On Puppies, Marshmallows and How To Write YA: A Review

As far as feel-good reads go, it doesn’t get much more puppies and marshmallows than What A Boy Wants, by Nyrae Dawn. I’ll admit it’s been a while since I was given my copy for review, but thinking back I remember nothing but fun, entertainment, and enough fangirling over the main character to make even my teenage sister puke, so I’ll do my best to do it justice here today.

Firstly the plot had a classic happy ending storyline, and although I thought I had it all figured out in the first chapter (which, I confess, did irritate me), Nyrae went on to throw in enough obstacles and diversions to keep me second-guessing myself right to one of the cutest finales I’ve ever read. And once we were on that home straight, I couldn’t help thinking, as a writer, that it was a perfect example of how to pull the story threads together so that nothing’s left undone.

I also have to commend Nyrae on the creation of Sebastian, a boy so real I now understand the blogs with the badge ‘what would Sebastian say?’, as I could completely imagine asking him that myself. The voice used to portray him is believable, funny and sensitive, and it was a pleasure to spend time with a real character and his real friends. Part of me wished for a few more complexities in the supporting cast but at the end of the day they’re just normal teenagers, and as it’s a YA novel, that’s exactly what they should be.

Being of that genre I expected the book to be rich in morals and themes and it certainly was, but nothing ever felt too obvious. The concepts of friendship, loyalty, love and maturity (including alcohol-induced immaturity) were nicely dealt with, by showing actions and consequences without delving into a lecture about them. Normally I’d groan at another teen drinking scene, for example, but I was too enthralled by Sebastian’s point of view of the scene to be bothered. And judging from the number of highlighted phrases in my kindle copy, I wasn’t the only one who appreciated the messages and thought them worth pointing out.

The editing, too, blended nicely into the background to tie things together, and as a result the storyline flowed without a hitch. I have a tendency to go all “Ms. Trunchbull” on bad editing but as I didn’t throw a single child out of the window by their pony-tails, it shows Nyrae and her editor did an excellent job.

Overall, I’d recommend the book to anyone looking for a bit of light-hearted fun from their next read. I’d also suggest it for YA writers in particular, not only because of what I’ve mentioned here but also because the opening pages had me wishing I was an agent so I could discover the book for myself, since Nyrae so effectively hooked me on a unique character with a fascinating story to tell. My rating: 8/10

Effective Content and Defective Stamp Collections

Greetings, bloggers and penguin enthusiasts, the Follow-Swap Blog Hop is live & gaining entries! It's your chance to showcase your blog, so today's accompanying post is all about effective content. I won’t rant (yeah right, my last post turned out to be about sea-birds and I’m not even sure how it happened), but I’ll try and at least be helpful.
 

1. First you have to decide what you want to write. I know that sounds obvious, but remember your followers don’t necessarily want to read a series on the week you spent at the community center learning how to arrange stamp collections. Don’t feel that just because it’s your usual blogging day you have to churn out any old thing to keep up the schedule. Wait another day or two and post something amazing, because even if you’re not ensuring that you only ever post your best stuff, someone else will be taking that precaution with their blog.

2. Next, think about your blog’s target audience, and what they want and have come to expect from you. That doesn’t have to dictate what you’re going to write but at least let it set the tone, and don’t forget to keep up your writer’s voice, too. Whether it be funny, whimsical, thought-provoking or heartfelt, building loyal followers is all about consistency.

3. Got it worked out? Then write the thing! Try and include links to other relevant posts too, either by working links into your article or having a list of similar links at the end. It’s all about having a captive audience, and that means never letting them view one thing without tantalizing them with another. Grab an image or two to break up the text, being wary of having so many that your page takes ten minutes to load and gives everybody a migraine, and you’re done.

4. Finally, when you go to publish your blog post, take a long, hard think about the title. I know, I know, that seems rich from someone with such ridiculous and frequently irrelevant titles as On Cover Design, DIY Marketing and The Personification of Butt Cheeks…or Better than Bingo at a Knitting Club Tea-party: A Review, but hear me out. Your title will only be accompanied by your actual article for as long as it takes to fill your blog’s home page with posts. After that it’ll be nothing more than a link in an archive, so you had better make it stand out, and given that there won’t always be room in your sidebar to display the full title, you’ve got to hook us on the first words. (P.S. How’s that for walking the walk from step 3?) Plus, the more interesting your titles are, the more interesting your tweets about them should be, and the more traffic you’ll get.

So try it out now. You could even blog about your adventures in the Follow-Swap Blog Hop, because when your followers see what you’re up to and join in, and their followers see what they’re up to and join in too, then that’s just more potential followers for everyone.

It’s like a pyramid scheme, only legal.

And there's my accompanying picture. See, no pyramids here.

Happier Than A Nerd In A Library Full Of Star Wars Toys: Review of Scribendi Editing Service

I’ll start today’s post with a warning. This is a lesson I recently learnt the hard way, and I never want the same thing to happen to you. OK? Here goes.

Don’t forward emails in gmail, as chunks of text are likely to send in purple and you are likely to look like a lame, twelve year old girl.

Got it? Now on to the post. :P

A while ago, while naively certain I was ready to query my MS (ha! I haven’t felt that stupid since my childhood belief that cars plugged in and had bonnets full of retractable, vacuum-cleaner-style power cables), I decided to try out an editing service, and today I thought I’d outline the process for anyone considering it too.

Firstly I researched editing services and found two companies offering free samples for your first few pages. However one company’s homepage was so heavily plastered with pictures of hot women in office uniforms (a hallmark for any trustworthy website) that I chose only to try out Scribendi.

