“The Writer’s Voice” is a multi-blog, multi-agent contest hosted by Cupid of Cupid’s Literary Connection, Krista Van Dolzer of Mother. Write. (Repeat.), Monica B.W. of Love YA, and Brenda Drake of Brenda Drake Writes based on NBC’s singing reality show The Voice.
Straight-laced, sixteen-year-old Rebecca Collins is ready for her debut into an idealistic society until the Machine labels her a future criminal. Alone and confused, she’s shipped off to the Permanent Isolation Territory, a lawless penal community. Her only hope at surviving is an eclectic band of teen inmates, but their leader refuses to trust her. Rebecca earns their respect by breaking into a government building and discovers the unsettling truth behind her new status. After decades of anarchy, the government is using the Machine to weed out people who threaten its version of perfection.
Terrified of being stuck in the PIT forever, Rebecca agrees to a risky escape plan. She creates a new persona for her fresh start on the outside, complete with a semi-fake husband, Eric, she’s almost certain she can learn to love. But Rebecca struggles with standing on her own two feet for the first time in her life, afraid that in asserting herself, she’ll turn into the criminal the Machine predicted she’d become.
As the teens run toward freedom, they are captured and discover Eric is the one who turned them in. One of their members pays the ultimate price, and what’s left of their ragtag family is about to be permanently separated. In order to keep them together and salvage a chance at real love, Rebecca must embrace the criminal within to liberate an unsuspecting society from living under the Machine’s lies.Rite of Rejection is a 78K word YA Dystopian where Matched meets Minority Report.
Thanks to my mother, today is orchestrated to absolute perfection. Right on schedule, I push the glowing blue button and the door slides open with a staccato puff of air. Overhead, an electric bell tinkles as I shuffle into the upscale boutique packed with other Candidates. Someday I’ll coordinate perfect plans of my own, but not today. Not on the eve of my Acceptance.
Cheryl is right behind me, bouncing on her toes with each step. My mother would die of embarrassment if I showed the same lack of decorum as my best friend, but I’m bouncing on the inside. I take a few more measured steps so our mothers can join us and the door slides shut with another whoosh of air.
We visited half the shops in Cardinal City this morning in our search for the perfect dresses and dyed-to-match shoes. I got a thrill buying my first pair of silk gloves, Cheryl and I gushing over the tiny pearl buttons, but this is the purchase I'm looking forward to the most.
Shelves bursting with dance cards cover every square inch of wall space. Dozens of girls sigh and squeal over the small books we'll use to record the names of our dance partners for tomorrow's ball. I wipe damp palms against the cool material of my skirt and force myself to focus on the goal. One of these books is the perfect one for me. Hopefully, by the end of tomorrow night it will hold the name of my future husband.