Pandora's Box of Horrors 2017 Spoken Word Halloween Contest Honorable Mention: Thomas Carty

Honorable Mention: Thomas Carty: Vampire Killed by Love

I was invited to help judge the 2017 Spoken Word Halloween Contest for Pandora's Box of Horrors, and it's my pleasure to introduce you to our Honorable Mention entrant: Thomas Carty.

Thomas Carty's "Vampire Killed by Love" receives an honorable mention for story appeal and literary structure, and a resolved dénouement. However, judges felt the author’s delivery was soothingly incongruent to the horror-themed content.

Thomas was kind enough to answer a few questions about his work for me.

Tell me a little about you as a writer: I have been writing since a child. I come from a people who have a love of poetry and storytelling. As far as I know I'm the first rhymers in the family. We never say "poet" as that's too posh. In our tradition a rhymers is known as a poet but not his works. The works may be known but not the composer. I say composer as in old times a lot of rhymers could not read or write and learned and recited their pieces. Lucky enough I can write as I cannot learn to recite for love or money. I'm a member of Tullamore Rhymers Club and I mage & Poesia among other loose collectives. Living in Galway Ireland, I grew up in Offaly but hope to move back to my parents North Longford in the coming years.

What was the inspiration for your piece for this contest? It's an odd tale. I was advising a friend on her love life that if she loved a lover to let him go if he wanted to as they who love the flower let it grow and don't pluck it. This girl loves vampire stories and a eureka moment saw a tale of a girl who plucked the flower and let her lover sleep in and die from greed and laziness. Thus developed into a sister - a twin - who was the opposite. Then the idea of the healer priest (an Irish Catholic tradition) came in and it fell into place inside an hour. That's how I write in fits of inspiration. I read somewhere it's called "the divine madness"!!!!

Where else can our readers learn about you and your work? The best place to start is my website: www.writingsinrhyme.com

Pandora's House of Horrors 2017 Spoken Word Halloween Contest: 2nd place : K.N. Johnson

2nd place: K.N. Johnson: Specter Hill

I was invited to help judge the 2017 Spoken Word Halloween Contest for Pandora's Box of Horrors, and it's my pleasure to introduce you to our  2nd place winner: K.N. Johnson

K.N. Johnson's "Specter Hill" took second place "for spoken word delivery, scare factor, and story appeal of the tale. However, judges agreed that the tale seemed to beg a fuller telling, that it felt incomplete."

K.N. was kind enough to answer a few questions about her work for me.

Tell me a little about you as a writer: My short story “Frigid” won Mythraeum’s Pygmalion contest and is being developed into a short film by Mythraeum, LLC and Loste Films. Filming begins January 2018. My work has appeared in Proximity Magazine and Incandescent Mind literary journal. My short stories are included in the anthologies A Journey of Words, A Haunting of Words, Below the Deck - Tales from the Cellar and Polterguests. My dark science fiction story “Regolith” will appear in Kristell Ink’s upcoming anthology Terra Nullius. “The Clearing” will appear in the anthology On Fire published by Transmundane Press.

What was the inspiration for your piece for this contest? I was researching ghost stories and legends particular to the U.S. midwestern state of Indiana and came across the Spook Lights. There are similar stories of such lights in other U.S. states, but this one is only an hours' drive from my home. It intrigued me that engineers from the esteemed Purdue University even investigated these sightings. While they came up with logical possibilities, they couldn't conclude with exact certainty the source of these lights.

Where else can our readers learn about you and your work? I'm still working on a website, but I'm very active on my Facebook page. I announce when I have new stories published and interesting odds and ends that inspire me. My Facebook shop includes links for purchasing some of the anthologies my stories are included in.

Pandora's Box of Horrors 2017 Spoken Word Halloween Contest Winner: David Lewis Paget

1st place: David Lewis Paget: Myth maker: 

Halloween might just be my very favorite holiday. It's creepy and fun, fueled by sugar and imagination. In other words, it's right up my alley! So, when I was invited to help judge the 2017 Spoken Word Halloween Contest for Pandora's Box of Horrors, I jumped at the chance.

And here's our winner!

David Lewis Paget's "Mythmaker" won "for form and literary structure, for spoken word delivery, scare factor, and for the “totality” of the tale. Judges agreed it had great story appeal, a satisfying completeness of the story, and a well resolved dénouement."



David was kind enough to answer a few questions about his work for me.

