Painful Patience

I'm dying here.

Anyone else out there hate waiting? It started, I think, when I was in high school. At one point I had to get rides to school from my uncle Bob, but because of his schedule, he had to get me to school like an hour before anyone else arrived. What to do? I went to my locker, used the potty, walked around just sight seeing, I guess. I was bored out of my mind and felt embarrassed and awkward--my standard state at that point in my life.

So, while I consider myself a patient person, my skills honed by all that waiting I was forced to do back in high school, I hate being patient with a passion. It just kills me.

I find myself now doing that...being patient...and dying. School starts next week, and unlike most of my students, I'm dying to get back. Besides my own bed at home, there's no place I feel more comfortable than my classroom. To top it off, there have been so many changes over the summer, all that I'm fairly thrilled with, including a new floor in my room to replace the puke green tiles someone vomited there back in the sixties, that I'm freaking out wondering what life will be like when we return.

The editor-in-chief of my yearbook program is hard at work setting up the ladder and visuals for our 2013 book. But knowing she has until next Friday to have it all set, she's content taking her time to get it right, which is good, don't get me wrong, but it's killing me not knowing what she'll come up with.

A few readers are currently going through my third novel and giving me wonderful feedback, but it seems I might be shelving it for a while since it will need another whole rewrite. I can see where it could be a masterpiece, but not in its current state. With the school year about to kick off, I'm not sure I can give it that kind of attention. I think Talia and Tia might have to wait to be reborn.

With all that going on, I have a brilliant idea, one of those "I think I know the next big thing in YA and I'm ready to write it and get it out there before someone else does" kind of things. Not that I'm trying to just capitalize on a trend; I'm hoping that my idea can lead to a trend. I've been obsessed with writing this type of novel for years, since I started in my MFA program, so like three years ago, and when I pitched the idea at a workshop, the room and instructor loved it. I'm just now seeing how it could be YA and am already visualize scenes and the character which means it must be good. I'm heading down that scary path toward inspiration, but what to do with All We Know of Heaven already on the back burner?

And then there's those pesky freakin' queries. I've found some amazing agents lately. I abandoned the agentquery.com road since I feel like I've already used up all the best matches on there. Instead I've used creative Googling and found some great interviews and advice from YA agents, finding ones that specifically fit what I'm writing much better than combing through agentquery. But they've now got my query and sample pages in hand, so until I hear from them (or don't), I'll be painfully and patiently awaiting their responses (or lack of them).

Which leads to the new waiting game life has dealt me. Today, I found an agent who not only wants edgy stories, but specifically wants the darkest possible--she craves "problem novels." This woman is excited about taking something other people don't think can be published as YA and getting it done, setting trends, shaking things up, causing controversy. Twincest, anyone? Sounds like a perfect match for The House on Bittersweet Trail, right? Pitch it to her right? Why aren't you typing that query letter and hitting send instead of wasting time writing this blog post you say? All this bitching about waiting and you're dragging your feet you say?

Closed for submissions until Fall 2012. So close, yet so far. The most painful kind of wait.

So, I think I need to start at least planning novel number four, which might leapfrog into novel number three. While I've been bored, I've been updating my online presence--a new website and more coming soon--and I know those agents are going to be calling any second for a exclusive. There's only four more days until I see my beloved classroom again, and three before I meet with my journalism editors for the first time. Eventually things will be going forward full-tilt and I'll miss these days of inactivity and time to think, plan, organize, and tinker with the relatively unimportant.

But for now, I wait.

And it's killing me!

"I've been waiting a long time..."

Love the Green Day

You've Come a Long Way Baby

With the holidays and new year on the horizon, along with my thesis semester, I think it's time to look back and reflect. With the spirit of reflection in mind, I now present you with THE TOP TEN THINGS I LEARNED THIS SEMESTER (some of which I already knew).

10) Studying what is marketed as young adult doesn't necessarily tell you what young adults really want. After all, those decisions are made by people who are most definitely NOT young adults. Maybe young retirees.

