Dear Ms. Gref,
At great risk of losing everyone she loves, Hania must decide if she is willing to help bring back hope to those around her. I am reaching out to you, Ms. Gref, at Lowenstein Associates for assistance in publishing my recently completed manuscript. I am drawn to you as an agent because we enjoy reading similar books and I often find myself laughing out loud at your blog. My book, The Heart Song, is a young adult fantasy novel complete at 87,000 words. It is a stand-alone book with series potential, featuring a strong female lead and Native American folklore and practices.
After running from her past for 400 years, Hania, a Golem, discovers that someone she once knew is responsible for the lack of hope and compassion in America. She must decide if she will open her painful history and draw from her experiences during the Trail of Tears and World War I to fight her way back to finding her self-worth. With her unusual companions--a snarky New York run-away, a free-spirited musician from Denver, and an elderly medicine man from Moab--she embarks on a quest to defeat, Halleck, a leader set on controlling mankind through his army of Seminole warriors.
Native American folklore has been a passion of mine since growing up in Bicknell, UT, the desert heart of the trilogy. An avid reader and storyteller, I have a Masters Degree in Business Administration, am a member of the League of Utah Writers, and contribute to numerous literary blogs including Write from the Mountains.
Thank you for your consideration. I look forward to hearing from you soon.
THE HEART SONG
I was breaking and entering, but I didn't care. I stood quietly in an alley behind the village shops in downtown New York City. I was amazed at the size of this bustling city. Coming from a small community farther west the lights and movement of the city overwhelmed me. Listening closely for any sound or movement, I reached out and turned the knob to the back entrance of a barber shop. It held fast. I removed a small metal knife from my front pocket and placed it quietly into the lock. Moving slowly and precisely I slid the pick up and down until I found the correct grooves and all the pins clicked into place. Turning the knob I pressed on the door. It made a light squeaking sound as it slid inward. I looked around once more, before I stepped into the shop and closed the door quietly behind me.
Grabbing clippers from the desk I moved to the sink at the back of the shop away from the windows and leaned my head over. I shaved my hair down nearly to my scalp leaving dark, shiny black hair covering the sink, counter and floor. When I finished I stood up and looked in the mirror. A man peered back at me, but I still could feel the woman inside. Missing her already, I ran my hands over the top of my newly-shorn hair and watched loose pieces fall to the floor. I realized that I didn't even recognize myself anymore.