I read in Writer’s Digest’s latest issue an interview with Sarah Dessen, YA author of—count ‘em—TEN books now. One of the interview questions that particularly piqued my interest was “why do you write YA?”
My family has been asking me for years why I write YA, and I’ve never been able to come up with an acceptable answer other than “I just do.”
For this post, I’m going to dig a bit deeper and come up with a real answer. Not that I want to and this story just happens to have a YA protagonist/theme aren’t valid reasons. They are.
But I want something that really satisfies the question. I want to know what it is about YA stories that is so special I have to write them myself.
Turns out (according to the article) that Sarah Dessen sort of walked into YA through the back door, having submitted a novel for adults that her agent thought would be better suited for a YA audience. But her answer to this question “why YA?” intrigued me. She said that YA was the genre in which she first connected to characters she cared about, the one in which she first discovered she was not alone.
I felt exactly that way when I first read SECRET OF THE UNICORN QUEEN at the tender age of twelve. I couldn’t put the damn thing down. I lived every minute with Sheila as she fought demented sorcerers, freed captive unicorns, and earned a place with a band of heroic warriors. I was her, and she was me. And when I closed the back cover, I almost wept at the loss of my new friends.
To experience the high again, I picked up another book, and another. And before I knew it, I was reading classics and sci-fi and pretty much anything I could get my hands on. I was raised by those characters more than my own parents (though my parents were great, and I love them—hi, Mom!). They and their adventures taught me what it meant to be a good person, a hero, and a friend.
Isabel Kunkle, another YA author, lists several reasons she prefers YA, but the last one resonated with me the most: YA stories end well, even when they’re sad—people move on and grow and deal, and she likes people who deal.
I couldn’t agree more. As a teenager, your options are by definition limited by your station. You are (generally speaking) loved, but you’re also caged. You’re considered sub-human by your own society.
Having to deal within the confines of that situation is rich story fodder, and (as long as you-the-author don’t blow it) you can earn your protagonist an almost instant feeling of kinship from the reader. Everyone knows what it’s like to struggle against a repressive regime at least to some extent, because no matter how permissive your parents were, you still couldn’t drive until you were 16.
So you-the-teenager are stuck on the cusp of adulthood with everyone still telling you what you can and can’t do, and you have to deal with it. You have to put up with the frustration of it and swallow your objections and learn how to bargain. You’re essentially powerless, disenfranchised in even the most literal sense. As a YA author, I get to work with that. I get to play with characters already at a disadvantage. This means the stakes are automatically higher, because teens have to work that much harder to achieve their goals.
I like writing about teens, because I like how cagey they have to be, how observant and opportunistic, just to get a ride to the mall. I like how vulnerable they have to stay in order to keep their lives in order and their loved ones happy. They’re the ultimate martyrs, really, and oh, how I love to sacrifice them on the altar of…er, *cough* I mean, bring to light the inner depths they’re capable of when the shit really hits the fan.
Kristan Hoffman writes that she prefers YA as a genre, because (among other reasons) it’s one of the freest genres she can think of in terms of audience appeal. And she’s absolutely right.
YA is not just for twelve- to fourteen-year-olds. Harry Potter broke that barrier along with every other barrier, including (and I’ve heard this from a reliable source, so you can quote me) the sound barrier, the light-speed barrier, and the Great Barrier Reef. Thanks to the Boy-Who-Lived (and a few other notables before him), adults are just as hot to read YA as teens and tweens are.
This of course means a wider potential audience for our own YA stories. But beyond that, it also means that we have read and enjoyed these stories ourselves. Recently. And if we enjoyed these YA stories, why not write them ourselves when left to our own devices?
Ultimately, we want to write what we like to read, right? And if we are lacking a good YA story of an evening, and we start tinkering with a situation or a character in our minds while waiting for the next big YA thing, what’s the harm? Maybe the character dribbles out a little onto a piece of paper. Oops—there he goes. And he looks so cute, sitting there all moodily. But then he’s lonely… And just like that, they start to multiply like tribbles until you’ve got a cast. At this point, you can’t let them down. So you give them a setting and a problem and deep emotional wounds, and then you play havoc with their little hearts. And then all of a sudden, you have a YA novel.
All joking aside, YA is a powerful genre, one which invites all our richest, most daring ideas, one that is accepting of all our whimsies and what-ifs, one that challenges us to grow up before our time and yet be strong enough to hold onto our innocence and belief in magic. No other genre can say that. Not one.
And if by writing YA I can capture and hold onto just a smidge of that belief in magic, just for a moment…then it’s worth the inevitable question: why do you write YA?
So why do you write YA? And if you write some other genre, what is it about that genre that draws you?