Mike Speegle.com

Alas, my first foray into the wild world of traditional publishing did not work out like I’d hoped it would, Twitter-based glad-handing or no. Still! Not even a scintilla of my inertia shall go to waste, for I shall ply my words on more amenable climes, those of the good old US of A.

Which means, of course, and entirely different sort of query letter. Needs to be punchy and short, the kind of thing that hooks you through the gills and drags you along whether you like it or not. Lucky for me, I have the incomparable Lise J. Niggemyer in my corner, goading me towards some inevitable awesomeness.

That said, behold a few nascent attempts at the query letter game. They are still all wobbly like a baby deer learning to walk, but I think some chimerical amalgamation thereof will render slush-pile interns woozy with desire to read the whole damn thing. Oh, and tell me which you like best, below.

1.

Chet Masters is on the run from just about everyone it’s possible to be on the run from.

The cops want him behind bars for a series of brazen daylight robberies in which he popped smoke grenades and absconded with everything that wasn’t anchored in place.

His former employers want him corpsified for having far too many nasty secrets locked up in his head, not the least of which is a chemical compound that makes ricin look like vitamin C.

His ex girlfriend, the lovely and perspicacious Alicia Brahe, wants him for whatever reason nice girls want bad boys.

And lo though Chet is avowed practitioner of both the larcenous and distractionary arts, each and every of the above is going to catch up with him. They know it. He knows it.

But until then, it’s going to be a wall-to-wall panoply of shenanigans most flagrant: high-speed chases, flying flash-bangs, romantic liaisons, Miguel de Cervantes, and at least one person getting punched square in the face.

2.

Chet Masters is experiencing a run of bad luck.

First, his girlfriend dumps him rather than following him to his new, tantalizingly-clandestine chemistry job deep beneath the Colorado Rockies…

…at which point he finds out that the shadowy cabal of obscure interests he works for is (surprise!) up to no good, forcing him to flee for his life.

…at which point he decides (naturally) that the only course left to him is to return home to his native Las Vegas, there to parlay his chemistry skills into a series of larcenous shenanigans that make Robin Hood look like a rank amateur.

…at which point he finds himself at the center of a massive manhunt by the stalwart purveyors of law and order that are the Las Vegas Metropolitan Police Department.

…at which point his ex, the lovely and perspicacious Alicia Brahe, comes waltzing back into his life mid-robbery, putting a serious kink in his plans for reconciliation.

…which catches us up to Monday. By Friday, things are going to get infinitely more complicated.

3.

Chet Masters is an excellent chemist, which in turn makes him a pretty good thief. A pinch of Potassium Nitrate here, a smidge of Sodium Nitrate there, and voila! The massed bourgeoisie are fleeing an ersatz conflagration, leaving Chet free to abscond with whatever overpriced baubles they leave behind. And when you get right down to it, a Louis Vuitton Petit Noe (MSRP $1,680), even slightly used, can fetch enough on the black market to keep Chet in barbecued pork for at least a month, and his ageing, estranged mother off the streets.

So yeah, it’s a simple life, but a good one. No muss, no fuss, just the occasional adrenaline spike when he very occasionally has to run from the stalwart LVMPD.

That is, right up until Monday, when Chet runs athwart his ex, the bosom-y and perspicacious Alicia “Heartbreaker” Brahe, mid-heist no less, after which point things start to favor entropy in a big way.

Now Chet finds himself running from the law, his shadowy and kill-crazy former employers, and – most dangerously – his own feelings for a girl who one sundered his blood pump in twain.

4.

His name: Chet Masters. His talent: Chemistry. The naughty kind.

Also: Chet is a thief.

Because when you’re on the run from a shadowy cabal of international ne’er-do-wells generally, and their gleefully murderous dogsbody specifically, it’s hard to balance atop the straight and narrow. 

Thus: Chet Masters, formerly of more respectable vocations, has taken to “alarming,” in which he sets off smoke bombs in crowded retail establishments, screams “Fire!”, and then helps himself to anything that isn’t nailed down.

It’s a simple life, but a good one.

Right up until he runs athwart his ex, the lovely and perspicacious Alicia “Multisyllabatrix” Brahe, and mid-heist no less.

Now Chet finds himself on the lam with a girl who sundered his heart once upon a time, while at his heels nip various pursuers, both lawful and not so much.

And they’ll all probably end with something like:

Set against the gaudy pomp of urban Las Vegas, Chet Masters is Alarming is a whizbang, 70,000-word postmodern heist story.