This entry is for The Writer’s Voice Contest. Enjoy!
Ethan Wilde is a professional wrestler who hasn’t done the moonsault since his mother died. That night, when he flipped backward off the top rope, he fell flat on his head. Now that he’s in the world’s most prestigious wrestling organization, his life is further complicated. Not only is Kid Krap gunning for him, but his drunken father tells him a disturbing fact behind his mother’s death. Ethan must find the confidence to deal with this new reality. Can he forgive his father? Will he ever do the moonsault again? In the world of professional wrestling, anything is possible.
According to World Wrestling Entertainment’s corporate website, nearly 14.1 million viewers tune into their programming on a weekly basis. Furthermore, 34% of their viewers are female. To date, no young adult fiction novels about professional wrestling have been published.
MOONSAULT dives into this untapped literary market. My 53,022 word young adult novel includes plenty of romance for female readers while keeping the pace action-packed for males.
I am a member of SCBWI and a member of several critique groups. I am prepared to send the completed manuscript upon request.
All the Best,
by: Heather Walters
To the many wrestlers who’ve come and gone.
To those with names and those with none.
I step out of the car and lift a duffel bag onto my shoulder. Only a parking lot stands between me and the same arena where my father won his first championship belt. That belt has sat on our mantle for years, a constant reminder of where my path will lead, whether I want it to or not.
My dad, Shadow, holds my shoulder and guides me toward the entrance. In his other hand is an ever-present stadium cup. “Remember to stay low and use your speed,” he slurs. “If you get lost, just put him in a chin lock until you can come up with something else.”
I don’t answer.
“Do you hear me, boy?” He shakes my shoulder. “You have to be quicker than you’ve ever been before. This ain’t VFW, this is XOW!”
Yeah, I know the difference. Veterans of Foreign War has a hall where Dad’s wrestling school performs every month. The show gives his students, plus local amateurs, a chance to practice their moves and work a crowd. Both are crucial in the biz.
“XOW is the big leagues, boy!”
I yank out of his grip. “I get it, Dad. Stop preaching to me.”
He halts just shy of the door and lowers his eyes to mine. Shadow is massive, with broad shoulders and thick pork-like fingers. A mess of salt-n-pepper hair tops his head. It’s hard to believe I’m actually his son.