May 2, 2013: The Writer's Voice Contest Entry

The Writer's Voice Entry #87
I’m thrilled to be part of The Writer's Voice, a multi-blog, multi-agent contest hosted by Cupid of Cupid’s Literary Connection, Brenda Drake of Brenda Drake Writes, Monica B.W. of Love YA, and Krista Van Dolzer of Mother. Write. Repeat.

For The Writer's Voice competition, I'm posting my brief query below as well as the first 250 words of my younger YA romance, ANNIE'S STORY.

QUERY:

When rebellious Irish teen Annie Noolin gets stuck working in an English hospital, a contentious encounter with surly patient Johnny Stanmore sets them on a destiny-changing path. Fourteen-year-old Annie is comfortable living with extended family on their Irish farm, though Da is dead and Mam away. When Mam returns to drag Annie off to the bustle of post-WWII London, Annie submits reluctantly, clinging to the dream of returning home. Sparks fly and her interest is piqued when she meets the brooding schoolboy who, for a mysterious reason of his own, would rather not recover. For the first time, Annie becomes focused on someone other than herself.

Annie's poking into Johnny’s troubled family relationships intensifies unresolved feelings toward
her own. Wounded after a conflict with Johnny, she flees back to Ireland only to discover it’s not the ideal place she believed. While confronting difficult truths about her da, she misses the
freedom and potential of London. She realizes her true place is there and—despite everyone’s disapproval of English/Irish romances—maybe even with Johnny.

I co-authored The Pocket Parent (nonfiction-Workman Publishing, 2001, over 160,000 copies in print). I belong to SCBWI. ANNIE’S STORY (YA romance-75,000 words) originates in my British childhood with an Irish mother and English father.


ANNIE'S STORY:


No stopping it now, for sure—neither the ferry’s inexorable churning away from Ireland’s
azure bays and rolling green mountains, nor the dread that rose like bile in Annie’s throat.
Above, the homesick cries of a lonesome gull echoed in the wind. How she longed to take
wing too and fly back to the only home she’d ever known. But now that beloved home was
retreating into her past, while she, Annie Noolin, was bound for the one country that had
been Ireland’s enemy for centuries.

Another wave of misery washed over her. No matter how firmly Annie braced her feet against
the swaying deck and gulped the sparkling air, still her insides lurched. And with a sickness
that wrenched not just her stomach but deep into her heart. Leaning over the side, she retched
again, unleashing the bitter taste of defeat into the waves. As she straightened up, her mother reached out to untangle her auburn curls.

“Drink this,” Mam coaxed, holding out a paper cup of water. “It will make you feel better,
my darling girl. Happened to me as well, my first time on a boat.”

Annie gently pushed Mam’s hand away. A few drops from the cup splashed onto the slick deck.

“I’m fine. I’ll not be sick again,” she said, her stomach settling but her heart still floundering.

Already fourteen, Annie had a fierce, stubborn mind of her own but Mam was treating her as if
she were still a wee girl.