I am incredibly thankful for this opportunity. I've been a fan of The Writer's Voice for years, and I'm excited to finally have a chance to participate.
Query:
Dear Awesome Agent,
Ten-year-old Drew
Horrible has always been a failure in his father’s eyes. As the son of the High
Chancellor of Evil (who sometimes turns people into mice and feeds them to his
cats—and that’s when he’s in a good mood), Drew is expected to
follow in his father’s mean and nasty footsteps and one day take his place as
ruler of the Outlander Realm. Unfortunately, Drew was never that good at being
bad. Hoping to redeem himself, Drew sets off for the Outlander
Academy alongside his perfectly evil twin sister. But even there, he
struggles to pass his cutthroat classes—and if he drops too far in the
school scoreboards, it could mean a lifetime of squalor and public shaming.
And, quite possibly,
dragon poop-shoveling.
But when a deadly
sickness spreads through the Outlander Realm, Drew learns a secret that could
lead to a cure, but cost him future as heir—even evil Outlanders don’t tolerate
treason. Looking to escape a future as Dragon Poo Drew, the villain-in-training
finally has the chance to prove himself the rightful heir to the throne—if he
can embrace his own kind of Horrible.
DREW HORRIBLE is an MG
fantasy with series potential, complete at 64,000 words. Fans of THE WITCH’S
BOY, THE SCHOOL FOR GOOD AND EVIL, and HOW TO TRAIN YOUR DRAGON might also
enjoy DREW HORRIBLE.
First 250 words:
Drew
Horrible pulled his robe tighter around him. He clutched a small crumpled paper
in his left hand as a chill snaked down his spine. The light from the cave
ceilings above had dimmed to a soft glow, taking its warmth with it. But it was
more than the frosty night air that set his teeth chattering.
“Fangs
of Apollo,” Drew sighed, surveying his war-torn appearance. The hem of his new robes were torn to muddy shreds. His father would not approve, and now he’d have to sneak
into the castle through the kitchens to avoid a vicious scolding, and he was
already late as it was.
He
gripped his paper tighter, taking cover behind a precariously leaning orange
tree. Its fruit looked more purple-ish than orange.
Great.
Something
else for his father to gripe about.
From
Drew’s spot in the garden behind the scentless fruit trees, the castle’s eastern wall
stood clearly visible. Light poured from the row of windows, where the banquet
was surely almost underway.
Ugh.
The banquet.
Drew
brushed his hair from his eyes. Ever since he’d received his note that afternoon, a dull ache had clamped on to his head with relentless tenacity. Un-crumpling the note, he read
his father’s words for the hundredth time:
Andrew,
All eyes will be on you tonight, so look sharp, and take care not
to slouch like a Commoner, as you are so often in the habit of doing. Also, I
have a surprise announcement concerning you, so you’d do well to pay attention.