9) No amount of shocking language, situations, sexuality, or violence precludes a novel from being marketed as young adult. Many young adults gravitate toward this.

8) Young adult books tends to be focused on the life of a teenager in the here and now. Those that look back nostalgically at teen life tend to be marketed toward adults.

7) While certain types of young adult that get reluctant readers to open a book through racy plots or larger font are great, we can't make the mistake of thinking that all young adult readers are reluctant readers. Some like a challenge.

6) Some young adult writers didn't set out to be young adult writers. They wrote. A guy in a suit called it young adult. Bam. Young adult writer.

5) What is marketed as young adult does not necessarily make it what young adults want to read. Once again, adults made these decisions. More accurately, you can't make conclusions about what's interesting to young adults by studying what is marketed to young adults.

4) In fact, you may not be able to judge what is interesting to young adults to read by looking at what they are reading. They were told they wanted to read that by the big, bad adults in expensive suits that told them they liked it by labeling "young adult."

3) You don't set out to be edgy. The story sometimes requires it, and backing down from telling the story as accurately to your vision as possible is wrong. Writing it that way simply to make a statement that you can be edgy is LAME.

2) Less people are offended by "edgy" content than you would think. In fact, in the northeast where I live, most people really aren't offended by much at all. Or at least not to the degree that can cause protest and bloody battles. The issue is that those select few that do give a shit CAN MAKE A LOT OF NOISE!

1) Reading makes you want to write. I read A LOT this semester. Like a freakin' ton. And fast. So, my memory might be a little bit of a blur on some of it, but it certainly makes you want to get on the computer and write write write. I remember as a kid watching football and baseball on TV and just wanting to pick up a ball and go do it. Same thing. Let's roll!

Well, that's it for the semester. I imagine this blog will take on a little different look now that each weekly entry is not mandated by my own syllabus. I'd like to talk about whatever floats my boat, and I probably will. But I like the name, so that will probably stay. Who knows what lies in the future. (Hopefully a nice publishing contract). See 'ya at the res if you're a WestConn student. If not, I probably won't see ya, which is probably for the best.

Tootles!

Who am I? v2.0

A foolish consistency is the hobgoblin of little minds, adored by little statesmen and philosophers and divines. With consistency a great soul has simply nothing to do. He may as well concern himself with his shadow on the wall. Speak what you think now in hard words, and to-morrow speak what to-morrow thinks in hard words again, though it contradict every thing you said to-day. — 'Ah, so you shall be sure to be misunderstood.' — Is it so bad, then, to be misunderstood? Pythagoras was misunderstood, and Socrates, and Jesus, and Luther, and Copernicus, and Galileo, and Newton, and every pure and wise spirit that ever took flesh. To be great is to be misunderstood.

Ralph Waldo Emerson's Self-reliance spells it out for me and gives me permission to take back everything I've said before about edgy material in books. While I've called my writing edgy based on some sales advice and some other internet mumbo-jumbo, that was freakin' lame. As the semester winds down, I still find myself fighting for the right  to put and the benefit of putting edgy content in young adult books. That, I proudly proclaim, will never change. Books should not be banned. Kids should read everything--the good, the bad, and the ugly. But I am finally understanding after a semester of digging through the young adult genre and the marketing of said genre that calling yourself edgy is a bit like Emerson running around calling himself The Great Ralph Waldo Emerson. For anyone who rolled their eyes at Michael Jackson dubbing himself "The King of Pop," I apologize.

There was absolutely no intent on my part to include edgy content in my writing as a gimmick. When I've written edgy content in my novels, it was simply because that shit is out there, in the real world, and those are the stories I wanted to tell. The content existed to highlight issues that we all sometimes ignore and conveniently forget about, but that can tell us a lot about ourselves as we try to sort through it and deal with it--however dark it is. Not many kids have to deal with falling in love and lust with their twin sisters, but turning a blind eye to the abuse and guilt that pushed the incestuous couple together doesn't help anyone.