Tell me a little about you as a writer: I began to write back in 1966, mainly short stories, but then poetry. I do remember that a love of language was involved, and I was most impressed by some of the Lennon/McCartney lyrics of the time such as, "she kept her face in a jar by the door." They had a surreal ability to open whole new vistas of thought.... "Lucy in the Sky with Diamonds" etc. I was educated in England, so my exposure was to the old English Poets like Blake, Coleridge, etc. who all wrote in rhyme and metre. I was determined to master rhyme and metre right from the beginning, and refused to go the way of free form, which I always considered to be the lazy way out.

I wrote interpersonal poetry for the first thirty odd years, until I was convinced that I'd eventually meet myself coming back, or begin to repeat myself, which I didn't want to do, Then fortuitously I took a teaching job in China for a year, and was exposed to Chinese Folk Lore which fascinated me. I came to the conclusion that the only poetry that really survives is that which tells a story, so I began to write in a narrative sense. Since then I have written well over 1,000 narratives, which takes my total output to over 1400 poems. I publish through Lulu.com and have seventeen books of poetry available there, for those who would like to check them out.

What was the inspiration for your piece for this contest? The 'Myth Maker' is merely just one of many Gothic Type themes that I've played with over time. I like to wander across a landscape that exists outside what we might describe as 'normal,' where the most improbable things happen to the most improper people. I was a very early fan of Edgar Allan Poe, having gorged on his 'Tales of Mystery and Imagination' at the age of eleven, when my father pointed it out to me on his bookshelf. That experience captured me for life, and I attempt to continue Poe's experimental works in my own style of Gothic Narrative Poetry. As a horror story, I think the Myth Maker hits the spot.

Where else can our readers learn about you and your work? All my poetry is posted onto the timeline of my Facebook Page, as a link to the actual work on WritersCafe.org. I usually post to about 15 different sites, so as to try and gain as wide a readership as possible. So you may befriend me on Facebook, or on WritersCafe to view my work. On Facebook I only accept friend requests from people whose own pages reflect an interest in poetry or literature of some kind. But I usually accept all requests from people on WritersCafe. I hold a monthly reading over Gulf FM 89.3 which is streamed, and may be heard anywhere in the world.This is on the last Wednesday of each month between 12.30 - 1.00pm South Australian time. It's part of the Copper Coast Writers Program.

I also have a number of video readings on youtube, and some audio readings on Soundcloud. Just google my name on those sites to bring them up. In addition, Jeanette Leone Skirvin has collaborated with me on recording some of my poetry as videos, and are certainly worth a look. All on youtube.

Son of a Pitch: Entry Ten: Long Lost Treasure: A Promise Kept

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord), Katie Hamstead Teller (Princess Luna)

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Title: Long Lost Treasure: A Promise Kept
Category and Genre: Adult Romance
Word Count: 26,000

Query:

Beth, a military widow, left her life behind ten years ago to start over. Now due to an unexpected situation, Beth is forced to return home, but without fail finds herself caught in middle of making decisions she’s not ready to make, torn between her present state of happiness and the life she left behind so long ago, and becomes quickly overwhelmed by all her past rushing towards her with so many unanswered questions. DB, Beth’s former brother-in-law and has been a best friend to Beth all her life, but now needs more than anything wants to know and most importantly understand why she left so abruptly ten years ago without even a good-bye.

So, will Beth’s visit force her to face her past and reveal more than one secret that could change her future forever? Or will DB force her to leave again and never look back?

First 250 Words:

Under a hot summer sun, sitting quietly with tears streaming down my face, listening to the 21-gun salute ringing out in the distance, and clinging to a folded American Flag, all I could think was that this was all just a dream.

Military wives always dread two things, moving and ‘the phone call’. It was earlyThursday morning, as I was getting ready to head out for my morning jog, when something told me not to leave just yet. Ten minutes later the phone rang and it was my brother-in-law, Dallas ‘DB’ Bryant. The moment I heard his voice I knew something was wrong and my life would forever be changed.

“Beth…” there was a long moment of silence, “…do you remember the promise I made?” he struggled to say.

Here’s the thing about promises, they are meant to be broken, but this one was made to ensure it would never be broken. Jackson ‘Gage’ Bryant, was my best friend and high school sweetheart, we were married two weeks after graduation in a small intimate ceremony and then six weeks later he and DB were off to boot camp. They were inseparable. DB was almost two years older than Gage, but the military was a passion they shared, other than sports and women. Against their family’s wishes because of the war in the Middle East, not to mention there was a strong family tradition of military men in the Bryant Family, they enlisted together. They insisted it was something they had to do for not only their country to preserve the freedom they cherished, but for generations of Bryants to come.