The Scribendi site boasted easily accessible quotes and a quick, simple process for submitting my work, which included an opportunity to note any existing concerns I wanted my editor to watch for. Within three days (not bad for a free service, and the paid version can be even quicker), they sent back three documents. The first was a clean revision with generic notes for both good and bad things which stood out as they were reading. The second was a tracked-changes document, which focused on grammar and punctuation and included the comments from the clean revision so I didn’t have to alternate between two files. The tracked-changes document shows you what isn’t working and includes suggestions on possible wordings to fix it, and I was given plenty of punctuation explanations to help me learn the rules for next time, which was particularly helpful given the difference between Australian and American standards (apparently ‘g’day mate’ isn’t a commonly used salutation in the US. I know, I’m surprised too. :P).

Finally, my Scribendi editor sent a page of overall comments, with separate sections for story/plot, characters & characterization, narrative/prose, language/grammar, dialogue, word choice and final thoughts. Unfortunately they raved about my work so much that I couldn’t tell whether they were being honest or just trying to win me over as a customer. It’s no exaggeration that they were fangirling worse than a nerd in a library full of star wars toys and at first this put me off buying a sample, however their advice was still extremely helpful, and eventually I treated myself to a paid edit of my first chapter. At $32.71 for 1434 words you may say it’s a little steep, or you may say it’s worth it for a serve of editorial goodness, but either way I have a recommendation for you. Edit like crazy yourself first, so you get to know whether your editorial style is working, and so you don’t end up paying to perfect something you’ll only scrap later. 

Pitch/Query Workshop - GUTGAA Blogfest.

Hi fellow GUTGAA-ers, I'm trying something a little different today as part of our workshop. For a start I’ve left the query til last because I already have so much advice on it that if I get any more I think my head will explode. (Not even kidding). Secondly, I've recently re-arranged my first and second chapters, so this is the first time these words have been considered as the opening words of my MS. Scary, huh? But I can't wait to hear what you think and don't forget - be as harsh as you like. Every little bit helps. Thanks!

Katherine Amabel

The Hourglass Bridge

YA Urban Fantasy

90, 000 words

First 150 words:

The lie was simple; the effect, staggering.

A piercing screech erupted through the drawing room with enough violence to shake the thatch from the ceiling. Pain exploded in Arthur’s temples. He attempted a spell to block it out but he may as well have tried turning a gnome into a nymph for all the success he had. Rosemary, his twin, was about to yell at him anyway when the noise died down to a hiss. It still felt sharp enough to drill holes into their heads.

“Excellent work!” their tutor, Mr. Begley, congratulated Arthur over the noise. “Try it again.”

“Do you speak truth?” Arthur demanded, directing his wand at Mr. Begley’s throat.

“Of course,” he replied, and his soft, Irish accent soothed the hissing away to nothing.

“Gosh,” Arthur said. “That was…”

“Horrid, I know, but Levina insists I teach you these things. She wants you to be safe.”

Query Pitch:

Dear Agent,

When an involuntary daydream during history class leaves Diamond sleep ranting about a plot against evil, she thinks the worst is over at being scolded by her favourite teacher and giving her bullies more to laugh at. However that’s before Arthur, a breathtakingly chivalrous teenage wizard, pulls her into sixteenth century Wales, expecting her to save his life.

Convinced he’s got the wrong history buff, Di is ready to suggest he stick his head on a pike and stay there – until she learns the truth. Arthur is about to inherit the legendary powers that protect his hidden, magical civilization. Malicia, an immortal witch whose looks can kill and whose temper shatters mountains, intends to destroy him for it. And a cryptic message says if Di can’t protect him, she and her twin brother will be next.

Determined to keep her brother safe, even if he is a pain in the butt who probably deserves time on the rack, Di agrees to hide Arthur in the modern world until he is powerful enough to fight. Caught in a double life of sword fights, covert magic lessons, and near death (by embarrassment) experiences as she involuntarily swoons all over him, she refuses to acknowledge the destructive forces growing inside her. But when enemy spies attack her ancestors, and her brother develops saintly new powers which make him the most vulnerable target of all, Di realises she must decipher the ancient secrets of her bloodline and finish the war her daydream may have started – even if it means succumbing to a darker side of herself.

Writing, Wedgies, and Hollywood Slugs...

Hey guys, Robbie MacNiven just tagged me in a special ‘Gearing-Up-To-Get-An-Agent Blogfest’ game of cyber tag, and I'm so excited that for once I'll save my idiotic ramblings from the start of the post, and include them in with my answers instead. Enjoy!

What is the working title of your book?

— The Hourglass Bridge. (I’ve also got the working cover, the working blog, the working movie trailer and even the working camera angles and theme song for the final scene in the working finale of the working series. Some say I’m obsessive… I say leave me alone, I’m working).

Where did the idea come from for the book?

— As I touched on in my #GUTGAA meet & greet post, I woke up seeing a girl find a magic book and unknowingly summon a young witch and wizard into her room. But I had to ask, why was the book there? A: Because someone put it there. But why? A: Because they needed her. But why? (Yeah, I was one of those kids. Even I want to give young-me a wedgie). Anyway eventually I changed the book to an hourglass and developed an entire plot… as well as a debilitating crush on an imaginary sixteen-year-old from the sixteenth century.

Just my luck.

What genre does your book fall under?

