Title: MY 7TH GRADE LIFE IN
TIGHTS
Category: MG
Genre: Contemporary
Word count: 53,000
Pitch:
All twelve-year-old Dillon wants is to be a real dancer. He's
the only one on his dance crew who has never taken a single dance class and he
can't help but think it shows. But when one of his solo dance YouTube videos
lands him in the running for a summer scholarship competition at
Dance-SPLOSION, he has to decide if going behind his crew's back is worth a
shot at the most prestigious dance academy in the state.
Q1: In
your MC's voice, what costumed character do you most relate to and why?
My routines usually have a lot of ninja kicks in them so I
want to say Michelangelo from TMNT, but Superman's got better lines when he
flies. So I'm gonna have to pretend that Clark Kent's really a Ninja Turtle and
say both.
Q2: As
an author, what makes your manuscript a tasty treat (unique/marketable)?
With dance as popular as it is right now, I believe a MG
dance book that has the energy of the Step
Upfranchise combined with the snarky goodness of Mean Girls would be one seriously yummy read.
First 250:
My downward spiral into the land of two-faced backstabbery
started that day.
The day I posted my routine on the Dance-SPLOSION Elite Dance Academy website. They were giving away a once-in-a-lifetime expert critique to ten lucky dancers. The Saturday before seventh grade started, I headed downstairs to record the routine. The lighting sucked down there and the basement smelled like someone farted in an old shoe but it was the only place in our house that had enough room for me to practice.
I sat my phone on the edge of an end table and hit record.
“Hi, my name’s Dillon Parker. I’m twelve years old and I go to Sunnydale Middle School. I hope you like my dance.”
My heart was already trying to crash through my ribcage. I hated that I was gonna have to pull off a face-melter in jeans. Dance tights would’ve been better. But I didn’t have any. And I wouldn’t buy any, either.
Not until I was a real dancer.
I hit play on the CD player and stepped into position. A few seconds later and the lower half of my house was filled with the epic sounds of Imagine Dragons.
Dance rule # 2: always tell a story.
And I was about to tell an awesome one. I closed my eyes and let the song pour into my muscles. That’s how I always imagine it when I dance. Like the top of my head opens up on a hinge and the music fill every empty space inside me.
The day I posted my routine on the Dance-SPLOSION Elite Dance Academy website. They were giving away a once-in-a-lifetime expert critique to ten lucky dancers. The Saturday before seventh grade started, I headed downstairs to record the routine. The lighting sucked down there and the basement smelled like someone farted in an old shoe but it was the only place in our house that had enough room for me to practice.
I sat my phone on the edge of an end table and hit record.
“Hi, my name’s Dillon Parker. I’m twelve years old and I go to Sunnydale Middle School. I hope you like my dance.”
My heart was already trying to crash through my ribcage. I hated that I was gonna have to pull off a face-melter in jeans. Dance tights would’ve been better. But I didn’t have any. And I wouldn’t buy any, either.
Not until I was a real dancer.
I hit play on the CD player and stepped into position. A few seconds later and the lower half of my house was filled with the epic sounds of Imagine Dragons.
Dance rule # 2: always tell a story.
And I was about to tell an awesome one. I closed my eyes and let the song pour into my muscles. That’s how I always imagine it when I dance. Like the top of my head opens up on a hinge and the music fill every empty space inside me.
No comments:
Post a Comment