Hey, all. I haven't posted in quite a while, mostly because all my final projects were eating me alive. But, now I'm done with them. And I'm done with my first semester at Hampshire College. So, hooray for me!
You know what's coming soon? (And no, it's not Christmas. Although that's coming soon, too.)
The annual Amazon Breakthrough Novel Award contest. Also known as ABNA. Also known as, "that crazy writing thing Brigid will be ranting about for the next few months."
If you don't know what it is, you can read about it here.
Basically, it's a contest for unpublished and self-published authors. You need to have written a complete novel between 50,000 and 150,000 words. You also need to write a pitch. There are various stages of the contest––starting with a judgment of the pitch, then the first 5000 words, then of the entire manuscript (assuming you get that far in the contest).
So, if you've written a novel and you're not (traditionally) published yet, it's worth checking out. Even if you don't get too far in the contest, you can meet a lot of other writers on the forums and get advice from them. It's a terrific learning experience about the publishing industry. And if you do make it far in the contest, you get a review from Publishers Weekly... which is pretty dang cool.
Oh yeah. And if you win, you get a publishing deal with Penguin and a $15,000 advance. And that's also cool. But, you know ... the chances of getting that prize are 1/5000.
So, yeah. I'm entering this thing for the third year in a row. I plan to do what I've done for the past two years: frantically edit my manuscript throughout the remainder of December and January, until the deadline (which is January 23rd). Hopefully I'll get some feedback of some sort. I'll probably edit some more. Then I'll spend the summer sending out queries and most likely drowning in rejection letters. HOORAY!
This year I'm entering Unraveling, which I finished writing in February. So, we'll see what happens.
Anyone else entering? Or thinking of entering?
Showing posts with label contest. Show all posts
Showing posts with label contest. Show all posts
Monday, December 19, 2011
Saturday, June 25, 2011
First Page Contest with Victoria Marini
So, here's what's up.
Fellow blogger and YA writer Shelley Watters is hosting a contest on her blog, "Is It Hot In Here Or Is It This Book?". The idea is, writers submit the first 250 words of their manuscripts, and the entries will be judged by literary agent Victoria Marini of the Gelfman Schneider Literary Agency. The winner will receive a full request from Victoria, as well as a partial critique. Victoria will also select runners-up, who will receive partial requests.
Awesome, right?
Full contest rules are here.
As part of the contest, writers are posting their entries on their blogs for critique. So, without further ado, here is my entry. Critique away!
brigidrgh@gmail.com
Walking Shadow
YA Fantasy
99,000 words
Everything is a lie––their faces, their words, the books on their desks, the clothes they wear. It's a barrier as fragile as a bubble. Underneath it, there is only emptiness.
I know their fears, their secrets, the feelings they hide. I know their loneliness; it emanates from their minds, building from a whisper to a murmur to a scream that ricochets around in my skull.
One of the shrieking souls is my own. I may not be normal, but I'm still human. I share their pain. On the inside, we're all screaming.
But I've learned that I'm different. I accept the scathing mess of words their minds throw at me: freak, girl, freak, witch, goth, freak. I don't care what they think, as long as they never know the truth. They can think I dyed my hair blood-red, that my reflective eyes are contacts. They can think I wear long sleeves because I cut myself, even though I'm hiding something very different from the furious red slashes they'd expect.
I don't blame them. It's human to make judgments. If I had a choice, I would make them, too.
Instead, I have to know everything about everyone––who hates who, who's sleeping with who, who's doing drugs, whose parents hit them. Thoughts and dreams and memories and fears all burst inside my head like fireworks … and someday, I won't be able to take it anymore.
I never asked for this. I sure as hell never wanted it. My whole life, I've kept it inside. And it's killing me, crawling through my veins like a disease.
How long before it takes over––before it takes me, like it took my mother?
Fellow blogger and YA writer Shelley Watters is hosting a contest on her blog, "Is It Hot In Here Or Is It This Book?". The idea is, writers submit the first 250 words of their manuscripts, and the entries will be judged by literary agent Victoria Marini of the Gelfman Schneider Literary Agency. The winner will receive a full request from Victoria, as well as a partial critique. Victoria will also select runners-up, who will receive partial requests.
Awesome, right?
Full contest rules are here.
As part of the contest, writers are posting their entries on their blogs for critique. So, without further ado, here is my entry. Critique away!
brigidrgh@gmail.com
Walking Shadow
YA Fantasy
99,000 words
Everything is a lie––their faces, their words, the books on their desks, the clothes they wear. It's a barrier as fragile as a bubble. Underneath it, there is only emptiness.
I know their fears, their secrets, the feelings they hide. I know their loneliness; it emanates from their minds, building from a whisper to a murmur to a scream that ricochets around in my skull.
One of the shrieking souls is my own. I may not be normal, but I'm still human. I share their pain. On the inside, we're all screaming.
But I've learned that I'm different. I accept the scathing mess of words their minds throw at me: freak, girl, freak, witch, goth, freak. I don't care what they think, as long as they never know the truth. They can think I dyed my hair blood-red, that my reflective eyes are contacts. They can think I wear long sleeves because I cut myself, even though I'm hiding something very different from the furious red slashes they'd expect.
I don't blame them. It's human to make judgments. If I had a choice, I would make them, too.
Instead, I have to know everything about everyone––who hates who, who's sleeping with who, who's doing drugs, whose parents hit them. Thoughts and dreams and memories and fears all burst inside my head like fireworks … and someday, I won't be able to take it anymore.
I never asked for this. I sure as hell never wanted it. My whole life, I've kept it inside. And it's killing me, crawling through my veins like a disease.
How long before it takes over––before it takes me, like it took my mother?
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