The Writer's Voice Entry - ONE OF THOSE TIMES

Query:

Dear Writer's Voice Coaches,

Twelve-year-old Sam Heans is about to have the most amazing, and awful, year of his life. Until now, Sam has been about as edgy as a marshmallow. Case in point: the wildest thing he’s ever done is the sixth grade limbo contest. But a small book is about to change all of that in a big way.

When Sam finds a worn datebook on the sidewalk, it doesn’t take long for him to realize that it’s everything but ordinary. The book contains hints of things that will happen to him, like swinging off of Dead Man’s Jump into the river. Only it’s not predicting, it’s instructing. The book has a message for him, but he has to follow all of its clues to find answers, even if that means taking a risk or two along the way. By the time he’s finished, Sam will find that sometimes the best things in life come in unexpected packages.

ONE OF THOSE TIMES is a Middle Grade Magical Realism novel finished at 27,000 words, that should appeal to fans of Rebecca Stead.

Thank you for your time and consideration.

Best Regards,  
Sean Steinle

First 250: 

Sometimes people do stupid things for no reason. This wasn’t one of those times. Not that what I was about to do wasn’t stupid, because it most definitely was. It’s that I had a perfectly good reason—it was written in the datebook.

Apr 14 – Soar

And if experience had taught me anything, it was that no matter how crazy, or even life-threatening it seemed, the datebook’s advice was always right. Either that or it was trying to kill me. To be honest I was still a bit fuzzy on that part. It didn’t matter though; I was in way too deep to turn back now.

So that’s how I found myself squeezing the brake on my bike, my eyes slammed shut, sitting on the edge of the ridiculously steep hill behind my house. I forced one of my eyelids halfway up, and my stomach turned. A tiny speck at the bottom marked the flimsy ramp that my best friend and I had just thrown together using some scraps of wood from my garage.

“What if you die?” Rye asked. 

He looked anxious, like it was him on the bike. I faked a laugh. 

“You have the lens cap off, right?”

“Check.”

I let off the brake and started down the hill, mashing the pedals on my BMX to pick up speed. I’d need it if I wanted to clear the creek bed. I hit the ramp and flew. I mean I really flew. Only my bike wasn’t with me.