For years, I've been reading romantic (teen) fiction, and wondering: why can't I write like these amazing writers whose stuff I'm reading? Some of these women really hit it out of the park every time, and I have to try so hard to remind myself that I've written good passages, too! Of course, in terms of mechanics, I feel I'm streets ahead of these gals; grammar, syntax, spelling, vocabulary: I can do all that with both hands tied behind my back. (Not really really.)
Well, I've had a sad epiphany: there's been hardly any teen drama when I was in school. My school days were a lot like I described in Yraid: I despised most of my classmates, and had a few unrequited crushes on some others. It wasn't fun. It wasn't terrible, either; I just drifted along, imagining being in love with various people—you know how that goes! (Actually, Helen was invented for that purpose!) But, like I said, all the juicy stuff got taken out, because, well, it was too embarrassing! If I had to do it all over again, I'd leave the junk in.
Kay
