Let's open our hearts today.

Okay, before I get all serious on you, I want to remind you to visit my other blog at the dot com for the purpose of hate-mongering all over censorship. Or rather, so you can learn how you can win some supacute Banned Books Week swag.



Anyway, it's serious time. Why? It's National Suicide Prevention week here in the US, and I want to shed a little light on the topic.

I've mentioned in other posts that I struggled with mental illness as a teen -- trufax. Here's the part where I full-on out myself: I'm a woman with bipolar disorder (in remission, as my adorable, grandfatherly general practice physician calls it) and panic disorder. And I'm totally okay with talking about it. Why? Because the stigma is still floating around out there, and that can make an already difficult illness even more tough. Especially if you're a teen.

Whenever I tell someone about my illness, I get the "I never would have known!" response. Even from people I talk to regularly who also know that I have frequent panic attacks (which I guess seem common enough, especially on TV these days) and am easily overexcited and obsessive. Sometimes that makes me feel happy, because, hey, that must mean I'm doing a good job at assimilating as a fully-functional grown up! But in the back of my mind I think, well, it's not always easy to pick us out of a line-up.

Okay, here's an idea: think of your lunch table. Picture them lined up in front of you, in your head. Think about what they like, what they talk about, what they do after school, what classes they're good at and what classes they'd love to skip. Do any of your pals have bipolar disorder? Clinical depression? Anxiety? Schizophrenia? Borderline personality disorder? An eating disorder? Addiction?

Now I'm not saying you should get all diagnose-y on them. In fact, I very much discourage playing therapist at your lunch table. But what I'm trying to say is that there is probably someone you know suffering from mental illness, and you don't have a clue. And that's okay. What I'm trying to say is that you should be there for your friends no matter what, because if someone you know *is* thinking about suicide, or is self-harming, or is having secret panic attacks in the bathroom between periods, sometimes all it takes to keep someone from doing something drastic and ambulance-ride-y is knowing they have someone they can call and talk to when they're having a truly shitty day.

When I was in high school that person was actually my sweetheart (at right, with me, at my parents' before senior prom), whom I'm still in touch with via Facebook. He had issues of his own, too, which, admittedly, made him easier to talk to. I remember one day I was such a mess that I locked myself in the bathroom, refused to come out, and was feeling particularly destructive. (Let's just say it's a good thing my parents were already thinking about remodeling). My parents knew how amazing Sweetheart was, and they called him and my grandmother (who is my best best BEST friend to this day) and they got me out of the bathroom and we talked on the porch and, well, I can't say it was all better, but I survived.

Why am I sharing this with the whole wide Internet? Because I'm hoping that it will help someone reading. I'm hoping this will save someone the scary, scary pain that comes with suicide. Of all my adult friends, I can list on one hand the ones who didn't lose a high school classmate to suicide. Is that terrifying or what?

So let's think about that this week. Let's give our friends extra hugs and let them know that they can call us in an emergency even if it's four a.m. on a school night.

And in case you're looking for something to help you relate, one of my favorite books that deals with suicide is HOLD STILL (Penguin Speak, 2010) by Nina LaCour. In HOLD STILL, the protagonist has just lost her best friend, and is struggling to find her own identity, to make new friends, to relate to teachers who know what she's going through but who are scared to reach out. I also love WINTERGIRLS (Penguin Speak, 2010) by Laurie Halse Anderson, which is way too good at illustrating the harsh reality of anorexia and bulimia, and also deals with the loss of a best friend to mental illness. Of course there is also CUT (Scholastic Push, 2002) by Patricia McCormick, which is a beautifully written novel about a girl in a mental health facility, who refuses to talk about anything, let alone her self-harm.

Recently the book HOW I MADE IT TO EIGHTEEN (Roaring Brook, 2010) was released. It's an autobiographical illustrated novel by Tracy White, about a girl who checks herself into a mental health facility to figure out how to deal with her depression, her eating issues, her substance abuse, and, ultimately, her emotionally draining relationship. Also, check out Samantha Schutz's memoir-in-verse I DON'T WANT TO BE CRAZY (Scholastic Push, 2007) about panic disorder and anxiety. I think all of these books give an intimate picture of what it's like to be a teen with mental illness. And they could be just the trick to opening new doors with friends who are also struggling.

And, please, if you'd like to, take this as an opportunity to share your story. Post it in the comments, or blog about it and send me a link. I think the more we talk about our struggles, the more we can keep the stigmas at bay, and the more lives we can save. Sharing our stories can help us share the struggle, and ultimately help us heal.

(PS, check out Samantha Schutz' blog on this topic, You Make Me Feel Less Alone. I tried to work that in more eloquenty, but failed. Woops.)

