Apathy's Hero is hosting this awesome Critique Partner Blogfest. Between February 10th and February 13th, post the below information. Then visit the other participants sites which can be found HERE and comment. If you see someone that is a fit for your needs, let them know you are interested. If you don't find a fit, that's okay, too. No obligation.
So here is my entry into The Critique Partner Blogfest:
Genre, Age Group, Book Title:
YA Paranormal Romance
12-18 age group
Givin' Up The Ghost
I am halfway through editing my first complete novel. I think it needs lots of help. I hope to pitch it to an agent or publisher in April at a Writer's Conference.
Feedback I'm Looking For:
I am looking for overall thoughts or recommendations on a per chapter basis. What are the strengths and weaknesses? What's missing? Is any part of it confusing or not working? Are any of the parts boring? Anything that I might not be seeing myself.
Indigo Eady was NOT clumsy. At least, not until she moved to Sabrina Shores. Could she help it if she’d been off-kilter since moving to a medieval village in England? Who knew it would be teeming with afterlife? After all, this was the 21st century! It was like she had a foot in both worlds, straddling the no-man’s land in between. She just had to learn to keep her balance, that’s all.
So it wasn’t her fault that she somehow managed to bowl Badger over every time they met. She was becoming hazardous to his health, not to mention her own. If it weren’t for the murdered spirits and interfering ghosts vying for her attention, her life would be so much easier!
To top it all off, why did Badger have to be so cute? That was no doubt the problem. Mix needy dead guys and very-much-alive cute guys, and you had the ingredients for a world totally out of whack. But neither of them had time for love right now. They had a murderer to catch. Even so, sparks were flying in more than one direction!
If only she could Give Up The Ghost and leave all that otherworldly stuff behind. Then she could be a normal teenager, who did normal things. Like dating. And holding hands. And even better, kissing! Not like that kiss she shared with Badger to throw off those goons who were following them. Although for a fake kiss, it was really, really good!
First 500 Words:
“What the...” the boy sputtered, finding himself inextricably lying flat on his back. I lay sprawled across him, our eyes locked in stunned surprise, our bodies entwined in a tangle of arms and legs. My breath was coming in rasps so I couldn’t speak, but it was just as well. I mean, what was I going to say? Nice day for a run?
I don’t know who was more shocked, him or me. Luckily it was still early and the market square relatively quiet. I didn’t think anyone had witnessed my current fiasco. Now I could add bowling over cute guy to my growing list of mishaps. I sighed.
I chanced a quick glance back toward the alley I had just barreled from, but the thing was gone. Not a very graceful escape, I’ll admit. But all things considered, this new situation I suddenly found myself in was a vast improvement, if hugely embarrassing.
I suddenly realized the dude beneath me was beginning to squirm. “I’m sorry,” I gasped, still trying to catch my breath. Now I had to extricate myself from this current predicament. Trust me, it wasn’t easy. Our entwined limbs and clothing became like a massive pile of clothes hangers. The more I tried to untangle, the more things got caught.
Plus, I’m pretty sure he wasn’t doing much to help me with the problem. In fact, based on his grin, I’d say he was enjoying himself way too much.
A frown appeared between my eyes as I tried not to grin back. I should have been thankful he wasn’t mad, but this was no laughing matter. I was extremely uncomfortable, on more than one level. And the few people out and about were starting to stare at the young couple lying on the rain-soaked pavement.
Attack was the best defense, I’ve heard tell. “You could help me, you know,” I chastised, working a strand of my braid - still attached to my head I might add - from his jacket zipper. But with one strand down, I was still attached by another good-sized clump, preventing me from getting up - unless I was willing to rip out chunks of my hair - which I wasn’t. I was rather attached to it, actually.
“Oh, sorry. Here, let me.” With gentle fingers he eased long black locks of hair from the zipper, strand by strand. While he worked, I studied his face. He looked familiar. A slight scar above his right brow, about an inch long. Dark brown hair, slightly messy and overgrown. Golden speckles in brown eyes that...
...were now viewing me with amusement.
Crap. Busted, checking out the dude I just bowled over. So not cool. Plus, I had the feeling I totally missed something he just said.
“Sorry, what?” I asked, dumbly.
“You’re loose,” he repeated.