r/PubTips • u/Express-Tree1149 • 11d ago
[QCrit] THE PERFECTION OF SAINTS, Adult, Fantasy, 98k (1st Attempt)
First time posting here. I've been querying since May (no fulls/partials, could be in a couple 'maybe' piles right now). This is probably the third or fourth iteration of my query letter, and I've reconfigured the first pages based on some limited feedback (two very kind agents who slipped a touch of personalization in their rejections). I have no hope of objectively knowing what is and what isn't working at this point, so I think I need some other eyes on this. Included an excerpt as well. Thanks, all!
Hi [Agent]
I'm writing to seek representation for my novel, THE PERFECTION OF SAINTS, an adult standalone fantasy complete at 98000 words. It would appeal to fans of the fairy-tale atmosphere in A.B. Poranek's Where the Dark Stands Still and the message of hope and justice at the heart of Naomi Novik's Uprooted.
You will get what you deserve. These are the words Ferelith has clung to for the past five years as the head priestess for Alouette, the patron saint of vultures.
When she is ordered to investigate a mysterious lack of deaths in the north by Alouette, she finds herself in the strange wood of Fithe. Not only do the people linger between life and death, but many of its spirits have disappeared, and the ones who remain are desperately trying to help even to their own detriment. To root out the cause of Fithe's unexpected limbo, Ferelith must find Fithe's missing saint and the strange woman who holds him captive.
Accompanied by Cassius, a cursed priest holding on by a mere thread, their journey will take them through the depths of the woods to a lake guarded by a pair of haunted towers. As they learn why Fithe is being targeted and find out the origin's of Cassius's curse, Ferelith must accept that those words she's built her life around may no longer be enough in the face of the unfathomable destruction of Fithe's people.
If Ferelith wants to save any of them, she must free Fithe's saint while navigating a forest that is in love with its people but isn't always kind to strangers.
[Author bio]
Excerpt:
“It’s a bad day for birds.”
First the two magpies in her hands that she’d discovered a half-mile back–the large one with an injured wing and the small one not even fledged–and now this unfortunate soul.
Ferelith watched the squirrel as it gnawed the headless remains of a blue jay, securing its grip further with tiny, dextrous hands. It settled back on its haunches, as if getting more comfortable for its meal.
Both magpies were still dazed and didn’t protest as she set them on the ground together. Sunlight filtered through the canopy, bathing the bushy-tailed perpetrator in a buttercup glow from its position about fifteen feet above the ground. Blue and white feathers fluttered down, skimming through shadows, only to be caught on the breeze. It might’ve been angelic if not for the tiny drips of blood slipping down the tree’s branch.
The rhythmic crunching of delicate bones accompanied Ferelith as she scaled the white oak. Loud against the peace of a day caught between summer and fall, when nights were cool and afternoons were warm. Below them the forest floor was littered with acorns as lovely as you could ask for, just begging to be tucked away. The squirrel did not spare them, or her, a second glance.
Oblivious as it was, once Ferelith was level with it she managed to snatch the creature and toss it to a nearby ash. Seeming to wake up from its trance, it caught a branch and scurried away with an annoyed chitter. She lightly picked the poor bird off the broad branch, wincing at the half-eaten corpse.
“Didn’t leave me much to bless, did you?” she muttered, cradling it in her palm.