Friday, September 18, 2015

WI #18 - A LINGERING SORT OF MAGIC, Adult Historical Fiction

Word Count: 90,000
Genre: Adult Literary Historical Fiction

Systems of Oppression: Homophobia, Classism
Author's Identity: [removed]


For twenty-year-old Mason Elliot, the wedding between his twin sister Melissa and Thomas Grady, the mechanic's son, is nothing more than an annoyance. To their small English town, it's a momentary reprieve from the Second World War that has drafted so many of its young men.

And while Mason is excused from war, thanks to his father’s clout and reading medicine at Cambridge University, getting out of his sister’s wedding is another story. Helping Thomas finalize last minute details seems a waste of his time, until a series of events leads to a brief dalliance in the barn with his sister's husband-to-be.

Desperate to keep their confusing and accidental moment a secret, Mason and Thomas go their separate ways, never to speak of the incident again. But even though both boys never speak again, the lingering effects of that moment in the barn shift their trajectory for years to come. And not only changes their own lives, but the lives and their relationships with every person they touch, in ways no one could imagine.

Following Mason and Thomas' life through alternating perspectives, A LINGERING FORM OF MAGIC intertwines a story of class, secrets, and repressed homosexuality with the chaos and carnage of WWII.

First 250:

The manor—which lived its previous lives as a plantation with just as many mysteries and sins as it had overly ornate rooms—was nothing less than gargantuan. Its size gave off an inaccurate assumption. An assumption that the manor was a labyrinth so complex even the Minotaur himself would need a ball of yarn. But Mason Elliot had learned at a young age that the building should be more accurately described as stout, rather than sinewy.

Until the day he died, he would remind his parents what a poor investment such a building was. It didn’t even provide good alcoves for him to hide. How selfish of it.

But Mason was resourceful, if not anything else. From the age of five he meticulously examined the blueprints of the building, mapping out all possible nooks and crannies, and used his eagle eye to justify scrutinizing any possibly hiding place with a physical visit. Settling on his own microcosm of tranquility wasn’t an easy feat, one he would neither rush, nor compromise on. It was why even now, fifteen years later, living in the same house—living in the same room he had imprinted on years ago---he decided to smoke his blunt against the rust strangled truck in the backyard, rather than somewhere more private.

Each sweet drag of grapefruit laced smoke calmed him in a way nothing else could. Nothing besides a deafening silence, perhaps. That might be a more healthy solution to calming the constant knuckle rapping against his frontal lobe.


  1. Hi, I'd love to see more. Please send the first 50 pages to mallory[at]triadaus[dot].com. Thank you!!

  2. I'd love to see more! Please send the first 50 pages of your manuscript (rounded to the nearest chapter end) as a word document attachment to And if you don't mind, please include your query letter on the first page of word doc. Thanks!