— YA historical urban fantasy with a mystery bent and a hint of romantic suspense, written to outsell 50 Shades of The Hunger Games and be made into ten movies. (Now, if I could just pitch that to an agent, they’ll be thrilled...)

Which actors would you choose to play your characters in a movie rendition?

— Johnathan Rhys Myers as my crush’s tutor. Steven R. MacQueen as the MC’s twin brother. Gary Oldman as an important old guy I don’t have room to explain here. Daniel Craig as the king. Ian McKellan and Michael Gambon as the time keepers. Eva Green as the antagonist, and so on...

Not that I’ve thought about it, though.

What is the one-sentence short synopsis of your book?

—Hauled into sixteenth century Wales, a shy, teenage history buff must embrace the destructive powers she never knew she had, to protect her ancestors from a war she doesn’t know she started.

Also, there are slugs.

Will your book be self-published or represented by an agency?

— Depends whether you mean in my mind or in real life. :P Haha in all seriousness I’ve only sent out about four queries so I’m hoping for an agent, but I am extremely passionate about marketing (hence building this entire blog around book marketing and promotion) so I’m working on my author platform and look forward to the challenge of self-publishing if that’s the way life takes me.  

How long did it take you to write the first draft of your manuscript?

— Five months, and as soon as I finished and read it I decided there was more to tell before those events, so I threw it away and started another, which also took five months. I did all this in between travel, university, playing in a band and having a job, and by the end I had broken the Guinness world record for being the first person to go without sleep for one year straight. I’ve since spent two years editing, and slowly going insane.

What else about your book might pique the reader’s interest?

—Um, I thought everyone would have been sold on the slugs. No? Geez, tough crowd. Ok, how about the last line of the entire book? You ready? You sure? Well here it is…

The end.*

And now, time to tag three more GUTGAA-ERS! I pick…

@abswrites from over at http://myupsndowns.wordpress.com/

@julianalbrandt from over at http://julianalbrandt.com/blog/

and finally… I’ll pick from whoever tags themselves here today in the comment box. OK? Go!

*Disclaimer: Not actually the last line. Sorry. I was counting on the slugs.

Better than Bingo at a Knitting Club Tea-party: A Review

G'day all, and happy weekend. Like most twenty-three-year-olds I'm spending my Friday night drinking tea, swaddling myself in my pinkest of old-lady dressing gowns and writing a book review, and I thought you might like to join me. Under the spotlight this week is Kelley York's newly released New Adult novel, HOLLOWED. And since I'm looking rather old and wise at the moment, I'll try and sound that way too.

Firstly, the novel is written in that damn-fangled new style called New Adult. I don't know what kids today think of such a thing, but I thoroughly enjoyed diving into a genre which features a new type of main character (i.e. a normal, independent teen with bills and jobs and vampire-fighting kittens). I also loved the fact that although this is a vampire story, there wasn't a trace of stereotypical vampirism. It was refreshing to see that characterization was more important, and that what the book lacked in fangs, it made up for in personalities and back-stories. I'd like to have seen some extra dimensions in a couple of members of the supporting cast but they were still thoroughly likeable in their simple way, and the entire novel was already rich and detailed enough as it was.

The plot in particular worked very well, especially from a writer's point of view. It was great to see the addition of layers and the continual increase in conflict and tension, as well as real examples of how to leave clues and build enough suspense to pull off a satisfying ending. I did guess one of the subplots, but there were so many twists throughout the storyline that I could never have been fully certain I was right. And what made me even happier than bingo night at a knitting club tea-party, is that I’ve rarely read books which ended with such a thorough sense of closure.

The world-building was also solid without bogging the reader down with too much description, and I really enjoyed the variety of settings - particularly the fascinating Old Town, which I'd love to visit. On top of that the editing was tight, thorough, and never once left me feeling like I was being told instead of shown or getting buried in an information dump. Kelley has great voice in her writing, whether that's through setting a scene or painting a character into life, and the entire novel reads like one of a real veteran in her craft. I've had my eye on another of Kelley's books for a long time now, so I was thrilled to receive my very own Hollowed ARC for review. And with my own personal score of eight out of ten, it turned out better than a pair of slippers and an early night.

Next week I'll be hosting Kelley, right here, for the final day of her Hollowed blog tour. I've got a mystery contest lined up, including a top secret video where we talk self-publishing, writing and book promotions, and more about New Adult. So hang on to your dentures, folks, because there'll be books and critiques and goodies galore to give away.

Update: Dodgy Spies With An Awesome Prize is now running, so sneak on over and check it out!

Bad Editing and Faberge Eggs: A Rant

A warning: I am about to rant. So if that’s not your thing, tune out now. The problem is I’ve been reading a few books lately (shock, horror!) and it’s made me cross.  Why? I’ll give you an example:

I nodded my head in assent.

What’s wrong with that, you say? The author has kindly specified that the nodding object was someone’s head, and that it was to be taken as a symbol of agreement. If they had just written I nodded, I would have been at a complete loss. What exactly did you nod? What for? My entire understanding of the universe is crumbling before me!

Breathe, Kat. Breathe.

I won’t name the book this came from, because I respect the huge amount of work the author went to in writing it and I know sometimes things slip through and it can’t be helped. What saddens me is that when I Googled the phrase to make sure I wasn’t negatively identifying anyone, I saw a whole page of results for books which feature it. Have these authors not heard the old writing adage, make every word count? Or have they mistaken that for count every word, times that by ten and make that your target MS length, then achieve that target by making each sentence 200% longer than necessary? (Coming from the girl who’s ranting, I know). Anyway while we’re on the subject, here’s another example, taken from a scene in which the protagonist hasn’t had a drink in who knows how long:

I gulped it down thirstily.

