Friday, May 2, 2014

CRYE HAVOC - The Writer's Voice, Entry #37

The W Voice 2014

Many, many thanks to Brenda DrakeMónica Bustamante WagnerKimberly P. Chase, and Elizabeth Briggs for hosting “The Writer’s Voice,” a multi-blog, multi-agent contest based on NBC’s singing reality show!

Still, a little annoyed, because I thought it was an ACTUAL SINGING CONTEST for aspiring troubadours (who happen to write).

*carefully re-hangs lamé pantsuit*

Anywho, below is my entry for The Writer's Voice 2014. I hope you enjoy!


Title: Crye Havoc
Genre: Sci-Fi YA
Word Count: 99,000 words


Sixteen-year-old cadet Sig Thomas doesn't hate all girls, just the ones in space. So he's not surprised when stupid Casi refuses his direct order during a simulated space battle, causing Sig to fail his sim-test, and decimating his lifelong dream of commanding a starship.

Relegated to some nowhere duty post after his career meltdown, Sig isn't around when the Videre attack. Ferocious aliens with the ability to generate terrifying hallucinations in humans, they abduct Sig’s crew and present him with a second chance at the command track. All he has to do is board the alien ship and rescue his crew. Easy, right? But the closer he gets to the Videre's mind-bending “carrier waves,” the more Sig's unresolved anger toward Casi gives rise to disturbing visions he can't control. Or escape.

But Casi can. Trained in the art of erecting mental barricades, she’ll guide Sig to a dream construct where they can join forces to build a panic room the Videre can't penetrate. But only if he trusts her.

To stop the Videre, reclaim his life, and save the girl he’s falling for, Sig must do the one thing that could leave him prisoner to his growing madness: open his mind, and his heart, to a girl with the power to crush both.

CRYE HAVOC mixes the kinetic dreamscapes of INCEPTION with the otherworldly romance of ETERNAL SUNSHINE OF THE SPOTLESS MIND. It's about one teen's discovery that space is big enough for two. It will appeal to fans of WHITE SPACE and FEED.


First 250 Words:

Apart from the figure-improving properties of zero-g, there's really no reason for girls in space. They're always trying to prove something, just like my mother. She died on a blood-stained patch of dirt in the far reaches of some nowhere solar system trying to prove women make good leaders. Instead, she just confirmed what I've known all along: space is for guys like me.
Still, girls have some benefits. Take, for instance, the cadet I'm kissing right now, our lips locked together like a shuttle at spacedock. She's seventeen, a year older than me. She's got a funny name I can never remember. I've been working this angle for about three weeks, and just like I planned, I'm rounding first base the morning of my sim test. I asked her to come to my quarters for a quick make-out session. It'll calm my nerves, I lied.
And, bingo, here we are.
I really wish I could remember her name, though. Maya? Mira? Mi-mi-mi-mi--
"Mithri?" I say softly. She puts a finger to my lips.
"Not gonna happen, Sig."
"Come on, please?” I say in a practiced whine. “You know how important today is. It would. . .relax me."
"Great. So you'd be more relaxed. And I'd lose my post." She puts her lips to my ear, her voice a husky whisper, "But maybe after your test, you can come over and we'll, uh, debrief."
I lean in and kiss her, not to reward her terrible pun, but to maintain the illusion I care.

Thursday, May 1, 2014

A Patchwork Hobo

What is a Patchwork Hobo?

He's an assemblage of sorrow and joy, pleasure and pain, victory and defeat. A wandering mestizo harboring the darkness of space and the light of our sun.

Kinda like a combination Pizza Hut and Taco Bell.

Or maybe I just like the way the words come together.