Meet My Character: Bridey Corkill from FEAR THE DROWNING DEEP

Hi everyone,

The wonderful Eve Castellan tagged me to participate in the Meet My Character blog hop! Basically, I'll be answering 7 questions about my main character, then tagging another writer or two. And now, I'm excited to take this opportunity to introduce the main character from one of my novels, FEAR THE DROWNING DEEP.

1) What is the name of your character? Is she a fictional person or a historic person?

Bridey Reynylt Corkill is a fictional person starring in my YA Historical Fantasy novel, though the magical island on which her story takes place is quite real.

2) When and where is the story set?

FEAR THE DROWNING DEEP takes place in 1913, so just before The Great War (WWI). It's set on the Isle of Man, in the completely made-up town of Port Coire (a word meaning 'heart'). I've always pictured Port Coire as being smack dab in the middle of the real towns of Peel and Kirk Michael on the island's western shore.

The Isle of Man is an incredibly beautiful place that seems to have a magic of its own (though not quite like the magic in my story!). If you aren't familiar with the Isle, it's worth looking up!

Town of Niarbyl, Isle of Man

 

3) What should we know about your character? 

Bridey's been terrified of the ocean ever since she watched her grandad leap to his death and drown with a smile on his face. So naturally, at sixteen years old, it's her mission to get off the Isle and find somewhere higher and drier to spend her life. Of course, that's only until she rescues a handsome boy she calls Fynn, and realizes that something sinister in the water is threatening her town. Headstrong Bridey would never let anything happen to her family and her many sisters, even if it means facing down a creature from her nightmares. It probably goes without saying, but--she hates seafood! She also loves to read.

How I picture Bridey!

 

4) What is the main conflict? What messes up her life?

 

One summer evening, a girl's body washes ashore. She appears to have drowned, but Bridey, remembering her grandad's death, suspects something more sinister. No one's ever believed her about the strange thing she thought she glimpsed in the water the day he died, but the drowned girl is stirring up painful memories for everyone.

Soon after, people from Bridey's town start going missing. She could be next, or one of her sisters, if she can't prove to everyone that there's something lurking in the sea, an ancient evil that must be stopped. But it's going to be quite the battle for a girl who doesn't even know how to swim to stop a monster, or convince a town full of narrow-minded people that the killer among them isn't human.

5) What is the personal goal of the character?

 

I touched on this above, but basically: Bridey wants to stop the danger before anyone else from her town disappears, like her friends or her sisters--or her!

She also wants to travel the world, live someplace without a sea view, and settle down somewhere that has a massive library.

6) Is there a working title for this novel, and can we read more about it?

 

FEAR THE DROWNING DEEP has always been this book's title! I posted a brief excerpt or two during WriteOnCon 2013, but for those who are curious...I'll just leave the first 500 or so words RIGHT HERE:

Chapter One

May 15^th, 1913

Isle of Man, Near Peel

They found her body at dusk, washed up in a tide pool with a handful of sea urchins and a slender green starfish. As they lifted the girl, her dark hair wrapped around her neck like seaweed. Fat drops of salt water rolled off her body and kissed the cold sand. I shivered in sympathy, though of course she didn’t feel the bitter wind tugging at her gown. Her waxy skin appeared paler than the full moon that had risen earlier.

            Old Mister Gill pushed the girl’s hair back, revealing milky, grayish eyes. I couldn’t begin to guess their true color. Cradled in his arms, the girl looked like a nymph, or one of the mermaids my mam loved to paint. Not like a murder victim, or even someone desperate enough to have taken her own life.

A neighbor beside me released a shriek, sending a chill rippling down my back. Several other women sniffed. They reminded me of a flock of guillemots, the way they’d perched themselves on the lowest cliff overlooking the rocky shore. They shared handkerchiefs and made little hiccupping sounds. Spectators. Like me, I suppose.

Not one of them noticed me lingering where a girl of sixteen shouldn’t be.