We had been married a year when their unit was scheduled to deploy to Iraq for eighteen months, with possible five-day weekend home passes every four to six months. I made them promise that if anything was to happen, for one of them to call me or their family before the military officials did.

“Beth, are you there?” a shaky voice questioned.

“Yeah,” I choked as the tears began to fall down my face knowing this was the call I didn’t want.

“Gage…” he started, “…Gage is gone Beth” he continued with another moment of silence before explaining what happened. He and three other members of his unit went out on patrol early this morning when an Improvised Explosive Device or IED, otherwise known as a roadside bomb, detonated near their Humvee. There weren’t any survivors.

Son of a Pitch: Entry Nine: The Merged

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord), Katie Hamstead Teller (Princess Luna)

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Title: The Merged
Category and Genre: Adult Science Fiction
Word Count: 85,000

Query:

Two centuries ago, a fiery celestial orb ignited the night sky over Earth’s northern hemisphere. From it rained down a hive-mind of shapeless creates called Yuva. They took on human form with the peaceful goal of growing their numbers and then leaving without ever being discovered. But when years pass without a single Yuva birth, panic and confusion rises, and they begin to blame the humans for their demise.

Essence is a Yuva Commander. Just as she is trying to rein in her people’s sinister plans against the humans she believes to be innocent, her sister is stolen away by a covert team of government contractors. Essence risks her reputation and the lives of her enclave in a daring rescue effort, but discovers that saving her sister is impossible: the humans have developed biological weapons that render her shapeshifting inert, with higher dosages lethal to all Yuva kind.

Undeterred, Essence leads an escalating war to save her sister and ultimately her own kind, but when she uncovers a secret about the two very different peoples, she realizes they might not be enemies after all, and, for the ultimate price, humanity might actually be the savior of her kind.

First 250 Words:
In 213 years, Essence had never killed a human. The thought of ending such a delicate life brought on a crippling nausea only six weeks ago. The back of her teeth clenched, rotten acid dripped down her throat. But now, shivering against the metal plank, weaponized vapors burning her lungs, she knew one thing: death came for all.

A heavy door scratched at its hinges and rattled open. Essence startled. The jarring noise meant only one thing. Either they captured someone new, or they extracted someone old, neither would ever be seen again.

Today it was someone new. Down the concrete corridor outside her cell, soldiers dragged a woman along. The scrappy push and pull of resistance clanged in a lopsided rhythm. One of them limped. Maybe it was the captive, maybe it was one of the soldiers.

The unit stopped at an empty cell two down from hers. Aluminum batons shoved the woman in. She sobbed. Essence searched the vocals, isolating the rich timbre of the young voice. No. The new captive wasn't the one she searched for, the one that led her to this place, the one that got her caught. But the woman didn’t have to worry. In a few minutes, Essence would set her free. She’d set them all free.

Rubber soles turned on the linoleum floor, the squeak pitched high and hurt her ears. The soldiers headed out the same way they came in. But one of them didn’t follow his comrades.

Son of a Pitch: Entry Four: Fear Factory

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord), Katie Hamstead Teller (Princess Luna)

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Title: FEAR FACTORY
Category and Genre: Adult Science Fiction Thriller
Word Count: 110,000

Query:
Sarah is an accomplished medical student whose confidence is shaken after spending months at Doctors Without Borders coping with the harsh realities of the world. Eager to restore her self-esteem before beginning her residency, Sarah agrees to participate in a new television show that pits contestants against their fears in a virtual arena. Since her greatest fear is failure, she feels that the prize money is hers to win.

Sarah is bullied by Christine, a vindictive contestant who will stop at nothing to gain competitive advantage. Sarah is disqualified when her prescription interferes with the fear-response monitoring used by the virtual reality simulator. Relegated to the role of spectator, the brutality of the arena is displayed as the line between fantasy and reality is erased. When a competitor is critically injured inside the arena, Sarah’s medical instincts propel her into action.

After a failed attempt to save the fallen competitor, Sarah learns that the show is merely a ruse to lure unsuspecting participants into a fear-response project sponsored by the government. The contestant who perseveres will be used to unlock the potential of the artificial intelligence for its intended purpose. With Christine at the helm, the arena is converted into a powerful interrogation chamber for the Department of Defense. When the stresses of the arena place Christine in peril, Sarah must push aside the bad blood between them and overcome her fear of failure to save her life.


