Authors – Let’s see the first page of your novel!
Starting tomorrow (May 30th) The Booogle will be accepting and reading Page One of your novel.
The best Page One wins the following:
1. An expedited review (your book moves to the top of the – fairly long – review queue) to be posted on The Boogle.
2. Your Page One will be featured on The Boogle, along with your bio, book’s cover and any links or websites you’d like included.
3. Endless glory and bragging rights.
Runners-up will also have their Page One posted to The Boogle with cover, bio and supporting links.
Submissions will be accepted starting June 1st and will run through June 6th (submission guidelines will be posted June 1st). The winner will be decided by a 3-judge panel of published authors. If you have already contacted me about a review, please feel free to enter. It never hurts to get a little more exposure, plus a win will move you to the top of the queue!
With that said, here is Page One of my forthcoming novel, THE CIGAR MAKER. Enjoy!
The night that Salvador saw a man bite the head off a live rooster he had been in town for less than one day. He had lost hundreds of dollars betting on cockfights in Havana but after the factory cut hours and pay, no cigar maker could justify, or even afford, a rambunctious night of gambling and sport. It was not until Salvador made it across the Straits, to Tampa’s Ybor City, that he realized what had devoured all those lost wages and hours. This young town was prospering while old Havana slowly died before his eyes. When Salvador arrived in the Cigar City, and saw cigar workers filing the factories and a rowdy nightlife colored by green American dollar bills, he knew he had found a town that would one day be famous.
Ybor was a man’s city, clamoring with busy saloons, girls-for-hire, boxing matches, unending games of dominoes, and most of all: hard work. Ybor was a city whose cigar workers were in demand and everything seemed to be surrounded by rows and rows of shiny white tenement houses and the brick-oven smell of fresh baked bread. One thing was certain; this was no land of ancient sugar plantations and wealthy Spaniards. It was a cigar city ready for the Twentieth Century, and Salvador could smell them everywhere he went: in bars, on the street, in factories and restaurants, and on every neighbor’s porch. Cuba was a land in disarray, but here was a place where Salvador and his entire family could prosper for a very long time. This was a town where he could lose a lot of money on cockfights.
“I have found my place,” Juan Carlos told him. “I will die in this town.” Salvador understood because a town filled with rugged, drunken cockfights and cheap dime store prostitutes was a place Juan Carlos would be delighted to call his home. Friends since before they joined El Matón’s crew Juan Carlos was Salvador’s oldest acquaintance.
During the first war, when they were a couple of penniless teenagers trying to survive the poverty of Cuba, Juan Carlos summarized their options. “We can engage in petty larceny in the city, rob people at knifepoint and walk away with pesos and stale bread,” Carlito said. “Or we can join the rebels and steal from rich sugar planters who live in cathedrals and pay hefty ransoms for the return of their kidnapped wives and daughters!”