Second Round Cut

As many of you are now aware, ABNA announced their second round contestants on Monday. Sadly (although not entirely unpredictably) OF LOVE AND WAR did not advance. While I wait for the feedback, I'm left wondering what to do with this novel. For now, I'm contemplating entering it into the #PitchSlam this weekend. With that in mind, I figured I'd post my entry here. For practice and all.

Then I should get back to my Camp NaNo project. Those robots aren't going to build themselves. Or are they?

Pitch Slam Entry

Pitch: (35 words) (Original can be found here)
Two things a gay man can become:  Soldier or priest.

William Brown enlists intending to return in a body bag. If he dies, no one will know his shame. He doesn’t plan to find love.

Excerpt: (First 250 words)

I never understood the point of sympathy cards. I never liked sending them and hated receiving them. I know it’s because everyone wants you to know they’re thinking of you, but really all they are are constant physical reminders of what you’ve lost.

            The first sympathy cards I ever received were after my mom passed away. I was ten. She had been driving too fast and wrapped her car around a telephone pole. My aunts and uncles all clucked their tongues over the horrible accident and ‘tut tutted’ over the waste of such a young and vibrant life.

            “You have to be a big, brave boy for your father,” Aunt Babe told me. “Your mother was very loved and will be missed. See all the cards people sent? It shows they care.” She indicated the cards ornamenting the ledge over the fireplace and the piles of cards, still unopened, on the hallway table. Aunt Babe was my mom’s younger sister. The memorial service was the last time I ever saw her. It was the last time I saw any of my aunts or uncles. My dad became a semi-hermit, locking everyone else out, but keeping me locked in.

            I waited until the company left, with their final teary kisses and good-byes. As soon as the door locked behind them forever, I gathered up all the sympathy cards and threw them in the trash. We didn’t need the reminders of how our family of three now numbered only two.