I will now leave you with an entry me and my BFF Fiona wrote in my journal in 1999. This was probably around the time I was first seeing a therapist, but I still wasn't aware of the my diagnosis or the seriousness of it, and Fiona didn't know much about my illness yet, either. We were watching a rerun of Nirvana on MTV Unplugged, and it was breaking our hearts and blowing our minds:

(Click the image to see full-size & read my teenage ramblings.)

Heading back to school could be way worse, I promise.

Yeah, I hear it's that time of year. You're donning your backpacks weighed down with textbooks and homework and bidding your beach gear goodbye. Woe! I mean, I bet you're kind of excited to see friends you haven't seen in a while, right? Or maybe that crush you meant to call all summer but never actually, um, got up the nerve? (Totally been there.) I get it, though. School can be a bummer. I don't think I know anyone who likes homework, even for their favorite class. So I thought I'd share a few reads with you that could lend a little perspective. At least you're not starting the school year in one of these books.

SHADOW HILLS by Anastasia Hopcus (Egmont 2010)
Persephone "Phe" Archer has been having dreams since her sister died. Nightmares, really. And when she found out that her sister had been having them, too, Phe knew where she had to go: Devinish Prep in Shadow Hills. Her sister had written about it in her journal, had even requested information from the school. And Phe just knows that there are answers there, answers she can't find at home in California. But as soon as she steps foot on campus, she knows this isn't your average boarding school. For one, the nearby cemetery is just a little too nearby. As is the hospital. And when she meets Zach, a strange, beautiful boy who seems to attract metal like a magnet, Phe falls hard -- and her curiosity is intensified. When Zach finally confesses what Phe already suspects -- he's different, descended from the people who survived the epidemic that wiped out Shadow Hills in the 1700s -- he puts her in danger. But Phe isn't exactly average either, and as her visions -- and her feelings for Zach -- intensify, she realizes that even if it kills her, she's going to uncover what's going on in Shadow Hills. This paranormal mystery will have you guessing until the very end, and while I wouldn't want to go to school in Shadow Hills, I absolutely can't wait to visit Devinish Prep again in a sequel. (Please?!)

MY SO-CALLED DEATH by Stacey Jay (Flux, 2010)
Karen Vera has been transported from her fabulous position atop a cheerleader pyramid to DEAD High. She'd known there were risks to being a "flyer," but she didn't imagine that she'd die -- let alone become "genetically undead." Now Karen has to deal with things like her weirdo roommate who mostly cries and performs goth-y rituals under a blanket. And then there's the snacking on animal brains to prevent rot. And, oh yeah, someone in school has been harvesting her fellow student's brains and way too many signs are pointing to crushworthy Gavin. This hilarious mystery will have you hooked from page one, with its fabulously imagined world in which the teenage undead can play, complete with plenty of zombie puns. I'm really hoping that Stacey Jay will continue Karen Vera's story as a series, even if I'm not inclined hang out at the DEAD High campus any time in the near future.

CANDOR by Pam Bachorz (Egmont 2009)Candor is the perfect city where perfect teens live perfect lives and make their perfect parents proud. Oscar knows why -- his father, the founder, developed technology that makes even the most rebellious teens conform. Oscar gets kids out…for a price. Then he meets Nia, an artist and a rebel, and he finds himself smitten. Oscar wants to change – he wants to save Nia, whether that means getting her out or hiding her in plain sight. But the powers that be are stronger than even Oscar realized, and soon he is asking himself what sacrifices he is willing to make for love. Candor is terrifying and heartbreaking, a story that clearly resonates a Stepford vibe and keeps the reader guessing through the last page. It will make you feel a little crazy. There is nothing in the world that could make me register for classes at a high school in Candor. But this book is gripping, stunning, and the twisted sort of read that makes you want more.

Can assigned reading ever be fun? Or, you know, at least tolerable?

Wow. First Monday back at the YA 5. Check out these new digs! And all of last week's spooktacular fun! I hope everyone has their ear to the ground, as the giveaways are still open for a few more days! Mad props to Georgia for organizing the fab madness!

It's been a hot summer here in Texas. Throughout the sweltering weeks fellow Austinite and YA-5-er K.A. Holt and I have occasionally peeled ourselves off of our respective sofas and meandered to a coffee shop where we "work" on "writing" and exchange critique and argue about what makes a good apocalypse. This week she and her kids even turned me into a unicorn with her fancy iPhone app.

Of course, this leads to book comparisons and the eventual recommendation of titles. Such as THE ROAD. Kari made me read it. She said it was for my own good. And I finished it about ten minutes ago and of course it was wonderful and I'm so glad I read it (even if I whined the whole time) and by the end of the book I was just completely engrossed.

Now I know this isn't a YA title. Cormac McCarthy writes for adults. But THE ROAD is often assigned to high school English classes, here in Austin, and while I was reading, I kept wondering a) OMG if I am struggling to read the first fifty pages of this book, how does a high school kid who also has to do, like, calculus and chemistry and stuff get through it? and b) if I am so engrossed by this book as an adult, would I have been into it enough as a teen to actually read it for class?