Oh, so you were thirsty? Right... I thought you were gulping because you wanted to look like the final shot in a Pepsi ad.

Most of you will probably identify that example, but I doubt my humble little blog will have much impact on its astronomical sales. And that’s the tragic thing – these aren’t all coming from self-published books. Take this gem:

“Please,” I say pleadingly.

I’m sorry, but…

THE PLEADING IS IMPLIED IN THE “PLEASE”!

And to think this series has sold faster than Harry Potter.  Am I the only one who just wants to cry? I have spent TWO YEARS editing my MS. Some of you reading this will have spent six/ten/seventy.  Yet we have to compete with this.

I’m not saying cut the life out of your writing, or spend so much time cooped up in your attic with Proofreading For Dummies that you go insane and start adopting all the neighbourhood cats. And I’m not forgetting that I still enjoyed the books I’ve read lately, even if they were laced with the sort of editing which makes me want to abandon my MS and spend two weeks churning out an erotic dystopian with an away-from-literary bent just so I can get published and spend the rest of my life eating solid gold caviar out of Faberge eggs.

Wow, Kat. Breathe.

I’m just saying that when it comes to selling your books, word-of-mouth is better than whine-of-mouth every time. So write the best story you can. Then call up your beta readers. Enter writing critique sessions. THINK about your feedback for a few days before you begin implementing it, and leave it a few days before checking it again. I know, as an aspiring author, how irresistible the urge to just get our work out there can be, but let’s not forget to take pride in our contribution to the English language. It’s not just our best marketing tool, it’s our responsibility. And if you’re nodding your heads in assent, please share/RT the message and help spread the reminder to us all.

Lastly, to the authors who have made it into my rant today, I admire you for realising your dreams and I wish you all the best. But please, I beg of you pleadingly… put down the thesaurus. Step away from the bleeding obvious. And for pity’s sake, leave that million-word target alone.

And the winner is...

Ladies and gentleman, girls and boys. The winner, of our critique contest and giveaway...

*cut to ad break*

...is... 

*cut to another ad break* 

...the one and only...

*cut to ANOTHER ad break*

Please excuse my shaky, live action shot...

Stacey Trombley!!!

Congratulations Stacey! Please email me your first ten chapters and I'll forward them on to Lisa while I arrange your voucher. And to all our other participants, Lisa and I just want to thank you for getting so thoroughly involved - that bowl may not look full but due to your participation there are almost 500 individually cut and scrunched entries in there (yes I'm a hippie, so I made them all minuscule to save paper). 


It's been an honor to pull this together and I'll definitely do something similar in the future. In the meantime keep an eye out for some other awesome stuff coming up on the blog too (if I do say so myself, which I can, because it's mine and it's awesome!). I'll be talking cover design and self publishing with the fabulous Donna Hosie, author of Searching for Arthur, which I reviewed right here, (wink wink, go-and-support-her-and-check-it-out). I'll be using telesales tips to hook readers with more Beginner's Guide to Turning Boredom into Booyah, for the fledgling writers out there. And I'll be on a constant lookout for anything which could help promote your book -whether you're traditionally published or otherwise.


Basically, I'm super excited about where this blog can go. Hope you see you there!


Thanks,
Kat


P.S. For those of you who couldn't find the mystery mistake, here was my tweeted clue.


If you can’t find the mystery you so dearly prize, don’t feel crossed; the answer is there in your eyes.


And I was referring to this line from the original contest post.


Lisa, a journalist and newspaper editor with more than fifteen years’ experience, is offering a COMPLETE LINE EDIT for TEN CHAPTERS of your MS. So if your punctuation prowess doesn’t go further than dotting your t’s and crossing your i’s, Lisa can help fix it. 


So... who here is kicking themselves?

Hand Me A Longbow And Call Me A Wench - Review of Searching For Arthur, Plus Contest Update!

I know most of you are here for the contest update, so before I start I'll give you a minute to scroll down and see what it is. Be back here though, pronto.


*Taps foot and waits*


Back? Awesome. Because this week's review is not only all about a frankly fabulous book, but it's also a hint about a little incentive I'll be running next week. (UPDATE: The incentive, AKA a giveaway of Searching for Arthur, is live this week, along with an interview with Donna herself. So check out On Cover Design, DIY Marketing & the Personification of Butt Cheeks... and in the meantime, enjoy all this review-y goodness!)

Click the image to be transported to
the magical, far-away land of Amazon.

It is hard to make friends when you’re constantly on the move. Seventeen-year-old Natasha Roth’s father is a diplomat, and so her mother – who is paranoid about terrorists – has moved Natasha and her brother, Arthur, to their eighteenth house in seventeen years: Avalon Cottage, deep in the heart of a Welsh forest. 

Yet the terrorists are closer than they realize.

While out running, Natasha falls into a hidden tomb and awakens the legendary knights of Camelot: young warriors who have been in an enchanted sleep for a thousand years. All have been waiting patiently for the return of Arthur from the mysterious land of Avalon.

And now the knights are awake, they intend to reclaim their king.

When Natasha's brother goes missing, she joins forces with his girlfriend, “Slurpy” Samantha, in order to look for him. Natasha believes Samantha has fewer brain cells than an amoeba; Samantha believes Natasha is a freak. Together they bicker their way into a Welsh mountain and beyond, to the realm of Logres where the Knights of the Round Table are rallying once more.