What's more, telling teens they shouldn't read my book simply because it will somehow make them worse off or less of a person to read about a brother groping his sister's breasts is simply insane. I think one of the best things literature does for us--through the concept of a flawed hero--is it makes us, if read with an open mind, more caring and compassionate human beings. Even if they don't identify with Holden Caulfied, maybe students who read and try to understand his plight can then do the same with real classmates having trouble in their lives. Maybe there would be less bullying and the resulting suicides if kids read more. Get them to identify with, or at least cheer on, the kid that's boinking his sister, not so they'll think that's okay (in my novel it is obviously the result of trauma and confusion) so when they run into a confused and abused kid in school they don't think of of him or her simply as a "freak" or "emo" or a "cutter," but rather they try to understand their problems and get the person some help. Or maybe they'll even extend their own helping hands.


I see so many kids talk about not liking this or that person because he or she is different or "weird" or strange in some way. So, being different makes you unlikeable? I know that's not true. I know there are some compassionate teens out there that are open-minded and "cool" enough to try and understand and treat them like humans. We have a Gay-Straight Alliance at my school with over 40 members. Many more show up to the meetings. Yes, there are straight kids that are friends with openly gay students. Sure, there are those that are "grossed out." I choose, however, to believe that those kids probably haven't read enough to identify with and understand people with an open mind. So how is keeping kids away from books about gay boys and girls going to help anything? That's just silly.


So, over the next couple weeks, as a result of my studies this semester, I will be updating my website, this site, and everywhere else I made the ridiculous claim that "William Friskey writes edgy and trendsetting young adult fiction." I feel dirty. Yes, my books may be edgy, and yes, that's great. But to use the term to drum up sales is pretty lame (and hasn't worked). If you've got a problem with that, and can't quite understand me...good. I guess that means I've finally achieved greatness. Thanks Ralph! (But between you and I, I'd lose that "Waldo" part. Most people associate that with a dork that gets lost in crowd, not one that stands out.)

Did He Just Say Queynte?

I was in class discussing sex and naked girls with my students...

Wait a second. What was that? I should be fired? I'm a sick pervert? Maybe. But not because of what was happening in class that day.

Don't blame me. Blame Arthur Miller.

See, Mr. Miller's classic play The Crucible begins with a bunch of teenage girls (and younger) dancing in the woods like a bunch of, well, teenagers. One plump little sexpot Puritan, Mercy Lewis, is taken by the Barbados spirit (maybe she thought Tituba was from Cancun) and strips down to her birthday suit. Girls Gone Wild: Salem Style.

The kicker is that one of the girls, Abigail Williams, was drinking blood in order to cast a spell to kill Goody Proctor, the wife of the man twice her age that was knocking boots with her behind the barn "where his beasts are bedded." As she delivers the line (well, as the student reading her part delivers the line) "...sweated like a stallion whenever I came near" the class chuckles and a few cat-calls go up from the crowd. I chuckle, too, playing up the soap opera-i-ness of the whole thing. At this point, they are hooked and are actually upset that class is about to end. Score one for Mr. Teacher Dude.

When I have a chance to reflect later in the afternoon, on the drive home, I realize something. I have an epiphany. All of the literature schools force students to read was originally written for adults. Who was Fitzgerald's target audience? Poe's? They were writing for adults. For literary types. Not a single thing I will teach this year was designed with young adults in mind. Furthermore, most of it has been, or could have been, banned in districts throughout the United States.

Let's look at the facts. The Crucible is edgy. People are hanged until they're all dead and stuff! WTF? A thirty-something is banging a teenage girl (who was actually 12 if we look at the true history of the whole debacle) for crying out loud! But it's literature, so it's okay.*

In preparation for The Crucible we read Cotton Mathers's "Wonders of the Invisible World," which discusses a sore "breeding" in a man's groin that has to be lanced by a doctor. "Several gallons of corruption" pour out of another of his sores once cut. This is graphic. This is gross. This is STDs, dude! But it's literature, so it's okay.

