I am seeking representation for my urban fantasy YA novel TINKERS, complete at 55,000 words.
For thirteen-year-old twins Ben and Emma Hawthorne, faeries are just something from childhood stories. Then they meet Jacob Rhodes, one of a group of Travellers who live in the woods nearby. Jacob’s family have guarded a small band of faeries for centuries but after Jacob’s father is sent to prison, the Travellers have trouble finding enough food (lightning stones) to sustain the faeries.
When a photograph is found that links the Hawthorne’s to the Rhodes, Ben and Emma open their eyes not just to the secrets of the faeries but also to the heritage that awaits them.
After Jacob’s father escapes from prison with the help of a rouge faerie, Ben and Emma must cram a lifetime of Traveller instinct into just a few short weeks if they are to beat Jacob and his scheming father at gathering lightning stones and rightfully securing their place as heads of the family.
TINKERS is a richly layered tale of traditions, betrayal, and adventure. Authentic details about the Traveller people, their private languages, and way of life, give TINKERS a starkly real context, drawing the reader into Ben and Emma’s world and not letting go until the very end.
I have recently completed an MA in Creative Writing from Newcastle University in Newcastle upon Tyne, England and have a short story that has been published in Lit by New Writing North in conjunction with Newcastle University. Also, several works have been published in Blackberry Winter, an annual chapbook of Rochester College where I earned my BA in English and Professional Writing. This is my first novel.
Upon your request, I am prepared to send the completed manuscript. Thank you for taking the time to consider representing my work.
Emma sat beside me. Neither of us had spoken or moved from our chairs in hours. I squeezed my toes as hard as I could again; a trick Mom had taught me to hide my nervousness or embarrassment. Everyone could see you cry, but no one knew if you curled your toes. Boys arn't supposed to cry.
My toes started to tingle as I scanned the group of grownups at the back of the room. They were all Dad’s family, cousins, older people we saw sometimes at holidays, and a lot of people I didn’t recognize. Most of them wore black, some of the men in dark blue suits. I unclenched my toes. The heat spread and stung. Emma told me there were bodies in the basement, other dead people. Mom wasn’t a body anymore. She was ashes.
Dad said that Mom wanted to be ashes. He said that everyone in her family were ashes, it was tradition. But none of her family is here. I’ve never met any of them. You’d think that if they cared at all, they’d be here now, but they’re not. Or maybe they’re ashes too.
Another man entered the room. I could see his face, but it was like I was looking through him. He wasn’t a ghost, but it was hard to describe his face, like as soon as I thought of the right words, he seemed to shift somehow and I had to start over. I watched as his outline moved quickly to the sideboard and began reading the small cards in the flowers. His back was turned to Emma and me.