I've posted here just over a year ago and got a great critique from one of the Hatrackers. He introduced me to many, many writing issues I was facing - very polite and helpful. I've been polishing my writing for the past year.I would love a critique on my YA fantasy novel TWO HALVES complete at 104000 words. I am almost convinced I will self-pub and need that extra push to be sure it's ready.
Blurb: A prophecy is being fulfilled. Two half-breed vampires will prevent the extinction of their species. Power and schemes in the underworld are halting their progress.
SARAH denies her dark side and tries to be human, until a nightmare foretelling her future stirs her suppressed vampire traits. As she struggles to find balance between her two sides, William—her equal, her other half—rescues her from zombie seekers who have detected her powers and are intent on capturing the couple for the demon lord of the underworld, Aseret. He is scheming to stop William and Sarah from fulfilling their destiny.
Hiding behind the magical safety of the Amazon forest, William teaches Sarah who she is and what she’s capable of, but if she does not realize her potential in time, the foreshadowing nightmare will come true and Aseret will stop the prophecy. As Sarah struggles to embrace her nature and overcome the supernatural, her lustful dreams of William distract her. But a curse to keep them apart has already been cast.
Seekers are eager to find the couple while Sarah and William turn to magic to find their way to each other. With a unique family-dynamic and shape-shifting friends, they may have a chance to be together, after all, the prophecy calls for their future family to rule the underworld.
But will magic be enough to save both humans and vampires or are Aseret’s schemes rooted in all realms?
First 13:
The incision burned. The slow oozing of blood felt like hot water. I swept my hand across my chest and licked the red goo off with my tongue. The bitterness tasted foreign.
“Ahh!” I cried, and my body shot upright. “No!” I screamed, pushing my back against the headboard as my feet mangled the sweat-dampened sheets. I sprang into a crouch on the bed and warily scanned my bedroom for intruders, poised for an attack. No; a dream—a dream where I was somewhere else.
I touched the middle of my ribcage—no wound. Lifting my pajama top, I saw no scar, not even a white mark resembling one. I can’t scar, I thought in disbelief. “What am I going to get myself into?” I hissed, grimacing. I pressed my right hand against my lips. How soon will it happen?
Thank you for all the inspiration and help!
Marta
[This message has been edited by Kathleen Dalton Woodbury (edited October 08, 2011).]