Knights of Avalon: Chapter 2

The next morning, Justine sat cross-legged on her family’s blue couch in a sleep-deprived haze, her long brown hair tucked into a messy bun to keep it out of her face. In her hands she clutched a steaming hot mug of coffee like it was a life preserver. On any other day, in any other situation, her mother would have made some comment about the coffee. When Justine had started drinking the stuff a few years ago, her Mom had warned her that it would stunt her growth. Of course, once Justine hit her growth spurt, her mother switched to merely giving her disapproving looks. This morning though, Justine and her Mom had other things to worry about.

Justine listened in to her mother’s conversation with Mrs. Martinez as the morning sun filtered in through the windows. She couldn’t hear what Gwen’s Mom was saying, but she knew it wasn’t good. Still no word from Gwen, still no sign of what had happened to her. It was as if she had vanished off the face of the Earth.

Her Mom’s tone of voice had changed too. She had given up on trying to convince Mrs. Martinez that Gwen would be checking in any minute now. “It’ll be OK,” she kept telling Gwen’s Mom in a gentle whisper. Justine knew Mrs. Martinez must’ve been crying. “We’re here for you. Anything you need. I think Justine would be more than OK with coming down to help. She can be there this afternoon if you like.” Justine glanced up, taking a moment to reflect on how awesome her Mom could be.

Her Mom hung up and walked over, sinking into the chair across from Justine. Despite her insistence last night that there wasn’t much to worry about, the dark circles under her eyes told a different story. “I assume there’s no way I can convince you to go to school?”

Justine shook her head, ready for the question. “I haven’t missed a single day this semester, and how could I concentrate on my schoolwork anyways?” There was no way Justine was going to let her Mom talk her into going to school, not when her best friend was out there in trouble.

As it turned out, her Mom didn’t need a whole lot of convincing. “I figured as much,” she said with complete understanding. “Here’s the deal,” she said, leaning forward. “Gwen’s parents have checked the hospitals, talked to all her friends, and filed a report with the police. There’s been no word from her since last night. The police have recommended that her parents blanket the area with fliers in the hope that someone’s either seen her or knows something about her disappearance. I know you’re worried sick, and so am I, but so far there’s no evidence of foul play. The police just think it’s best to be aggressive in the search for her. If you want to help with handing out fliers, you can take today and tomorrow off from school. With the three-day weekend coming up, that’ll give you five whole days to help look for Gwen. Hopefully you won’t even need all that time. How’s that sound?”

Justine knew she wouldn’t get a better deal from her Mom, but she could see what she was doing, she was channeling all of Justine’s fear and anger into a safe activity. For some inconceivable reason, Justine’s Mom seemed to be afraid Justine would do something risky. It’s almost as if after sixteen years on this planet, her Mom could predict exactly what Justine would do. “Thanks, Mom,” she said, truly grateful. “That sounds good.”

“I’ll write you a note, but you need to be back in school by Tuesday,” her Mom continued. “Mrs. Martinez said you’re welcome to stay in their guest bedroom if you like. Or you could stay with your father…”

Justine made a face, as if her coffee had suddenly turned into acid.

“Or you could stay with the Martinezes.” Her Mom stood up and gave Justine a kiss on the head. Justine was too tired and too worried about her friend to squirm away. “You let me know if there’s any news about Gwen, OK?”

“I will,” Justine said. “Do they have any better idea of what happened last night? I mean, where was Gwen last seen, things like that?”

Her Mom pursed her lips into a thin line and leveled her gaze at Justine. “You’re not the police, you are not to act like the police. You stay out of their way and do whatever you can to help Mr. and Mrs. Martinez out.”

Justine looked up at her mother with big, innocent brown eyes.

“I mean it,” her Mom said. “We’re worried sick about Gwen, we do not need to be worried about you as well.”

“I know,” Justine said with a little sigh. The whole plan was to make things better, not worse, to find her friend and not muck up anything else in the process. “Would it really hurt though if I visited where Gwen was last seen? If I didn’t cause any trouble? Just poked around?”

To her surprise, her Mom gave in. “Well, you’re going to find out anyways, but on one condition: You get some rest before you head out on the road. You got, what, three or four hours of sleep last night, max?”

