I’m trying to stick with the resolution I made one post down where I said that I wouldn’t query at two a.m. My fingers are feeling pretty twitchy, but my real (important, vital) writing is flagging thanks to the late hour, so I figured I’d write here about something I’ve been thinking about lately.

I stumbled across a review series called “The Sparkle Project” by LJ user Ceilidh-ann a few weeks ago. If you haven’t read these cutting and pretty much flat-out awesome reviews of in-the-vein-of-Twilight YA, I urge you to go take a look. I’ll wait!

Terrific, right? In her reviews, Ceilidh-ann uses the following “Sparkle bingo checklist” to evaluate a book:

• Where the fuck is the plot?
• Personality free hero/heroine.
• Purple prose.
• Mythology fail.
• Lack of real villain.
• Unlikeable/dull lead characters.
• Description fail.
• Stalking = love.
• Complete lack of romantic development.
• Other women = sluts/bitches.
• Special snowflake!
• Passing family/lack of parental interaction.
• Beauty = best thing ever!

Books that have many of these things are, you see, quite sparkly.

I actually found this checklist really helpful in editing SEAS RUN DRY. It was a useful metric for how cliché I was being, and where I fell victim to the worst sort of paranormal romance tropes. I actually ended up tightening these flaws up quite a bit (Irene is much less of a special snowflake now, and her relationship with her family is clarified and better developed, f’rinstance), the result being that early beta readers (hi, Pat!) read a much sparklier book than later betas (hi, Sean!).

I keep returning to one bullet point, though. And that’s the fact that most of the other women in the book are sluts/bitches.

I could whine to you about how I have a reason for this–Loril’s species is 90% female due to some cruel twist of nature, leading to natural competition between women. They’re also mermaids, ruthless about sex and love. They lure sailors to the water and drown them, for chrissake!

But that’s not really a sufficient excuse, you see. Because there’s a human girl, Irene’s coworker, who tries to get all grabby with Loril in a bar. And she doesn’t have a tail.

And I’ve been thinking, too, of TRIP, my current project, and how heroine Francine has a thorny relationship with her girlfriend Linda. Linda is kind of catty and cutting to her so far–a bit competitive, particularly where boys are concerned.

I want to show positive relationships between women and especially between girls. I always try to make my manuscripts pass The Bechdel Test–I want my women to talk about real things, important things, with each other, even! And that seems to be easy enough.

But the truth is that many of my own female friendships have been more Margaret Atwood than Alison Bechdel–intense, competitive, and ultimately complicated. For example, just a few weeks ago, a dear friend of mine and I were talking about high school. And she mentioned how she made fun of me because there were certain jealousies between us, a certain sort of competition. Now, as an adult, I can understand where she was coming from–and see the times when I myself was a less-than-perfect friend, in turn. At the time, though, it sure did hurt. (As I’m sure I sometimes hurt her.)

I suspect that if my friend and I had been book characters, we would have come across as bitches. Would we be tiresome, or trite, or a bad example for teenage readers? Or would we ring true, and resonate with them?

I wouldn’t dream of throwing out the baby with the bathwater–Can I tell you how much my friend and I have supported one another over the years, cried together, and listened?–but I wouldn’t want to give a saccharine picture of female friendships just for the sake of promoting a certain ideal–one that may exist, but that I’ve rarely experienced in life. I suspect the way to write the relationship between women well, like so much else, lies with honesty and detail. I just hope that I get those details right–and I don’t do my female audience, or my female characters, a disservice.

How do you approach writing about friendships between women? Is this something you think actively about when you write or when you read?

I haven’t been playing along with Teaser Tuesday in the past few weeks–too busy with queries and edits to get any real writing done. But a new project has been floating around on the back of my mind. I need to do some prewriting for it; this one is going to necessitate much more planning than any previous project. But one of my narrators was begging me to jump in last night, so I sat down and banged out an opening passage. Richie, take it away:

1 – Richie

It was the summer everything was fucked.