What about "The Masque of the Red Death?" It's a total blood-bath! A thousand "light-hearted" friends lie dead in the "blood bedewed halls of their revel." Picture the morning dew drenching the grass. Then, picture the dew is blood drenching a hallway of a castle in the same way. Move over Freddy Krueger, make room for Edgar Allan Poe's Read Death Dude of Doom! This is gratuitous gore the likes the big screen has never seen. But it's literature, so it's okay.

How about the homo-erotic, racist, violent classic, The Great Gatsby. Come on. If Nick wasn't a flamer, than I'm a Vermicious Knid. Look at the language: "groaning down the elevator," "keep your hands off the lever." After a break in the text indicating time has passed, Nick leaves some dude he just met at a party in his underpants in bed, and nobody says a damn thing. Of course Nick thinks Gatsby is "worth the whole damn bunch put together." He wants his sexy Gatsby body! If Gatsby hadn't been shot (did I mention the violence), and Nick had gone over that afternoon for a swim, what might have happened? Gatsby and his pink suite on the rebound. Nick jaded by the immorality of the East. A match made in homo-heaven. Sam Waterston breaks out some cuffs from the now dismantled set of Law and Order and dangles them in front of Robert Redford's taught face wearing that sexy, striped swim suit. You do the math. But it's literature, so it's okay.

Finally, we end with The Catcher in the Rye. I actually start the unit by listing all the scandalous topics covered in the book on the board, not telling them why they're up there until a half hour or so into class. Nothing makes a teen want to read a book more than writing "kinky sex acts in a hotel," giving them a good thirty minutes to contemplate how that can possibly be written on a whiteboard in an English class, then telling them that IT'S IN THE BOOK. Holden talks about "perverty things," engages a prostitute, contemplates suicide, and discusses the pros and cons of spitting water "or something" in a girl's face, and in most schools, it's just peachy keen. Why? You should be all over this by now. It's literature, so it's okay.

None of this literature was meant for "children" when it was written. And this is just a small sample of what is read in high school--just the junior year. Throw in Chaucer and Shakespeare, and we're talking real perversion. Chaucer's got a cock, a chick farting on a dude, and a woman being grabbed by the "queynte," which loosely translate to the mother of all swear words (according to most woman)--C U Next Tuesday! Can you imagine! All okay. All literature. Go figure.

So it strikes me funny in that "do we ever even think about what the hell we are really doing on this planet anyway" kind of way that parents get all frothy at the mouth about some titles being marketed toward teens, when the schools their kids attend are making them read ADULT titles with all kinds of naughtiness drenching the pages. (Along with who knows what else.)

What's the point, you ask? I'm not exactly sure. I just know that it would be way super cool to see what's being taught in schools in 100 years. 200 years. Will adult books that are interesting to teens like Prep and Election be taught in schools as "the canon" while YA novels that are equally as well-written and literary are being shunned?

Thanks to that pesky Mayan calendar, we may never know.

*Literature is defined by dictionary.com as...

1.

writings in which expression and form, in connection with ideas of permanent and universal interest, are characteristic or essential features, as poetry, novels, history, biography, and essays.

2.

the entire body of writings of a specific language, period, people, etc.: the literature of England.

3.

the writings dealing with a particular subject: the literature of ornithology.

4.

the profession of a writer or author.

5.

literary work or production.

6.

any kind of printed material, as circulars, leaflets, or handbills: literature describing company products.

7.

Archaic . polite learning; literary culture; appreciation of letters and books.

WTF?!?!?

A Little Edgy in the Big Woods

While reading to my daughter the other night, I ended up in a deep discussion about cannibalism of all things. We were reading Little House in The Big Woods and had just plowed through several chapters on how to kill, clean, prepare, and eat different kinds of animals. My daughter then asked which foods came from people. Of course I told her that we mustn't ever, not ever, eat another human being. She, of course, wanted to know why.

I had to think about this for a while. I then tried this angle with her. I asked, "Did the deer eat other deer?"

"No," she said.

"Did the pig eat another pig?" I asked.

"No," she said.

Obviously I had nipped that in the bud. My logic was flawless and easy to understand, even for a five year old. Then she came back with, "But what about the people that are bad? The ones that are really, really bad. Couldn't we shoot them and eat them?"