As far as conditions went, that wasn’t a bad one. Justine wanted to head out on the road right away, but she couldn’t help her friend if she fell asleep at the wheel and had an accident. “OK, one way or the other, I’ll make myself take a nap before I go,” Justine promised.

Her mother finally seemed satisfied. “Do you know where Stone Harbor is? It’s just south of Avalon. According to her boyfriend, Gwen called and said her car broke down on 96th Street. Use that knowledge for good, not for evil. You hear me, young lady?”

“I’m just going to take a look. I need to see for myself,” Justine said. Four hours ago, everything had changed and her best friend, one of the only friends she had in the entire world, had gone missing. She had to find out what happened.

Justine jumped into the shower and got dressed. She wasn’t exactly a big fan of the educational institution known as ‘high school,’ so she wasn’t too broken up about missing a day or two. She liked the learning just fine, especially history class, it was the other kids that she hated. She had forever been branded ‘the fat girl’ by her peers. The fact that she excelled in cross country and had a black belt in jujutsu didn’t seem to count for much in her basketball and football-obsessed school.

Justine’s family was Polish, her last name was Kwiatkowski, but she must have had a great-great-grandmother in her family tree who was a Viking warrior. There wasn’t much else to explain how Justine had gotten to be 6 foot and built like a linebacker. Well, there was her father, who was 6’2” and built like a linebacker, but Justine didn’t like to dwell on the thought that she might take after him. When she had been younger, she had been tormented mercilessly by the other kids for being fat, but the cross-country helped with the weight and the jujutsu took care of the bullying. With the exception of her ex-boyfriend Steve, nowadays most of the kids in her school steered clear. She liked that arrangement just fine.

Justine came back downstairs to find her mother had laid out a huge breakfast for her on their white kitchen table. Her mother was far from an expert chef, mac n’ cheese with orange powder was a fairly regular staple of their diet, but the breakfast looked like a feast. “Eat, sleep, then get on the road,” her Mom said, concern clearly etched upon her face. Justine could tell she was still in shock about everything that had happened, then again, so was she.

Justine sat down and piled eggs, bacon, and several wedges of cantaloupe onto her plate. Part of her just wanted to get going, but her Mom was right, she needed to take care of herself before she could help look for Gwen.

“Mornin’,” her little sister Rachel said with a yawn as she shuffled into the kitchen wearing fluffy purple bunny slippers. Three years younger than Justine, Rachel was like a trimmer, cuter version of herself. With big brown doe-like eyes, she was also far more adorable than Justine had ever been. Rachel took one look at the breakfast spread laid out before her then one look at the tired and worn expressions both Justine and her Mom shared and knew something was up. “What’s wrong?”

“Gwen didn’t come home last night,” her Mom told her sister as gently as she could. “No one knows where she is. Hopefully all this worry is for nothing and she’ll turn up soon safe and sound.” Justine was thankful her Mom was there to explain it. She didn’t know what she’d say.

Rachel took a moment to let the news sink in, perhaps wondering if it was all a dream and she had never really woken up. “Gwen? Missing? She wouldn’t run away…”

Justine offered a solemn nod of her head. “Yeah, which is why we’re all worried. But like Mom said, hopefully she’ll turn up OK. I’m going down for a few days to help hand out fliers.”

Rachel pulled out a chair and stared at the piles of food, having lost any appetite. “She’s missing?” she repeated to herself. “How worried are you?” she turned and asked Justine.

Justine winced at the question. “Really worried,” she said after searching a while for an answer.

“But it’s too early to be leaping to conclusions,” her Mom said, leaning in to give Rachel a hug. “I’m sure Gwen will turn up.”

Her little sister made a big show of trying to avoid the hug, complete with a roll of the eyes for good measure. Justine remembered being thirteen, it wasn’t that long ago.

Rachel glanced over. “Gwen has to know you’ll be looking for her. I bet that makes her feel better.” Justine didn’t know quite what to say, but she was pretty sure at that moment that she had the best little sister ever. She shrugged her shoulders and looked down at her breakfast. “I’ll do what I can.”

“Think you might run into Dad while you’re down there?” Rachel asked after a pause, realizing that if Justine was headed down to Avalon that she’d be close to their father’s place.

“Wasn’t planning to,” Justine said. “With everything going on, it’s not really a good time.” Not that she’d want to anyways.