Among the knights is Sir Bedivere, the most loyal of supporters to Arthur. He may be in dire need of a 21st Century razor, but he still possesses a set of lime-green eyes that can melt the soul. Yet just as Natasha starts to find confidence in this mystical land, Samantha deserts her. People who play by the rules are of no use to “Slurpy”. Samantha will take her own path to Arthur, aided and abetted by the dark arts which she willingly absorbs from a hot young stranger called Mordred.

A race across magical yet deadly lands is on. Natasha battles dwarf-riders, dragons, and eventually “Slurpy” to reach Camelot, where Arthur is held captive by the barbarian Saxon, Balvidore. Natasha’s woes become numerous. What will happen to her and Arthur when the knights realise the eighteen-year-old boy they thought was their king, is in fact a math student with appalling taste in girls? Can two people with a one thousand year age gap really have a relationship? And for the love of all things holy, how is a girl supposed to ride bareback in a pair of skinny jeans?

***

First of all, sounds great? You bet it is. And the reason I couldn’t wait to review Donna Hosie's Searching for Arthur is because it changed me. Not in a ‘grab a sword, declare yourself a knight and run off to fight wolf-riding dwarves’ kind of way, (although if that meant hooking up with any of the lead characters then hand me a longbow and call me a wench). It changed me because for a while I forgot I was an aspiring author who beats myself up if I don’t achieve a certain amount of writing each day… For a while I found that every time I opened my laptop to get some work done I would simply stare at the screen, yearning for my kindle, until I gave up and permitted myself one more chapter. (Or two. Or ten).

It’s not my fault the characters are so well done. Sure I probably laughed out loud a little too much, and swooned far more than was healthy, but I can’t be held accountable. Nor can you blame me for adoring the vivid settings and the way they constantly changed to keep the action fast and entertaining. I admit that sometimes the descriptions were told where they could have been shown, but the end result was still a rich, textured, real world and I loved every minute I was there.

The plot sucked me in and kept me captive, with just the right amount of epic external conflict and deep, relatable internal conflict.  And with an immensely satisfying ending and a lovely hint of what’s to come, I’m absolutely gagging for the next installment. My only regret (and notice I say regret instead of complaint) is that I feel that with a bit more editing it could have been superb. The fact is, however, that it didn’t interrupt from my enjoyment of the story for one second. Passive voice may normally be my mortal enemy, and my head might normally explode at the use of two adjectives where one (or none) would do, but reading this I honestly didn’t care, I just thought it was a shame they hadn’t been picked up. Overall I commend Donna for creating something so downright entertaining and I cannot wait to see what's coming next.

8/10


P.S. Contest update: If you've read the tragic tale of the world's most incompetent blogger (aka... me), you'll know I spend more of my time feeling like a poor, lost little drug-dealer than having decent internet. Fortunately I can catch the odd few minutes at the in-law's or the library, but unfortunately it means I haven't had a chance to go through all my twitter interactions, blog comments and emails from Lisa to tally up the entries for the raffle. However since Australia is in the future and it's already the weekend, I should be able to spend some time tallying everything tomorrow and be ready for a draw the next day. Huzzah!


P.P. S. Since hearing huzzah at work today I have decided it is now the best word ever. Just saying it makes me feel like donning a mustache and fist-pumping with my tobacco pipe. :-{
Huzzah!

Critique Contest Now Closed

Wow, the contest is officially over! I just want to take a second to thank you all for your enthusiasm and support and say how thrilled I am at what we managed to achieve together. Things took off in a way Lisa and I never could have expected – my blog hits went from tens to thousands, my inbox was flooded with twitter email notifications, and my mum genuinely thought we’d become online stars (although given that she once declared that my sister’s homemade youtube video had ‘gone viral’ after it received 300 hits, mostly from her, I didn’t exactly start practicing my autograph).

Anyway, I hope you all had as much fun as I did. And now, on to the moment you’ve all been waiting for…

Unfortunately Lisa has had to go away for a few days, and I need her statistics on entries before I can run the draw, so I’ll have to ask for your patience for a little bit longer. In the meantime there are a few entries in the critique session I didn’t get to look at and I know Lisa has some catching up to do too, so keep an eye out for more feedback and we’ll announce the winner as soon as possible.

Thanks again!

And we’re on the home straight!

The competition is nearly at its close, so I just thought I’d let you know how you’re all going.

Currently the highest number of entries in the draw is a whopping 46 (and no, they haven’t been stocking up on tesserae). If you think about it, there are 39 entries to be gained just by critiquing all 13 posts from the critique session. Add 5 entries to that for each blog you follow and you could be in the lead over the dozens of competitors who’ve tweeted to say they’re in. And feel free to search through Lisa's or my tweets and RT any contest shout-out which tickles your fancy. With an extra entry up for grabs for every RT, who knows? That one extra tweet could be your winning ticket… 

Critique contest Entry no. 13

Many thanks to this author for submitting to our critique contest. For your own chance to win a 10 chapter professional manuscript edit and $20 ebook voucher, follow @katherineamabel and @lisaslanding on twitter and tweet "I'm in!" Share your thoughts here for extra entries in the draw, and check out the rules to score even more! (http://beyondthehourglassbridge.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/critique-contest-and-giveaway.html)

Title: The Butterfly Effect
Genre: YA Paranormal
Query pitch:

Matt should be dead. When he walks in on the murder of his best friend’s father, Matt’s split-second decision to interfere costs him the man’s life, his best friend, and his own safety. But when the evidence points to a dead man, the police refuse to chase a ghost, and Matt is forced into therapy. Now, the killer is back, targeting Matt and his friends in order to take what he failed to collect the first time – their place in the afterlife.

