Query Letter / DANCING WITH FATE
Dear Mr. Laghi,
As a member of Urbis.com I would like to thank you for the opportunity to submit this query about my just completed commercial literary/women’s literature novel.
Dancing with Fate, is the story of aspiring ballerina Sandra Barton’s perseverance. Her harrowing escape from kidnappers. a vicious pedophile and near death at age seventeen, her triumph over a fragile mental state and fate's cruel challenges, creates a heartwarming story of life on the edge. After years of turmoil, she finally has a normal existence with a loving husband, a child and a budding career. Then her sister has a chance encounter with one of the kidnappers. who was never caught. Driven by a need for retribution, Sandra and her former ballet coach plot to hire a killer to even the score.
Per guidelines, the first chapter follows along with a short bio and answers to the questions on your website.
CHAPTER 1 A door slamming makes one jump, but it doesn't make one afraid. What one fears is the serpent that crawls underneath it. ~ Collette, Cheri
SANDRA, NOVEMBER, 1956.
Don’t want to get up.
Every day before I get out of bed, I wonder why I bother to go on. I hate my life.
This morning images race through my mind like the pictures in one of those flip books—the kind that look like a movie when you flick the pages. I’m so cold, I want to pull the covers up to my chin and never open my eyes again.
What? Can’t move.
My heart hammers as the images speed up. Flip. Flip. Flip. I see Wilbur, the goldfish I had when I was only five. I used to scoop him out of the water, watch him flop wildly in my hand, and think we were playing. I didn’t know he couldn’t breathe.
Wilbur. Hurts Can’t breathe.
Arms, legs. Move, move.
Icy sweat drenches the sheet.
Paralyzed? Please God, not like Trudy. Polio.
Relax. Breathe. Nightmare.
Where’s Mama? Maybe she went to work early.
Breathe. Breathe.
Judy? Still here? Don’t know. Stupid. Shout.
I try to cry out, but words won’t form. My tongue slides around something wedged in my mouth, while hot tears well in my eyes.
Concentrate!
I stare at bits of dust clinging to a leafy design on the plaster ceiling, and think they look like furry caterpillars ready to spin cocoons.
Flip. Flip. Flip.
Not my ceiling. Not my room!
<<<>>>
A sound like door hinges that need to be oiled breaks the silence.
Footsteps.
Gardenias. Stale tobacco.
Someone is in the room. My heart pounds faster than Gene Kelly doing a tap dance. A tall woman stops at the foot of the bed, and stares down at me.
“Well, Sandy, you're awake. Good.” She bends toward me, blond hair spilling over her shoulders like a glistening shawl.
Angie?
The gold flecks in her hazel eyes flash like caution lights. Full lips, painted brilliant scarlet, draw into a sneer. “You look scared to death, you little idiot. Well, good. I want you to be afraid.”
Her long fingers stroke my hair, playing with the black waves. She cups my chin in a vise-like grip. “You know, you’re awfully naïve for a seventeen-year-old.” She straightens and a nasty smile scoots across her face. “Remember you said the Coke tasted funny at lunch yesterday? There’s no harm in telling you now.” She snickers. “I slipped something into it to knock you out. Honey, you lost your cherry last night.”
Tears snake down my cheeks. Cherry?
Angie digs her fingers into my shoulders and shakes me. “Stop that damn crying. Look, you better do exactly as I say or…” She juggles the tray in her right hand and puts it on the dresser. “I brought you some toast and juice.”
Her eyes flash. “Cut it out, hear me Sandy? Damn you, quit wiggling! If you calm down, I’ll take that thing out of your mouth for awhile.” Her fingers trail along my cheek, stopping at the fabric. She unties the knot, and it falls away.
My mouth feels like it’s full of cotton balls, but I manage to plead in a raspy voice, “Angie, get me out of here, please. I want to go home.”
Silence.
The pain between my legs is terrible. It hurts more than the time I fell on the edge of a wooden milk crate in kindergarten and the doctor told my mother I had a bruised vagina.
“Angie?” My voice rises higher. “What’s going on?”
She stares at me without a word, eyes frigid as the winter winds off Lake Michigan.
“An- Angie, you’re frightening me.”
She moves her face close to mine, releasing hot puffs of breath against my cheek. “You’re a real pain in the ass, Pavlova. Quit bawling and drink the damn juice. Want to know why you’re here? Because Danny Boy and I kidnapped you, that’s why.”
<<<>>>
A distant voice says, “That horny old goat is going to love our sweet little ballerina.” A goofy hee-haw laugh follows, and I realize it’s Angie’s boyfriend, Danny.
“I told you, Ange, the cops will think she ran away.”
“Let’s just hope that’s how it goes, Danny Boy!”
Her face is fuzzy again, like it’s covered with a piece of chiffon.
I wander through the fog of my memory, picturing the horrible fight Mama and I had last November. That’s when I finally knew she would never sign the contract offered to me by the New York City Ballet. It wasn’t just my dream that died that day. Everything in me died.. Now, I’m a body without a soul.
Every day after school, I walk to the bus stop on Clark Street like I used to, take the bus to the Kasarvina Academy on Howard, and watch the other dancers. I don’t dance. Not anymore.