“Well, if you do, tell him I say ‘hi,’” Rachel said, ever the optimist. Her little sister didn’t hold grudges quite the same way Justine did. At the moment though, that was the farthest thing from Justine’s mind. She had to figure out what had happened to her friend.

Knights of Avalon: Chapter 3

She didn’t think it was possible, but somehow, with the curtains drawn and the phone by her side, Justine was able to stretch out on her bed and squeeze in a few hours of sleep. Not that it helped much. In her dreams she saw Gwen running for her life down a dark corridor. Justine jerked wide awake and glanced over at the clock. It was almost noon. Time to get going.

She threw some clothes into the gym bag she usually took to jujutsu practice and fixed some sandwiches for the road. She left her schoolbooks on her nightstand. It wasn’t even worth it to try. She loaded up her trusty cherry red 1999 Ford Escort and prepared to go. That car was Justine’s baby, her pride and joy. She had seen it parked on the side of the road by the Baskin Robbins one day, lonely and neglected, a hand-written sign in black marker advertising it for $995. No one wanted it, but Justine saw its potential, saw what it could be. She had spent the months leading up to her sixteenth birthday working every conceivable crappy job to save for that car and the repairs it would need. Sure, it had a little rust, a couple of dents here and there, and it reeked of weed, but Justine could fix those things and all it took was a couple of air fresheners to get rid of the smell. Justine knew there were plenty of better cars in Jersey, but the Ford Escort was hers, fully and 100%, and that’s all that mattered.

Before she pulled out of the driveway, Justine took a deep breath and dialed Gwen’s number once more. She knew it was stupid to try, but she couldn’t help herself. The phone went directly to voicemail. It was eerie to hear Gwen, so breezy and cheerful. Justine hung up and closed her eyes, then started the car.

The May weather was gorgeous, the sky a perfect blue. Pink azaleas were in full bloom all along her street. Everything was in place for a spectacular Memorial Day weekend.

It was all an illusion. The world was going wrong. There was war in Central Asia, drought across half the world, monster hurricanes dismantling the Gulf Coast when it wasn’t hurricane season yet. Justine wasn’t even going to get into the rumors of magic. The world was screwed up enough without bringing something that ridiculous into the mix.

Even on her peaceful little street, insulated from the suffering and war, things weren’t right. The Azaleas should’ve bloomed weeks ago, the lilac bush in front of her family’s little Cape Cod had flowered a month early. It was as if the natural world itself was breaking down. Gwen going missing was only the latest proof that something was seriously wrong.

Justine turned down the street, past Gwen’s old house. They had known each other since kindergarten, when Gwen’s family had moved into the little white ranch house on the corner.

Five years old, Justine had found Gwen playing by herself by the creek one day, trying to catch frogs in Justine’s favorite spot. Gwen always played alone, none of the other kids in the neighborhood seemed to know what to do with her. Justine glared at the intruder and told her that if she wanted to hang out in her spot, that she’d have to prove herself by crossing the creek on a rickety old log. Gwen was up for that. She danced across without a moment of hesitation. Then she dared Justine to do the same. Justine fell off into the water, twisting her ankle. Their friendship was instant.

Justine still couldn’t believe her friend had gone missing. Gwen was the most beautiful person Justine had ever met. She was pretty enough, slim, with long black hair, dazzling honey-colored brown eyes, and a sublime grace. That’s not what made her beautiful. She had an inner light, a kindness that shone through. And she put up with Justine, which said a lot.

They spent all of elementary school together, inseparable. Then in the seventh grade, disaster struck, at least it seemed that way to a young Justine. Gwen moved out of the neighborhood and her parents enrolled her in an exclusive private school.

Their friendship held strong, even when last year, Gwen’s mother received a promotion and the family moved once more, two hours south to the seaside town of Avalon. The distance wasn’t an issue. Justine and Gwen e-mailed back and forth, spoke on the phone every other day, and Gwen made a point of cheering Justine on at her cross country meets and jujutsu matches. And now she was gone, and Justine was going to find her.

As she turned onto the parkway, she pondered the unspoken fear that everyone shared. Twelve teens had been murdered in the last eighteen months. In every case, the victim had vanished without a trace, only to be found days later, dumped in a river or in the woods. It’s why Justine had to help now, school be damned.

