In elementary school, I was positive that the invitation to Professor X’s School for Gifted Youngsters was in the mail or that a radioactive spider was lurking close by. I had to have special powers or be destined to save humanity. The world didn’t make any sense otherwise.

Then my voice started to crack, and I still hadn’t discovered I was related to a Norse god. Even as I shaved off those initial upper lip hairs, I knew there were wizards hiding out there and I was one of them. Unfortunately, by the time my feet grew four sizes in as many months, I started to suspect Superman was as much of a fabrication as Santa or Uncle Sam. Despite hanging on to the innocence for longer than most people consider healthy, by (late) middle school, my delusions for the world had petered.

In high school and college, I applied science and engineering to the spaces once reserved for fighting imaginary archenemies. Though, in my spare time (remember that?), I gravitated to books, movies, and shows that let me be magic again for a blink or two. The problem was that I just looked through those characters’ eyes…they were the heroes, not me.

Then, one day, I was on a drive with my *someday* wife and a single sentence popped in my head out of nowhere. Over the next several years, it grew into a “novel.” What was it about, you ask? A 13-year-old who discovered he had powers and was destined to save the world (careful, I’ll sue if you steal my original concept). Sure, it was awful, but it opened up the world of writing to me. I found, no matter how sucky the sentences were or how off the pacing was, I was the superhero, finally.

I was hooked. Big time.

Now that I’m serious about writing (whatever that means), I’m magic or superhuman every day. I invent my own powers and hatch evil plans. My life is filled with secret identities and fights and surprising twists.

So why do I write for Middle Grade? Because, evidently, that’s what the industry calls these types of books.

Frankly, I just call them awesome.

I have confession to make. I never set out to write “YA.” I really didn’t.

When I wrote UNDER THE NEVER SKY, I wasn’t thinking about the genre.

Here’s what I was thinking:

Life is a choice. Making decisions on your own is hard and it’s scary, but it’s how you discover what you really want.

Life is failure. Making mistakes and recovering from them, is how you discover who you truly are.

Life is disappointment. Some people can’t be trusted. Hard to learn, but it’s the truth.

The good news is that the people who can be trusted more than make up for them.

Life is love--a consuming, wonderful thing that picks you up and throws you down and nothing in this world is harder or better or more beautiful.

I’m still learning these things, but I never felt them as potently as I did as a teenager. Why? Because it’s when you experience them for the first time. It’s when your eyes are opened and from that moment on you are different. You have taken a step toward wisdom. 

I write “YA” because that’s where my story falls in the spectrum of genre labels. But it’s never been the way I see it. What I strive for, when I sit down at my computer, is to write about life.

I didn't plan to write for young adults when I started writing, but when I sat down to write a book, the story that I needed to tell was about teens.  It was about navigating first love, lust and jealousy.  I fell in love for the first time when I was sixteen, and I've always felt connected to that time in my life emotionally.  I think that I write for teens because in many ways, I've never grown up.

Don't tell anyone, but being emotionally stunted has its advantages. Channeling my inner teen helps me in more ways than just nailing a voice or tone of a story.  It helps me survive this writing journey.  It helps me navigate my adult life.

My inner teen dreams big.  She still believes that anything is possible if you work hard enough at it.  While I've experienced setbacks and tragedies and heartbreak along the way, I don't let it keep me from pursuing my dream.  Some would call this naive, but I call it optimistic. This optimism kept me writing when I thought I would never finish a book.  It kept me querying in the face of rejection.  It gave me courage to rewrite when I knew my story wasn't working.  And it keeps me motivated to learn more, get better, and just keep going.

My inner teen is a hopeless romantic.  Writing for teens allows me to reconnect with the intensity of first love, first lust, first heartbreak.  As adults, we get so busy with work, errands, bills, kids, carpools, chores, and everything else that goes into maintaining our lives, that we sometimes forget to pause and really connect with our significant others.  Writing for teens reminds me to appreciate the people I love.  To love them.

