WARNING: Mature Content

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As a YA writer, I spend a lot of time trying to figure out where exactly “the line” is. That is, where does a story’s sexual content or alcohol/drug content cease to be “just a story” and start to be offensive and harmful?

As an avid reader of the YA genre, I’ve yet to find a book that I have had to put down and go “wow, this goes too far”. I’ve read bad books, I’ve read good books, I’ve read horror and contemporary and stories about drug abuse and sexual abuse and light hearted comedic romps and everything in between, and I’d be hard pressed to find a single story that horribly, terribly offends me. Some of its shocked me, some have moved me to near tears (BIG BOYS DON’T CRY!), and some has left me a bit disturbed. But none of it has offended me; that is to say, none of that has bothered and angered me because of it’s supposed “morality” or what it might do to children who read it.

I remember reading “The Bermudez Triangle” when I first began to really read YA fiction, after what seemed likes years of falling out of the genre and not writing for a variety of reasons. That book was part of the reason I begun to write YA; here was a real story with real characters that dealt with a plausible situation. And not only that, I thought it handled the subject of a teenage girls dealing with the sexuality extremely well. In a world where it’s very easy to stereotype people, even unintentionally,  Maureen Johnson writes with heart and makes everything seem real in palpable.

It’s why I get angry when I see that parents, in this case two mothers from the Leesburg, Florida area, while thumbing through a book looking for offensive content, entirely miss the point of that book. I very much doubt that the two women in this article, noble as their intentions may be, have ever seriously, honestly read that book. Like sat down, and read it from cover to cover. Because if they had they would realize that claims they make–namely that “The Bermudez Triangle” and even the book from the “Gossip Girl” series are not vulgar, are particularly offensive. They are stories, like the kind human beings have been telling for centuries.

“The Bermudez Triangle” is a book about friendship, not a book about sex. It’s a book about what happens when, in a group of friends, those two friends begin to date, and someone is the odd person out, while also dealing with the issue of young girls discovering their sexuality. And while yes, I know that parents hate the fact that teenagers have sex drives, and they are uncomfortable with the fact that sometimes those kids may turn out of be gay, there is nothing vulgar and offensive about self discover and friendship. Two girls kissing is not, in fact, a reason for a book to put a label on something.

It is easy to find the vulgarity in anything if you look harder, but sometimes it’s easier to find the vulgarity in something when you’re not looking hard at all. Paging through your daughter’s books to find the naughty bits is a poor substitute to actually sitting down and reading it, or sitting down and discussing things. After all, teenagers aren’t the easily influenced, sex crazed, reeady made alcoholics and/or druggies parents think they are. While those things make for good headlines in newspaper and on TV, they don’t make for good, you know…REALITY. To err is to be human, and it is far better to err when you’re a teenager and can learn from your mistakes than when you’re in your thirties and are too stubborn to change yourself. And it is far better for your teenage daughter or son to read something in a book and say “I would never do that” and then have them not do that than to try mainlining Jack Daniels and realizing that it was a bad idea when they have to jump start your heart. (Sorry, been listening to a lot of Motley Crue lately…)

But the sillier idea I find about the newest thing proposed by the two mothers–who, again, I’m sure have the best of intentions, or at least a strong desire to get featured on Fox News again–is that these books should be labeled. Which, honestly, I’m in favor of. Because in all my years in retail, the one thing I’ve learned is that kids love things with mature content labels. R-rated horror movie? Bag it up, sir! CD with a Parental Advisory Sticker? I’m listening to it the second I get in the car!  M-rated game? I can’t wait to get home and play this! If the publishing industry in in trouble, labels could be a huge economic boon. Mature Content labels are essentially little flashing stickers that shout “BUY ME, I’M NAUGHTY!” at kids everywhere.

In all seriousness though, the simple fact of the matter that no adult seems to want–and maybe this just because I’m 23 and I don’t have kids and I’m still naive–is that teenagers are going to find these things. And when you make them something bad or naughty, you only make the more desirable. But at least if you’re going to make something bad and naughty, have the decency to read it and be ready to explain fully what exactly makes something bad, or harmful, or detrimental to children. Because unfortunately, we do not live in a world where reporters do research and actually read before they write these things. And the one thing I fail to see in this article is a defense. There is no one saying “this book isn’t vulgar and sexual”, only these two women and their attorney and other adults talking about what they think is right for teens.

Teens, whether we like it or we don’t, are a lot smarter than we like to give them credit for. In fact, they’re actually a lot more mature than most adults. And rather than baby them and try and protect them from the made-for-TV harsh realities–or in the case of “The Bermudez Triangle”, the not harsh at all, real-life realites–we should feel free to put a book in their hands, or play a video game, or listen to a song, and not want to do everything that comes flying off the page at them.

KC

(Not) Doing It

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Me and my best friend E. Lynn are not doing it.