She hugged the coast as she drove to Stone Harbor. Justine had been there before. She had been up and down the entire south Jersey shore with Gwen since her friend moved there, shopping, exploring, and just generally getting into trouble, which the two of them did exceedingly well. She pulled onto 96th Street, slowing down as she scanned the area, viewing the place in a way she never had before. A darkened alleyway, a homeless person begging for change, everything took on a sinister cast.

One day before the official start of Memorial Day weekend and tourists were already getting an early start. She passed by restaurants, souvenir shops, and little boutiques. The world was falling apart, but people came here to forget their troubles, if only for a little while. With one eye still on the road, Justine turned to her left, to catch a glimpse of the Atlantic Ocean stretching to the horizon. She found a moment of peace there, just watching the waves crash against the shore, rolling down her window to catch the cool ocean breeze.

She finally found a spot to park and walked down the street. Here she was, Gwen’s last known location. Justine didn’t know what she expected, but this wasn’t it. She walked past a fudge shop, then a store that sold seashells and postcards. A sno-cone stand came next. The sun was shining, people walked by in shorts or even just in their bathing suits, smiling and carefree. Had something bad happened to Gwen here? If it had, Justine never would have guessed it.

She scoured the area, asking shop owners and locals if they had seen Gwen last night with no luck, her frustration growing. Of course her mother had let her come down here. Her mother knew her too well, knew she would need a way to satisfy her curiosity. She probably figured there wasn’t much harm in letting Justine wander a sleepy little beach town in the middle of the day.

Justine wasn’t beat yet. She turned her attention to a 24-hour diner just down the street. It would’ve been open when Gwen’s car broke down, maybe someone there had seen something. After all, Gwen’s blue BMW had a way of standing out. It occurred to Justine as she pushed open the diner’s door, a couple of bells helpfully jingling to announce her entrance, that Gwen’s car was almost brand new. It’s possible that it had broken down after only six months on the road, but it still struck Justine as odd.

She was rehearsing in her head the questions she would ask when she glanced up. Change of plans. She walked up to the diner’s counter and nonchalantly ordered a Coke and asked for a menu, pretending to take her time deciding what she wanted. Should she get the BLT or the Turkey Club? It all looked so good. The police were here. They weren’t in uniform, but who else would walk into a beachside diner wearing a suit and tie? The woman of the pair was only a little more casually dressed in dark slacks and a black jacket. Hell, it was the end of May and 85 degrees outside. They had to be cops.

In her shorts and tank top, Justine fit right in with all the other tourists. She stared at the menu as she eavesdropped on the conversation. “I’m Detective Barbara, this is my colleague Angela Faust.” The middle-aged man with the narrow face and graying blonde hair flashed his badge and took out a photo. “We’d like to get the names and phone numbers of your nightshift staff, anyone who would’ve been working yesterday evening between 10:30-11:30pm. We’re investigating the disappearance of this young woman. She went missing last night after her car broke down not far from here.” Justine took a peek at the photo. It was Gwen, dressed in a white doctor’s coat from the time she volunteered at the local clinic. The photo was recent, from last month. They must have gotten it from Gwen’s parents.

Recognition lit up the manager’s eyes. “You’re not the first person to ask about her. Her boyfriend, I think it was her boyfriend, was in here earlier. I haven’t seen her. I would’ve remembered a pretty girl like that. Then again, I work the afternoon shift. I’ll give you a list of all the employees who were working that night. And if you like, you can talk to Frank over there. He’s a regular. Chances are he was here around that time.”

It seemed you couldn’t have a respectable 24-hour diner without a regular like Frank to grace your establishment. The guy was in his sixties or seventies, with a gray beard, wearing shorts, flip-flops, and a loud Hawaiian shirt. He looked as if he had packed for Honolulu and somehow ended up in Jersey.

Frank walked over, shaking both the detectives’ hands and slapping Det. Barbara on the back, much to his dismay. Frank held the photo in his hands, looking it over. “Never seen her. I was here last night though. Didn’t notice anything out of the ordinary. I hope she turns up. Seems such a pity.”

“Can you tell me what time you came to the diner last night?” Det. Barbara asked. Though he was so far doing all the talking, Justine had a feeling it was the woman who was really in charge. Justine couldn’t take her eyes off of her. By the gray in her hair, Justine guessed she was about the same age as the other detective. She was strikingly tall, though not quite as tall as Justine, with mahogany skin and countless long braids captured into a pony tail in the back. She moved with an air of authority and every once in a while Justine noticed Det. Barbara sneaking a glance over to her, as if seeking her approval.