David can’t know the truth about what Matt saw that night, but he already knows more about the reason behind his father’s murder than he lets on. The distance between the former friends turns into hate, but when David is pushed to the edge by everyone’s pity on the anniversary of his father’s death, Matt is the only one he can turn to. Together with Sinead, Matt’s not-so-secret crush, and two mysterious transfer students, they head out on a fateful ride that ends in the deaths of all but the driver.

Sinead makes it out alive and manages to get help, but an even greater danger lies in wait at the hospital - and the only person who can help her is supposed to be dead. When the four teens find themselves inexplicably alive, it's a race to stop the killer from switching Sinead's departing soul with his own. Matt may not have been able to save David's father, his friends, or himself, but nothing will stop him from saving her. Not even death.

Critique contest Entry no. 12

Many thanks to this author for submitting to our critique contest. For your own chance to win a 10 chapter professional manuscript edit and $20 ebook voucher, follow @katherineamabel and @lisaslanding on twitter and tweet "I'm in!" Share your thoughts here for extra entries in the draw, and check out the rules to score even more! (http://beyondthehourglassbridge.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/critique-contest-and-giveaway.html)

Title: Beneath The City Of Lights
Genre: Thriller
First Page:

PROLOGUE

The thickness in the air clung to him like a jacket that was a size too small. His breath was ragged and bounced off the stone walls, echoing like he was breathing through a megaphone. The walls felt like they were closing in, getting ready to crush anything that dared to pass. It was forbidden to come down here this deep. Now he knew why and wished he would've listened. His legs were heavy, as if two lead weights had replaced where his feet should be. His knees were bloody from crawling through rock and bone and whatever else was down here. How long had he been down here? A day, maybe even a week? He had lost all sense of perception at about 250ft below the city streets. He was now at almost 400ft and the only option was to go deeper.

That familiar cold chill enveloped him and he knew he had to move. Someone was coming. Or something. He wasn't sure, but even in the darkness he could feel its eyes on him. He slung his backpack onto his shoulder and pointed the video camera straight ahead. The damn thing had outlasted all his flashlights and was now his only and final source of light. It was stupid, really. Running for his life while carting a 20-pound, professional videographer camera around because his damn journalist brother wanted the story of his career. It wouldn't be seeing the light of day if he didn't get out of here alive, so he centered it in front of him and kept moving.

The water had to be as deep as he was tall, so it was a balancing act on rocks and debris to keep from slipping into the murky depths. There was a hum behind him, chasing him. A sound like he'd never heard before. So tonal and constant it was almost as if it was burrowing itself through his skull and into his brain. He squinted his eyes together, moving faster and trying to focus. Suddenly there was a loud splash to his left, startling him and sending him flying onto a patch of rock. The camera flew out of his hand, landing sideways, the light still dimly shining on him. A shriek of pain escaped his lips as he tried to get up. His ankle was twisted, maybe broken. He wasn't sure which of the two but he knew that he wouldn't be walking on it anytime soon.

He was chilled to the bone now, shaking. His entire body was caked in dirt and dried blood. He felt like just lying down on the mossy rocks and dying. He wanted death, welcomed it. There was no way he was getting out of here alive now. He was stranded and no one was stupid enough to search for him. The humming was becoming deafening, ringing off of the walls and hitting him like a bullet. Then suddenly it stopped.

Critique contest Entry no. 11

Many thanks to this author for submitting to our critique contest. For your own chance to win a 10 chapter professional manuscript edit and $20 ebook voucher, follow @katherineamabel and @lisaslanding on twitter and tweet "I'm in!" Share your thoughts here for extra entries in the draw, and check out the rules to score even more! (http://beyondthehourglassbridge.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/critique-contest-and-giveaway.html)

Title: The Watershed
Genre: Suspense/thriller
First Page:

They were dead. They were all dead and they knew it, but the survivors of flight D41173A were too scared to put words to the thought. After the elation of surviving a plane crash wore off, reality set in for the eleven strangers that they wouldn’t survive much longer. Snow fell around them in earnest, the wind howled, and the only thing for them to do was to rush down the mountain they had found themselves stranded on.

“How do you make God laugh?” Dwayne asked.

He was walking just behind Brody, who was jolted out of a deep thought by the question. Brody had no time for riddles. He had been on his way to confront his ex-fiancée when the plane crashed in the Rockies.

The group of strangers had only been hiking for a couple hours, but to Christopher, a man unfamiliar with physical activity requiring more effort than putting a chicken wing in his mouth and chewing, it felt like an eternity. The skies had lightened a shade or two in the past thirty minutes, which only helped highlight the large amounts of snow falling. Each of them knew rescue could not come as long as the storm continued. That was, unless they got far enough under the storm where helicopters could safely maneuver in for a pick up.

“Son, maybe it’s best not to talk about God at this time,” Yuki Ikejira spoke up near the back of the pack, “Who knows, He may be listening.”

Ike was the oldest of the group. You could tell the cold was hitting him the hardest as he labored down the mountain with assistance from a cane. Each breath was a hard day’s labor for him. Yuki Ikejira, or, “Ike” as he asked to be called, had not accepted any extra clothing or blankets for himself when the extra supplies were divided. He was a globe-trotting pastor who wore a traditional black pair of pants, black shiny shoes, black dress shirt, and a recognizable white band in his collar. The only outward protection he had against the fierce wind was a purple scarf around his neck. Well, that and his faith.

