Pitch Madness … Game On!

Hello my darlings! The Pitch Madness Agent Round is now LIVE! Pitch Madness … Game on! Welcome to the GREEN TEAM! It’s been a long week of reading through all the amazing pitches. Our wonderful readers have narrowed the slush, and your game hosts have chosen sixty pitches for the game. To meet the slush readers, agent insiders, and the blog teams go to this post here. And you can find out more about the amazing agents playing the game on this post here. For those of you not familiar with Pitch Madness, it’s a contest where agents compete in a game against their peers for pitches and you can find the instructions here. This Pitch Madness the game is Scroll down to view all 17 picks for my blog or click on the links to each post … F-1: Young Adult: THE LIFETIME OF A SNOWFLAKE F-2: New Adult: RISKY F-3: Adult: FOR RENT F-4: Young Adult: OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HIGH SCHOOL F-5: Middle Grade: TREASURE OF THE NINE-BANDED KNIGHT F-6: Young Adult: HATE CRIME F-7: Adult: CALL OF THE KOEL F-8: Adult: SUPER FORTY F-9: Middle Grade: KARMA KHULLAR’S MUSTACHE F-10: Young Adult: MARKED F-11: Young Adult: TIME SAILS F-12: Adult: LAWS OF THE SPIRIT F-13: Young Adult: THE BOOTLEGGER’S BIBLE F-14: Young Adult: SUN AND IRON F-15: Young Adult: FALL TO PIECES F-16: Young Adult: A IS FOR ATHERTON F-17: Young Adult: BEDTIME STORIES Comments are set to moderation so the agents won’t see their competitors’ bids. Please no comments other than those from the agents. After the game, we’ll release the moderation and let you all comment on the entries. We’ll reveal the agent requests on March 4 at 12:00PM (that’s noon) EST. Please note: We will email submission details for all requests...

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F-1: Young Adult: THE LIFETIME OF A SNOWFLAKE

Genre: Contemporary Word Count: 61,000 Pitch: Two nineteen-year-old boys in Malaysia, one dying, and the other just learning to live. With little time left, Airil helps his best friend Dani make peace with himself, his sexuality, and his conflicted faith. Excerpt:  “My girlfriend doesn’t like you,” Airil says, handing me his latest collection of porn BluRay DVDs. I take the discs and spread them on his king-size bed, which is almost as messy as the rest of his room. I hold up each of the six DVDs in turn and study the front and back cover. Two Asian, two American blockbuster parodies—*Twilight* and *Avengers*…don’t ask—one lesbian and one threesome. All of them have one common theme: huge breasts. “You heard what I said, right?” “Hmm?” I say, my attention on the back cover of the *Twilight* parody. I’m not sure if the addition of pornographic elements will make the movie any less boring. “But she doesn’t even know me,” I say without looking up. Airil plops onto the bed in front of me, sending the DVDs jumping. “That’s what I told her. She won’t even tell me why. I mean, I know you don’t talk much and you’re awkward with strangers—” “*Dungu*,” I snap, because he’s being an idiot. “I’m not awkward with strangers.” I flick the DVD at Airil. It hits his chest and lands on the hardwood floor. The cover pops open. The DVD has been stored with its back surface facing upward, and I can make out fingerprints on the blue-rainbow surface. Truth is, I really am socially awkward, and we both know it. Airil chuckles and retrieves the DVD. “Anyway, that’s why you’re coming with me to the birthday party tonight.” “But she’s your girlfriend, not...