Heads bowed in respect, Mister Gill and several fishermen carried the girl up the steep incline leading to town. Had she come from the other side of the island, or one of the smaller islands around us? I’d never seen her before, and in our close community, that was rare.

One of the women turned to follow the procession back to town, dabbing at her eyes with a scrap of linen. Her graying hair was pinned at the top of her head, and even in the pervasive air of sadness, she stood tall and proud.

Before I could consider hiding—a near impossible task on the barren cliffs—the woman’s shrewd brown eyes spotted me. Despite her age, my neighbor Missus Gill rarely missed a thing. Folk said she was as clever as Morag, the ancient sea-hag who lived on the swell of land above town. I thought she was just nosy, though I didn’t dare say it. Her husband had been the self-appointed leader of Port Coire for as long as I could remember.

Missus Gill broke from the procession and strode in my direction, frowning. “Bridey Corkill, this is hardly a sight for young eyes! Aren’t you supposed to be helping your mam put supper on, child?”

“I’m not a child,” I protested, though without any force behind the words. No one argued with Missus Gill unless they wanted everyone else to hear about it. “And she sent me to buy bacon from Mister Vondy.”

“Yet I see you’re sadly empty-handed.” Missus Gill eyed my windswept hair, and I resisted the urge to pat it down. “How’d you end up here, when the market is on the other side of town?”

“I followed the screams.” I glanced around. The crowd had almost dispersed, but a few curious souls—all young, fit men—scuttled down the cliffs by way of a narrow, winding path to the strand of beach flecked with tide pools.

The Gills’ nephew reached the bottom first. He stared into the pocket of salt water that had moments ago held the girl’s body, as though he might find answers bubbling to the surface simply because he willed them to appear. With the light fading, he wouldn’t be able to see anything in there for much longer.

And, lastly:

 
7) When can we expect the book to be published?

 

Someday soon is always the hope!

And now, I'm tagging my lovely agency sister Rachel Pudelek to join in the fun; she writes some fierce YA horror and fantasy, but lately she's been hard at work on a middle grade novel!

SPOOKTOBERFEST 2014!

UPDATE: Huge thanks to Jackie at Bouquet of Books for choosing me as one of this year's two winners! Check out the other winning entry by author DRC here.

 

 

 Hey all,

I'm so excited to participate in this year's Spooktoberfest '14, hosted by The Cover Girls!

Stories had to include the following five words: curse; cocoon; virus; chill; commotion

All stories also had to be 300 words or less, and could be accompanied by a photo or song to set the mood!

So, ready for something spooky? :)

Read on...

Under the Glass

 

Gravel crunched under Maree’s boots as she followed her neighbor, Colton, down a wooded trail. She hated walking home from school after the moon rose, but that was the curse of living in Rainey Hollow, the middle of freaking nowhere.

As they reached a gate half-choked by vines, Maree quickened her steps. A gust of wind parted her hair, leaving a chill kiss on her neck.

“Wait a sec.” Colton bent to tie his dirty shoelace.

Sighing, Maree studied a wispy cocoon clinging to an oak. She traced the arc of the early moon. Anything to avoid glimpsing the abandoned farm house beyond the gate. The house’s sides and caving roof, blackening over time as though stricken by some virus, made ghosts seem a real possibility. 

“What’s that?” Maree’s skin prickled as a blurry figure danced at the corner of her gaze. The woods had gone unnaturally still. No rustling bird wings. No grumbling insects.

A window creaked open, then banged shut. Again. And again.

Together, Colton and Maree turned toward the commotion.

Someone was standing in the topmost farmhouse window. The abandoned farmhouse window. A girl with midnight hair and a pale, sharp face. 

She was staring right at them.

At last, Maree found her voice. “Y-you see her, too?”

Colton nodded, fishing for something in his pocket. His iPhone. It shook slightly as he raised it to snap a picture. 

But the instant he clicked the button, the girl in the window vanished.

#

Tossing her jet black hair, Lillian shut the door to the attic room where Granny kept the model town. The miniature boy and girl figurines had looked so startled to see her on their walk home from school. It was almost like she’d really scared them.

