Writing is not my part time job. It’s not my hobby, nor my past time. It’s not something I do to pass the time. Comments like these make me want to slap the person uttering these words with my unabridged copy of Stephen Kings’ The Stand – the hard copy version – a good 4 lb. whack upside the head for belittling my passionate pursuit of storytelling.

I’m often asked by my creativity-challenged friends what it takes to be a writer. I try to explain that it’s hard work and it takes a lot determination. I usually get one of two responses: The first is the blank stare, a silly glazed-over look signifying no understanding whatsoever. The second being a remark like “It don’t look so hard” or “how hard could it be anyway?” Both are usually met with a quick thump to the forehead to let my former friend know that I think he is a total waste of space and that their parents should have used protection rather than using the pullout-method.

This morning I woke up early, and couldn’t get back to sleep, and anyway, all I could see in my dreams by this point was how many different ways my interview could go wrong.  (Note to self: while sleeping pills induce sleep, they also induce more and vivid dreaming.)  So I had some breakfast, fed my cat, and decided to look on WriterChai in case I missed anything new yesterday.  I saw Lori’s latest blog post about violence in YA, and it got me thinking about YA in general and what’s “allowed.”