Sunday, March 17, 2013

Pitch Madness

Long time, no blog! I have been busy rewriting and editing. I've thought about blogging several times but haven't actually done it until now (obvs). In a last minute decision, I decided to participate in Pitch Madness on Friday. I actually hadn't made up my mind until Thursday and brainstormed with my AWESOME CP's to come up with what I hoped was a kick-ass pitch. My reasons for uncertainty were that 1) I just finished a massive complete rewrite last week; 2) I suck at pitches; 3) Insecurity. But finally, I decided to get it together and just do it. I'm so glad I did! :) These contests are stressful but a lot of fun. In case you don't know what it is, check out the details here. Brenda Drake is an incredible person for doing all these contests, by the way. Love her!! 

Anyway, here is my pitch for your perusal. I'm anxious to hear everyone's feedback. :) 


Genre: Adult Thriller

Word count: 79000

Pitch: Closeted psychic Jake uses his gift for things like spoiling reality shows for his wife. Once he’s foreseen a brutal murder, he must expose his secret to stop a killer, even if it ruins him.

First 250 words:
Tears left tracks through her flawless makeup as the woman cowered against the wall in a dingy, dark room. Hands bound behind her, her voice hiccupped as she sobbed. “Please. Don’t do this. Please.”

The light of a bare bulb gleamed off the blade of a chef’s knife as the man advanced toward her. She collapsed into ear-splitting screams, barely able to catch her breath as she attempted to scurry away. The knife ripped into her upper chest and then hacked into the left side of her neck.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

The teller’s voice brought Jake sharply back to the reality of the bank. She paused, half of the bills still in hand, the other half neatly stacked in front of her.

“Oh shit,” he blurted and gripped the edge of the counter. The color drained from his face and nausea tickled the insides of his mouth. Don’t puke, he thought. That won’t save her.

He looked up at the teller, the woman he’d seen stabbed to death, and opened his mouth in an attempt to explain but the words caught in his throat. What was he supposed to say? Definitely not “I’m sorry for my profanity, ma’am. I just had a vision in which you were viciously murdered by a scarred dude with a kitchen knife.”

He must’ve seemed like a nut, standing there, gaping at her.

She stared back at him with a tight-lipped I’m waiting expression. Why would anyone want to kill her in such a horrific manner?