I’m currently accepting submissions in YA, high fantasy, and paranormal. I’m keenly interested in dystopian, dark urban fantasy, both Victorian and Western steampunk, ghost tales, contemporary gods and goddesses and fairy tales, and paranormal. While I won’t turn my head from a good vampire story, I’m hoping to see something original and fresh when it comes to paranormal. Submissions should be a romance or contain strong romantic elements. No erotic romance or erotica, please.

For consideration, please submit a query letter, your writing credentials (previous publications, writer’s group memberships, writing classes/programs) and the first ten pages of your novel, double spaced and pasted into the body of your email, to rochelle@crescentmoonpress.com. No attachments, please.

How best to grab my attention? Make sure your query letter and submission are error-free. Identify word length and accurate genre. Submit a draft you’ve revised multiple times and have had others revise. Keep prologues and backstory out of your first ten pages. If submitting YA, identify the ages of the protagonist/s.

Best of luck to you all, and I look forward to finding some wonderful new talent!

1. Finish Undercurrents. ‘Nuf said.
2. Get daughter to beta read Undercurrents. If, that is, said daughter would cease and desist wasting said writer’s time by repeating the question, “Aren’t you done yet?”
3. Get awesome young friend to beta read Undercurrents. Don’t worry about the fact that said teen is most likely a better writer than self.
4. Get critique partners to critique Undercurrents. Refuse to flinch when gigantic holes in document are pointed out.
5. Revise Undercurrents based on the plethora of changes received after critiques and beta readings are complete.
5. Research YA agents. But research is fun! Right? Right???
6. Attend RWA and RT conventions. Which means begging father of children to babysit the anxiety-ridden dog so she doesn’t destroy more of the house. Like the remaining floor and door moulding. And the walls. And the electrical system.
7. Pitch Undercurrents to a YA agent at the RWA conference. Don’t drip sweat. Don’t stammer. Don’t forget character’s names. Don’t forget plot. Don’t forget title of book. Don’t forget own name.
8. Submit Undercurrents to YA agents. Hold breath. Or not, if living seems preferable.
9. While waiting to hear if Undercurrents will earn representation, outline new YA story. The mystery with romance? The dystopian with romance? The adventure with a hint of romance? The romantic comedy? The . . . oh, crud. Brain is suffering from storyline overload.
10. On December 31, 2011, take a deep breath, then write list of goals all over again, using a different title in place of Undercurrents. Maybe next book should be titled Resolution.

What are your resolutions for 2011?

By Cyntha Ryland

1993 Newberry Medal winner

Scholastic, 1992

4 out of 5 stars

Cynthia Ryland writes a touching but quiet novel tracing loss, grief, and the coming-to-life that occurs when grief transcends to acceptance. Seventh-grader Summer has experienced the passing of her aunt and mother-figure, May, but holds herself together, “swallowing back the tears that had been building inside me for two seasons,” and watches her uncle Ob lose the will to live after the loss of his beloved wife and partner in life. Summer had come late into May and Ob’s life, an orphan handed around from family member to family member after her mother dies. May and Ob need Summer, and she needs them. Ryland brilliantly portrays the loneliness and distrust of an abandoned child, providing the innocent and beguiling character of Cletus Underwood, with his quirky interests but adoring family, as a foil to self-conscious Summer.

Together, Summer, Ob, and Cletus embark on a journey to connect with May’s spirit only to find that what they need isn’t May, but what she’s left behind: love and appreciation for one another, and ultimately acceptance of her passing. Ryland’s first person account by Summer gives the reader a sense they’re tiptoeing through the story, being held back at a distance by distrusting Summer until she opens up in the final act and allows herself to fully grieve. Only then is the reader drawn into Summer’s emotional world.

Poignant, lulling, emotially evocative and even sometimes painful, MISSING MAY is an intelligent and heartfelt read. 4 out of 5 stars

MR. POPPER’S PENGIUNS

Richard and Florence Atwater

Illustrated by Robert Lawson

pub. 1938

4 out of 5 stars

Many years ago, Mr. Popper’s Penguins came to me in a bundle along with other Scholastic books, handed to me by my third grade teacher. This book was among the treasure trove of middle-school books I’d once poured over, only to be put away in my parent’s attic, waiting to be loved by the next generation of children. One of my twins’ favorite things to do when they visit Grandma and Papa is to explore Mom’s old books. The bent spine and the dog-eared pages of Mr. Popper’s Penguins speak of a book well-read and much beloved by me in my youth.

Written in 1938 by Richard and Florence Atwater and illustrated by Robert Lawson, Mr. Popper’s Penguins, a Newberry Honor Book, remains today a delightful tale, one filled with amazing feats, adventure, and the lesson that one’s dreams, no matter how impractical, can come true.

Messy housepainter Mr. Popper is faced with another long, boring winter at home with his wife and children. His painting and wallpapering jobs that fill the spring and summer have come to an end and he’s at loose ends, much to the consternation of Mrs. Popper, who finds her neat and tidy home disrupted by the constant presence of Mr. Popper during the winter.

Mr. Popper dreams of adventure—especially of exploring the South Pole with Admiral Drake—a place abound with delightful penguins. So when a package arrives unexpectedly from the South Pole, one containing an unusual gift for Mr. Popper, his dreams seem to come true. The gift of a penguin sets in motion a series of events that lead to a very unusual use of a refrigerator (as a nesting ground for penguins), a redefinition of the Popper’s basement (as a frozen Arctic landscape) and a distinct change to the Popper family, as eventually twelve penguins come to dwell in 432 Proudfoot Avenue in Stillwater.

Although today’s children may automatically question the decision to populate the North Pole with penguins (mine did), and modern families may question the Popper family’s decision of what to do with the penguins and Mr. Popper at the end, the book remains an easy and familiar read. My twins, who read the book at age eight, enjoyed the story so much I had to hear the question “But why can’t we have a penguin, too?” repeated for several weeks. This story sticks to your ribs: no wonder Mr. Popper’s Penguins is a Newberry Honor Book.