Hi! I’m Amanda and I love anything within YA SFF. I’ve been invested in reading and writing since the womb and have never lost that passion. I am currently pitching my Own Voices YA Steampunk/Dystopian Sci-Fi novel and writing a YA Steampunk Fantasy.
Besides writing and reading I LOVE playing video games which is pretty much what I fill all my free time with. I also love Star Wars, Marvel, DC, pretty much anything nerdy.
I love reading anything YA SFF, though I am more interested in the SF portion of that right now (though I still love a good Fantasy!). I’m particularly interested in female leads as well as diverse Own Voices. I’m happy with whatever keeps me engaged whether it’s character driven or plot driven.
- Love triangles
- Literary fiction
- Sexual assault
- Graphic sex
- I can handle abuse as long as it’s tasteful.
- Romance, but only if that’s the sole focus. I’m okay with romance as a side plot.
Sixteen-year-old Rosemary Rooney has spent her entire life in the underwater city of Paradise, but desperately wishes to break free. However when her grandfather is taken and she is accused of murdering the mayor, she learns the truth: there is a world outside that Paradise has been brainwashed to forget. But to save her grandfather means risking the freedom she so desperately craves.
In Paradise, the Speaker was always watching. It was why I took care as I stared upward out the large, glass window and swore I saw light coming down from above the city.
It was impossible – light could only be manufactured and there wasn’t anything above the city. Paradise sat alone, surrounded by water and sunk deep into the sand beneath it. Yet at the same time my eyes remained locked on the small sliver of light illuminating the water. I imagined a life outside the city, beyond the never ending, dark Abyss.
Those thoughts were Disloyal. I had a purpose in Paradise. But then why did I yearn to see that light up close?
From where I sat I had a good view of the city. Mallory Center, the city’s tallest building, stood proud in the middle of everything with words circling the top, announcing recent news and broadcasting what was to come. Graduation would be this coming weekend, where all the other sixteen-year-olds would move on to start their chosen careers while I remained an outcast, learning from grandfather just as I had my whole life. I was perpetually stuck like a broken clock, forced to watch everyone else my age move on while I remained the same.
Slowly a carefree, lone beluga whale floated by. It spotted me where I sat, my legs bent beneath my long, red skirt and my sketchpad open on my lap. It paused in the water, watching me carefully as if I were the animal. I closed the book and set it aside with the chipped gear I’d been fiddling with before getting up and approaching.
“Hi there,” I said, placing my hand on the cool glass.
The beluga got closer and closer until something behind me startled it and it swam away, leaving bubbles behind.
I have multiple WIPs because I love to ambitiously suffer. One is a YA Steampunk Fantasy about a muzzled assassin. Another is about a witch in the 50s. I have plenty more ideas, but those are the ones I’m currently working on.
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