Like our cell phones, and the wifi. On the news they kept saying that it had something to do with solar flares. It was a hot kind of summer, rainless and blistering even in June, and after the sun went down I could almost see them—crimson tongues of the sun, searing out in curling waves into the black, black night, and I could almost believe it was true when I shouted into the phone, “No! Wait! Don’t!” and my own voice and a rush of static echoed back to me, and then a stuttered pause, and then Aadi, through laughter, said: “What? What? I can’t hear you! I’m coming over!”

And then I threw the phone down, and it bounced against my wallpaper, the stupid teddy bears in their baseball uniforms. And I got up and went to get dressed, feeling nauseous at the thought of it, at the thought of Aadi, of his soft lips and onyx hair.

Because I’d been having dreams for weeks. The kind you’re not supposed to have about your best friend. About Aadi. About his hands falling against my neck. About the way he looked in his boxer shorts, the lean line of his hips veering out of the elastic. About how it would feel when I crushed my chest against his.

Like I said, it was the summer everything was fucked.

I also came up with a little Seas Run Dry playlist this afternoon–it’s a summer soundtrack of music I love. Only a few of the songs are referenced even obliquely in the text, but I think it captures the mood of the book nicely. I’ll be up on the book’s page shortly, but I share it with you now, to get you in a summer mood before August ends.

Sorry for the lack of teaser yesterday, guys. I was pretty busy with work and querying and just wasn’t able to get anything up on time.

But luckily, YA Highway’s Road Trip Wednesday offers me the perfect opportunity for a little bit of a belated tease! Because today’s question is, “What does your character hide in their underwear drawer – or other secret location?”

And guys, this one is so easy! Because Irene totally has a stash, and it figures prominently in one passage of SEAS RUN DRY!

She kept the fifth of Cutty Sark in the banjo case under her unmade twin bed, tucked into the banjo’s drum and wrapped in a ratty T-shirt. Before her shower she slipped into the room to fetch it. Her hands shook as she unscrewed the cap and took a long draw. She winced-she hated the taste of whisky. But it was worth it. The liquid seared through her, warming her down to the tips of her fingers and toes. And stilled their shaking. Clutching the bottle in one hand, she gathered a change of clothes: her favorite green dress, a pair of clean cotton underwear, and a pair of tall socks to wear under her boots. Then she draped a towel over the bottle and rushed upstairs to the full bath.

The water in the shower was steaming hot. It seared her skin, loosening her muscles nearly as well as the alcohol, which she’d set down against the perspiring tile. Between shampoo and conditioner, she took long swigs. The taste between her teeth-the sharp, bitter bite of it-reminded her of Kenny. Of his arms, thick with fat and muscle, blackened by the lines of his tribal tattoos. But she pushed him from her mind. Tonight wasn’t about Kenny. It was about someone new. Still, she couldn’t help but wonder when the taste of whisky wouldn’t make her think of him. Who would put back all those things that he had taken?

Maybe Loril would. She felt a warm thrill at the thought of it.

Soon the bathroom looked hazy, and not just from the steam that rose up around her. Irene smiled softly as she stepped from the shower, happy that the little painting of a boat hanging over the toilet seemed to dip and sway, glad that her heart, in her throat, had finally quieted to a steady pulse. She needed to be cool tonight, collected. For Loril, but for herself, too.

She didn’t want to blow it.

In cast you were wondering, yes, I chose Cutty Sark because of the logo–a big ol’ boat.

I felt pretty torn about this scene when I first wrote it. I wasn’t a drinker at all as a teenager, and I think one has to walk a thin line between seeming to approve of such behavior and reporting accurately what most teens actually do. But in this case, accuracy and realism won out (as, I think, they always should). In so many ways, Irene is a girl who is used to acting older than she actually is. When her parents separated at thirteen, she became a second mother to her little sister. The summer before SEAS RUN DRY, she was involved with an older man, and their relationship centered upon her trying to impress him. Now she’s in a Bon Jovi cover band with a bunch of 40-something soccer dads. So it makes sense for her to turn to alcohol–which she isn’t legally old enough to drink, of course–as a coping mechanism, even if it is not, perhaps, the best one.

