Monday, October 28, 2013

Trick or Treat K8- STARBREAK

Title: Starbreak
Category: Adult
Genre: SciFi
Word Count: 78,000

Pitch: Stuck with a husband married to his career and a dead-end job, scientist and mother Chrissy King joins a group of interstellar peace keepers after she witnesses the murder of an alien. When the killer she's chasing starts destroying stars, Chrissy must stop the murderer before he adds the sun to his collection of celestial corpses. 

Question 1: In your MC's voice, what costumed character do you relate most to and why? Most scientists are on the villain payroll (or just sidekicks), and in movies, most mothers are oddly absent or don’t make it to the end credits (I’m looking at you Bambi!). That being said, there is Elastigirl—clever, powerful, and completely able to go toe to toe with the boys—basically she rocks. 

Question 2: As an author, what makes your manuscript a tasty treat (aka unique/marketable)? My story is unique because it follows a woman through the transformation from a normal person to a superhero. Sure, billionaires, aliens, and fighter pilots have all had a chance at being a superhero, but we almost never see a mother take up the call.

First 250 Words: 
As a card carrying scientist, I knew things: gravity sucked, sound couldn’t travel in a vacuum, and chocolate always made me feel better. I slipped into the lab through a side door and dropped my brownie on my desk like I’d been there for the last ten minutes.

My boss, Dr. Owen, stormed through the opposite doors on a wave of floral aftershave. “Where the hell have you been, Dr. King?”

“I was getting you some—”

“Coffee?” He shot me the I-have-you-now smirk.  He knew I didn’t drink coffee.

“Walnut covered brownies.” I finished the sentence without any hesitation. Sure I’d be out breakfast, but post docs didn’t really have job security. Time for bribes. I pulled the brownie out of the bag like a model on the home shopping network. He narrowed his eyes at me. I saw his resolve slipping.

His aftershave filled the space between us, and the stink face came back. “We need to talk. Outside.” He pointed to the door I’d come through. The other lab techs had the wide-eyed look of gazelles watching a lion eat one of their own. Oh Galileo, it’s The Talk.

I opened the door, and the brisk Albuquerque air pulled at it like a grasping monster. March in the desert was like living in a sandblaster set up in the freezer. I pretended not to mind the cold. Or the sand. 

“What’s going on Dr. King? You’ve been jumpier than a fox at an NRA convention.” He pushed the door shut.