First 250 Words:
The phone slipped from my hand and bounced on the threadbare carpet. Dr. Anders’ muted voice beckoned from the floor. “Are you still there, Sarah?”

I slid off the bed and fumbled to align the receiver with my ear. “Oh my God. Sorry, I’m still here.” Everything was moving so fast. It was like spontaneity had sucked down a Red Bull. Most people run from their fears. I was willing to fly across the country to face mine.

“I appreciate your enthusiasm. To be honest, I wasn’t certain how you would react.”

For an instant, doubt tried to gain a foothold in my mind. I was just invited to be on a new television show. An all-expenses-paid trip to Las Vegas awaited. Who wouldn’t want to go? “Is there any reason I shouldn’t be excited?”

“From what you told me, you’ve been through a lot recently.”

I nodded before realizing that he could not see me. “Yes. That’s true. But I am ready to move on.”

“Are you, Sarah? This is no joke. Fear Factory will require your full mental capacity.”

Part of me was offended that he so openly questioned my mental toughness. Medical School had prepared me for everything. Almost everything. Ghana was a different story. “I think I know where you’re going with this. Like I already said, you weren’t there.”

“Yes, of course. I don’t suppose anything could prepare you for the horrors of the outside world. And I do sympathize with your plight. It must have been hard to lose so many children. You are a very brave woman.”

Son of a Pitch: Entry Two: The Camp

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord)

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Title: The Camp
Category and Genre: Adult SciFi
Word Count: 94,000

Query:
Three hundred years ago, the colonies of Drea and Baile were established, safe havens for the people when their home planet died out. Two hundred year ago, Drea went silent. Ten days ago, missiles rained down on Baile.

As a prisoner of war, twenty-four year old Celia does not make it to the work camp before she has her first run in with her captors. Beaten for using the restroom without permission, separated from the young charge she has sworn to protect, and ogled by the guards during her first shower in weeks, Celia is terrified, angry and lost. But she rejects an opportunity for an easier life in camp because it means accepting, even supporting, the Drea in their conquest. Better food and an easier job are not worth that price.

Then a chance conversation reveals Celia’s ultimate fate. The Drea plan to send her and all the other young women to breeding houses. Spending the rest of her life as a brood mare for the enemy is a future that she will do anything to avoid. When she receives an invitation to join the resistance, it’s the opportunity she has been waiting for, escape and the chance to deal a blow to the people who took everything from her.

The problem: the resistance is led by a traitor, a Bailen soldier turned Drea stooge and the man who abandoned her during the invasion. If he betrays her again, Celia will face public execution.

First 250 Words:

There is only one rule and it is strictly enforced: Stay in your seat.

But Oona’s squirming has become increasingly frantic. It’s been hours since the guards have been through and, with no one to grant permission, a trip to the train car’s single restroom is out of the question. At least it is until the little girl starts sobbing with the pain of holding it. Despite knowing her for less than a week, I can’t bear to watch her humiliate herself.

I decide to risk it.

Horrified stares follow us as we hustle down the aisle but no one says a word. No one dares, even as I stand outside the door, waiting for her to come out. And once she’s done, I place her in the only empty seat nearby while I take my turn. 

When I come out, she’s gone, her empty seat a hollow gap that draws me in. The three people remaining in the section don’t look over. They continue to stare out the window, riveted to the monotonous landscape that flashes past.

“Where is she?” I ask the woman who had been sitting next to Oona.

“We sent her away. They could have come through and she would have caused trouble.” I have to stoop low to catch the words.

I would like to ask her how much trouble a tiny, frightened child could possibly make but, when I look at her, the words crumble in my mouth.

Son of a Pitch: Entry Five: The Savage

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord), Katie Hamstead Teller (Princess Luna)

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Title: The Savage
Category and Genre: Adult / SciFi
Word Count: 109,000

Query:
Manu Talib always does the right thing. Always. Even Manu’s betrothed can’t tempt him to disobey the onerous rules of the all-powerful god Thoth. Manu achieves his wildest ambition when he prevails in a brutal set of trials and wins the right to join Thoth’s elite warriors. But when Thoth sends Manu to exterminate the savages living beyond the eastern border, Manu’s faith is set on a collision course with his conscience.

Manu is injured during the campaign and rescued by Rafiq, one of the heretics he was sent to slay. Rafiq’s kindness leads Manu to question his obedience to Thoth’s ruthless decrees. When Manu’s fellow soldiers discover them and kill Rafiq, an enraged Manu retaliates, killing one of his former comrades. Manu is sentenced to death for his crime, but escapes with the help of his betrothed and stows away on Thoth’s flying chariot.

