Hello Crit Collective:
I write YA, mainly fantasy and scifi. I read/crit all types of YA, MG, and also genre SciFi and Fantasy.
I’m looking to find additional crit partners to exchange entire completed manuscripts. To find a good match, I’d prefer to exchange chapters or about 2-3k words initially. I have several completed projects, but am working on new ones as well.
I’d be able to start exchanging any time. I’m open to different ways of exchanging, but would crit up to 10k words in a typical week.
The first page or so of my work in progress follows:
Before that night, two long years ago, I might have considered myself a well-adjusted girl. If I couldn’t see it or hear its echoes, it wasn’t really there.
Mom and I had been chasing each other around the grove, soaring in and out of the branches, stealing bananas from each other. My wings billowed full in the moonlight. Darwin, my pet bat, couldn’t decide if he was going to chase or be chased, so he fluttered in and out between us.
Dad and Chadrick hovered overhead, their shoulders flapping in unison. The thrum of the two chirans’ massive wings echoed down the valley. They drew bowstrings easily with their legs, launching volleys of arrows. Rippling muscles and sweat glistening on their dark skin. They looked every bit like chiran soldiers: powerful, brave, relentless. Of course, Dad would say we’re all soldiers—so our family played discretely, unseen by our people.
The grove was empty tonight, so if we wanted a break while the moon was still up, we did. Other times work lasted all night and well into the daytime.
Mom dove out of nowhere and snatched a half-eaten banana from my fingers.
“Hey!” I screamed and then laughed, pumping my wings to follow her over a canyon. I clicked twice and the echo returned her speed and position. Darwin clicked behind me, riding my draft. Mom’s powerful strokes looked a bit like Darwin’s, the way her shoulders and elbows whipped her wing tips, but a tiny bat’s fluttering is nothing compared to the sleek confidence of someone athletic like Mom.
I leaned and swayed. Sometimes I’d torque my wings and pull a tight spiral, just to feel gravity reaching for me and losing.
Ananti, the mountain where we lived, peaked up behind the grove. Banana trees grew in the hundreds at this elevation. The terrain was rocky, but from this point down, you’d find less stone and more grass.
Higher up, spires and boulders ruled the landscape, solid and dependable like us, the chirans who lived among them.
I’d have caught Mom in another few seconds, but then it happened. My vision flashed blue. Vibrant strings crisscrossed the world before me. Millions and millions of threads exploded into the vastness of the sky.
Filaments carpeted the ground, like some tangled blue fungus. Long rays skewered me. I swerved to avoid them, lost momentum, and fell. I thought the tangle would catch me, but I plunged through the web of nothing.
Slamming into rock, I lost my breath. My vision darkened. I couldn’t inhale. Strings packed my throat.
Darwin landed on me, his little bat face peering through a cloud of filaments. Tiny fibers even sprang from his eyes and teeth. Finally, I sucked in air. Mom clicked and landed in front of me. She sliced the fibers like shadows. Her wings engulfed me. Her fingers brushed my face.
“Sanger,” she whispered. “Are you OK? Baby, talk to me.” She caressed the point of one of my ears.
Finally, moonshine broke through the cloud of strings. The mountain came back. The gravel under me pricked.