Frank shrugged his shoulders. “I stopped by around 10:30pm, the way I usually do.”

“And when did you leave?"

Frank opened his mouth to answer and suddenly frowned. “I don’t really remember, but I don’t think I stayed too long. I was having some coffee and pie, then I guess I headed home.”

“You don’t remember leaving the diner last night?” Det. Barbara pressed further.

Frank considered it some more. “Not really, but I got home, so I must’ve left at some point. It’s such a part of my daily routine, I don’t give much thought to it anymore, you know?”

“Did you use a credit card to pay for your meal?”

Frank cocked his head to one side, not really understanding what the detective was getting at. Justine took a sip of her Coke and wondered as well. “I must have. That’s what I always use to pay. Why do you ask?”

Det. Barbara turned to the manager. “Can you go into your system and pull up his payment from last night? I want to see what time he paid for his meal.”

“Know what you’re getting?” the lady behind the counter asked, hands on her hips, surly and world-weary the way any good waitress should be.

“I’ll take the BLT and fries,” Justine said, tearing her gaze away from the cops for a moment. “And can you make that to go?” She watched out of the corner of her eye as the manager checked the computer with a scowl. “That’s odd. I can’t find his check. Between 10:40pm and 11:32pm, I’m not seeing any activity at all. It can be quiet that time of night, but it’s usually not that quiet. Maybe it’s a computer glitch.”

“So according to that computer, there was absolutely no business in your restaurant during that time period. Even though you supposedly had customers here at the time,” Det. Barbara concluded.

“Which is why it has to be a glitch,” the manager responded.

Det. Faust looked all around. Justine quickly buried her face in the dessert menu. “You don’t have security cameras here, do you?” she wondered.

The manager shook his head. “We don’t need them. Even during the height of the busy season, we don’t have much crime, just some trouble with drunks, things like that.”

There was something odd about Det. Faust, but Justine couldn’t put her finger on it. At least not at first. It was her jewelry. Cops didn’t wear jewelry like she did on the job. Carefully, so as not to be noticed, Justine studied the heavy gold pendant that hung around her neck. The large red stone at its center almost glowed. On her fingers were several ornate rings, some with strange markings on them. Justine wondered why the detective didn’t leave the chunky jewelry at home, what with all the running around and beating up on bad guys she must’ve been doing on a regular basis.

If Det. Faust was disappointed at the way the interview was going, she didn’t show it. Justine couldn’t read her at all. “Thank you for your help,” Det. Barbara said as the manager handed over a list of employees for them to contact. Justine looked towards the kitchen as the detectives started to walk out. The cook was carefully arranging the bacon on her sandwich as if it was a work of art and not Justine’s next meal. “Come on,” she muttered under her breath, slipping off her stool and pulling out her wallet to pay for the food. Slowly, ever so slowly, the cook handed off his masterpiece to the grizzled waitress, who tossed it into a box, shoved it into a bag, and plunked it in front of Justine. She grabbed the sandwich and ran. “Thanks,” Justine called out. “You can keep the change!”

Justine stepped out onto the street, back into the sunshine. The detectives were nowhere to be found. “Shit,” she said, searching the crowd of beach-goers. She walked up and down the sidewalk until she caught sight of the two detectives standing in a parking lot behind the shops. She lingered in front of the sno-cone stand, watching them from a distance.

The two detectives seemed to have friends. They must’ve been cops, it wasn’t law enforcement social hour, but Justine had never seen police work like this. How was anything they were doing related to finding Gwen? There was the dark-haired geek with what appeared to be a Geiger counter pacing back and forth across the pavement, then an older woman in a hippie skirt who walked the perimeter of the lot, putting her hands on every tree she passed. People walked by, hardly paying the cops any notice.

Justine continued to observe from a distance, confused and angry. Why weren’t they looking for witnesses? She told herself to calm down. Whoever these people were, Justine had a feeling they knew what they were doing. There must have been some method to their madness, though it was pretty mad. Justine studied the area, suddenly realizing she wasn’t the only one watching the cops.