Dwayne laughed and retorted, “Perfect answer, Ike, especially from a priest. Isn’t it you who should be talking our ears off about God right about now?”

Nora O’Grady, the first female detective to make the missing persons division in her former precinct, was ready to put an end to any bickering. Before she made a sound, a quick surprised inhale was heard to her left.

O’Grady turned to see Stephanie Berea struggling to breathe, her red cheeks flashing to purple. The older woman, O’Grady estimated Stephanie to be in her mid-sixties, burst into a fit of violent coughing.

This was the third or fourth outbreak from her that night. It was becoming apparent to everyone shivering down the mountain together that Stephanie was not well, crash or no crash.

Critique contest Entry no. 10

Many thanks to this author for submitting to our critique contest. For your own chance to win a 10 chapter professional manuscript edit and $20 ebook voucher, follow @katherineamabel and @lisaslanding on twitter and tweet "I'm in!" Share your thoughts here for extra entries in the draw, and check out the rules to score even more! (http://beyondthehourglassbridge.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/critique-contest-and-giveaway.html)

Title: VIS DECOR: ALPHI 
Genre: YA Fantasy
First Page:

Under the planet’s churning blue waves, the sandy seabed sparkled from Vis Decor’s two suns. Nothing lived directly under the surface for the suns’ radiation wiped it out, but about a half mile down, the rays twinkled on a blooming coral reef. On top of it, fifteen-year-old Alphi McClure lay.

Around her, red coral spiked up in the water in a splash of color, and pink formations slithered over rocks like worms. Green brain coral snaked around the orange tubes, which lay motionless until—Plop! An Alpha popped out of the tube. Then another, and another, their smooth, off-white scales glistening as they swam out of their houses.

"Malcorianism meeting!" one of the Alphas said. He tightened the thin membrane that attached his legs. They clamped together and he swam off, pumping his newly formed fin.

Alphi stared at the huge diamond-like formation, the Pinoe, a distance away. The Pinoe jutted out with slates of green and red coral, and every single Alpha in the village swam to it.

Except Alphi. She rested beneath a blue arch, playing with her feet as cool currents breezed past her webbed fingers and toes.

"Alphi." One woman stood next to a pink arch. Her skin was barely white enough to be called a Pure, and many mothers surrounded her, pearls hanging from their skinny white necks.

"Megna." Alphi pulled her feet apart, the fin turning into two limbs as she slapped away the fish that swam around her head. She rose to her tall height, her chest heaving.

"Will you go to your mother’s speech? Or will you hang around with the Greys?"

The mothers around Megna snickered, their deeply sunken eyes glistening.

"I’m—"Alphi started.

"Oh, Megna! Look." One of the mothers pointed a webbed finger at a fat five-year-old who swam through the arches, his scales like graphite.

"Don’t," Alphi sputtered, but Megna swam up to the dark-skinned child. Alphi hopped over some spiky coral and stared at Calt, her golden hair billowing behind her.

"Hello," Megna said.

"Megna, just leave him alone—"

But Megna stared at the boy. The difference in their skin, hers, white, and his, grey, became even more noticeable. "You can’t swim near us Pures. Don’t you know?"

"S—Sorry. I—I didn’t see you." Calt looked down. Alphi shook her head. Don’t speak.

"So you’re blind too," Megna said.

The mothers tittered. Just like the rest of the Alphas, they rose many feet off the sea floor. Hair cascaded down their backs, billowing behind them through the currents.

Calt turned helplessly to Alphi. "W-will we play in the trench today? My mother wants you to come over."

No. No.

But Alphi smiled, trying to swallow the fear that crept inside her. Calt didn’t know what his words meant…. "Sure." She didn’t dare look at Megna.

"Are you joking, Alphi?" Megna yelled.

"He’s five years old—"

"We are Pures. We don’t live in some dirty trench, like him and his dark parents."

"Yea," Calt said, "but Alphi loves coming to my house."

Let's Heat Things Up Like A Giant Laser...

Wow, thank you so much everyone for your participation so far! I hope you're all having as much fun joining in the contest as I am running it. Currently I'm thinking I could get used to being a diabolical mastermind... *buys fancy office chair and hairless cat and starts perusing the real estate pages for a rent-to-own lair*...

Anyway, just an update on the scores to heat things up a bit. I know the contest is a raffle but at the moment the number of entries per person ranges from two to... *inserts pinkie into corner of mouth*... one meeeellion entries.

I mean about thirty two.

So don't forget to follow the blogs for five entries per blog, keep on critiquing and throw in some RT's too for your best chance to win. Only two people have spotted the mystery mistake so keep an eye out for that for another extra entry. Plus there's still almost a week to go, so send me your 500 words or less for some well deserved feedback.

And here are the critique entries so far to make things a little easier for you (because who said evil geniuses can't have a soft side?).


Entry no. 13  The Butterfly Effect
Entry no. 12  Beneath the City of Lights
Entry no. 11  The Watershed
Entry no. 10  Vis Decor: Alphi
Entry no. 9    Valkyrie Mist
Entry no. 8    Shadows of Destiny
Entry no. 7    Don't Blink
Entry no. 6    Averagely Extraordinary
Entry no. 5    Doppled in Grey
Entry no. 4    Look At Me
Entry no. 3    The Hourglass Bridge
Entry no. 2    The Fall of the Kings
Entry no. 1    Abandon

Critique contest Entry no. 9.

