What I Learned in 2013: Sharing

I remember one thing from my kindergarten experience.

My classmates and I were playing with cardboard blocks. Ya know, we were building things like kids like to do. I’m not sure why I did it, but every time the boy next to me build a tower I knocked all the blocks down. Not just once either; multiple times. And for this, I was made to sit on a chair in the corner.

So, as you can see I had a hard time with sharing early on.

In 2013, after unsuccessfully querying my first story BROKEN, I figured it out. I needed someone I could trust to share my work with. I’ve posted about the value of CPs before, so this is not about how wonderful mine are. Instead, sharing your stories with the general public.

Contests are one thing. Generally your work is read by authors, bloggers, or agents and if they like your work it’s posted. It’s quite another thing to post on your own website for anonymous people to read, yet many writers do just this. And I think it takes a lot of guts to do this.

What does posting your work do for the author? Well, it gives other writers a place to check out your work. It also gets the writer out of his/her own head space. And yes, it may bring comments from readers that may be helpful.

For all these reasons, I’ve decided to share what I sent in to Brenda Drake’s #PitchMadness contest. I mean, why not? If my aim is to be a published author, lots of people will read my stories. Why not give you all a taste now:)

Feel free to leave a comment, share your pitch and first 250 words with me OR leave me your blog url to check your writing out. I’d love to see it.




NA Psychological Horror



Scarred and out of control, 18yo Brooklyn seeks revenge with her tattoo needles. When Daniel comes along and shows her that love is a more fulfilling obsession, Brooklyn fights to save her sanity and herself.


I’m a monster—a dangerous one. Not the kind that will break into your house to steal prized possessions or shoot you dead on the street, but dangerous nonetheless. I try to ignore the pointed looks as I walk to the store. I know how they see me and what they think. It’s the same every time.

My fair skin, beautiful long wavy brown hair and large green eyes make me look innocent enough, that is until you catch a glimpse of my neck. This is where I’m different. Two inches below my ears, a large pink scar runs right across my throat. Without my make-up on, you may get a glimpse of a few more tiny scars on my cheeks, but those I’ve gotten very good at hiding. I have many disguises, and my face is just the one thing I cover.

The clothes I wear hide the other fine pink and white lines that crisscross my body. As long as I don’t go sunbathing in a bikini, no one even knows they’re there. I walk with my head held high and don’t bother trying to hide my neck scar anymore. Not only is it impossible, but it’s there as a reminder of who I am.

Who I was.

Every day that jagged white scar feeds my anger, keeps me alive in the shell of my mind—where the fire inside me burns with desire for revenge. I will be in control the next time I see him.


Posted on March 19, 2014, in First 250 Words, Pitch, PitchMadness, The Bleeding Heart, What I Learned in 2013 and tagged , , , , , . Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.

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