I’ve been thinking about YA a lot recently. Looking at my 2013 charts, I see that I read a few YA novels last year (although can only really remember reading one right now, Eleanor & Park, which I actually found more frustrating than enjoyable). But while my adult story is going down, my faerie story seems to be in ascension and I keep thinking that maybe that’s okay. Maybe I’ll write short stories for adults and longer stories for people who were like me when I was younger, who liked reading and didn’t really understand the rest of the world. I suppose we can adjust the tense in the last sentence: I don’t really understand the rest of the world, no matter how many studies they put out saying reading fiction helps improve interpersonal skills because I read a lot of fiction and I’m still stumped, staring at my feet at the bus stop while the other waiting mums discuss their wedding and engagement rings and I can’t think of a way to join the conversation to say that Geoff and I bought an iPod instead.
So maybe I’ll keep my YA faerie story going and let my adult longer stories just rest for a while. I don’t know. It’s winter and my fingers swell in the cold and it makes me miserable and hard to focus on being happy. We have future worries with the fact that Geoff is likely to strike soon and Tesfa is having some difficulty with trying new things and the tantrums that come with that. But escaping into fiction can be nice. In my faerie story, the main character is off to buy an extension cord, which is maybe not as fictional as I would like, but it is happening and that’s okay too.
(and I always say Why-Eh as yah! in my brain)