what i wanted and what i got.

Been thinking about why I ran in anxious circles around my blog for months on end. Part of me doesn't think there will ever be an answer (or that I even need one), but the other part has a guess.

I really really really wanted to look professional... and so I decided to cut out everything personal or emotional and only blog about craft.   (???)

Which, you may have noticed, I haven't gotten around to.

Clearly, I was only afraid of being myself.

I am naturally on the personal/emotional end of things. This means that I am prone to gushing. I do not generally blog in advance. I suppose it's the pantser in me. My posts come in spurts. I often write about writing, anyway, because how could I not? And yet, I couldn't shake the constant, depressing tug to FIX everything about this space, to legitimize it. This personal, emotional space.

Then I became so preoccupied with "legitimacy," I felt like I was lying. As if the only options were a false me or an unprofessional me!

There is so much freedom to write about what I love, here. Who CARES if I don't join in on ALL the blogfests, or do ALL the giveaways... or have ALL the answers? My only job in this space is to ENJOY IT! Amiright?

I feel like I'm rallying the troops, here. Rally rally! Be yourself! Enjoy blogging! Smile! Professionalism has many facets, and will come naturally if you genuinely care about what you're doing.

Oh, and happy weekend!

rahrahrahrah

i didn't know i was writing YA... and i'm still not totally sure.

Today, I'm participating in this:

more info here.

Hosted by SA Larsen at Writer's Ally. Want to join the team? It's as easy as blogging on Tuesdays about anything YA-related. ;) We'll see how well I can hold up.

So, confession time:

I did not know YA was a thing until I started reading blogs. In all honesty, I stumbled upon the microcosm quite by accident. Good thing, too, because my writing life has grown exponentially since then {about two years ago}.

And lo, the lightbulb shone. You know, that lightbulb. I had been fiddling around with the backbone of my story {which has changed so much in two years, I hardly recognize it... in a good way}, eye-deep in identity crisis, when it occurred to me.

My main character is 16.
Not 10.
Not 23.
Of course he's 16.

{maybe 14?}
{no, 16.}

No wonder I like those blogs.
I'm writing YA, too.

Commence euphoria.
Chase with more identity crisis.

Because, you see, here's my second confession, one I realized after a year and a half of total YA immersion:

I'm really not the biggest fan of a lot of YA books I've read.
Like, to the point where I had to call it quits.
For a while.

Is it because I'm no longer an actual teenager? I don't know. The few that I've absolutely loved are the books my teen friends like best, too.

Does it have something to do with the seemingly rapid pace of the market? Am I just a stinky geezer with unrealistic standards for what I read?

Whom is YA really for?

Recently, after finishing yet another book that was supposed to be OMGAMAZING, but was actually omgnotasgoodasitcouldandshouldhavebeen, I realized,

Maybe YA isn't for me?

Buh.

Okay. Time to stop being dramatic. YA is not the problem.

The real issue is that I've been pigeonholing myself. Having a 16-year-old MC doesn't mean I have to write dystopian. My duty is to write the story that wants to be told, as someone other than me probably once said. I'll worry about the marketing later {if I ever even need to}. 

I can't deny that a ton of the YA books I've read truly are OMGAMAZING. Human beings carry different opinions and live different lives. I'm never going to love some books, and that's okay. I can learn from every single one I read. And, no matter how unenjoyable a book is for me, I will ALWAYS respect the person who wrote it.
How could I not, now that I know?

That being said... I have to admit, it's kind of nice to be reading adult fiction, right now.

You know. Just for a while. 

Thoughts?