I am an author seeking representation for The Style Chamber, a contemporary chick lit novel of 80,000 words.
They meet. They judge. They execute. All in the name of the style.
Stephanie Hardy is determined to be a successful technical writer, but something is standing in her way: she hates it. Hates the company, hates the cubicles, hates the people and their hideous shoes. And just when she thinks it can?t get any worse, Stephanie?s boss accuses her of being the one thing she swore to never become: a woman who uses her looks to get ahead. Furious, Stephanie vents to two co-workers who agree with Stephanie?s insults of the boss and joke about sending her an anonymous makeover tip. Stephanie learns that her co-workers weren?t kidding, but is so impressed by their success that she decides to join them as they continue the makeovers under the guise of The Style Chamber.
Although the group initially offers Stephanie some enjoyment, she is easily distracted by her desire to make over her own life. She starts with a temporary transfer to Marketing which, unfortunately, annoys her even more than technical writing. She then turns her efforts towards acquiring the man she thinks is Mr. Right, but soon learns that the real Mr. Right is the same executive with whom her boss accused her of flirting.
Frustrated by her inability to better her life, she returns her attention to The Style Chamber and discovers that the group has escalated the harmless makeover tips into vicious personal attacks. Stephanie realizes that the only way to stop the group is to reveal their identities and is forced to choose between doing what is right for her career, and doing what is right, full stop.
About the Author
I hold a Bachelors degree in English Literature from the University of Ottawa. For the last thirteen years, I have been working as a technical writer, manager and now director in the Publishing industry. I actively follow many agent blogs and tweets and am a top user of Critique Circle.
The first two hundred and fifty words are pasted below but I'd be happy to send you a complete copy of my manuscript for your review. Thank you for your time and I look forward to hearing from you.
It would be fair to say that I was slightly late for the status meeting...if by "slightly" you mean seventeen minutes, and if by "status meeting" you mean hour of drool-inducing boredom which I'd been forced to endure for the past one hundred and twelve Wednesdays of my life.
But it would not be fair to say that I hadn't tried to get there on time.
The moment I realized that I'd completely forgotten about the meeting, I picked up my latté and low-fat blueberry muffin and ran as fast as I could to the third floor boardroom.
Okay, okay, that is not one hundred percent accurate. I walked. Quickly, but still a walk. And not a power walk like those people you see on the street with the ski poles. I don't even own ski poles and if I did, I wouldn't keep them at work as that would probably violate Modal's Winter Sports Equipment Policy (if it exists...if it doesn't, they'd probably enact it just for me).
Anyway, aside from the running and the ski poles, what I said is completely accurate.
Except that it was chocolate chip.
As soon as I slipped into the empty seat at the end of the table, I felt Joanna's death stare burn into my forehead. I did not need to look up to know that the entire team had followed her gaze.
Well, almost the entire team.
Patricia was too occupied by her witch-hunt of the week to notice my entrance