Pitch Perfect

As many of you know, I'm in the process of finding an agent for my YA Fantasy novel, a.k.a. "That Thing Lisa Won't Shut Up About."

 (Because I love you so much, I'm not even going to yell at you for ending a sentence with a preposition!)

Anyhow, this part of the process involves a lot of "pitching." Sometimes I get a letter and a few sample chapters in which to impress a literary agent, sometimes less. Whatever I get, I labor to make it as close to perfect as possible before sending to said agent. Then I sit back and wonder what I could have or should have done better.

With a Twitter Pitch Party on January 25, and Writer’s Digest’s Dear Lucky Agent Contest both fast approaching (and both of which may be worth looking into if you happen to have a manuscript ready to go), it’s time for me to put my 71,000 or so word novel into 140 characters. For the math nerds out there, if I’ve calculated correctly, that amounts to reducing my novel to four ten-thousandths its original length. I’m going to need some help here.

Please tell me which of the following lines would make you most likely to want to read more. Any constructive criticism – “combine this,” “that sounds dumb,” “what about…” –  is welcome! 

1. Cast out of her village, an aspiring warrior joins a stranger’s army, little knowing how much is at stake or how great her role will be.
2. By stranger betrayed and village shunned, young Grit, once a promising warrior, fights to trust the only one who can bring peace to her land.
3. In a stranger’s castle, a disillusioned warrior finds courage, hope, and a reason to fight for the village she swore to forget.
4. After building a new life in a stranger’s palace, a young warrior learns she must return home to fight for the village that scorned her.
5. Betrayed, shunned, and finally welcomed into a stranger’s palace, young warrior Grit finds courage, honor, and a reason to fight for the village she swore to forget.

Watch for a short “back cover blurb” to be posted later this week, giving more information about this project. For now, since this is all I get to tweet, it’s all you get to read. Please, please, please let me know if you find any of them particularly intriguing! I suppose you should let me know if they all stink, too, though I'm not nearly as eager for that sort of feedback.

Thanks, and best of luck to you if you decide to give either contest a go!

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Courage in the Kitchen

"I can't." 

I heard the frustration in his voice, this child who threatened to crash under the weight of the last section of a worksheet. Then a small miracle occurred, right there in my kitchen. Without a word from me, even before I'd had a moment to compose an encouraging mini pep-talk on how he really, truly can figure out the answer to the question or a matter-of-fact lecture about how we must do some things we don't want to do, which I felt was the real heart of the issue... before any of this could happen, he continued in a voice completely free of emotional strain.

"I can, but I don't want to."

And then, wonder of wonders, he proceeded to complete his assignment.

I call it a small miracle because that's exactly what it was. In the midst of his distress, he found peace, courage, and resolution. I scrapped all thought of cheering or scolding, and told him simply that I admired his courage, that finishing a worksheet might not seem like a courageous thing to do, that little acts of courage like this prepare him for big acts of courage later.

Others have said it before, and much better than I have, but it bears restating. Little acts of courage aren't little. They're huge. They train us for those moments when things of far greater import than a worksheet threaten to overwhelm us. We must practice courage in the little things if we are to have any courage at all in the big things, and we must teach our children to do the same.

Speaking of teaching our children and things that require courage, it's about time we did our math lesson...

When Stubbornness Becomes Determination

I don't have time for eloquence this afternoon, but you have to love a nine-year-old boy.

As he worked diligently to get the southern border of Nepal just right, I assured my son that it would be okay if the salt map wasn't perfect. The judges and spectators at the geography fair would be impressed enough that he had taken the time to make such a neat map.

Without looking up, his attention fixed on the southeastern tip of Nepal, he muttered, "I'm not doing this just to do it."

A moment later, as he added a dollop of salt dough to his map, he said, "I want to win."

If I play my cards right, I'll have a Nepal expert by sundown.