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Title: KILLER'S DAY OFF
Category and Genre: Adult Urban Fantasy
Word Count: 84,000
Query:
Eleven doesn’t feel like killing the President of the United States today. Every other profession gets sick days, so why not genetically-enhanced android super-assassins? Unfortunately, that’s not how his owner/creator/father-figure, Simon Cordova, sees it. A few threats, a little brainwashing, and Eleven is off to the White House.
Only when he gets there, he finds that Simon has lied to him about Eleven being the only android around. Sure, meeting this other guy doesn’t stop Eleven from killing the president, but it certainly raises some questions, such as ‘Why has Simon lied to me?’ and ‘What am I?’ and ‘Why the hell am I being brainwashed?’
Except those answers need to wait, because this job didn’t end in DC. No, it followed Eleven home and found where his friends live.
Now Eleven has to protect those around him while working through a budding existential crisis. But none of that will stop him from finding answers to every one of his questions, even if it takes a few explosions, abundant violence, and at least one hostage situation to do so.
First 250 Words:
“What?” Agent Olsen’s voice hissed through the telephone. “You’re calling out sick from assassinating the president?!”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I nestled the phone between my head and shoulder while I pulled the bag of Cheetos open. Olsen probably heard it, but who cares? “I’m just feeling a little under the weather.”
“Under the weather?!” Olsen screamed. Static screeched over the line, the cords and tubes of the phone company cracking under the pressure. “You’re a genetically modified android, Eleven. You can’t feel under the weather!”
“Oh, did I say I felt sick? Meant to say tired.” I kicked my shoes off and fell backwards onto the couch. “Didn’t sleep very well last night. Etcetera.”
Static hissed through the phone again before Olsen’s voice simmered down enough to be heard. “—any idea how much time and money and planning went into—“
I pulled the phone away from my ear and glared at it. I had nearly four years of perfect attendance under my belt, and they couldn’t give me just one damned vacation day? Sometimes people just weren’t up to the task of going outside and being productive—or, in my case, murdering politicians in cold blood. Today was definitely one of those off days for me.
Hopefully Agent Olsen and his boss could understand that. If not, then my status as a badass super-assassin earned me some other undeniable privileges.
Nice job. I like the concept and your voice. You have a natural flow, but there are a few 'clunky' parts that I'd like to see revised.
ReplyDeleteRemember, this is opinion based, but once you voice the questions in the second paragraph of your query, it pulls me out of the world I'm building in my head. By ending the sentence with "certainly raised some questions." you will find it has a better flow. Let the reader come to their own conclusions.
By doing this, you'll need to either omit the third paragraph, or clean it up.
You need to tell the reader who Eleven is before this back and forth dialogue. Without reading the query, I assumed Eleven was a girl. The reader needs to have a vague idea of who their protagonist is as soon as possible, otherwise we get a shock when they end up nothing like we imagined, especially when you're using a unisex name. In this case, my pretty Eleven now has an Adam's apple and hairy arms, which was a shock to the system!
Keep up the good work and good luck! You got this!
ReplyDeleteEleven doesn’t feel like killing the President of the United States today. (*gasp* WHAT? I love this!) Every other profession gets sick days, so why not genetically-enhanced android super-assassins? (HA! Neat-o) Unfortunately, that’s not how his owner/creator/father-figure, Simon Cordova, sees it. A few threats, a little brainwashing, and Eleven is off to the White House. (Of course!)
Only when he gets there, he finds that Simon has lied to him about Eleven being the only android around. Sure, meeting this other guy doesn’t stop Eleven from killing the president, but it certainly raises some questions, such as ‘Why has Simon lied to me?’ and ‘What am I?’ and ‘Why the hell am I being brainwashed?’ (Perfectly understandable.)
Except those answers need to wait, because this job didn’t end in DC. No, it followed Eleven home and found where his friends live. (Wait...his job was to kill the Pres and he did that, so what followed him home? And why is it dangerous?)
Now Eleven has to protect those around him while working through a budding existential crisis. (As one does.) But none of that will stop him from finding answers to every one of his questions, even if it takes a few explosions, abundant violence, and at least one hostage situation to do so. (His decision moment is to search for answers, to find who he is? And if so...the stakes are explosions, violent, a hostage? Okay. I'm in. Let's go)
And 250...