Manu’s exile leads him to a centuries-old secret: Thoth is a fraud used by an advanced society to control Manu’s people. Left with no master but his conscience, Manu refuses to accept the murderous lie on which his society depends, even if exposing the truth means facing execution and risking the survival of his civilization.

First 250 Words:
Manu fidgeted on the cart’s high bench, eager for the caravan to depart. Father climbed up beside him, graceful despite his size, and gathered the reins.

“The Old Jackal’s nearly down,” Father said, nodding at the setting sun. “We’ll be leaving soon.”

“Do you think we’ll see any Eastlings?” Manu asked.

“I pray to Thoth we don’t. The supply depot is supposed to be well away from the fighting. We’ll have a couple of Judges with us, just in case.”

“Do you think we’ll see Hanif?”

“I don’t rightly know,” Father said. His eyes tightened. “But don’t you go talking to a Judge unless he talks to you first. Even if it’s your brother.”

“I’m not a child anymore. I’ll remember.”

The carts and wagons ahead began to move. Father snapped the reins gently. Their horse snorted, but lurched into a walk. The Old Jackal sank quickly, and soon Manu’s view was limited to the swaying circle of light cast by a lamp hanging from the cart in front of them. He squinted into the gloom but could see little but Father beside him, the horse ahead, and other circles of light bobbing in front and behind like luminous islands in a dark stream.

Manu's breath misted and clouded in the cool air. He leaned back against the forage sacks filling the cart bed. Hay stalks poked through the burlap and tickled his cheeks around the edges of his keffiyeh. At least the makeshift cushion provided some warmth.

Son of a Pitch: Entry Eight: Robot Dreams

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord), Katie Hamstead Teller (Princess Luna)

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Title: ROBOT DREAMS
Category and Genre: YA Science Fiction
Word Count: 80,000 words

Query:

Wayward android Ada has never seen the outside world, until a mistaken outburst leaves her a liability to the eccentric humans who took her in. Cast out into the night, she soon finds herself an unwilling recruit at a human army camp.

At the mercy of humans taught all their life to hate her kind, Ada is forced to disguise her true identity or risk deactivation. When she is sent on a vital mission with teenage commander Nico to the heart of machine controlled territory, with the most powerful anti-robot weapon at their disposal, Ada has to decide where her allegiances lie.

She's never had a choice before. Zigzagging through a landscape ravaged by war, her journey of discovery will show her both the kindest and cruellest depths of humanity and reveal horrific truths about her world. When the 'big bad' and you are one and the same, it's hard to catch a lucky break.

Danger is closing in on all sides. It's time for Ada to decide which she'd rather be: (wo)man or machine.

First 250 Words:

They both closed their eyes and murmured words of thanksgiving together.

“Thank you for our home, for this food we eat today and for our safety from the metal-lovers outside.”

“May I be excused?” I asked, shifting uncomfortably in my seat, the charging wire plugged into my spine rubbing against the back of the chair.

Scott looked up first, peering at me over his wiry glasses.

“Stay, Ada. There are things you can be thankful for too. Why don’t you share them?” Scott’s voice was low and melodic, almost as if he was trying to hypnotise me.

“I’m thankful for...”

I looked over at Janet for clues, but today she wasn’t in the mood to be helpful. She shook her head insistently, looking like the little nodding dog in the old commercial they made me watch once. We were two hundred feet below ground, playing at happy families, and I was completely reliant on them for the electricity I needed to survive. I might never have seen the outside world but I wasn’t dumb enough to think that a family consisted of Mum and Dad and a metal-girl.

“I’m thankful I won't starve to death when the food stores run out,” I said, their eyes widening in response. I could never quite work out what they wanted me to say. The truth was always too blunt, but I couldn’t quite get the hang of delivering just the right strength of lie to lessen the blow.

Son of a Pitch: Entry Seven: Recycled Identities

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord), Katie Hamstead Teller (Princess Luna)

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Title: RECYCLED IDENTITIES
Category and Genre: YA Science Fiction
Word Count: 98,000

Query:

In 2265, fifteen-year-old Mouse yearns to escape from the computer controlled foster system and fly to one of Earth’s exciting new colony planets. She can start over and become someone else. But she’s trapped for three more years, unless she can convince a foster parent to adopt her. Unfortunately, her sixth foster parent abandons her during a city evacuation, and Mouse barely escapes a kidnapping attempt. Desperate to avoid her former abusive group home and hide from the kidnapper, she programs a new identity and joins a group of runaway boys in their underground courier service. Disguised as a boy, Mouse avoids the unwanted attention she’s run from all her life.