Many thanks to this author for submitting to our critique contest. For your own chance to win a 10 chapter professional manuscript edit and $20 ebook voucher, follow @katherineamabel and @lisaslanding on twitter and tweet "I'm in!" Share your thoughts here for extra entries in the draw, and check out the rules to score even more! (http://beyondthehourglassbridge.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/critique-contest-and-giveaway.html)

Title: Valkyrie Mist
Genre: YA fantasy
First Page:

Today might be a great day. The sun isn’t too bright, my hair hasn’t frizzed from the stubborn wind, and I got a A- on my Chem test. Of course there’s the fact that, Ben Wong is destined to die today on McGovern Street, in front of the houses with all the rose bushes. His name screamed through my skull during biology. It took everything I had to hold a smile, especially when I passed him at school.

I brush black strands out of my eyes with shaking hands as I peek out from behind an enormous eucalyptus tree along the footpath. Ben is a few houses ahead, strolling home as if nothing matters. Sort of like the voices and visions, clawing around in my head, screaming the names of people who only have a few hours to live. This time, I’m going to stop it and save Ben. There has to be a way. There must be a reason why I see them, what else could it be?

The stink from the overflowing garbage along the curb swooshes past on the afternoon wind, and I almost gag. The way Ben is scratching his butt makes me think he has fleas. Another reason I shouldn’t sit next to him in ancient history. What a slob. It’s easy to follow his trail; empty bags of chips, two candy wrappers, two apple cores and a mashed soda can, and still he’s beyond skinny. This metabolism thing is so unfair.

Only a block away from where it happens, and the image jumps into my head just as it did back in class. Its intensity as jolting as when it forced me, shirking, out of my seat, right in the middle of Mr. Colby’s pop quiz. There’s another mark in Mr. Colby’s notebook. I wanted to explain, but how could I, and just like now, my throat felt as if it was locked up.

I move out from behind the tree, passing the brick houses, an elderly woman with handfuls of shopping bags, and a ginger cat sun baking on someone’s front lawn. My fists dig into the pockets of my skirt as I stroll, trying my best to look casual. My brain is screaming at me to run up to Ben and drag him in the opposite direction. A perfect way to confirm that I am some kind of weirdo.

Chattering voices from behind catch my attention. I glance back to see Sari and her pack of she-hyenas approaching. My stomach clenches. Oh great, just what I need, some taunting and insults from her majesty.

I call out, “Hey, Ben, wait up.”

He looks back, wiping his mouth with a sleeve. “Leev? Don’t you live on Cross Street?”

I sprint up beside him. At the age of eleven he had followed me home, then asked me out on a date to a burger joint, which I declined, but that was years ago. Now at seventeen, he still remembers where I live.

Critique contest Entry no. 8.

Many thanks to this author for submitting to our critique contest. For your own chance to win a 10 chapter professional manuscript edit and $20 ebook voucher, follow @katherineamabel and @lisaslanding on twitter and tweet "I'm in!" Share your thoughts here for extra entries in the draw, and check out the rules to score even more! (http://beyondthehourglassbridge.blogspot.com.au/2012/06/critique-contest-and-giveaway.html)

Title: Shadows of Destiny
Genre: YA fantasy
First Page:

Taylor took one long, deep breath before opening the door to her own personal hell.

Two dozen heads turned to look at her as she walked in, then the whispers began.

"Why doesn't she just stay home?" one girl said.

“I swear, I shiver every time I look into her eyes," a boy whispered.

“Then don’t! I bet she’d curse you,” his friend said next to him.  

A few students laughed.

Taylor ignored the snickering, she was used to it. She walked past the staring eyes with her head held high. She wouldn’t acknowledge them. Wouldn’t show how they affected her.

Sitting at her desk, she carefully pulled out an envelope, but flinched when she heard a grunt from behind her. Turning her head slowly, wary, she saw a pretty blonde girl smiling at her.

"Yes?" Taylor asked, realizing the girl was trying to get her attention.

"Can I ask you a question?"

"Go right ahead." Taylor responded, annoyed. She hardly expected a sleep over invitation.

"What's it like having a murderer for a father?" the girl said more loudly, her smile never leaving her face. Taylor didn’t recognize this girl. She realized she must be new in town, already jumping on the bandwagon.  She learns fast, Taylor thought.

A dozen responses ran through Taylor's mind, "What's it like being a total…"-- no, no need for another trip the office.  "It's great! He taught me how to skin a human right before he died. I really like your pigmentation, by the way." She held back a laugh. But then she stopped and really thought about the question.

"I don't have a father," she finally said.

That really was how it felt most of the time. Her father died when she was 4 years old, now at 17 it's like he never existed. He's just a ghost. All he's ever been able to do is haunt her.

The bell rang to signal the start of class, cutting her riveting conversation with the girl behind her short. Mr. Macintyre, a large man with a bushy gray beard, stood to face the class. He began babbling on about some famous historian.

 It didn’t take long for Taylor’s thoughts to float away from the teacher in front of her to the students surrounding her. She couldn't for her life figure out why people hated her the way they did.

Even when she was 4 years old she had heard the whispers, saw the looks. Sometimes she wished she had been younger, like her brother Caleb, when her father died. Young enough that she couldn’t remember. Then she could have escaped the nasty rumors that followed their family after the crash. But then she wouldn't remember her father's kind eyes.

She didn't believe for a second what they said about him. Caleb didn't have that luxury. At least she knew if her father wasn't the monster they made him out to be, maybe she wasn't either.