That’s where I met Danny and Angie. He plays piano at the Academy. The first time I saw him, I was sitting on my chair in the corner, like I always do, watching the others. He winked and said, “Hey, gorgeous, how about a smile for the new piano player?”
It was one of the days I felt like a robot. I’m like that most days now. On others, all I want to do is cry. Danny teases me about having the saddest eyes he’s ever seen, but he never gets a rise out of me.
My eyes dart around the room frantically. Where am I? My heart pounds. I don’t think the walking dead are supposed to care about anything, so I try not to be afraid. It doesn’t work. I’m terrified.
Tiny blood red specks blink furiously on the dark blanket inside my head. They grow larger and larger, until everything turns pitch black.
SHORT BIO:
MORGAN ST. JAMES, a former interior designer, splits time between Los Angeles and Las Vegas, and is a member of Henderson Writer’s Group and Sisters in Crime.
Her writing career started with publication of magazine articles on such diverse subjects as interior design, human interest, dementia, travel and barter. She co-authors the Silver Sisters Mystery series with her real-life sister, Phyllice Bradner. The first book, A Corpse in the Soup, was named Best Mystery Audio Book 2007-USA Book News. The second Silver Sisters book, Seven Deadly Samovars, is in production as an audio book. She is currently co-authoring the third Silver Sisters Mystery, Vanishing Act in Vegas, and writing Welcome to Paradise – think First Wives Club meets Nine to Five, and throw in government fiasco.
Morgan is a humorous speaker, and frequently appears on author’s panels and private book-signings. She enjoys doing radio and blog interviews.
CREDENTIALS:
• Frequent speaker on writer’s panels and individually,
• Presented workshop at 2007 Las Vegas Writers’ Conference,
• Helping to spearhead formation of new Southern Nevada Sisters in Crime chapter, will be board member
• Honorable mentions twice in Writer’s Digest contests
• Professional Memberships: Henderson Writer’s Group (Las Vegas area) , Sisters in Crime (Los Angeles & National)
PREVIOUS PUBLICATIONS:
• Multiple magazine articles
• Co-author Silver Sisters Mysteries, a comedic crime series: A Corpse in the Soup, Best Mystery Audio Book 2007-USA Book News, Seven Deadly Samovars-Audio book currently in production
• Short stories Shopping for Dancing Shoes, and Measuring Miracles in Leaps and Bounds in two Chicken Soup for the Soul books
• Short story Miracles Happen on Horseback, in Writers Bloc II
• Short story Saying Goodbye to Miss Molly, The World Outside the Window (paperback anthology by Amazon Shorts writers: release early 2009)
• Amazon Shorts: What Happened to Mandy Blake? Miracles Happen on Horseback, The Second Time Around, Eight Surefire Ways to Tell If You’re a Jewish Mother.
WAYS I WILL HELP TO PROMOTE MY BOOK, INCLUDING MEDIA CONTACTS.
• Speaking engagements,
• Radio and blog interviews (sample radio interview from Michael Dresser Show on www.morganstjames-author.com
• Private, bookstore and library book readings/signings,
• Soliciting reviews and posting reviews on multiple reader’s sites, Amazon blog, My own blogs
• Anything else I can do including talking to strangers in supermarkets and slapping bookmarks in their hands!
• Press releases to media
• Contact: Literary Las Vegas-Las Vegas Review Journal
• Contact: Las Vegas Now Magazine
• Contact: 89141 Magazine.
You need to log in to urbis or create an urbis account to review this writing.
Reviews
Sort Reviews by Newest | Oldest | Highest Quality | Lowest Quality | Newest Comments |
This 57 word review has not been unlocked.
This 57 word review has not been unlocked.
This 2 word review has not been unlocked.
The one aspect of your submission that struck me as odd was putting your biography at the end. I was happily getting involved in the first chapter when all of a sudden the biog came along and I wasn’t sure whether it was part of the story or not. I feel it may be better placed before the excerpt to avoid confusing other small brained mammals such as myself! I have read the guidelines and I can’t see the requirement to place a biog anywhere, it just asks for a query letter and synopsis and first chapter.
The use of ‘just completed’ in the first sentence is, for those of us on the eastern shores of the Atlantic, grammatically dubious and ruined the flow of probably the most important line of the submission. Paedophile has an A in it otherwise it is someone with a foot fetish.
After saying all that I was there with Sandra bound and gagged and wanting to read more.
Best of luck.
- add/view comments (0)
What the query letter lacks is a strong hook in the beginning. Without a hook, a reader will not feel compelled to read the story.
What’s also important is to mention how many words the story is.
Your bio should be included in the query letter itself and everything from your writing credits/history, what’s your target audience and what makes you more qualified to write this story than the next person.
My main problem with the story is the dialogue. There’s so many quotation marks with few tags, I don’t know who’s talking most of the time. Secondly, a lot of paragraphs should be joined as one. Unless these aspects are corrected it could distract any reader enough to want to put it down, even though this may be a great story.
Showing 1 - 5 of 5
Review item
Add to faves
GENERAL
REVIEW QUEUE
Ratings & Rankings
