I haven't put a fresh word in any work in progress in a long time. I've done scarce editing here and there, but my heart is...just...not passionate about the story.
Then a little nagging voice tells me that YA isn't my genre. Maybe I should quit trying to force it. I'm too old to get it. I don't understand teens. I don't interact with them on a regular basis.
But, here's the thing....I was one. I was a horrible teen. A mess. My teen years were some of the worst in my life. I'd go back and give birth to every single one of those rotten royals, without the epidural again, before I went back to high school. Does this give me a reason to write YA? Or a reason not to?
As a teen, I was a huge fan/student of the supernatural. Can I conjure up any kind of paranormal story in my old brain? Nope. I was rebellious with details rather than actions. Oh Lord, could I argue, pout and put on some dramatics! I had all the wrong friends-the bad kids, the smelly outcasts or the occasional week of popularity while I did someone's homework. I chose them. The kids that were even worse off than I. Therefore putting myself in the position to continually lower my social standing as well. Is high school even still like that? Or is that so last decade?
As a teen, I also
So...for now I'll go and hide my head in my pillow and allow myself to start again tomorrow. *sigh* I guess I really am the Scarlett O'Hara in my family. :0) "Tomorrow...."
