So, I found out I made it to Round II of the Like a Virgin Contest! Tres excited for results!
Very thankful for the Pitchslam folks for opening up their critiquing to the #LV14 finalists. Just thought I’d post my info below; going to try to critique folks’ entries in a bit. (Been a hectic day)
Title: Nikita Whitfield and the Butterfly Eater
Genre: Upper Middle Grade Fantasy
Word Count: 84K
►Consider reevaluating your category. As Cherish mentioned, this really does read like an upper MG pitch/excerpt—which definitely isn’t a bad thing!
►The only thing that really confused me was the second paragraph in your 250. Nikita said graduation was exactly as she had imagined, but then she mentions mythical creatures before moving on to elaborate. That little tidbit might be better suited for later
Thirteen-year-old Nikita Whitfield thinks there are only two good things about going to Pemberton Academy. One: it’ll give her some space from her overbearing mother. Two: no one there will compare her to her superstar older sister.
When she gets there, she realizes Pemberton is more than just uniforms, trust fund kids, and English essays. It’s also a training ground for budding Technicians: kids who can cast illusions, smash concrete, and control other people’s minds.
She’s determined to become one of them. Even if that means enlisting the help of a dwarf with a temper as short as he is, holding court with a king grizzly bear that can stop time, and fighting against kingslayers and classmates alike.
But Nikita doesn’t realize becoming a Technician will mean so much more. It will mean standing against some of the strongest Technicians ever. It will mean confronting death for the first time. And it will mean choosing her new role in life: the avenger or the damsel.
My sister’s graduation was exactly as I had imagined.
I didn’t know about gnomes, pixies, or talking bears back then. Needless to say, I didn’t think I would see any of them there.
Instead, I imagined that the day would be hot, that my older sister would look amazing, and that spending the day with my parents would give me a planet-sized migraine.
And I was completely right.
It was a long drive to my sister’s campus. My mother and father buzzed back and forth between themselves and the time evaporated into the warm air. My father held himself together as best he could. Operating a vehicle and answering all eight thousand of my mother’s questions was no small feat.
“Yes, I made the reservation, Lynn,” I heard him say. As good as he was at hiding his annoyance, I knew better. He only used my mother’s name when he was angry with her. Usually it was just “baby” or “Lynnie”.
My mother wasn’t as attuned to his moods. Or, more likely, she just didn’t care. Two minutes later, she had a question about the camera batteries.
The questions didn’t end. After two hours, I’d had enough. I pulled my laptop from my backpack on the floor and my hands swam around a pouch for my headphones.
I checked my dress pocket and pulled out the black cords. For the rest of the ride, I tried to drown out my parents in bass, drums and gruff Japanese growls.