Lillian smiled. 

She couldn’t wait to come back tomorrow.

The End

That's all for now! Thanks so much for reading. Wishing everyone a candy-filled, creepy Halloween!

NOW OFFERING CRITIQUE SERVICES!

Hey all,

I'm thrilled to announce that I'm now offering critique services through this blog! It's something I've wanted to do for quite a while, as I discovered the joy of helping fellow writers through mentoring in query contests like Query Kombat and Sun vs. Snow! For the time being, my critiques will focus on queries, pitches, and opening chapters (basically, preparing your novel for querying & partial requests).

Here's what authors have to say about my critiques:

“SG Marsh (or Sarah!) is my critique partner and my writing is always pushed to the next level with her. She knows the craft and it shows in her own writing, all the offers she’s received because of her writing, and in her critiques. As a matter of fact, I got my agent after becoming CPs. Probably not a coincidence! She’ll also school you on spelling, commas and grammar if that’s also something you need. Also, for the time and quality of effort SG puts into crits,  these prices are an absolute steal so take advantage while you can!” -Ami Allen-Vath, YA Author

"I met Sarah earlier this year when my picture book was chosen to be in the Sun vs Snow contest and Sarah was one of the mentors. Sarah’s critique was spot on and was super helpful. She picked on details that I hadn’t even thought of. And she pointed out areas for me to strengthen my manuscript. She is smart and kind and since Sun vs Snow we have become great friends! Sarah has since critiqued other manuscripts of mine and has truly been a HUGE help in getting them ready to go out on submission. I highly recommend Sarah’s critique service for anyone who is looking for an awesome critique at a great price!" ---Sharon Chriscoe, Picture Book Author

Oh, and if you're writing a fantasy novel, I'm your gal for world-building. Fantasy is my specialty!

Here's a look at what I'm offering. (This information can also be found under the 'Services' tab at the top of the page).

Query Only: $20

Let me polish your query so it'll catch an agent's attention. In addition to spotting grammar errors, I'll make sure your stakes are clear and that your MC's personality shines through. This is a one-time critique with detailed comments.

First Chapter Only (up to 20 pages): $30

If you need an extra set of eyes on those first pages, or want to make sure you're starting your story in the right place, this is for you. I'll go through your opening chapter once, with an eye for grammar errors as well as the big picture.

Query & Contest Package: $35

I'll go through your query up to 3 times, helping you fine-tune the conflict and stakes until we're both happy! Then I'll help you create and polish one 3-sentence pitch and two Twitter pitches (under 140 characters to accommodate contest hash tags). This is for anyone who wants to catch an agent's eye in that next exciting contest!

Submission Package (Includes Query and First Chapter, up to 20 double-spaced pages): $45

I'll go through your query and first chapter twice, leaving big-picture comments as well as checking for grammar errors. I'll help you figure out whether you're starting your story in the right place, make sure you've crafted a gripping first page, and find areas for improvement.

Deluxe Submission Package (Includes Query and First 3 Chapters, up to 40 double-spaced pages): $75

Same as the package above, but with three chapters instead of one! I'll go through your query and pages twice to make sure they're ready for agents.


*Note: If you want to add or combine options for a discount, or want more pages edited than what's offered above, drop me a line! AthenaDreaming@gmail.com

**For the entire month of OCTOBER 2014, all critiques are $5 off to celebrate this new venture!

***Also note: No non-fiction projects please, as they are outside my realm of expertise!


Thanks so much for thinking of me for your story. I hope to speak with you soon!

Eeeeek! It's Almost Time for Nightmare on Query Street!

I'm so excited to mentoring in this year's Nightmare on Query Street writing contest! I'll be helping people shine up their queries and first 250 words in the hope that they'll get all the requests! Check out the rules for entering on Michelle Huack's blog, here:

http://michelle4laughs.blogspot.com/2014/09/nightmare-on-query-street-2014.html

Hope to see your entry in October!

