For me it began with Richard Bachman. Yes, I now know that
was you Mr. Stephen King, lurking, sticking your nose in YA and I am grateful.
Robert Cormier and Judy Blume followed. (Forever, I remember reading you under the covers, listening for a parent’s footstep
at the door.) And yes I read the classics in school, but they were always
paired with a historical romance or fantasy or SF with young protagonists I
could relate to.
When
I became a HS English teacher, I started attending conferences and reading everything
and anything I could get my hands on that might have some connection with my
students. I would hand pick them and say, “Jess, this one, perfect for you.” Or
“Miguel, it’s dark. You’ll love it.”
There
were the ones that I couldn’t keep on my shelves: Speak, Perks of Being a
Wallflower, Monster, Ender’s Game, On Jellicoe Road… And we loved them together.
But
then I had my own children and decided to take my writing seriously again. I
went back to school for my MA. I wrote stories, short stories mainly. The kind
of stories that you’re expected to write when you’re in grad school for a
creative writing program. I even sent a few of them out to literary magazines.
Again, what I was supposed to do. The rejections came like they always do.
And I was discouraged. And I had another
kid, the third. Surprise! And I felt like I was going nowhere, until I realized
something.
I don’t read short stories. I read
novels. So why am I writing short stories?
For the first time I seriously
explored the question, “What do I really want to write?” allowing myself
whatever answer, no matter how crazy it would be.
The answer: YA. I’ve always loved
YA, both as a youth and as an adult. Some of the most exciting things happening
are under the YA umbrella.
I wanted to write YA, but I was
terrified to do it. Why? Thinking back on my own experience as a reader, and
also seeing it with my students, I knew the power YA had with young people. All
books, really, have the potential to influence, to make someone laugh, to
provide comfort or wonder, to even save a life. And the hubris I would have to
have to think that I had something to say that was worth adding to the countless
words that have already been put to page.
It’s this kind of insane thing
inside a person to make anyone want to be a writer. A kind of gnawing,
relentless, drive or need that’s never satiated. It’s work and ego and crushing
the ego so the real work can begin. It’s knowing that collaboration is not a
threat, but a gift and is how great books get written.
It was terrifying to realize I wanted to write YA as well. But you pushed through it and are doing it!
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