Tuesday, March 22, 2011

Query Letter- JUJU'S CHILD

This is the pitch letter for Juju's Child, my debut New Adult novel, coming from Grand Central/Forever Yours. 



 Black mud oozes between my toes as I shift my weight and jerk on the rope, sending up a cloud of midges and the rotten-egg stench of stagnant swamp water…

Ripples undulate across the surface of the water, spreading in my direction. My breath catches, and I fumble for the knife. Those aren’t natural waves. Something’s beneath the surface. Something big. I jerk on my leg, panting. With each heave, I sink deeper, unable to break the suction holding me prisoner. If it was a gator I’d already be dead. But, I’m not. So what is it? Why hasn’t it attacked?

 

A flash of white from the corner of my eye—


When twenty-year-old Malaise LaCroix finds a dead girl floating in the bayou, she makes the mistake of reporting the murder to the police. She’s naive enough to think the girl’s parents will be grateful, but Mama warns her otherwise and hints at a darkness to come. Mala has always written off Mama’s interest in hoodoo as a quirk, more comical than some of her other habits. Unlike Mama, Mala thinks that believing in magic is for weak-minded fools. Until the dead girl starts haunting her.

The town believes that Mala’s great aunt was a New Orleans Hoodoo Queen, a descendent of the famous Seven Sisters. Cruel rumors have followed Mala her whole life, but now that she’s considered a suspect in the murder case, the rumors don’t seem so harmless. Even Landry, who’s had a crush on Mala for years, seems afraid to stray too close.

The girl’s desperate spirit needs Mala’s latent psychic gift, willing or not, to expose her murderer. And once the girl’s father, Reverend Prince, learns his daughter’s body has been drained of blood in what he assumes is a satanic ritual, he sets out on an old-fashioned witch-hunt. Mala knows the killer is still lurking nearby. To keep from becoming the murdered girl’s possession, or worse, Mala must accept the mysterious aspects of her family’s blood-stained hoodoo lineage. Landry proves to be an unlikely source of help. Trouble is, he seems to have his own agenda.
 


This is the query letter: 

When seventeen-year-old Malaise LaCroix finds a dead girl floating in the bayou, she crosses her mama by reporting the murder to the police. She’s naive enough to think the girl’s parents will be grateful, but Mama warns her otherwise. Of course, once folk start dying, Mala wishes she’d listened and left the girl for gator–bait.


Mala’s innocence becomes overshadowed by the pesky rumors that her aunt is an infamous New Orleans Hoodoo Queen and her mama can shrivel a guy's, well, man-parts. Even the boy Mala’s in love with is afraid to stray too close. Thing is, Mala thinks believing in magic is for weak-minded fools, until the dead girl starts haunting her.

The desperate spirit crushes the minds of those she influences and needs Mala’s latent psychic gift, willing or not, to expose her murderer. And once the girl’s father, Reverend Prince learns his daughter’s body has been drained of blood in what he assumes is a magical ritual, he sets out on an old-fashioned witch-hunt.

To keep from becoming the soul’s possession, or worse, being burned at the stake, Mala turns to the two guy’s whose own agendas don’t include helping an outcast such as herself—the cop she’s pined after since ninth grade that is investigating the murder and the ghost’s grief-crazed brother who uses Mala’s attraction to him as a weapon for revenge.

In JUJU'S CHILD, a 79,000 word young Southern Gothic, Mala Lacroix is a teenage, African-American Sookie Stackhouse who gets caught up with the supernatural--ghosts instead of vampires--romance and murder This manuscript was inspired by my rich, Louisiana Creole cultural heritage.







The Year of Fun-March

March has sorely tested my dedication to enjoying this year. I’ve spent half of it laid up in bed with bronchitis. I’ve barely touched the computer, except to check up on the queries I’ve sent out for Juju’s Child.

I discovered I made an amateur mistake on the first four pages of Juju’s Child. I had two agents request revisions due to those pages being more telling than showing.