In a shadow-filled alleyway, a figure crouched down behind a trash can, observing every move the detectives made. Justine wondered if she had finally found a witness to her friend’s disappearance. Walking at a brisk pace, she circled around the shops, stepping into the alleyway from the other side without a sound. It occurred to Justine a little too late that what she was doing was potentially dangerous. Even black belts weren’t immune to bullets and she didn’t know who, or what, she was confronting.

The figure whirled around, almost sensing her presence. It was a dark-haired girl about her age, perhaps Asian judging by her features, but she moved like a feral animal. Her hair was a tangled mess, her clothing falling to pieces. The way she crouched, Justine couldn’t get a full sense of her size, but she knew she wasn’t big. The girl tensed her muscles, as if preparing to make a break for it. “Wait! I have food!” Justine blurted out, holding up the bag that contained her BLT. It was the first idea that had popped into her head. Hopefully it would work.

The girl stayed where she was, tilting her head to one side. “Let me see,” she said in a raspy voice.

Justine pulled the BLT out of the bag and opened the box. The girl’s eyes widened as she fixated on the food. She was painfully thin, Justine imagined she didn’t get a good meal very often. The girl motioned with her head for Justine to set the box down. Justine did so, slowly backing away. “I’m looking for my friend. Her name’s Gwen. Her car broke down not far from here and no one’s seen her since.”

The girl pounced the moment Justine was far enough away, swiping the box and retreating back to the relative safety of the trash can. She lifted the lid and breathed in deeply, savoring the food instead of devouring it. She picked up a French fry and took a bite. “No ketchup?” she asked, finally remembering that Justine was there, her voice taking on a more normal tone.

“Sorry,” Justine said, trying to get a better view of her in the weak light. The girl had a habit of letting her hair hide her face. “About my friend…”

“The queen?”

“Excuse me?” Justine said, figuring she must have misheard the girl.

“You’re searching for the queen,” the girl stated as she munched away on the French fries.

“I’m looking for my friend,” Justine said once more, trying to hide the irritation in her voice. “Her name’s Gwen Martinez. She’s my age, medium height, about 5’7”, with black hair and brown eyes. Her car…”

The feral girl cut her off, speaking almost matter-of-factly. “You’re looking for the queen. I know they took her. They’re trying to make me care. Problem is, I don’t.” She turned her attention back to the BLT, muttering to herself, “A little too much mayo…”

Justine had the sinking feeling she was talking to a crazy person, but perhaps a crazy person who had seen something. “Who are they? Who took Gwen? Did you see something?”

The girl shook her head. “Wasn’t here when it happened, but I know who they are, I know their methods. It’s not your battle. You think you have a belt that says you can fight?” Justine blinked. What the hell? “Forget the queen, forget this war. Or you’ll die, and I won’t care.”

As Justine tried to make sense of what the girl was saying, she grabbed the box of food and took off. Justine ran down the alleyway after her, turning the corner and coming to a dead end. The girl was gone.

Status Report

Hello lovely people! (and you really are lovely, I can't tell you all how many times I've been bummed out over the last few months and someone's kind comment on the blog or on Twitter has cheered me up) I've been querying for three months now and here are my stats:

• 20 agents queried
• 4 partials requested
• 1 full requested
• All rejected :(
  

Now I know this is a subjective business, but with five rejections, that tells me something isn't working quite right with the book. I've been complimented on how strong my writing is, the agents like the premise and once I tweaked some pacing issues, they've been very positive on that too.

What no one has said one good thing about is the main character herself and one agent told me that she couldn't connect with Justine (my MC). I love my MC, I think she's 32 flavors and then some, but that awesome person living in my head isn't translating to the page, so I've got to find a way to fix that.

Based on feedback, I also suspect that the latter half of my book is stronger than the beginning part. I think this is the case because the further along an agent has read, the more complimentary they've been, and one of my beta readers (OK, my Mom..who btw, HATES Knights of Avalon) told me that the first fifteen pages after the prologue were much weaker than the rest of the book. Weaker beginning + inability to connect with MC = Rejection.

The thing is, this isn't an easy problem to fix. It's not like bad punctuation or a plot hole, it's something that's almost intangible. One of those things that you either have or you don't.

But I have a plan. The plan does not involve ferrets. No, it involves the following: Over the next day or so, I'm going to post the first few chapters of the manuscript up on the blog. If you'd like, please give me your thoughts, good and bad, on the writing and specifically, on the main character. Do you connect with her? If not, why?

