Whenever I tell people that I read and write young adult novels, they have one of several reactions. Either they think it’s cool, ask a few questions, and change the topic, or they stare at me like I said I moonlight at a strip club.

Why do people find the idea of a normal person writing a novel so difficult? It’s not like I claimed to invent calorie free chocolate, which prevents wrinkles and keeps boobs perky forever. Although, if someone could invent that, it would be awesome.

Sometimes the people don’t react so much to the fact that I’ve written a book, but to the genre. “Young adult? Why don’t you write a grown up book?” 

Fair warning…I’m about to step up on my soapbox. Young adult does not refer to the age of the reader; it refers to the age of the characters in the book. Please feel free to re-read that sentence if it didn’t make sense. Why, you might ask, would a grown up want to read a book about sixteen year old characters?  I’ll tell you why. At sixteen, life is full of possibilities. There are first loves and first broken hearts. The first attempts at something great and the first epic fails. It’s when things start to count for real and the choices someone makes can affect the rest of their life. It’s also a grace period where second chances are possible.

Those on-the-edge-of-adulthood years are fraught with so much emotion. Teens are given huge responsibilities but almost no control or power over their own lives. Most of the time, they have no money, no ownership of where they live and no ability to make decisions.

Those years are like running a gauntlet. A race through treacherous lands, where they have to overcome obstacles, solve puzzles, fight against oppressors, and try to figure out who the hell they want to be when they grow up. Some of us are still working on that.