Good grief! I knew better. It’s the first thing one learns when writing. Show Don’t Tell.

Thankfully, the agents were kind enough to point out my error. The first chapter has been revised, and I’m really happy with how it turned out. Now I’m getting requests off the query and sample pages. Yay!

The main thing I learned from my blunder is mistakes happen. They are unavoidable and you can’t beat yourself up for being human.

Learn and move on.

Wednesday, February 2, 2011

Psychic Journey-Revisted

So, I finished the first draft of JUJU’S Child (74,000 words), which is fantastic since for the last week, I've been fighting off some sort of ICK. I’d pulled on my big girl pants and had the flu shot back in October even though needles make me queasy, so I refuse to say that I’ve been down with the flu. That would negate the whole braving the flu shot thing. Regardless, of what I caught, it sucked me into a weird fever dream in which I was a cross between Laura Croft and Indiana Jones. Pretty cool dream—find the mystery artifact (which I never found) and kick the butts of the evil bad guys (which I kicked hard). I woke up in a pool of sweat since my fever broke and thought, whoa, didn’t I write something like this once.

I began PSYCHIC JOURNEY (silly title, so says the hubby) after graduating from college with a BA in Anthropology. I had also just gotten married, so I put grad school on hold to get some real world experience in my field of choice. For about a month, I worked for a Consulting Archeologist as he excavated a site in the Folsom, CA hills. The site was composed of prehistoric Native American artifacts: arrow heads, basalt and chert flakes, bedrock mortars, burned animal bones. The historic portion of the site was a ranch-building complex built in the 1850’s and destroyed by fire.

The rolling hills looked glorious in the spring. The wildflowers bloomed. Rattlesnakes basked on blue-green rocks. The dig site had been surrounded by a wire fence to keep out the roaming cows and horses, but the babies would stand by the fence and watch us as we worked. The place tapped into a part of my soul that believed in magic and my creativity flowed.

So did my nose. I have really bad allergies and I felt much like I did this weekend. Miserable. My dream job and I couldn’t enjoy it. Allergies stamped out my dream of being an Archeologist and once I finally gave in and accepted the fact that I would be a much happier, snot-free person if I worked indoors, I began working on a way to capture the feeling of being on a dig, particularly that dig.

Psychic Journey is the story of a Jurnee Fontaine, Consulting Archeologist who finds a rare artifact during her dig in the Folsom Hills. She accidently taps into the lines of magic traveling through the site and is transported back in time to 1868. With her knowledge of the future destruction and death of the inhabitants of the ranch in the same year that she finds herself in, Jurnee must somehow alter the course of history, or lose those she has come to love.

I loved this story when I started writing it. I love it now fifteen years later. The problem is that it is already 104,000 words and I never completed it. But, that darn fever gave me an idea. An idea that keeps wiggling in my brain and growing bigger….I have a new project to work on while Juju’s Child is being edited by the critique partners. YAY!!! I’ll keep you posted.

Friday, January 21, 2011

Year of Fun: January

Month One: Critique Partners

As I mentioned, my resolution for this year is to have fun as I evolve and grow as a writer. This comes about in many ways, but the main joy I have—other than writing a really tension filled scene or killing off one of my characters—is having others read my stories and reading fantastic stories in return.

Over the last year, I have been privileged enough to connect with some fantastic critique partners (a shout out to: Kate, Deb, Diana, Don, Sarah, Carla, Clipper, Margaret, Bessie, Jonathan, Dad, and Kiwi—yes, my little angel nitpicks my stories and for an eleven-year-old, she’s tough). I found my critique partners on agentqueryconnect.com. They live all over the world, from the Philippines to Canada and the U.S. and I love them to pieces. Each of my partners brings their unique perspective to the creative process, and I learn so much from them. I hope the feeling is mutual.

So this post is dedicated to them. I love you guys. Here’s to an exciting year.

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.
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