Keep in mind this is a MEMOIR so it's supposed to be in first person. Janet Reid wrote a blog post on why memoir queries are supposed to be in first person. I know fiction writers seem to struggle with this, I sure did. I'll be trying to get into the small press contests, but I haven't had much luck with contests lately... so we'll see. I'd love any comments/critiques. I'll do my best to hop around to others as well. Feel free to comment below that you have an entry you'd like me to critique :) Next Friday is the entry window for small press so maybe I can have this bad boy in shape by then :)
TITLE OF MANUSCRIPT: PERFECTLY BROKEN
GENRE: YA memoir
WORD COUNT: 66,000
PERFECTLY BROKEN is my memoir, complete at 66,000 words. It is a cross bettween THE DEVIL IN PEW NUMBER SEVEN by Rebecca Nichols and RAPE GIRL by Alina Klein.
At fifteen-years-old I was a spitfire of a girl who was as quick to throw a punch as I was to steal a kiss. When I got kidnapped and raped, I put up one hell of a fight.
Set free, numb and in shock, I went straight to the police. Three days later the serial rapist was caught. Still, it wasn’t enough. Fear and rage were my closest companions and I teeter-tottered between the two. If that madman were ever set free, I’d have to kill him. I couldn’t live in a world where he roamed the streets abducting helpless girls—girls like me.
A youth pastor reached out to me and shook my 'Sunday only' Christian faith to its core. Desperate to be in control, but knowing this was more than I could handle, I handed this situation over to God. I found peace in the black, white, and read pages of the bible, but still struggled with human touch. The first boy who tried almost got a cheek full of knuckles.
With the court date months away, a chance to be something more than 'the raped girl' was an answered prayer. Falling in love and wanting to stay was not in my brochure though. My case was the only solid one the police had against that madman and if I didn't return and testify he could walk. But in Spain I felt alive, and the idea of leaving Pedro seemed more than I could bear. I was just starting to find my strength and happiness. I needed to decide what was more important—protecting my heart or protecting other women from a monster.
I know at any moment he’ll kill me. His scorching breath is on my neck. His odor is embedded in my nose. It’s only been minutes since he crawled off me, but the rape keeps replaying in my mind, torturing me over and over again.
My head is twisted in an impossible headlock and my body is tangled across the front seat of his car. He pushes my face into his stomach and with each breath I inhale his shirt, slowly suffocating.
With just one hand on my head, he’s locked me in place using his other hand to drive, as if this is easy. There’s a professional way about his strength, like he’s done this before. Methodical, calculated, professional. Military crosses my mind.
He’s had me in his clutches for at least an hour. Or maybe it’s been ten minutes.
Time seems to stop right before you die.
That's it. So what do you think? Would you want to read more? Was there anything that confused you?