Deep in the forest reserve, the biggest issue in seventeen-year-old Taryn’s life is telling her parents she wants to intern on a colony planet, until illegal miners blow up her home and kill her family. Taryn flees into the forest, her only thought survival.

Mouse’s safety is shattered when the kidnapper captures all the courier boys. Her first instinct is to program a new identity and flee, but she can’t leave them to face the horrors they might endure. She follows the clues to an isolated lab in the middle of the forest. Her friends lie in comas, and, in the next room, vacant-eyed kids are trapped in a virtual reality. Mouse rescues the only person still functioning, Taryn, captured while investigating her family’s murder.

Together, the girls must rescue the boys before the lab programs them into mining robot replacements and ships them to a distant asteroid to work until they die.

First 250 Words:

The Spaceport shuttle lifted elegantly over the rows of shipping containers and hovered above the burning city. So close, yet totally unreachable.

Mouse blinked away useless tears.

Ash billowed over the burnt transportation terminal and swirled around her head, obscuring her view for a moment. If everything had gone the way she planned, Mouse would’ve been on that shuttle in nine months, flying to the Jarian Spaceport and boarding a colony ship to Tanek.

Instead, she huddled at the edge of the cargo field with the last of the evacuees while flames engulfed the temporary city-block. Stuck on Earth.

It had been so hard not to beg Emma to take her with them. But it wouldn’t have changed anything. No one really wanted her.

Mouse had twisted her lips into a fake smile and waved her sixth foster parent off with the words she knew Emma wanted to hear. “Of course I understand. I’ve only been here three months. No time to change your colony application. It’s a great opportunity. Go. I’ll be fine.”

Emma’s grateful smile hadn’t made it any easier. Only twenty evacuees had received the offer to skip the emigration wait-list. Of course Emma chose to fly to Tanek now, rather than relocate to another city-block for the next nine months.

Mouse didn’t know why it still hurt. After fifteen years, she should be used to it.

Everyone leaves.

Mouse’s breath caught as the shuttle wings rippled, transforming to propulsion configuration. Flames reflected off the gleaming silver fuselage, a star about to explode.

Son of a Pitch: Entry Six: Damaged Goods

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord), Katie Hamstead Teller (Princess Luna)

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Title: (Damaged Goods)
Category and Genre: (YA Science Fiction)
Word Count: (100,000)

Query:

As if having a boy’s name isn’t bad enough, Joe is an unusually tall and brawny teenage girl with a debilitating stutter, trapped on a continent terrorized by a menacing army of child-snatchers from a neighboring continent. No one knows why they’re kidnapping the children; all Joe knows is she might be next.

Her people came as war refugees to this continent—Australia hundreds of years from now—where she is born, in secret, to her overprotective father. When her people spur an aggressive retaliation from the snatchers, they mount an attack that leaves Joe completely broken, without loved ones and an arm. With the enemy blocking all access to leave the continent, and her father no longer there to protect her, Joe has no choice but to push through her reclusive nature and post-traumatic stress disorder. The new friendships of a quirky, chatterbox boy and secret scientists give her the emotional and physical tools to battle the enemy, including a highly advanced prosthetic arm. With her joke-cracking ally, she embarks on a desperate quest to free her people from the horrors of the enemy.

Joe’s attention has been solely on the enemy, but she soon discovers something is very wrong with her own people, and worse, those she has trusted the most have been keeping her in the dark about how and why her people are on this continent and how it’s connected to everything about her down to her abnormal size.

First 250 Words:

AGE 14

The constriction around my neck has lessened over time. This doesn’t stop the sickening sweat that drenches me. I fear I’ll throw up. Choke.

Uncle Charly carries himself into the room like he’s stepping in from another dimension. Artificial lights tarnish his orange hair. Halos shine behind him. I gaze into Charly’s eyes. He doesn’t acknowledge my stare.

“Let’s give you some time to get used to not having that on,” Charly whispers after removing the neck brace. He looks away. I think my head will fall off my shoulders even though I’m lying flat. Sleep steals me away.

When I wake, an insect-like buzz vibrates in my ears as the top half of my bed inclines; Charly’s pushing a button. He gently squirts water into my mouth. “Can you try sitting up?”

I test my head—it doesn’t feel like it will topple anymore. I attempt to sit, but my body trembles like crazy.

“It’s normal, you haven’t used your muscles in months,” Charly says softly.