Next, it's been suggested to me that I switch the novel over to first person, that this might allow readers to identify more with the MC. I think I'll test this out on a few chapters and once I've done that (it'll probably take me a few days, at least), post those chapters up on the blog too to get everyone's feedback. Again, thanks for all your help. You guys have helped keep me sane, or if nothing else, from going any crazier than I already am. :)

Fun With Neologisms

I was cruising around the web today and found a fellow writer who got a partial request, on the same day I did, from the very same agent. Now, it seems to me there should be some word for this, so I coined the term 'querysib.' As in we're query siblings.

Now I want to come up with more terms but I'm drawing a blank, so feel free to leave your thoughts in the comments section. I'm looking for words for the following phenomena. Have at it!

• When you look your manuscript over a dozen times, are certain you've fixed every typo and spelling error, send it to an agent, and immediately afterwards find a mistake.
• When you query an agent and then follow them on Twitter, in the vain hope that the agent will mention your manuscript or query on the Twitter feed. The word I'm looking for is something other than 'stalking.' Not that I've ever done this.
• When Agent #1 has your partial or a full, you receive feedback from Agent #2, realize to your horror the mistakes you've made, make revisions, and then re-submit to Agent #1, even though you know you're really not supposed to.
• The paradox where when things are slow in your personal life, things are slow with your writing. But when your life is crazy and hectic, that's when agents start responding and making requests for sample pages.
  

Mock Query: The Nanerpuss Code

**Warning** Fake Query Ahead. Keep out of reach of agents, LOLcats, and small children. Do not attempt at home. No cyborgs with Austrian accents were harmed in the making of this query.

Dear Colleen… I feel like I can call you Colleen since I met you once at an IHOP five months ago. You might remember me, I waved to you and bounced up and down and ran to my car to show you my 300,000 word religious-themed memoir. But when I came back, you were hiding in the bathroom and you wouldn’t come out no matter how much I tried to entice you with my clever and witty reading of my manuscript. Then the security guards came and rudely dragged me away, so unfortunately I didn’t get to chapter five of my memoir, which is when it got really good.

Anyways, I’ve written a new book now and I know you’re closed to submissions, but this query actually comes from the future, when you’ll be open to submissions again. For you see, in the year 2012, on August 29 at approximately 2:14am, the Skynet Global Digital Defense Network gains sentience and launches a war of extinction against the human race. I know, what a bummer. Can you imagine what that does to the publishing industry?

Now I’m sending this query from the future, at the behest of the leader of the human resistance, Jessica Faust, to ask you to please agent my manuscript, The Nanerpuss Code. I know what you’re thinking: What does The Nanerpuss Code have to do with the salvation of the human race? Everything, my dear Ms. Lindsay, everything.

For at Book Expo America 2011, on a sunny, pleasant day, the architect of Skynet shall wander by and in a freak accident, be crushed to death by a pile of Nanerpuss Code galleys, preventing the completion of Skynet and saving not only the human race, but the publishing world as we know it. No, really, it's a good thing, trust me.

So, to sum up: Represent The Nanerpuss Code, save the world. The fate of the future lies in your hands!

Up to No Good

Hello! Good afternoon! I'm still hanging in there! Here's the latest: I did get a very kind rejection from the agent I mentioned in the earlier posts, but it was the most complimentary rejection I've ever received, so maybe I'm making some progress. I do have other people looking at the manuscript that I'm very excited about, so we'll see, hopefully I can one day find that agent who loves my work and is a good match.

In the mean time, I think I'm going to busy myself by writing another mock query letter. And I'll probably start work soon on the sequel to Knights of Avalon. The book's main character, Justine, is very pushy and has been bugging me to get started. Yeah, my characters have minds of their own, and they talk to me.

Waiting

Except for the constant stream of rejection, I think the waiting has to be the hardest part of being a writer. Maybe that and the sacrificing time with friends and family to write. And the lack of sleep. And crying when you kill off one of your favorite characters. And being frustrated when a story just isn't working out right...

Anyways, I'm still waiting. I have to say, so far, I'm completely surprised by who has shown an interest in the manuscript and who hasn't. The agents I thought were likely to request it haven't and the agents who I thought were longshots asked to see more. We'll see if that trend continues. Until then, another Hawaii photo. So pretty. So so peaceful.