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F-2: New Adult: RISKY

Genre: Contemporary Romance Word Count: 74,000 Pitch: An overachieving career girl who lives by her five-year plan finds herself alone in Hong Kong – where she discovers love with a carefree artist who’s never had a plan in his life. Excerpt: “So I think I’m going to go home.” Elena said this to me as I swigged from my bottle of San Miguel. She wouldn’t look me in the eyes. Instead, she stared down at her bowl of wiry brown noodles, jabbing at them with the fork she had procured from her purse. The emergency fork should have been my first indicator that she wasn’t comfortable in Hong Kong. “What do you mean you think you’re going to go home?” I forced the words from the back of my throat, suppressing a cough from the mouthful of beer that I’d gulped. The bitter aftertaste burned the edges of my tongue. “We just got here eight hours ago. Our flight’s not for another week.” “Well, when you were in the shower before, I called the airline and changed my return flight to tomorrow morning. So I think I’m going to go home.” She twirled the noodles repeatedly around her fork, watching them glisten, but never brought them to her mouth. It was the most perfect noodle I’d ever tasted, firm and salty, but here she was, wasting them with her mindless fiddling. I wanted to grab the fork from her pale, bony hand and stab her in the eye. “What about me?” “Oh, I didn’t change your ticket. You should stay,” she said. “You should definitely stay and enjoy the rest of your vacation.” It was now my vacation, not ours. The din around us at the Temple Street Night Market began to fade and I felt a dull ache behind my...

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F-3: Adult: FOR RENT

Genre: Women’s Fiction Comedy Word Count: 85,000 Pitch: A single mother struggles through the bizarre responsibilities of her new job as an apartment manager, and the eviction of a dangerous drug dealer only to find out she’s been his naïve accomplice all along. Excerpt: Something terrible is about to happen. My stomach has been twisting in a bloated ball of gas all morning, and I know whatever it is, isn’t going to be pretty. I ought to know better than to take a gamble on three-day-old Chinese takeout. *Or was it four*? The phone rings, offering me brief a distraction from the hostile takeover of my small intestine. I take a quick swig of Diet Coke, my cure-all for any ailment, before reaching over and grabbing the phone off my desk. “Thank you for calling The Best Property Management, this is Cambria.” This deceiving reception always leaves a bitter aftertaste, but *thank you for calling Southern California’s pit hole of a management company, as reviewed by over twenty Yelp users, how may I piss you off today*, is too much of a mouth full. “Cambria, it’s Trisha again. I still have graffiti all over the garages, and the tenants are at my door everyday complaining about it. I need maintenance out here now.” “Yes Trisha, hold on.” I lean back in my chair and peek into my boss’s office. Rose is perched behind her desk, her surgically chiseled nose shoved into a mysterious blue folder, just as it has been all morning. I cover the receiver with my hand and “pssst” to get her attention. Her bulging eyes meet mine, and I mouth “Appleridge”, being sure to accentuate each syllable. She is well aware of the graffiti over at the fourteen-unit building. This is the managers third call this...

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F-4: Young Adult: OUR FATHER WHO ART IN HIGH SCHOOL

Genre: Speculative Word Count: 64,000 Pitch: In high school, God creates Earth as a science project. Between turning a snotty student into a pillar of salt and causing the great flood in the cafeteria, God might not graduate. Excerpt: When I arrive at the school office, a middle-aged woman leans against the counter staring at a crossword puzzle. She taps her pencil against the empty squares as I let out a polite cough announcing my arrival. It does no good; she’s busy trying to find a ten-letter word meaning ‘to wish good health’. “Gesundheit,” I say, hoping to speed things along. “Well bless your heart.” She fills in the squares of her crossword puzzle. “How may I help you?” She asks in a pleasant voice. “I’m new here, my name is Maurice Almighty.” Her smile quickly turns to a frown. “We’ve been expecting you.” Her tone turns rude as if she flipped a switch. It could mean only one thing; my permanent record beat me here. The woman lifts horned rimmed glasses from her face and stares at me. “Mr. Allen, He’s here.” She speaks into an intercom. She doesn’t need to say my name, just He with a capital H. “Have a seat.” She points with her pencil towards a wooden bench. Not long after I sit, I wiggle on the uncomfortable bench, which makes my left butt cheek go numb. She doesn’t take her eyes off me for a second and doesn’t attempt to conceal her distrust. Let off a few plagues in school and that shit follows you, trust me. After a long wait, the door opens and Mr. Allen, all five foot two inches comes out of the doorway; he has crooked teeth and a bald head, but full head worth of grey hair growing in each...

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