ReplyDelete“What?” Agent Olsen’s voice hissed through the telephone. “You’re calling out sick from assassinating the president?!”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I nestled the phone between my head and shoulder while I pulled the bag of Cheetos open. (Any details? Where is he? Can he see the stained shirt he's wearing...what do android super assassins wear? Sights sounds and smells can help put us in the scene...or do android super assassins smell?) Olsen probably heard it, but who cares? “I’m just feeling a little under the weather.”
“Under the weather?!” Olsen screamed. Static screeched over the line, the cords and tubes of the phone company cracking under the pressure. “You’re a genetically modified android, Eleven. You can’t feel under the weather!”
“Oh, did I say I felt sick? Meant to say tired.” I kicked my shoes off and fell backwards onto the couch. (which was worn and comfy?) “Didn’t sleep very well last night. Etcetera.”
Static hissed through the phone again before Olsen’s voice simmered down enough to be heard. “—any idea how much time and money and planning went into—“
I pulled the phone away from my ear and glared at it. I had nearly four years of perfect attendance under my belt, and they couldn’t give me just one damned vacation day? Sometimes people just weren’t up to the task of going outside and being productive—or, in my case, murdering politicians in cold blood. Today was definitely one of those off days for me.
Hopefully Agent Olsen and his boss could understand that. If not, then my status as a badass super-assassin earned me some other undeniable privileges.
(I love the voice! To treat assassinations so lightly is hilarious! This character is different and fun. I would love a few details, some description. I am very interested in what happens to Eleven.)
Thanks a lot for the feedback! I'll see what I can do to clear a few things up. :)
ReplyDeleteFrom the gorgeous Elsie Elmore...via me!
ReplyDeleteQuery :
Holy smoke – I laughed aloud and doubled back to read sentences twice. You’ve crafted a mighty fine query here that shows voice, conflict (both external and existential J, and you’ve got stakes. I LOVE it.
First 250:
With the bar raised so high with that query, I was worried. But your 250 deliver perfectly. I’m sad I don’t have more words to read. I love the tone, the reactions – everything. Great job.
I appreciate this kind of validation more than you can know. :)
DeleteMy thoughts. I am no agent, but I have seen my fair share of queries while reading subs for one of my publishers and while querying my own works. So, I hope this is of some benefit to you.
ReplyDeleteFirst off, awesome title! It's got that 80's Bueler's vibe, giving it a sense of humor, while still letting me know there will be action.
Query:
Eleven doesn’t feel like killing the President of the United States today. Every other profession gets sick days, so why not genetically-enhanced android super-assassins? Unfortunately, that’s not how his owner/creator/father-figure, Simon Cordova, sees it. A few threats, a little brainwashing, and Eleven is off to the White House.
***This opening is fabulous! I can't think of anything to add.
Only when he gets there, he finds that Simon has lied to him about Eleven being the only android around. Sure, meeting this other guy doesn’t stop Eleven from killing the president, but it certainly raises some questions, such as ‘Why has Simon lied to me?’ and ‘What am I?’ and ‘Why the hell am I being brainwashed?’
Except those answers need to wait, because this job didn’t end in DC. No, it followed Eleven home and found where his friends live.
Now Eleven has to protect those around him while working through a budding existential crisis. But none of that will stop him from finding answers to every one of his questions, even if it takes a few explosions, abundant violence, and at least one hostage situation to do so.
Oh my gosh. Go get a contract already...
First 250 Words:
“What?”
***Your query was so great and you start with breaking one of the rules: DO NOT open with dialogue. Set the scene first.***
Agent Olsen’s voice hissed through the telephone. “You’re calling out sick from assassinating the president?!”---Cut the !. Not needed.
“Yeah, sorry about that.” ---ROFL--- I nestled the phone between my head and shoulder while I pulled the bag of Cheetos open. Olsen probably heard it, but who cares? “I’m just feeling a little under the weather.”
“Under the weather?!”---don't do the ?! combo--- Olsen screamed. Static screeched over the line, the cords and tubes of the phone company cracking under the pressure. “You’re a genetically modified android, Eleven. You can’t feel under the weather!”
“Oh, did I say I felt sick? Meant to say tired.” I kicked my shoes off and fell backwards onto the couch. “Didn’t sleep very well last night. Etcetera.”
Static hissed through the phone again before Olsen’s voice simmered down enough to be heard. “—any idea how much time and money and planning went into—“
I pulled the phone away from my ear and glared at it. I had nearly four years of perfect attendance under my belt, and they couldn’t give me just one damned vacation day? Sometimes people just weren’t up to the task of going outside and being productive—or, in my case, murdering politicians in cold blood. Today was definitely one of those off days for me.