Recapturing the Magic

Lately, whenever I devote time to brainstorming or drafting on my newest project, I've found that my progress is slower than it was on previous books. It's not that I'm any less excited about my new idea, so I started wondering what's changed since I wrote my other three books.

Of course, the answer is: a lot. I signed with my lovely agent, I've revised two of my three manuscripts (so far!) under her expert guidance, and I've even been lucky enough to do some revisions with an editor. I've re-thought and re-written my books so they're stronger, hoping to give them that un-put-downable quality. I've learned things about pacing, structure, and making my writing flow better. I've critiqued books for fellow authors, which in turn has taught me a lot of things to apply to my own work. All of these experiences have enriched me as an author, helping me become more in tune with my writing voice, more knowledgeable on how to self-edit, more aware of what makes a YA book stand out in the current market.

So why am I slowing down now, when I have a new idea for a book I'm passionate about (just like I was with my others), and more experience to guide me?

As I'm sure you know, critique & revision requires the critical thinking part of your brain, and once that's turned on, it's hard to switch off! With all the writing/editing experience I've gained, I'm now more critical of everything I read, and find it harder to finish a for-fun book in my down time.

The positive side of this is that when I find a book that I can't put down to save my life, I know it's great storytelling! And there's another positive, too. I've realized my new, slower approach to writing is because there's so much I've learned that I can now apply up-front to come away with a stronger first draft. There's nothing wrong with that. In fact, it's awesome! It means my project will be that much closer to ready for others' eyes when I type 'The End', although of course, there's always room to improve and there are always revisions to be made. I doubt I'll ever stop learning amazing new things as a writer, with every book I read or critique, every article on craft I read while having my morning coffee.

But there's another reason why my recent progress has been slower than I'd like, and it's one that I can remedy: when I let that critical part of my brain take over in the drafting and idea stage, I lost sight of the magic of writing. Of the spark that comes with crafting a killer opening line, creating snappy banter between favorite characters, of letting ideas flow right from my mind down to my fingertips and onto the keyboard.

So I went back to my other books. I read favorite scenes, moments that made me smile, and darker ones that were painful but well worth the effort to write. It helped me shut off that critical side and remember what I enjoy about this whole process. 

I guess what I'm trying to say is, while you learn and grow with each finished project, while you'll always be able to go back to your completed books and find new things to critique about them, don't lose sight of the magic in your words. Celebrate the heart-wrenching scene you wrote, or the time a beta reader told you how relatable your MC is! Finding and remembering the things you love about your writing will (I hope!) help you stay enthusiastic about beginning a new project.

It's certainly daunting, starting to craft a new story when there are so many things you've learned and want to keep in mind, but if you're like me, you have a handful of books on your hard drive promising that this new idea will, in time, turn into something you're proud of.

And just think of all the fun you'll have along the way, exploring a new world and meeting new characters!

And now, for fun, here are a few snippets from my previous books that I always enjoy re-reading!

First is a song from THE GOBLINS' PRICE. This is when the MC, musician and sometimes sword-for-hire Sirith, is entertaining the King's daughter at a birthday festival.

"She hadn’t planned to play this particular song, but goblins had been lingering in the back of her mind ever since she’d heard soldiers muttering about them in the prison. With the faces of the onlookers cast in shadow and the wind howling past the castle walls, the cautionary tale sung by northern mothers to their children seemed fitting.

The melody began with short, sweet notes and built into something that reminded Sirith of a cobweb, fragile as a whisper and full of tangled layers. It was a challenging song at best, but her hands performed with practiced ease:

“Feast in the orchard but beware
The peach as gold as maidens’ hair
The apple red as poisoned lips
The berries from a foreign ship.
For once you taste the goblins’ gift
The change will come upon you swift.
You’ll feel the call deep in your bones
To march into their frozen home.
Your skin will turn to ash or stone
You’re doomed to walk the earth alone.
So taste the orchard’s sweet delights
But e’er remember the goblins’ plight.”

