If you’d like to participate, then please email me at firstname.lastname@example.org by 5pm tomorrow & post the first page of your manuscript on YOUR blog. I will compile a list of the participating blogs and post them here tomorrow. That way, everyone can hop around and post constructive feedback on each others first page. I will randomly draw five names to receive a personal critique from Heather (Burch). I’ll announce those winners tomorrow on my blog and then contact you with instructions. Also, I will personally visit everyone’s blog to comment and will keep a tally on who is leaving the most helpful comments for others:) That person’s reward will be a mailed copy of Heather’s book (Halflings) *can I get a woot, woot* I’ll announce that winner on my regular blog next Wednesday.
Here is the first page of my MG fantasy adventure, THE PRINCESS'S TREASURE HUNT:
Princess Cassandra accidentally stabbed herself with her sewing needle. She glared at it and shoved her thumb into her mouth so she wouldn't get any blood on the fabric. Lady Bethany would have a fit if that happened.
She risked a glance outside the large peak-shaped window. The sun shone down from the height of its journey, and Cassandra wanted nothing more than to throw aside the stupid patchwork and run down to the stable to fetch a horse. Not that Philip, the nasty stableman, would let her ride one. After the incident two months ago, Cassandra was banned from horseback riding, and Philip told that he would lose more than just his job if it was found out that he had aided her.
Cassandra sighed and glanced around at the other ladies in the small sewing room.
"Is something wrong, princess?" Lady Bethany asked. With a sharp nose and sharper eyes, Lady Bethany, her tutor in ladylike graces, had an awful habit of knowing when Cassandra was plotting some fun.
"No, nothing's wrong," the princess said.
"Then you better get back to practicing."
Crooked, shoddy, her handiwork simply wasn't presentable. Not for a maiden, certainly not for a princess. And she didn't care a whit.
"Actually, I am feeling a little under the weather," she lied, pressing her hand to her forehead.
Lady Bethany pursed her lips, and a crease formed between her eyes.
Lady Helen lowered her sewing project and smiled. "Go and lay down. We hope you'll feel well enough to join us at supper."
Any and all comments/critiques/thoughts/suggestions welcome!