Hopefully Agent Olsen and his boss could understand that. If not, then my status as a badass super-assassin earned me some other undeniable privileges.
So great! You're so close to being ready. Just minor adjustments and you will be there! The voice is strong and dry witted,taking the edge off the assassination aspect.
Good luck!
Thank you for the opportunity to read your work! I really appreciate it. All the best to you!
ReplyDeletePlease keep in mind my comments are all IMHO – in my humble opinion.
That said, I absolutely love the concept of your story! A sarcastic android – who knew? From reading your query, I expect sci-fi, humor and drama. Excellent!
***See my additional comments in the query, in parentheses.
Only when he gets there, he finds that Simon has lied to him about Eleven being the only android around. Sure, meeting this other guy (confused; I got a little lost here – can you be more specific?) doesn’t stop Eleven from killing the president, but it certainly raises some questions, such as ‘Why has Simon lied to me?’ and ‘What am I?’ and ‘Why the hell am I being brainwashed?’
Except those answers need to wait (I would recommend raising the stakes here; instead of ‘answers need to wait’, something like, Eleven’s whole life is turned upside down – you get the idea) because this job didn’t end in DC. No, it followed Eleven home and found where his friends live.
Now Eleven has to protect (again, raise the stakes – instead of ‘protect’, defend, rescue, save) those around him while working through a budding (instead of budding, how about ‘four alarm’, dire, ) existential (I got a little lost with the use of the word existential, based on what you’ve told me up to this point. Do you need this? Or could you simplify; his life is in ruins, dire straits, everything he’s ever known he’s questioning – you get the idea) crisis. (Again, raise the stakes – nothing will stand in his way, He’s on a mission to expose… you get the idea) But none of that will stop him from finding answers to every one of his questions, even if it takes a few explosions, abundant violence, and at least one hostage situation to do so. ( I love the last part of this – it totally reeled me in.)
***Great! I get a great picture of Eleven in a short amount of time. And you’re setting the stage for lots of character growth. Excellent! Again, find my additional comments in parentheses, below.
“What?” Agent Olsen’s voice hissed through the telephone. “You’re calling out (off?) sick from assassinating the president?!”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I nestled the phone between my head and shoulder ***(be wary of words that indicate the passage of time – lots of times you don’t need it – it slows your story down for a microsecond – do it enough times and your story slows – here, you don’t even need it. Also, always go for the active, descriptive verb. Yanked, for example, versus pulled. EDITED: I nestled the phone between my neck and shoulder and yanked open a bag of Cheetos.) while I pulled the bag of Cheetos open. Olsen probably heard it, but who cares? “I’m just feeling a little under the weather.”
“Under the weather?!” Olsen screamed. Static screeched over the line, the cords and tubes of the phone company cracking under the pressure. “You’re a genetically modified android, Eleven. You can’t feel under the weather!”
“Oh, did I say I felt sick? Meant to say tired.” I kicked my shoes off and fell backwards (avoid directionals whenever possible – often they are implied - it’s enough to say ‘fell onto the couch’) onto the couch. “Didn’t sleep very well last night. Etcetera.”
Static hissed through the phone again before Olsen’s voice simmered down enough to be heard. (this reads passive – instead – Olsen’s voice simmered down enough that I could hear him. Eleven is performing the action, not the action being performed on him.) “—any idea how much time and money and planning went into—“
I pulled the phone away from my ear and glared at it. I had nearly four years of perfect attendance under my belt, and they couldn’t give me just one damned vacation day? Sometimes people just weren’t up to the task of going outside and being productive—or, in my case, murdering politicians in cold blood. Today was definitely one of those off days for me. ( I love this!)
Query:
ReplyDeleteEleven doesn’t feel like killing the President of the United States today. (Great opening line!) Every other profession gets sick days, so why not genetically-enhanced android super-assassins? Unfortunately, that’s not how his owner/creator/father-figure, Simon Cordova, sees it. A few threats, a little brainwashing, and Eleven is off to the White House. (Strong first paragraph. Accomplishes a lot of world-building in a few sentences.)