***

Also from GOBLINS, here's a scene where Sirith and Princess Kaylinara are combing the countryside for a trace of the missing Prince Ramsey. Sirith's been hired by Kaylinara to find the Prince, and much to her annoyance, the younger girl has tagged along.

"Sirith woke to birdsong and the gentle lowing of a cow. She unfolded her stiff limbs, wondering why sleeping on the ground always hurt no matter how many times she did it.

Yawning, she rolled over and shut her eyes again, not yet burdened with the sense of urgency that fully waking would bring. The sun’s warmth and the cow’s soft calls were beginning to lull her back to sleep when she smelled it: Hot, fresh manure.

She sat up with a jolt and gazed around the field where she and Kaylinara had spent the night. The culprit was standing beside the Princess, its black and white tail swishing as it examined the load it had dropped by Kaylinara’s head.

The Princess slumbered on, and Sirith didn’t bother trying to stifle her laughter. It was past time for Kaylinara to wake up. The sun was already peeking above the trees. Pushing herself up, Sirith searched for breakfast in the four bags Abbi had packed them and trusted the noise would wake Kaylinara. It didn’t.

At least there’s one advantage to traveling with a spoiled princess, Sirith thought as she pulled out a biscuit. She wouldn’t have to worry about her next meal.

When she poked Kaylinara’s shoulder and the girl didn’t even stir, cold prickled across Sirith’s arms and neck. Perhaps the Princess wasn’t sleeping after all. She watched closely for the rise and fall of Kaylinara’s chest to be sure she hadn’t died in the night.

Relieved that the Princess was indeed breathing, Sirith grabbed another biscuit and hurled it at her.
“What do you think you’re doing?” Kaylinara gasped. The biscuit bounced off her stomach and landed in the grass.

Sirith shrugged. “You missed breakfast. I thought you might be hungry.” Pretending she couldn’t see Kaylinara’s scowl, she motioned to the waiting horses. “Come on. You can eat your biscuit while we ride. You promised not to slow me down, remember?”

Kaylinara blinked sleep from her eyes and ran her fingers through her hair.

“We need to hurry,” Sirith added. Maybe she hadn’t been clear enough the first time.

“You’re right.” Kaylinara smiled apologetically, reaching for the nearest pack. “Just let me find some jam for my biscuit.”

Sirith snatched the pack up before the other girl reached it. “This is an adventure. And in case you didn’t know, Princess, there’s no time for jam on adventures.”

***

Last, from FEAR THE DROWNING DEEP, here's a short scene where the main character, Bridey, reflects on having seen the body of a strange girl wash up on the beach near her home.

"At night, I lay awake long after Grayse and Liss fell asleep on either side of me. Their warmth made me drowsy, but my eyes wouldn’t stay shut. I shifted until I could see the moonbeams streaming through the latched window.

A knot formed deep in my stomach as my thoughts returned to the drowned girl. Remembering the sight of her drenched, pale figure made my skin damp with cold sweat.

How did she end up in the water? Had her boat capsized in the midst of a storm? Had someone pushed her in? Or had she—like Grandad—taken to the water with a look of pure ecstasy on her face, summoned by some invisible force?

The sea did funny things to people. It played tricks on the mind, and its vastness hid things…Bodies. Secrets. The deadly bulk of icebergs.  A month ago, people on both sides of the Atlantic mourned the one-year anniversary of the sinking of the Titanic. Someone had called the giant ship ‘unsinkable,’ and the sea proved them wrong. Maybe the ocean didn’t like being challenged. Maybe that’s why it took the Titanic and most of its passengers to a place no living person could follow.

I turned away from the moonlight and closed my eyes. Even with the window shut and Liss’s familiar breathing in my ear, I imagined I could hear someone wailing away on their fiddle, playing a faint and mournful tune for all those who had lost their lives to the sea. And with the melody came the unmistakable sound of water slapping against the rocks far below us, slowly eroding the foundation of Port Coire and everything I loved."

Thanks for reading! Let me know in the comments how you shut off your inner critic while drafting a new project!