My inner teen has room to grow.  I love seeing my characters grow emotionally through a novel, but what has surprised me the most is how much my characters have allowed me to grow by showing me things about myself and what's important to me.  Themes and emotional arcs appear and reappear on the page unexpectedly, helping me to understand myself and how my own experiences have shaped the person I've been and am becoming.  Who needs a psychiatrist, when you can read and analyze your own stories?

My inner teen isn't afraid to take on world.  She says what she feels.  She rails against injustice.  She doesn't back away from a challenge because it would be easier to do so.  She reminds me that some things are worth fighting for, and that the status quo can be changed. She reminds me to challenge myself. To be a better writer.  To be a better person.

My inner teen is less about who I used to be, and more of a reminder of who I want to be. And that, I think, is the real reason I write for teens. 

News!  Today is the first day of my blog tour - Tudor Tuesdays.  Nicole About Town will be hosting Catherine of Aragon today, and will be revealing an excerpt from GILT!  So stop by if you can, and let us know what you think...

I used to be a preschool teacher.  I spent all day surrounded by little people with little voices but big, big energy.  There were some that the only time I saw them sit still was when I read them a story.

For me, that was the best part of the day.  Not because they were still.  But because they were enraptured.  The first time I read WHERE THE WILD THINGS ARE I had the entire class in the palm of my hand.  Max’s story wound around them and their eyes grew wide and they listened.  Truly listened.

That is the power of story.

When I left teaching, I thought that maybe – just maybe – I could do that.  Maybe I could tell a story that would open eyes wide.  So I started writing picture books.

And they were awful.

Then I listened.  Truly listened.  To the stories I needed to tell.  They had to do with history, and the interpretation of it.  With the lives of girls and how they navigate the maze of social mores and regulations.  With challenging popular thought and inspiring alternative thinking. 

For instance: Contemporary accounts tell us that Catherine Howard was a young woman who wore a different dress almost every day and received joyfully an abundance of jewelry when married to the king.  She couldn’t read or write very well and was convicted of treason for having an adulterous affair.

Historical opinion tells us that Catherine Howard was a flighty, fashion-obsessed bimbo who cared for nothing but looks and jewels.  That she was promiscuous to the point of sluttiness and stupid to boot.

But do the labels fit the reality?

How many teenage girls today feel like they are pressed into a role that doesn’t fit them?  That they have to be the good girl or the band geek or the Goth freak or the cheerleader.  That they don’t have a voice to say otherwise?  What if the cheerleader wants to play the saxophone?  Or the Goth freak wants to run track?  What if a mistake labels the good girl as a bitch for the rest of her high school career?

What if a mistake labels the queen as a stupid floozy for the rest of history?

I don’t want to teach history with my books.  I’d love to inspire an interest in it, but I’ve discovered over the course of writing them that it isn’t what drives me to write for young people.  I write for teens because I think sometimes they feel as bound by society and by their peers as the Tudors did.  That they are as afraid of gossip and labels as Henry’s courtiers.  That there are different ways of looking at the labels.  And perhaps seeing a glimpse of truth when the labels are torn away.

I write for young people because I remember.  And because I have a voice.

A couple of weeks ago a colleague at work asked me, "So when are you going to move up to writing adult books?" Surprisingly (or perhaps not for many of you writing in this world), it's a question I get asked far too often. My response is often much more passionate and involved than expected.

Writing for children is not a stepping stone to the "real" world of writing for adults. Children and young adults are my chosen audience. It's not second string or a Plan B. The bar is high and my readers are a picky crowd. Unlike adults, they simply won't keep reading if it doesn't keep their attention. The competition for time and attention in the world of today's children is fierce. If a writer can capture that attention, they've truly accomplished something miraculous. It's a challenge I try to meet with every word I put on the page.

Not only is the audience critical, but the ability to write what I want is also a big part of my choice. I love the artistic opportunity of choosing incredibly precious words for a picture book or the wide open span of topics that appeal to young adults. I also believe children's publishers are willing to experiment with creative formats and new voices in ways adult publishers are not.

I certainly hope adults read and enjoy my books. My focus, however, will be to continue to publish children's and young adult books. Who knows? Maybe some day I'll get to ask some famous adult writer, "So when are you going to move up and write for children?"