I try again. Something’s wrong. Now that the neck brace is not restricting, I finally look down.

A shudder jolts me.

In place of where my right arm should be, is empty air.

AGE 13

They came to reduce our numbers, again. Except this time, one of our soldiers rode up with a haunted face and two fingers in the air. It took my father a few seconds to figure out it meant two children were snatched away instead of one.

Son of a Pitch: Entry Three: Conduit

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord), Katie Hamstead Teller (Princess Luna)

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Title: Conduit
Category and Genre: YA Science Fiction
Word Count: 68,000

Query:

Lif, an ancient AI suffering from survivor's guilt, asks a naive teen to help her obtain freedom.

Why would a 400-year-old AI want a 14-year-old boy's help? Everyone believes that all AIs were destroyed long ago in the 22nd century, but Caidan can hear Lif thinking. He is one Conduit of millions physically adapted to manipulate electricity and assigned to maintain underground reactors. Being a prototype, he alone knows she exists. She cannot hear him until an electrical overload gives her the chance to ask for his aid. The Conduit gladly agrees to try and break her shackles in return for a new life. Pursued by deadly agents of the Executive who owns them, Caidan must climb to the forbidden City Above, where Lif's hardware has been forgotten for centuries. Despite her brilliance and his adaptations, only their connection can save them.

First 250 Words:
“He called them ‘ghosts in the machine.’ Not Isaac Asimov with whom the phrase would be tied for decades. An ancient philosopher of the twentieth century named Arthur Koestler. No one else remembers him. Was he a good man? Or a smart one? I think myself a poor judge of such human qualifications, but if no one remembers, who is to say that I am wrong?

“When he wrote those words, Koestler had no concept of inhuman machines or of the constructs of titanium, steel, and silicon that would soon power the world. He did not know that half a millennium later, only I would recall his name. Nor did Asimov know that his name would take over words spoken by another, older man. I suppose interactions of that sort are part of ‘life’—taking on the words and ideas of another that has ceased to bear them. I have no way to know. It is unlikely that I should ever cease. I have no one to assume my words and bear them into the future even if I did.

“I could be described as many machines. Or do I only reside in the machines? I do not know. There is no one to ask.

“I do believe that, if Koestler and Asimov were alive today, they would like me. Perhaps they would look at all that I am and am not, and think me to be lovely. Or perhaps I am only a ghost in the machines.”

Son of a Pitch: Entry One: Forward Remorse

For my regular readers, these are some special posts this week as part of a pitch contest I'm providing feedback for. My normal musings will return next week.

For participants, welcome to my blog! I'm happy to host you and excited to see what kinds of stories you've written. Please remember that only the author of this piece and the participating judges are supposed to comment. All other comments will be deleted.

We're Team Fluttershy! Because here on Balancing Act, we're both quite sweet unless you provoke us, in which case, we are terrifying.

You can check out other teams on the other hosting blogs: Rena Rocford (Rainbow Dash), Kathleen Ann Palm (Rarity), Elizabeth Roderick (Discord), Katie Hamstead Teller (Princess Luna)

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Title: FORWARD REMORSE

Category: Young Adult, Science Fiction

Word Count: 83,000


QUERY: Seventeen-year-old Hugo Morse is a model citizen of the 32nd century. He’s earnest and dutiful, if a tad uptight about timeship laws. Having grown up running interference between his little sisters and their demanding fleet captain mother, he’s more parent than brother, but he burns for independence on solid ground.

So, when he’s stranded in dead space controlled by a rogue AI named MAHM who’s abducted aliens from the deep past, the criminal implications make him dizzy. MAHM orders him to mentor her alien team and revive their planets, despite the grave risks to the timeline he comes from. If he doesn’t cooperate, she could space him, or, worse, erase his future and family.

Hugo tries to slow MAHM’s plans, but the aliens prove annoyingly likable. As they push back against his delays, they creep into his heart like cheerful weeds and spark his caretaker complex. He builds his own AI in secret, planning to use it to free them all from MAHM, but her time meddling attracts a worse enemy.

Moravien Tigg, a mad scientist princess from the past, will stop at nothing to get time travel for herself. Driven by a prophecy that she will save her species, she hunts Hugo across space. They clash and sparks fly, especially once a paradox casts them as reluctant allies.

Caught between the laws of time travel and his contrary heart, Hugo must choose between the utopian future he remembers and an uncertain past that already remembers him.