Only (Cut out ‘only’) when he gets there, he finds that Simon has lied to him about Eleven being the only android around. Sure, meeting this other guy (Replace with ‘another android’ or similar) doesn’t stop Eleven from killing the president, but it certainly raises some questions, such as ‘Why has Simon lied to me?’ and ‘What am I?’ and ‘Why the hell am I being brainwashed?’ (Ehhhhh, the questions don’t really work here. You could end with ‘raises some questions.’)
Except those answers need to wait, because this job didn’t end in DC. No, it followed Eleven home and found where his friends live. (The phrasing of ‘found where his friends live’ is awkward.)
Now Eleven has to protect those around him while working through a budding existential crisis. But none of that will stop him from finding answers to every one of his questions, even if it takes a few explosions, abundant violence, and at least one hostage situation to do so. (The last sentence makes me want to read this book.)
Are you sure this book is adult? The voice of this query is 100% YA. If Eleven is older than 18, I’d suggest rethinking the entire query. Even adult comedy doesn’t usually feel this young. I liked the 250 words, but they also strongly sound like YA. The doubled exclamation point/question mark screams teenage readers. Good descriptive language, and Eleven’s character comes through strongly. (He also comes through as being about 17, in maturity if not in age.)
Hey there,
ReplyDeleteHere are my comments.
Eleven (Might want to rethink that name...Stranger Things has sort of taken that over) doesn’t feel like killing the President of the United States today. Every other profession gets sick days, so why not genetically-enhanced android super-assassins? Unfortunately, that’s not how his owner/creator/father-figure, Simon Cordova, sees it. A few threats, a little brainwashing, and Eleven is off to the White House. (Ok, so far so good, a little silly but it's fine. REads a little YA not Adult, but I'll go with you for a minute here...)
Only when he gets there, he finds that Simon has lied to him about Eleven being the only android around. Sure, meeting this other guy doesn’t stop Eleven from killing the president, but it certainly raises some questions, such as ‘Why has Simon lied to me?’ and ‘What am I?’ and ‘Why the hell am I being brainwashed?’ (Isn't the point of brainwashing that the ones being washed don't know it?)
Except those answers need to wait, because this job didn’t end in DC. No, it followed Eleven home and found where his friends live. (I like the line about it followed him home, but "where his friends live" is weak. I don't care about his friends at this point. What if they're assholes?)
Now Eleven has to protect those around him while working through a budding existential crisis. But none of that will stop him from finding answers to every one of his questions, even if it takes a few explosions, abundant violence, and at least one hostage situation to do so. (Mmmm....okay, I'm in, but I'm not SOLD. The stakes seem vauge. I do like the voice and that works very well.)
First 250:
“What?” Agent Olsen’s voice hissed through the telephone. “You’re calling out sick from assassinating the president?!”
“Yeah, sorry about that.” I nestled the phone between my head and shoulder while I pulled the bag of Cheetos open.(I have a hard time buying a supersolider assassin eats Cheetos.) Olsen probably heard it, but who cares? “I’m just feeling a little under the weather.”
“Under the weather?!” Olsen screamed. Static screeched over the line, the cords and tubes of the phone company cracking under the pressure. “You’re a genetically modified android, Eleven. You can’t feel under the weather!”
“Oh, did I say I felt sick? Meant to say tired.” I kicked my shoes off and fell backwards onto the couch. “Didn’t sleep very well last night. Etcetera.”
Static hissed through the phone again before Olsen’s voice simmered down enough to be heard. “—any idea how much time and money and planning went into—“
I pulled the phone away from my ear and glared at it. I had nearly four years of perfect attendance under my belt, and they couldn’t give me just one damned vacation day? Sometimes people just weren’t up to the task of going outside and being productive—or, in my case, murdering politicians in cold blood. Today was definitely one of those off days for me.
Hopefully Agent Olsen and his boss could understand that. If not, then my status as a badass super-assassin earned me some other undeniable privileges.
(I get humor. And I get using it in Urban Fantasy. This is coming across kind of silly, though. Like, I don't feel like Eleven even takes himself seriously so why should I? Someone above mentioned this sounding more YA and I agree. I have a lot of questions about the interaction with Olsen. Is this typical for Eleven? Has he been exhibiting weird behavior before? It's reading a little farcical (farce-ish?) to me.)
Good luck!
Posted on behalf of Elsie:
ReplyDeleteYou have one of Elsie's votes!
Hi there. You have one of my votes :)
ReplyDeleteThanks so much for the extra critiques and votes!
ReplyDelete