Thursday, February 14, 2013

PAPfest Entry - SOMETHING LAME, LIKE LAUGHTER

TITLE: SOMETHING LAME, LIKE LAUGHTER

GENRE: Literary Middle Grade

WORD COUNT: 30,000

QUERY:

Eleven-year-old Ethan is hoping immortality is a hereditary trait.

Being immortal won’t solve all of his problems. Like the fact he lives by Becca Taylor, the scariest girl in school, or that he has Type I Diabetes, and he’s trying to keep it a secret. Being immortal is like having a superpower though, and that has to be better than just being Ethan, the kid with a crazy mom who thinks she’s 634 years old. The kid who still believes her, sometimes.

When his mom opens their home to Becca, Ethan’s life is exposed, and he’s certain she’ll blab about it to everyone. But Becca’s a girl who knows a thing or two about having secrets. She knows people have a reason for keeping them, and she wants to find out what Ethan’s mom is hiding. Immortality is a pretty big secret, if it’s real.

As Becca becomes determined to uncover the truth about Ethan’s mom, Ethan can’t help but want to join her. Even though he’s certain he doesn’t need Becca’s help investigating anything. Ethan’s mom is a clever woman, and finding clues about her life turns out to be a difficult, dirty, and sometimes even smelly job. Worst of all, they discover their own secrets can unravel quickly when they go digging through someone else’s.

As for myself, I was a creative writing major in college, and now am the happy mother of a nine-year-old, a thirteen-year-old, and three dogs. I am currently working on my next novel.

FIRST 200 WORDS:

My mom liked to tell me she was 634 years old. Most of the time I thought she was just having fun with this game we’d always played.

“How old are you really Mom?”

“634.”

“Are you sure? I thought you said you were 463 last time I asked.”

“Couldn’t be, because I clearly remember the Hundred Years War going on when I was a child in France.”

“Hundred Years War? So did you hang out with Joan of Arc as a girl?”

“Of course not. I was in my forties by the time she was doing her thing.”

“Sure you were.”

Sometimes, and this was embarrassing to admit, but sometimes I kind of believed her. When I was little, I totally believed her, but obviously once I’d gotten older, I knew my mom couldn’t be 634 years old.

Even if she had been telling the truth, I was pretty sure she hadn’t passed immortality on to me. I had Type I Diabetes. Who ever heard of an immortal who had to take insulin shots to eat? No one.

Truth is, I’d be lucky to live to 80. 634 was definitely out of the question. But it was always out of the question, right?

3 comments:

Suzie Townsend said...

This sounds fabulous--I'd love to see more! Please email the full manuscript as a word document with your query pasted into the first page to suzie@newleafliterary.com. Put REQUESTED MATERIAL in the subject line.

eatlovewritelive said...

I'm intrigued! :) Would you email the first 50 pages and synopsis in query format to pooja@kimberleycameron.com?

I look forward to reading your work!

Sincerely,

Pooja Menon
Kimberley Cameron & Associates

Tina Wexler said...

Put me down for the first 100 pages. Word attachment to twexler AT icmpartners DOT com. "PAPFEST request" in the ubject line. Thanks!