad she could barely see straight was he’d broken their unspoken truce and had gotten in the first shot of the day in their ongoing war. A war she planned to win or die fighting.

A shiver slid down her spine. What was he waiting for? Was he sneaking up on her? No way did she want to peek over edge of the bed to check his position—might as well stick a bull’s-eye smack in the middle of her forehead.

This is stupid. Don’t hide from him. Pain shot through her injured elbow as she slid her hand under her pillow and pulled out the gun she’d stashed there last night—in case Jude played dirty—then gathered the shattered remains of the alarm clock in the other hand. She licked the blood off her lip and pushed to her feet.

An eerie calm settled over her as she studied the shrouded lump in the twin bed across the room. Now that her heartbeat no longer pounded in her ears, she heard her brother’s muffled snores. She kept the weapon pointed at the floor, but her finger hovered over the trigger. She tiptoed forward, each step deliberate. She concentrated on breathing, a slow inhale and exhale—soundless. With each step, she expected him to pop out of bed like an old-fashioned TV mummy from its sarcophagus, with outstretched arms and spine tingling moans. Her body felt jittery, ready to dodge if he threw something else at her.

Either Jude had been faking being asleep or he sensed her hovering over his bed. A single eyelid rolled up to peek up at her. Her hand trembled as she aimed the barrel of the hot-pink water gun at his eyeball. “Why’d you do it?” she hissed.

He yawned.

“Talk fast, jerk. You freaked me out so bad my trigger finger’s twitchy. Not sure how long I can control myself.”

“Is the water gun supposed to make me pee my pants?” his voice oozed sarcasm like a popped zit.
Juliet let out a muted squeal of rage and pulled the trigger. A stream of water laced with Tabasco sauce squirted out of the plastic water gun. At the last minute, she lifted the end of the barrel, not ready to blind him—yet.


“Are you crazy?” Jude wiped frantically at his forehead before the liquid ran into his eyes.

“Gee, Jude, everyone seems to think I am, so why not live up to my psycho rep.”

“This is stupid—”

“Oh, now I’m stupid?” Her voice rose to ear bleeding pitch. “So sick of the insults, evil twin. I’m not the one who started this. You chucked the clock at me. That’s crazy. And I want to know why?”

“The words you speak make no sense.” Jude rubbed at his eyes then yelped. “Oh, crap! What is this stuff? It burns.”

Juliet leveled the gun at him again.

He jerked the comforter over his head. “I told you. I don’t know what you’re talking about. And I don’t care. I’m done. Go away, Jules.”

She lowered her hand and stared at the bed, biting her lip. The thing about Jude—he couldn’t lie to save his life. Not for lack of trying, but she knew his quirks, and during the conversation, his body language told her he believed he insanity spewing from his lips.

The hand clutching the clock shards, tightened. A jagged edge dug into her flesh, reminding her that she hadn’t imagined the whole thing. Maybe he threw it in his sleep? Sleep tossing instead of sleepwalking? A mystery medical condition? Bah, doubtful.

Juliet dropped the plastic pieces on top of his bundled head. “Whatever. Pretend nothing’s wrong, but I’ll get you back for this.”

“The only thing wrong is you’re insane,” he said, voice muffled by the blanket. “Get back on your side of the room.”

As much as Juliet wanted to drag him out of bed, she decided to let him go back to sleep. Maybe by the time he got up he’d be civil. Not having to look at his stupid face would give her a chance to calm down before she gave into the overwhelming urge to strangle him with his own sheets.

Click on the link to check out JUDE'S CHAPTER.
Related Posts Plugin for WordPress, Blogger...