The Writer's Voice #181

I'm sure most of you have heard about mutli-blog, mulit-agented "The Writer's Voice" contest, hosted by Cupid's Literary Connection, Brenda Drake, Monica B.W., and Krista Van Dolzer. If you've been living under a rock, a pile of edits, or you know, it you're not a writer, it's basically like the t.v. show, The Voice-- ten entries move to the second round, and then get a coach to help polish their entries before the agents see them. 

Contests like these are a fantabulous way (that's right, I said FANTABULOUS) for agent-seeking writers to rise to top of the slush pile AND meet other writers-- which, in my opinion is the only way to stay sane while querying a project. Meeting other writers who are going through the same thing as you makes the process much less alcohol-involved (usually). 

I wasn't going to enter this contest because I'd decided last month that I was going to retire the manuscript I've been querying. But then I remembered how many friends I made when I entered the Agent Invasion contest (and I got two requests out of it!) so I decided this was my last chance to give this manuscript one more little push into the world (that sounded gross. It was not meant to sound gross.)


So anyway, here is my submission for my YA Fantasy, WICKED ILLUSIONS. I'm number 181.


 Hope you like it. :-)

QUERY:

Sixteen-year-old Lilly Elliott is surrounded by death. In her hometown of Ironbrook, a mysterious fog claims the life of one resident every full moon— a death lottery that no one wants to win. She and the other townspeople would move if they could, but the fog is only one part of the complicated curse that envelops their town; no one can leave. Ever. If they try, the question of their death goes from possible to certain.

As if getting a regular dose of death isn’t enough, Lilly is also having vivid dreams about a missing boy who has a connection to the curse, and she’s starting to fall for him. She’s also recently discovered that she can bring dead things back to life, which could be the saving grace for the town of Ironbrook, except for one small problem; her power comes with a price. For every life she saves, she must replace the energy that she’s given away, and she can only do that by killing someone else. When Blair, an odd classmate, reveals the truth about Lilly’s new abilities, it doesn’t take Lilly long to find out that Blair has everything to do with the things that plague the town. And things in Ironbrook? Just. Get. Weirder.
 

Blair has the same abilities as Lilly, and is addicted to the way it feels to drain a life. She’ll do whatever she can to get Lilly to use her powers as well, including killing Noah, the boy she loves. To save Noah, her family, and the other residents of her town, Lilly has to figure out a way to stop Blair, which may start a war that she doesn’t know how to win.

WICKED ILLUSIONS is a YA fantasy novel, complete at 65,000 words. 

FIRST 250 WORDS:

Someone will die tonight. I wish I know who it’ll be so I can relax. Or not. 

               

I wrap my arms around my legs, settling my chin on top of my knees so I can peer out over the yard. The full moon reflects off of every surface, and the silvery light, almost milky in the dark midnight air, causes my world to glow. Sitting on the wide square of the front porch roof, just outside my bedroom window, is something I do every month when the full moon calls the deadly black fog into Ironbrook.
       

 Cursed. That's what they say is wrong with our town.
        

The fog slithers over the pavement below me, oozing across the yard and around the houses in our neighborhood. The thick, inky mist wraps around the oak trees and flowers, choking them in shadows. No one dares to leave their house on the eve of the full moon, in fear of what the fog might do to them if it touches their skin. I'm safe on the roof though, looming above the silent poison. I shiver as a strong breath of wind blows across the night sky, causing the haze to curl and ebb through the neighborhood at a faster pace.

        

The fog dances through the air and swirls around the posts of the porches that line the edges of the street. With a gust of wind, a thin tail of the black cloud suddenly twists and rises to the edge of the roof where I’m sitting.