Thursday, April 17, 2014



Blood Reign is a YA Fantasy retelling of Alice in Wonderland meets Wizard of Oz set in a medieval world.

Seventeen-year-old Alice never considered herself the suicidal type. That is, until she finds herself cornered between the men who killed her mother and a five-hundred-foot drop. Rather than facing the killers’ dark plans for her, Alice jumps.

Instead of falling to her death, Alice wakes up in the middle of a blood-soaked battlefield, where men in metal armour are slaughtering peasants. Alice flees from the battle and encounters an old seer, who believes Alice is destined to save this world from the evil queen and the tyranny of her army.

Refusing to believe she can save anyone, Alice sets out on a journey to find a witch with the power to return her to her world. To protect herself from marauders preying on women, Alice disguises herself as a man. Aided by a gorgeous runaway slave and a physician, Alice must survive the ongoing war between the evil queen and the rebels—even if it means killing people to get home.


I’ve been fighting with a sword since I was eight. It was the only way to feel alive; to feel the blood running in my veins. I stalked my prey, eyeing him from behind my mask. My ragged breathing was amplified inside this white fencing suit, drowning the outside noise. The suit was supposed to protect me, yet it served to protect him from me.

Strike him. Make him bleed.

Ignoring the demon whispering inside my head, I lunged forward stabbing the blade toward his heart. The hall exploded with cheers as blood-rush sang wildly in my ears. Adrenaline slithered through my veins, echoing the sweet, sharp metallic twangs of clashing swords.

“15-8! Southampton college—champion of regional games!” the speakers blared into the screaming crowd. And just like that, it was over.

I pulled back, my jaw ticked with irritation. It was too quick. I should’ve stalled a bit more rather than lunging toward him like a homicidal maniac.

I clenched my fist on the sabre, curbing myself from giving in to the roaring hunger. My opponent grabbed his mask and yanked it off. Sweat streamed down his face, his skin flushed.

"Good game! Man, you're one tough badass." He saluted me with his sabre.

"Duh, our captain's the best!" My classmate Leona flanked me immediately, jumping with excitement, knowing she won the bet. I pulled my mask off, and my blond hair escaped from the hairband and tumbled down my back in long waves. My opponent gaped at me.

"You're a girl?" he spluttered.


  1. Hey, congrats! I'm relaying this message because of a commenting technical problem. Ms. Pooja Menon would like to see your first 50 pages, synopsis, and pitch. Please send to pooja (at) kimberleycameron (dot) com (make sure to replace "at" with "@" and so on) with "The Writer's Tank Request: [TITLE OF MANUSCRIPT, Genre]" in the subject line.

  2. This makes me want to play with swords. I'd love to see more. Please send the whole thing to Esubmissions at sarahjanefreymann dot com with query in the body of the email and synopsis and manuscript attached as Word documents (97 if possible).