FIRST 250 WORDS

“Harden your heart, time traveler, for the present depends on a static past.” That’s what the copper-etched warning above the nearby docking port reads, as if any of the Syndicate’s quadrillion citizens passing beneath might forget. I never will.

It’s too much pressure to dwell on, especially for my little sisters, the twins Lorel and Nora, who stare at me with eager brown eyes. As soon as we see Earth in the forward viewing lounge of Luna Station, they push me onto a bench and drop their news bomb like luggage at my feet. They want to stay behind and party with their class while I journey to join Mother at our new colony.

At only thirteen, they’re about to achieve their first real freedom—a holiday with friends. Friends who are real people, not historical figures I program as study companions. A good brother should make them sweat this choice. Just a little.

I focus over their glossy black hair, pretending not to see hands flying to their hips. “Tell me the plan.”

“Claim human error,” Nora says in a rush. “You tell that to Uncle Bak, and convince him to tell Mother, and everything will—Why are you taking a picture?”

I lower my handheld. “Evidence for the family scrapbook. I’ll call this page ‘Nora’s descent into criminally dangerous thinking.’”

Her frown curves exactly like Mother’s. “You wouldn’t.”

“Or maybe ‘When my baby sisters pulled me to the dark side.’” I wiggle my eyebrows.

She smacks the device from my hands, but I catch it before it hits the polycrete.

#SonofaPitch is back!

Son of a Pitch is back! The query and pitch contest, organized by the fabulous Katie Hamstead Teller offers several layers of feedback and the potential to get your query read by publishers. More than one Son of a Pitch winner has landed a book deal this way.

I'll be acting as an author judge/blog host for Round 2 again this year, which begins on Monday, September 18th, 2017. So, here's a head's up for my regular readers that we'll be taking a week off of talking about whatever is on Samantha's mind, to offer this space to participating authors to get feedback on their queries. I'll be Team Fluttershy (Yep, we're Ponies this year: and my daughter says that Fluttershy is "quite sweet but terrifying if you provoke her." Just like me!)

I always enjoy this contest immensely. The participants bring such enthusiasm and the depth of feedback is greater than I've seen in any other query contest. So, if you're a querying author, I recommend you check this one out!

You can read more about the contest on Katie's blog. And check out the action on Twitter under the hashtag #SonofaPitch

Being the Judge

I've had the opportunity to serve as a judge in a few different kinds of contests in the past few months. I provided feedback and voted for writers to move to the next level in a pitch contest (#SonofaPitch), a contest I've now worked with twice. I read and ranked stories by young writers for a brand new fiction contest (Lune Spark). Next, I'm returning to judge a second year for the Women's Fiction Writers Association Rising Star contest for unpublished novels. 

None of these roles came with a gavel or a cool black robe with a lace collar, but they did come with the opportunity to re-connect with my passion for writing.

You see, writing is work. Hard work. Especially if you want to make a career of it. You've got to produce a lot of words, good ones, and find publishing homes for those. You have to get out there and

shake your tailfeathers trying to get people to notice, buy, and praise your work. In the midst of all that nose to the grindstone, a girl can forget that the reason we do this is because it's fun, because we are passionate about words and story. 

It's a joy to spend time with writers who are fresh to the passion. They can reignite your own fire. 

It's also good for your own word-smithing. 

I've been participating in and facilitating a writers critique group for some years now, and I value the giving of advice and feedback as highly as receiving it. Serving as a judge or critic can really help you learn to articulate what is and isn't working in a piece.

As a casual reader, I might just say, "I like this" or "I don't like this." But as a writer-who-reads, I want to understand why a story is or isn't working for me, whether or not I'll be providing feedback

for the author in question. What's pulling me out of the immersive experience of reading? Is it something I'm bringing to the experience, like exhaustion, distraction, preconceptions, or biases? Or is it something in the piece itself, like poor structure, clunky dialogue, or undeveloped characters? Is it something I can imitate or avoid in my own writing?

Doing this as a judge is the same, but amplified. The pace is more intense, and I have no relationship with the entrants, who are all strangers to me: no history to pull from or basis for trust. Yet I still need to articulate the flaws in their work in a respectful and supportive manner that helps them take their work to the next level. It's a special challenge to do this very quickly, over the space of only a few days. The turnaround time can be quick in a contest setting.

Serving as a judge really helps me look at my own craft in a new light. Participating in events like the

award-giving and talking with the other judges challenges me to define my terms and articulate my views clearly. It's an experience I recommend for any writer looking to take her game to the next level.

Besides, it's always good to spend time with other people living the life of words. They speak your language.