(Loril, of course, has nothing hidden in his underwear drawer. Mermen don’t wear underwear.)

Evening everybody.

I’ve calmed down a bit since yesterday. See? Part of it (a Large and Significant part?) is exhaustion. Over the past twenty-four hours or so, I took my manuscript through Round 1 of a serious thrashing editing. It’s now with betas (hi, guys), and I’ve promised myself not to touch it for at least a few days. Meanwhile, my dear, dear husband took me out for drinks and dinner to celebrate tonight. I ate fish and chips and ate a drink that was blue as pool water, in honor of my merman. Dear, dear husband is now sleeping on the sofa beside me, “watching” Shark Week, leaving me to contemplate my query letter.

Ah, query letters.

I don’t hate query letters, not quite–that honor is reserved for synposi. I just suspect that I’m not very good at them, at least not for queries on my own projects. My first draft of my query letter for THE STONER SORTER netted me one request–it wasn’t until my sixth version, written just before I gave up on the project, that I’d started to generate some interest.

So I figure that, what with my deep and abiding love for SEAS RUN DRY (have I mentioned to you guys that I love this book? Really–I love this book), I should start this thing off right. With a query letter that shines. And because I’m not very good at this, I figured that it can’t hurt to ask THE INTERNETZ for a hand.

Hi, INTERNETZ!

So what follows is the draft of my query letter for SEAS RUN DRY. It’s cliche. It’s bland. It’s a little too long. The writing feels flat. It needs your help.

Please, tear it apart–either in the comments or via email (phoebe@phoebenorth.com). Be harsh. Be ruthless. If you need more information, ask away. But, please, please, save my merman from drowning?

Dear Agent:

Mermaids. Sirens. Undines. Whatever you want to call them, seventeen-year-old Loril was raised by the people of the water. But though he was born in the sea, he’s not fully of it. As the son of a human man and a mermaid, Loril is a Walker, able to travel between two worlds, growing legs on the shore and a tail under the waves. But as he nears adulthood, shifting becomes increasingly painful. Soon he’ll have to choose between a bleak life with his dying pod and the alien world of a father he’s never even met.

Eighteen-year-old Irene Cleveland also faces a choice. Wild and impetuous, the shore where her family spends their summers has always spoken to her—or sang. Now, as the bassist for a Bon Jovi cover band, she’s spent most of this final Jersey summer playing gigs at boardwalk bars. But August is simmering to a close, and she’s supposed to give it all up soon to chase her mother’s dream: a scholarship to a prestigious art school in the city. What her mother doesn’t know is that Irene’s been considering ditching college completely so she can stay in the sandy, seamy boardwalk town she loves.

But then she meets Loril—lost among mankind as he searches for his dad—and her choice becomes a little more complicated.

Over the course of one tumultuous week, Irene helps Loril find his father and learn what it means to be human. She also begins to fall for him, hard. And the better he gets to know Irene and her world, the more his own choice becomes clear. Until tragedy strikes, threatening to separate the two teenagers forever.

SEAS RUN DRY, complete at 74,000 words, is a YA paranormal romance. Its vivid setting and relatable teen characters make it a great beach read for fans of Maggie Stiefvater’s Shiver. I have attached the first ten pages for your perusal.

As for myself, I am a New Jersey native who graduated in 2009 from the University of Florida’s MFA program. I maintain a professional website at phoebenorth.com, blog about my life and writing at phoebeeating.com, and proofread for the speculative fiction magazine Strange Horizons. I can be reached at any time at (xxx)xxx-xxxx, or at phoebe@phoebenorth.com.

Thank you for your time and consideration!