Hi! WIP is about a pair of teen chaotic neutrals finding their place in a broken world of late-late-late-stage capitalism, and perhaps even doing the right thing once or twice.
I’m currently working my way up to look for an agent, and I think I’m close enough to do that in 2020! Also, sometimes I write comics!
I love stories that skew towards the dark side and heavier topics, but that being said, I also HEAVILY appreciate lighter hearted work, which is equally important. Favourite genres include sci-fi, speculative, fantasy, horror, mystery and any combo thereof.
THINGS I LIKE
enemies to lovers (maybe back to enemies??), selfish characters, Romeo and Juliet type forbidden romances, grumpy girls, The Gays (TM), space, bad science, cults, AI, robots, de-colonization, rebels fighting for a better world/fighting fascism/fighting bigotry.
MG- Whichwood by Tahereh Mafi, Holly Black- Dollbones, Coraline by Neil Gaiman, I Was A Rat! by Phillip Pullman
YA- Scythe by Neal Shusterman, The Call by Peadar O Guilin, Wilder Girls by Rory Power, Coldest Girl In Coldtown by Holly Black, Warcross by Marie Lu, Rebel Seoul by Axie Oh…
NA- I recently read Ninth House and that was amazing, and really made me hungry for New Adult. If you’ve got something that’s pretty much NA, YES PLEASE.
I’m not super into contemporary fiction & romance if it’s primarily focused in reality. I don’t know what it is?? Lack of dragons?? Anyways, I’m really trying to give the genres a chance, but they’re not my go to for reading if they dont feature some spec elements.
- bigotry that isn’t unpacked
- only character from a minority dies
- stereotypes that aren’t turned on their heads
- extreme, graphic violence on page 1
- pro-Colonialism narratives
- non #ownvoices
That’s all I can think of for now, but regardless, I’d appreciate some warning as to what to expect before getting into reading!
Human blood powers everything in Red Deer, Canada, from lightbulbs to ATMs. It’s also where drainers—killers who steal their victim’s blood for profit—rule the streets after curfew.
Sixteen-year-old Jule Fowler, son of the inventors of blood power, will do anything—anything—to step out their shadows. But after getting caught with study drugs during senior finals, his reputation is obliterated, and no university will touch him. Sixteen-year-old Mousie Leadbitter, glamourous socialite, is the keeper of a little secret: her deliciously wealthy family runs an ATM empire that’s a front for a large-scale drainer operation.
When Mousie’s cousin gets kidnapped on his eighteenth birthday, her family refuses to pay his ransom. But with him gone, Mousie must take his place as figurehead of the empire and kill the blog. Desperate, Mousie makes Jule an offer he can’t refuse: help her find her cousin in seven days before he’s drained of all his blood, and she’ll use her connections to get Jule into any university he wants.
As the sleuths uncover more and more evidence however, they start to question everything they know about their families, Red Deer, and each other.
It’s a standalone novel with series potential that is Veronica Mars meets Black Mirror and will appeal to fans of Cindy Pon’s Want.
Content Warnings: addiction, drugs, alcohol, mild gore, mild sexual content (consensual), references to suicidal ideation and suicide, murder and attempted murder.
Budget Manor, Blue District
The Mark 1 generator gurgled as I swapped out a sopping red filter, my brother’s cold blood pearling down my arm and into my sleeve. I gritted my teeth on the ridges of my multitool flashlight, blotted the stream in my jacket, and flipped the heavy on-switch.
With jolt and an irritated whirr, the 3D printer came back to life. Then the fluorescents flickered on, their cool light catching everything in the micro-apartment, from Serge’s crowded workstation to the cluster of fingerprints around the entrances to our capsules.
Beside me, Serge took a steady inhale on his e-cig, the veins in his arm bulging with the strain of the rubber tourniquet wrapped around it. He was leeching blood from a dart in his arm, his heart doing the heavy work pulsing it down a line of tubing and into the generator’s reservoir.
We were a little short on the utilities bill this month.
My brother shot a licorice plume towards the air vent and had the e-cig back in his pocket when he said: “You got blood all over your uniforms.”
I followed Serge’s gaze. At the bottom of our closet, wrapped around the Mark 1’s tripod legs, was a crumpled pile of my school clothes blossoming with stains.
“Well then it’s a good thing I’m suspended, isn’t it?” I snapped the generator panel shut. Even browned and faded, the words on the hazard sticker were clear: ‘DO NOT OPEN UNLESS AUTHORIZED LEADBITTER ELECTRICIAN’. I wasn’t; sue me.
More more more sci-fi. Maybe a retelling set in space?
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