Yes, I understand why you may not want to hear about the act that I’m not having sex with some one. At least if I was having sex with someone you would be somewhat entertained as I regailed you with tales of my raccous lovemaking. That or you’d find the quickest way to leave my blog and you’d do it rather effing quickly, but I promise I will keep you somewhat invested in this endeavor.

Me and my best friend E. Lynn have known each other for about ten years now, but only in the last couple years have we actually become best friends in the entire universe. That’s right, THE WHOLE UNIVERSE. We lost touch in high school because she was being chatised and ridiculed for being “different” (read: not a bitch, not concerned with popularity, well read and well spoken and creative, which we knows is pretty much the curse of death in the realm of politics) and I was too busy being getting my self-esteem beaten into a bloody pulp by a series of increasingly insane girls.

Let it also be known that I have loved this girl since our eighth grade field trip to New York, at which point I stood out in the rain with her for the entirety of a ferry ride because I didn’t want her to be lonely, and because I had spent the better part of two days trying to stare at her ass and it give me a rather good opportunity to do so. Over the years this unrequited love has grown from middle school crush to high school crush to me being so hopeless that I would literally beg her, BEG her to date me in college. Said conversations went something like this;

KC: DATE ME PLEASE!

E.Lynn: No.

KC: WHY NOT!?

E. Lynn: Because I think of you as a friend.

KC: You know, you’re only saying that because <insert psychobabble bullshit here, usually revolving around her parents>, you really do like me!

And so on and so forth. Over the last couple years I’ve finally calmed down and while I still love her dearly and would date her the second she asked me to because she’s that fucking awesome, it’s starting to become that more friendshipy “we can flirt while not wanting to date each other” kind of love, and that’s not a terrible place to be. But with that being said, I must say this.

Me and my best friend E. Lynn are not doing it.

It’s not for lack of trying. We hang out every couple of weeks. Every couple weeks she totally winds me up and test my will. Every couple weeks I try and vain to turn her on. As of yet, in one hundred or so attempts I’ve succeeded maybe ONCE. For the most part it’s harmless fun though, and since we both have buckets of pent up sexual tension it serves as a nice outlet to work some of those things out without burning out wires or having our hands cramp.

That being said, we are NOT doing it.

No one believes us when we say we aren’t doing it. Her parents, my parents, her brother, my aunt, my cousin, our friends. Everyone either thinks we are or should be shagging (mostly the former).

We are not. We are not doing it.

An argument can be made that we should be, but we are not. And we can’t convince anyone we’re not. Neither of us understand why–we are not outwardly affectionate with each other when we’re in public or in the company of others. We are not boyfriend and girlfriend. We share the occasional cuddle and the occasional grope, but we are not dating.

And we are certainly not doing it.

I would tell people if we were doing it. I would shout it from the heavens. You do not hide the fact that you’re sleeping with a person this beautiful from the world.

WOULD YOU DENY DOING IT WITH THIS!?

WOULD YOU DENY DOING IT WITH HER!?

But we are not doing it.

We may have touched each others unmentionables exactly once, but we are not doing it.

So this post has some kind of point (mostly it’s just a rant because people automatically assume we do it), one of the characters in my novel Fiona has kind of the same problem–she is constantly told that she likes one boy, when she doesn’t like one boy.

She just wants to do it with him.

She doesn’t want a relationship or some long-term fling. She fancies a shag and then wants to get on with her life. All around her, her friends tell her that she wants something more from this guy, but she doesn’t. The boy is a jerk who’s only redeeming quality is that he’s attractive and may be in good in bed.

She does not want to date him. She just wants to do it.

It’s even something that might be lost on my readers, hich I have to work on. I don’t think it’s ever happened that way, that a main character only wants to hop in the sack with another. Maybe I’m being original!

I mean, probably not, but maybe.

I love E. Lynn dearly. I don’t know what I’d do without her in my life, besides being miserable. I can talk to her and she can talk to me. We call each other on our bullshit. I still hold out the vague hope that one day we “can be”, whatever that means, but I’m getting better. I’d rather have her be a friend today than an ex-girlfriend sometime down the line–I don’t know what I’d do if that happened.

But, we are not doing it. Seriously. To anyone of my friends who might be reading it, WE ARE NOT DOING IT. I have me it perfectly clear that if I even get close, I will be the first one on my roof screaming “I FUCKED E. LYNN! I HAVE WALKED THE PATH TO EL DORADO, THE CITY OF GOLD, AND I HAVE DRANK AND BATHED IN IT’S FOUNTAINS!”. This is no lie. The police will have to be called. I will have to be carted away in the back of a police car, and the whole time I will be going “I have lived a good life, I have gotten into those knickers with the skull and the crossbones, lock me away forever, I can die happy, even though I’m terrified of dying”. I would say that, but I never will.

Because me and my best friend E. Lynn are not doing it. And as long as it keeps our friendship the way it is, I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Awwwwwwwwww....

Awwwwwwwwww....

At least until we are doing it. Then I’d prefer to get it whenever I can.

KC

P.S. What the hell was this post about? There goes the goodwill I built with the whitewashing and Twilight posts…

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