Turn to page 69 of any book and read it. If you like that page, buy the book.
That was Marshall McLuhan’s advice anyway. Over the next few Wednesdays, I’ll try this on my own books and works in progress. I also invite readers to submit their own or other works (pg. 69 only of course!).
But first: Congrats to Lie-dar Winner!
Please join me in congratulating the winner of last week’s Lie-dar contest. Guest Author Meghan Hill offered a copy of her new book, Making Room For You as a prize for correctly identifying her mystery back tattoo (“A horse on my back with “Horse” written beneath it.”). Because there were several correct guesses, the winner was picked at random by the eponymously named RandomPicker. Thanks to all who took part in the contest, and congrats to the winner, KarenF!
PG 69 CHALLENGE: what page 69 would you like to feature—from your own work or others? Fill out contact form below, and I’ll add it to an upcoming Wednesday post.
Following is page 60 from my work in progress, Round Trip Fare. I’d love to hear what you think!Superpowers suck. If you just want to live a normal life, Null City is only a Metro ride away. After one day there, imps become baristas, and hellhounds become poodles. Demons settle down, become parents, join the PTA, and worry about their taxes. But Gaby, Connor, and Carey—the three Parker siblings charged with protecting Null City—are still separated. And outside of Null City—now that the century-long secret Nonwars between Gifts and Haven are over and the Accords Treaty is signed—an uneasy peace is policed by the Accords Agency. Accords Warden Carey Parker just wants to find her missing brother and sister. Instead, her new partner is a rogue Warden who foresees death—hers. And it would have been nice if someone told them the angels were all on the other side. (NOTE: until final formatting, I have to approximate where pg. 69 falls)
March 2011: Seattle
She had, Carey reminded herself, served ARC warrants on some of the most dangerous and violent runners the Agency had ever seen. She’d been shot at, stabbed, and hit upside the head with a surprisingly lethal Prada handbag. Just today, she’d brought in her prisoner, and she had all the proper approvals signed-off for the check she’d requested. So was she really supposed to cower out in the hallway because some Accords Agency accountant was glaring at her?
When the accountant in question was a were-badger whose eyes were squinting, nose quivering, and top lip even now raising over her teeth?
Carey dove for the gray plastic chair by the doorway. “You got it.”
The clock on the wall outside of Accounting must have been left from the days when the Agency’s offices belonged to the previous tenant, a now bankrupt software company, because it showed the time in binary code. Near as Carey could figure, she’d been looking at featureless gray walls and floors accented only by the red lights on the binary clock for 38 minutes. Or three days. She never quite got the hang of those flashing dots. Either way, her shot at making it to her lit class was history. Even as she mentally winced at that pun, Carey heard her name.
“Warden Parker. You haven’t brought me any work lately. Where’s the love?”
“Hey, Frankie. Believe me, I was tempted today.” She grinned at the petite figure in the lab coat. The Agency’s resident pathologist had autopsied more than one of Carey’s search targets. “So, resurrected anyone lately?”
“As I explained at the time…” The scientist’s tone was severe, but the eyes behind the rimless glasses crinkled with amusement. “He was only mostly dead.”
“If you want to hang onto your geek creds, Frankie, you need to quote something more badass—or at least more recent—than Princess Bride.”
Carey’s former Academy roommate, Claire Danielsen, had once explained patiently to Carey that the three of them—Claire, Frankie, and her partner Warden Laurel Franklin—were Carey’s friends. Carey wasn’t sure about that whole friends concept, but when Claire translated that as good people to get drunk with, she decided she could live with the definition.
How about you? Use Contact Form below to submit your favorite Pg 69 (your own or other’s work) or tweet #Pg69