My thoughts on the YA debacle
This started as a comment on kathleenfoucart's LJ and grew into something more.
I won't recap all the hubbub about the WSJ recent article about YA. Instead, I'll talk about my experience with YA as a reader and writer.
For reference, I graduated high school in 1993. If there was YA fantasy available at that time, I sure didn't know about it. I started reading fantasy with Lloyd Aleander, Madeleine L'Engle, Susan Cooper, C.S.Lewis: all authors who were solidly middle grade at the time and are now even more firmly entrenched in that camp. When I felt I was outgrowing those stories,I moved to adult fantasy. Would I have loved reading about teen werewolves, wizards, fairies: absolutely!!!! But it just didn't exist, at least from what I was able to find. I think that is why I've emerged as a writer of MG and not YA fantasy. For me, at this point in time, anyway, the voice I have is the voice of what I loved in middle school.
That brings us to my recent reading habits. I'd been enrolled in graduate school for children's literature since 2001, completing my studies in 2009 (I actually had to dig out my Hollins scrapbook to confirm that year!). I read a lot. For class. For reviews. For "fun," but it was no longer fun. It wasn't work, exactly, but somewhere amidst reading for all these reasons, I lost track of reading for simple joy. Looking at a bookshelf and picking one specific book because I was in the mood for it.
During my pregnancy, I really lost my ability to read. I read a few very old and easy to read favorites (even took all my Ramona books to the hospital when Wyrmling was born) but certainly nothing new. I also ceased writing, but that was by choice. I actually started and completed a rough draft during my pregnancy. I finished one month before Wyrmling was due, determined to enjoy my last month of completely free time. Still have not resumed writing, but that's a post for another time.
A few months ago, something unexpected happened. I found myself with time when there wasn't much to do.Wyrmling would be asleep on the sofa and I wouldn't want to move her, or she'd be entertaining herself on the floor in the family room. Why she can do that in the family room and not in her play area in my office is beyond me. But, the point is, I had free time when I couldn't work at computer or watch tv (we don't want her to start watching tv at all until she's older, so we only watch when she's not around). So I started reading. This also coincided with me finding the Kindle app for my phone. I saw a few posts about discounted Kindle titles and started downloading. I realized that I was reading. New fiction. Old fiction. Reading throughout the day, not just for a bit each night. Returning to stories eager to find out what happened next (specifically Libba Bray's Beauty Queens, Cassandra Clare's Clockwork Angel and City of Fallen Angels, Holly Black's Red Glove, and the if-the-publishing-world-has-any-sense soon to be published Accursed by Kathleen Foucart). I realized it had been years since I read like this. I loved falling into books again.
The wonderful hubby got me a Kindle for Mother's day. I'd been thinking I would want one, but I figured I had to wait until my birthday in October! I forgot I now could get gifts in the spring! I never thought I'd love it so much! I love being able to get books and not have to worry about storing them. I love that it syncs with my phone so I always can read what I'm currently into. But most of all, I love reading again, for joy.
You'll notice that all the books I mention above are YA. YA brought my almost dead reading for joy habit back. #YASaves? Absolutely!
I won't recap all the hubbub about the WSJ recent article about YA. Instead, I'll talk about my experience with YA as a reader and writer.
For reference, I graduated high school in 1993. If there was YA fantasy available at that time, I sure didn't know about it. I started reading fantasy with Lloyd Aleander, Madeleine L'Engle, Susan Cooper, C.S.Lewis: all authors who were solidly middle grade at the time and are now even more firmly entrenched in that camp. When I felt I was outgrowing those stories,I moved to adult fantasy. Would I have loved reading about teen werewolves, wizards, fairies: absolutely!!!! But it just didn't exist, at least from what I was able to find. I think that is why I've emerged as a writer of MG and not YA fantasy. For me, at this point in time, anyway, the voice I have is the voice of what I loved in middle school.
That brings us to my recent reading habits. I'd been enrolled in graduate school for children's literature since 2001, completing my studies in 2009 (I actually had to dig out my Hollins scrapbook to confirm that year!). I read a lot. For class. For reviews. For "fun," but it was no longer fun. It wasn't work, exactly, but somewhere amidst reading for all these reasons, I lost track of reading for simple joy. Looking at a bookshelf and picking one specific book because I was in the mood for it.
During my pregnancy, I really lost my ability to read. I read a few very old and easy to read favorites (even took all my Ramona books to the hospital when Wyrmling was born) but certainly nothing new. I also ceased writing, but that was by choice. I actually started and completed a rough draft during my pregnancy. I finished one month before Wyrmling was due, determined to enjoy my last month of completely free time. Still have not resumed writing, but that's a post for another time.
A few months ago, something unexpected happened. I found myself with time when there wasn't much to do.Wyrmling would be asleep on the sofa and I wouldn't want to move her, or she'd be entertaining herself on the floor in the family room. Why she can do that in the family room and not in her play area in my office is beyond me. But, the point is, I had free time when I couldn't work at computer or watch tv (we don't want her to start watching tv at all until she's older, so we only watch when she's not around). So I started reading. This also coincided with me finding the Kindle app for my phone. I saw a few posts about discounted Kindle titles and started downloading. I realized that I was reading. New fiction. Old fiction. Reading throughout the day, not just for a bit each night. Returning to stories eager to find out what happened next (specifically Libba Bray's Beauty Queens, Cassandra Clare's Clockwork Angel and City of Fallen Angels, Holly Black's Red Glove, and the if-the-publishing-world-has-any-sense soon to be published Accursed by Kathleen Foucart). I realized it had been years since I read like this. I loved falling into books again.
The wonderful hubby got me a Kindle for Mother's day. I'd been thinking I would want one, but I figured I had to wait until my birthday in October! I forgot I now could get gifts in the spring! I never thought I'd love it so much! I love being able to get books and not have to worry about storing them. I love that it syncs with my phone so I always can read what I'm currently into. But most of all, I love reading again, for joy.
You'll notice that all the books I mention above are YA. YA brought my almost dead reading for joy habit back. #YASaves? Absolutely!