Let's face it: assigned reading bears the burden of being assigned. You HAVE to read it to make the grade, and if you're anything like me, you feel that anything you HAVE to do isn't fun. I mean, I'm supposedly a grown-up, and if someone tells me I HAVE to get dressed I'm going to sit around in my pajamas for hours just to show them I don't HAVE to do anything.Maybe I should have my grown-up card revoked.

Anyway, a) yes, teenagers are ridiculously smart. So smart that there's no doubt that they can read THE ROAD and other literary books with tough topics and big words (Cormac McCarthy uses a lot of words that I have to look up). But how do they find the time? This book took me WEEKS to read, and I don't have French homework or soccer practice. So, I would like to give props to the Texas teens who read this book as part of their curriculum. You are heroes.

And b) confession time: I only did about 10% of my assigned reading. And knowing that my former English teacher Mrs. Ryder sometimes reads my posts I AM SORRY REALLY I AM but sophomore year I still read most of the stuff. I mean I loved LORD OF THE FLIES and I memorized that solioquy from MACBETH and I KNOW WHY THE CAGED BIRD SINGS is still one of my favorite books ever, so, cut me some slack. Mrs. Ryder, I bet I read more of your assignments than my dad did when he was in your class, okay? Okay.

But by senior year I was drowning in college applications and a boyfriend from another school (didn't so much mind that bit...) and the last thing I needed in my life was Herman Melville. I know some of you out there read MOBY DICK and cherish it and are making voodoo dolls of me right now. And maybe you aren't the type of person who gets an assignment and thinks that someone is trying to kill your spirit. Heck no I wasn't going to watch APOCALYPSE NOW in class. I was going to take a nap. And I can't even remember if I "read" THE GRAPES OF WRATH or THE GREAT GATSBY and the only reason I get those books confused is that the two English classes were assigned them at the same time and my BFF was in the other class. I did read THE SCARLET LETTER that year, though. Do I get points?


I am a horrible influence. I'm kind of bad at this whole role model thing. Woops.

Anyway, I have to wonder, if I'd been assigned THE ROAD in high school -- and part of me wants to call up my old high school and find out what they're reading these days...creepy? -- would I have read it? Or would it have become a book that, to this day, I can't pick up and enjoy (SLAUGHTERHOUSE FIVE, for example) because it was once one of those dreadfully assigned novels.

How do you all feel about assigned reading? August is almost here and y'all are probably getting ready to cram several weeks worth of summer assignments into a blessed few days while hooked up to an IV drip of cola hoping not to nod out. Because, you know, that's how I got through THE THINGS THEY CARRIED. I hear it's a good book. Maybe I'll pick it up and actually read it for pleasure someday.

Just Do You

As a YA writer I read a lot. I listen to what important people in the book business have to say about books--which ones are selling, which ones are not and what will be the next BIG trend.

It got me to thinking about my time in school and how everyone I knew was chasing the trends. Music, fashion, movies. If you weren't listening to this band or that singer, you just weren't cool.

Or maybe, being in the school production of King Lear simply wasn't cool but you wanted to anyway.

Maybe your parent hit you and you didn't want anyone to know so you tried to hide it by wearing you hair long over one side of your face. And THAT made you an outsider.

Maybe reading unless it was on the assigned list wasn't considered cool either, but you couldn't resist the latest release from Meg Cabot. Wait? When did reading become cool?

Maybe you had a crush on your best friend who just happened to be the same gender as you and you didn't want anyone to know so you hid yourself behind dark clothes, blue hair and black lipstick.

Maybe you were smart but being smart got you beat up in your neighborhood so you hid your intelligence behind baggy clothes, slang and fights to prove you were a tough guy.

Maybe you didn't have the right jeans on. Or maybe you did but had no idea that you were supposed to wear them with holes in only ONE knee not two-IDIOT.


You see, when I was in high school, I knew someone like all of the above. I befriended kids like all of the above. I genuinely cared for someone like all of the above. I didn't care about trends then and I don't now. I didn't care about being popular then and I don't now. Funny thing is however, I was popular. I was because I didn't judge people. I accepted them. I accepted them for who they were, what they wanted to be and that was all I cared about. That's what made me popular--I wasn't trying. Not what I listened to, what I wore, what I read or what I looked like.

As a writer, I tell stories that I hope will resonate with readers on a personal level. Because I write books based in the paranormal and urban fantasy genres, there will always be otherworldies in my books. However, look and you will always find yourself there too--because at the end of the day, we are all the same inside!

Don't chase the trend, don't try to be like other people. Just do you.

And for book industry looking for the next trend, take a lesson here. The trend isn't angels or elves or mermaids. It's feelings. Belonging. Love. Loss. Acceptance. If you can find a book that speaks to teens at the heart of these feelings, whether the main character is a chicken or a cow (or has fallen deeply in love with either)--it won't matter.

xoxo-
Georgia