We're hosting another CP/Beta Mixer over on Falling For Fiction today. If you're in need of another writer's two cents, hop on over and comment.
And since it's the day of mooshy, lovey-dovey stuff, I thought I'd share a steamy, albeit awkward scene from Birds of a Feather.
going to get something to drink. Anyone want anything?” I ask.
get three nods and two head shakes before I skirt off to another table laden
with pop, juice, and punch in a bowl. I think I’ll stay away from any possibly
tampered with beverages. I grab an assortment of canned drinks and turn to
leave, smashing into a sturdy chest. The cans slip from my fingers, but are
caught between me and Raven when he smooshes closer to save them.
maneuver,” I joke and pin my leg to his, holding an ice-cold beverage between
chuckles, but doesn't back off, his throat inches from my mouth. “Got ‘em?”
I shake my head and jostle a can into my grasp. “Uh, one. Give me a second.” I
wriggle against him, attempting to grab another pop, but it gets too close to
somewhere I should never touch in public, I mean, never touch since we’re just
you help me out here?”
moves his face right next to mine so we’re standing cheek to cheek, our
shoulders aren’t touching, but everything else is. Three chilly pops holding us
apart. His palm finds my waist, slides down my hip onto my thigh, and reaches
in to grab the beverage pinned there between our legs. He hooks it in his hand,
reaches around behind me and sets it on the table.
down, is that two more I feel?”
stubble barely brushes my cheek and I’m so tempted to turn my face to his, but
I focus on the cylindrical bulges holding us apart. “Yep, two more.” I giggle
and the can slips farther forcing us to smash our bodies together tighter.
laughs harder in response, but I can tell it’s a nervous laugh. His hand finds
my waist again, but my shirt slipped up on the last movement so when he slides
his palm across my tummy and rests it above the button on my pants, I almost
Pigeon, I’m going to grab that can.” He chuckles again and I have to stifle the
urge to bite his neck. “I promise I’m not trying to cop a feel.” His hand
slides up to my ribs, fingers grazing my skin hooking beneath my shirt for a
second before grabbing the can resting between my boobs. “See?”
to go.” I pull back to look in his eyes. “I’ll get it.” I lick my lips and bite
on the bottom one as my left hand reaches behind his back, holding him to me,
while the other slides between us along the waste of his pants. “Don’t move.”
for the life of me.” The smirk on those lips is near impossible to resist.
lick mine again, wishing my tongue was somewhere else, and his smirk grows into
a smile. I exhale and he presses closer to me with his hips, holding the can in
place. My fingers fumble over the button on his pants, down to the zipper and
over to the left.
better stop right there.”
don’t have the can yet.”
smile is sinful. “You’re about to have something else.”
take a chance and shove my hand farther down, giggling at the expression on his
face when I pull my hand up with a lemonade pinched between two fingers. “See?”
of backing away, Raven steps toward me forcing me against the table. He reaches
around and grabs the other drinks, mouth next to my ear, and says, “I never
knew the beverage table was such a hot spot.” He stands between my legs,
holding four cans of pop and nods in the direction I came from. “Ready to
body is on fire and my heart is knocking against my ribs, I’m sure he can feel
it. I put my hands on his hips to pull myself up from the table and realize
what a stupid move that was when I’m hanging on to his pants and only a couple
inches of night air separate us.
shall we stay here and play another round of grab the pop can?” His caramel
laughter floats around my head and I’m ready to lick his skin when another
whistle breaks through.
my savior. “What’s taking so long with those drinks, Pigeon? You get lost?”
Thank you Alex J Cavenaugh for your ingenious IWSG :)
Query writing . . . that's an entire insecure post itself, better yet, a year's worth of IWSG posts.
Anyhow, I digress. I'm referring to that closing paragraph today. The one where you state your title, word count, and hopefully, in one smooth turn of phrase, convince the agent they MUST read your work.
How does one do that?
I've seen the "Because you represent Dean Koontz, I think my writing is similar, so you should represent me for sure!" But really? Dean Koontz? He's published, like a million times published, and my writing is NO way similar, way beyond the I'm NOT published similar.
So I'll tuck my tail feathers and avoid that attempt at closing the query.
Often it's suggested to say something along the lines of, "I saw on your blog, on twitter, in an interview on AWESOMEBLOG, on Query Shark, and seven thousand other places that you love historical zombie romances, so I know you'll fall head-off-rotting-corpse's-shoulders for my story."
But I'm not that cool, and I'm a bit of a chicken. So even if I was miraculously having a conversation with an agent, I would mess it up and wuss out before getting to the "Hey, send me your work!" line.
Needless to say, the closing paragraph of my query is as bare bones as you can get.
BIRDS OF A FEATHER is a gritty and emotional, young
adult contemporary complete at 60,000 words. Thank you for your time and consideration.
Maybe I'll get the guts to figure some way to strike an agent's fancy (kiss butt) in a skillful, knowledgeable way bringing me one step closer to publication . . .