I tried to laugh it off and make a joke of it. I said, "They probably taste terrible."

"They probably taste like bacon," she said. "How would we ever know if we never tried them." She had successfully used the oldest parent trick to get kids to try vegetables against me. I was on the ropes.

An aside: This was more than I could take. I had always thought of my daughter as a bleeding heart liberal. She cheered on Barack Obama back in 2008, didn't she? Could it have just been that it was fun to say his name? Now she was not only arguing for the death penalty, but advocating for eating the condemned once their sentences had been carried out.

"We just don't do that," I said. Then I made it personal...and emotionally scaring. "If we did that, what would happen to you when you hit your brother or try to bite mommy." Her eyes sprung open. Her head shook side to side.

"No. No eating me!" she declared. I had won. I had taught my daughter a valuable lesson. Eat not, lest ye be eaten yourself. The golden rule of cannibalism. She understood, and we could move on with the story.

Later I rationalized that my daughter was not in favor of the death penalty. No daughter of mine would be. No way. No, my daughter was simply professing her vegetarian ideals. That sounds liberal enough, doesn't it? She was certainly making a point through irony. Showing me how wrong it was for Pa to kill those animals and for Ma to cook them up for Laura and Mary by turning the tables and suggesting we do the same with humans. I've heard veggies say that any argument you can use to justify eating meat can also be used to justify eating human babies. Don't worry baby Carrie; I don't buy it either.

Looking back on that conversation, I realized this is what I've been talking about here on this blog. This is why we need edgy YA literature. Do you see what happened there? If it weren't for reading that book with my daughter, she might still think it's okay to eat people when they are bad. I might come home to my poor two year old cooking in her Easy Bake oven with no recourse. I never said NOT to eat Owen, after all. The disturbing content of the book, content some parents would not want their daughters to read, prompted a conversation some parents would not want to have with their daughters. A conversation that did, in some sick, twisted way, have ethical value.

All kidding aside, this is what good literature does. This is what literature that pushes the envelope does. It sparks conversation. It sparks debate. It gives parents and teachers and friends a chance to discuss things like drug addiction, sex, suicide, and whatever else is out there, without teens having to live through it. So, lets keep teaching and reading those controversial titles. They open doors, they open minds, and most of all, they open hearts.

Here's to you Laura Ingalls Wilder. Thanks to you my daughter will not eat other people. And for that I can't thank you enough.

Edgy as I Wanna Be

I promised myself when I started this blog that I'd limit myself to posting once a week. The plan was to post on Saturday mornings and Saturday mornings only. The only problem is, I usually have a lot to say, and if I wait, I'll probably lose my thoughts and screw up the whole thing. So, I'm blogging on a Tuesday night, breaking my own rules. Is it still sticking it to the man if you're the man you're sticking it to?

So, I've been cruising blogs and forums, and I'm being told that the term edgy should be done away with. It's too subjective. One person's edgy is another person's happy-happy-joy-joy. Furthermore, claiming to be edgy is somehow uncouth. This implies that you are trying to be edgy, going for shock value only, and have no literary worth or writing ability. Okay, I'll give you that, then.  Fine. Then answer me this, why are you clinging to your label of YA?

I can see if you think labels are bad, sure it sounds a little artsy-fartsy and pretentious, but I like your sense of individuality. But if you say using the term edgy is passe, cheesy, and going only for shock value, then why do you rally behind the term YA. I mean, YA is in now, right? It's the only thing selling. It's the best thing in fiction. Adults are obsessed with YA. We say things like "Wake up and smell the YA." We say you need to respect us as authors--we're not just YA damn it! Almost 50% of adults who buy books buy mostly YA! YA is here to stay! YAY YA!

Hear all that? There seems to be no need for YA as a label either. Adults are liking the same books as young adults. Do you know why? It's because young adults, teen readers, are people, too. You don't believe me, do you? There's no need to play down to them. There's no need to let up, slow down, keep it clean, edit out the naughty parts--none of that. Why do we even call it YA? I'm hearing that anything goes, or should go, in YA. Then why not just call it fiction? There has to be something that makes it YA. Something that makes it different.

