Wednesday, September 21, 2016



Genre: YA Space Opera
Word Count: 69,000

Special Question: If your main character could be any Star Wars character, who would they choose and why?

Heir to a massive intergalactic Viking empire, Ingrid “Thistle” Angsar III would choose to be Padmé Amidala in hopes of gleaning some of Amidala’s incomparable leadership skills (not to mention her total and complete badassery).

35 Word Pitch:
16-year-old Ingrid “Thistle” Angsar III dreams of becoming an intergalactically-renowned chef, but when evil extraterrestrials kidnap her royal parents, it’s up to Thistle to save the galaxy and the future of her kingdom.

First 250 Words:


She needed garlic.

And lots of it.

Thistle stood at the counter in Chimera Intergalactic Space Station’s expansive main kitchen, analyzing the flavors on her tongue. Butter, always. Shallots, present. Paprika – just a dash! But garlic, the star of her culinary show, was late for curtain call.

“Chef Clarence, would you please pass the garlic?”

The burly Executive Chef, her culinary mentor and part-time cheerleader, did as she asked. “You got it, little miss.”

Using a steel bladed knife, Thistle expertly peeled the garlic’s flaky skin. Speckled with brightly colored med-strips from minor kitchen injuries, her swift chef’s hands deftly minced the fragrant ingredient, then slid the tiny portions off her blade and into the swirling pot on the stove before her. The glaze gurgled and popped as Thistle stirred. The top-of-the-line stainless steel oven contained a gourmet cut of inaas, an avian delicacy from planet Raaghou. The entrée roasted happily away, awaiting the savory butter finish.

“Garlic and butter. ‘Ain’t nothin’ in this galaxy, or any other, that’s much tastier than that,’” Thistle said, imitating Chef Clarence’s signature drawl from their shared home planet, Earth. The native Texan wasn’t Viking by blood –unlike Thistle– but for the past few years he’d served the Empire with pride.

“Somebody awfully smart must’ve taught you that, little miss.” He smiled.

Giggling, Thistle removed a clean basting brush from its drawer and whirled it in her buttery glaze, then bent as she opened the oven door and slathered a generous coating onto her sizzling entrée.

1 comment:

  1. You have the reflexes of a Jedi!