TITLE: Pieces of Isla
GENRE: YA - Novel in Verse set in Thailand
Dear Ms. Paquette,
I completely enjoyed your own MG novel NOWHERE GIRL, which made me miss Thailand, where I grew up.
When fifteen-year-old Isla's dad doesn’t come home from his run, Isla’s world shatters. Isla's mother moves them from Emerald Isle, North Carolina to Bangkok, Thailand. But the culture shock of the new country only enunciates Isla’s grief and drives a wedge between Isla and her mom. Isla suspects her mom of jumping into a new relationship. The divide between them grows wider until Isla discovers her mother hasn’t been chasing after a new boyfriend. PIECES OF ISLA, complete at 19,500 words. Isla learns to navigate her new country, find a new normal, and develop a few surprise relationships along the way.
I hold a M.A. and M.F.A., both in Children’s Literature, from Hollins University, where I was the two-time recipient of the program’s most competitive honor, the Shirley Henn Creative Writing Award. I am the author of
Ancient China (ABDO, 2015), and have also written for
Children’s Writer, Appleseeds Magazine, StarrMatica, SRA/McGraw-Hill, Interactive Achievement, DIYMFA, and
SCBWI Bulletin. I am an elementary librarian and an active member of SCBWI and Julie Hedlund’s 12x12. I also write about mentor texts, both for the classroom and for writers, at www.marcieatkins.com. I am planning to attend the Highlights Foundation workshop on Novels in Verse in May.
I'm looking for an agent willing to represent my middle grade novels and my picture books as well.
Thank you for this opportunity.
I look forward to hearing from you!
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Isla
They named me Isla,
with a silent s,
like
island.
Dad named me Isla.
I'd be strong
as an island in a hurricane,
fearless in fierce water.
Mom named me Isla,
for Emerald Isle,
where we grew up--
brushing the Atlantic
off North Carolina.
She hoped I'd be as priceless
as that jewel in the sea.
I can't live up to my name,
avoiding ocean,
sand.
I'm Isla,
awash in grief.
August
Bangkok, Thailand
Running
We are running
from salty breeze—
the smell of Dad
after a swim
in Emerald waves.
The beach
sandpapers my heart,
rubs me raw
memories wash up with every tide,
drowning me.
Mom copes by dragging
me to Bangkok—
the farthest place in the world
from Emerald Isle.
If you go any farther,
you head back
home.
We Are Here
Thirty-two hours,
layovers in Charlotte, Chicago, Seoul,
three cardboard dinners,
one breakfast,
two movies.
My eyelids drooped
but my mind stayed awake.
My backpack
strapped to my stomach,
protects the Mason jar
tucked in the front pocket.
My restless legs
itch to run
down the aisle,
steps,
across the tarmac.
I’m a marathon runner
at the back of the pack—
thirty-six rows
from freedom.
Mom shoots me a be-patient stare,
my legs wrestle
to go.
Get out.
Bangkok air sucks
the breath
out of me,
thicker than North Carolina air,
strong,
a mix of sewer, sweat,
stir-fry.