Now, I would argue that the same goes with edgy YA. There's something a little different, most would agree, that sets apart an "edgy" work of fiction from a non-edgy one. Certain things just get people's panties in a bunch. I know it's subjective, and we all have different tolerance levels, but on the whole, we all know what's going to be considered controversial or not, whether or not we, ourselves, agree. So I think we need the term edgy. I think it's a different genre altogether. I think if it's not a little edgy, it's probably playing down to teens, and should go into that bubble-gummy YA that we all know is out there.

These same blogs and forums tell me that graphic sex doesn't usually end up in YA. They say that makes it adult. Excuse me? They tell me that in YA the sex scenes should be about the emotions attached, not the act. This brings up another little issue--sexism in YA. That's a female description of sex right there. For a lot of males, sure there's an emotion attached, but the physical act is important, too for us. The pleasure is a feeling just as valid as the emotional tragedy that comes out of the act for girls. The YA section in the book store is awfully pink. I'll probably be getting more into this as the semester brews on, but the assumption is that males don't read, so let's write for a female audience. I think that results in a simple self-fulfilling prophecy. Maybe if we wrote more for males, or for both sexes, more males would be reading.

A study I saw on the news last night said that 2/3rds of high school seniors in the state of Connecticut have had sex in the past year. I imagine that of that 1/3rd, some are just out of practice, and others are in the "anything but" category. Teens know sex. They watch pornography--at least the boys do--some with permission. I also don't think this is "today's youth" "running wild." Think about when you lost your virginity. Teens know the deal. Leaving it out when it's part of the story is just playing down to them, and there's nothing teens hate more than us not respecting the maturity they do have.

So, I suppose, if this graphic sex issue is such an issue, then there is, in fact, a need to call something edgy. You've just told me that graphic sex is edgy. We all know suicide is an edgy topic. We all know cutting, sex, drugs, and all that kind of thing is edgy. So let's not pretend that there's no edgy anymore. That today we tolerate anything. We know it's not true. We know parents are just waiting to flip out over their kid reading something edgy. We know books do get banned.

So I'm cool with calling myself edgy. I'm confident enough in my writing, story telling, and characters to know that even if I have shocking content--EDGY content--it's not just there to provoke. I'm not selling out and being cheesy. I'm calling myself edgy because I refuse to tone things down and lie to my audience, and I know some people are going to hate me for it. So I say, wake up and smell the edgy YA. William Friskey writes edgy YA fiction, and I wouldn't have it any other way.

The Dark Forest

While poking around the internet this morning, I stumbled upon a writer named Gail Giles. Unfortunately, I haven't read any of Gail's work, but I intend to do so as soon as this semester is over. Not only is Ms. Giles extremely funny on her page and her blog, but in a speech contained on the site, she makes a great case for why teens need the edgy YA fiction that both Gail and I write.

In this speech, she discusses the inability for teens to see the consequences of their actions before acting. She states that she writes edgy YA fiction because she wants to "...show our readers the dark woods in hope that they won’t venture into them." I don't think anyone could have put it any better. Too often those who take issue with edgy YA mistakenly think our novels are advocating for the sex, drugs, abuse, murder, etc. that takes place within them. This couldn't be further from the truth.

The reality is, like any good parent--most edgy YA novelists I've stumbled across are parents, too--we are trying to protect those teens, not lead them down a path of destruction. Teens realize that. These books also give parents a golden opportunity. First, they can read the books, too, and use them as a jumping off point for discussing the tough issues they should be talking to their teens about anyway. Secondly, by doing so, teens learn that their parents value reading and education, making it more likely that those teens will as well.

So, my final advice to parents--thank edgy YA writers for diving into cans of fat, juicy worms that you, yourselves, would never want to open. Use that edgy fiction to keep your child out of edgy reality. And, in the end, realize that depictions of edgy teen behavior, 99% of the time, are not advocating for your teen to participate in that edgy behavior. While we can't keep our kids in a bubble that prevents them from entering the dark woods, we sure can provide them with fictional experiences to show them the consequences of such exploration.

