Here's my entry in Brenda Drake's Pitch Madness Contest. I welcome any constructive feedback. Thanks!
Name: Caitlin Sinead Jennings
Title: DENALI IN HIDING
Genre: YA Science Fiction
Word Count: 81,000
Pitch: Seventeen-year-old Denali can move things with her mind and see remote locations on a whim, but these skills won’t save her if the American Psi Council discovers she is trying to prevent a bombing.
Excerpt: When my mom is mad at me, I usually understand why.
I understood why she said, “Calling it an ‘academic pursuit’ doesn’t get you off the hook,” when I dug a six-foot hole in the front yard to show Eli how the earth changes like a rainbow the deeper you go.
I completely got why she frowned and said, “That was mean and really sort of disgusting,” when Ethan and I—with just the right mix of apple juice, lemonade, and water—convinced Eli we were sipping pee on the porch.
I was not surprised when she screeched, “What the hell am I supposed to tell the mechanic?” after I practiced lifting her truck before I was ready and it clunked down hard in our driveway, bits and parts rattling about.
But I don’t understand why the smoky frustration crept into her eyes when I told her Ethan and I burned my last journal. She said coolly, “We will talk about this when I get back.”
While she’s out bartending, I’m stuck wondering what I did wrong. The only thing I can figure is maybe she thinks I let Ethan read it. She knows I write about everything and she gets touchy when she thinks there is even a remote chance someone might find out about me. Even if that someone is Ethan!
Ethan, who taught Eli and me to play Risk and has been a great sport every one of the seven times Eli won. Ethan, who leaves various types of miniature plastic leprechauns around our house for us to discover.
Name: Caitlin Sinead Jennings
Title: DENALI IN HIDING
Genre: YA Science Fiction
Word Count: 81,000
Pitch: Seventeen-year-old Denali can move things with her mind and see remote locations on a whim, but these skills won’t save her if the American Psi Council discovers she is trying to prevent a bombing.
Excerpt: When my mom is mad at me, I usually understand why.
I understood why she said, “Calling it an ‘academic pursuit’ doesn’t get you off the hook,” when I dug a six-foot hole in the front yard to show Eli how the earth changes like a rainbow the deeper you go.
I completely got why she frowned and said, “That was mean and really sort of disgusting,” when Ethan and I—with just the right mix of apple juice, lemonade, and water—convinced Eli we were sipping pee on the porch.
I was not surprised when she screeched, “What the hell am I supposed to tell the mechanic?” after I practiced lifting her truck before I was ready and it clunked down hard in our driveway, bits and parts rattling about.
But I don’t understand why the smoky frustration crept into her eyes when I told her Ethan and I burned my last journal. She said coolly, “We will talk about this when I get back.”
While she’s out bartending, I’m stuck wondering what I did wrong. The only thing I can figure is maybe she thinks I let Ethan read it. She knows I write about everything and she gets touchy when she thinks there is even a remote chance someone might find out about me. Even if that someone is Ethan!
Ethan, who taught Eli and me to play Risk and has been a great sport every one of the seven times Eli won. Ethan, who leaves various types of miniature plastic leprechauns around our house for us to discover.
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