Thanks, Gail for that analogy.You can read Gail Giles's speech here Why Teens Need Edgy Fiction and link to her blog on my blog roll to the right.

The Edge

Did J.D. Salinger know what he was doing when he created Holden Caulfield? Did he know that high school students sixty years later would claim that The Catcher in the Rye was the best thing they read in high school? That it was “not so bad?” That it was one of the only novels they “read all the way through?” Most likely he did not. But he should have. If he knew anything about teens, he would have. So often students enter the study of a novel with every intention to read it, but life gets in the way, boredom sets in, and they find themselves drawn to the next best thing to actually reading—Spark Notes.

So what keeps them hooked? Sex, alcohol, date rape, cursing, and all around “perverty things,” that’s what. The edginess, that’s what hooks them in. Salinger probably also didn’t realize that sixty years later, his brand of edginess would be relatively mild and a new age of edgy, trendsetting novels would be provoking parents with graphic sex, homosexuality, murder, rape, incest, drugs, and pretty much anything you could imagine happening to a teen. And all of this marketed directly to the YA audience. Along with this new, edgy YA fiction comes new controversy. How much is too much for a teen? Where do we draw the line? Where does edgy go over the edge?

The simple answer is, anything goes. If you haven’t gone too far, you probably haven’t gone far enough for today’s teen reader. Some would argue this attitude is simply a cheap way to drum up sales, an attempt at grasping attention with simple shock. I believe that couldn’t be further from the truth. All writing is an attempt to get at some universal truth. The best writing finds that truth, exposes it, and helps us deal with the dark side of the world and ourselves. I have found that, for most teens, shocking, edgy fiction is far closer to the truth than the bright pink bubble gum some teachers and parents try to sell to them as teen truth.

In my relatively short life, I have had the pleasure to know teens that have suffered through the deaths of loved ones, eating disorders, rape, incest, verbal and physical abuse, drug addictions, self-injuring, kidnappings, and even murder. It astonishes me the lengths adults will go to in order to inflict pain on children. The truth for more kids than not is that life is painful, suffering is reality, and having a good life is based on your ability to recover, to be resilient. Ironically, the same adults forcing these kids to run a virtual gauntlet of painful experiences are telling them they shouldn’t be reading about fictitious kids living through the same gauntlet. This is doing them a great injustice. Perhaps the most universal feelings for these teens are shame and loneliness. They wrongfully go through life believing that the rest of their peers are living perfect lives in perfect families. I know, I thought the same thing about my classmates. The teen condition is, at its essence, alone. I am gross. I am sick. I am disgusting.

The truth is, reading these “shocking” stories are psychologically good for them. They learn they are not alone. They learn how to overcome. They learn others may even have it worse. I once heard a story of the parents of a rape victim forbidding their kid from reading Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak for fear of further traumatizing them. I, however, believe there is no better book for that young adult to read. I don’t advocate for teens to read edgy young adult fiction simply because it gets them reading something that interests them. Though it does. I don’t advocate for teens to read edgy young adult fiction simply because “they hear worse from their friends already.” Though they may. I advocate for teens to read edgy young adult fiction so they don’t have to feel ashamed. So they don’t have to feel alone. So they don’t have to feel different, like an “other.” Reading edgy young adult fiction is good for them.

I’ve decided to dedicate my writing career, including this blog, to these kids and their stories. To help them through their trying times. To help them realize that someone out there does care about them and is willing to tell their stories. In the months that follow, I will be posting a series of book reviews, essays, and basic rants while hopefully serving as a watchdog over schools and libraries banning edgy young adult books, or any book for that matter. I hope this becomes a forum for intelligent discussion of the issues surrounding publishing, reading, and teaching such material. While I welcome those who disagree to post mature rebukes of my ideals, I hope this becomes a community of brave readers and writers who understand how important it is to take teen and adult readers alike to The Edge.