Shannon Taylor Hodnett's Blog, page 3

Why Not YA?

"Read whatever you want. But you should feel embarrassed when what you’re reading was written for children." -Ruth Graham, quoted from Against YA

Well, I don't. I don't feel embarrassed about writing YA either. How presumptuous of this woman to tell an entire demographic of readers how they should feel...or what they should be reading!  Every reader reads for different reasons. Some just want a light, fun read while others want a good scare. Not everyone wants a heavy literary read where they learn lessons about life and grow just a little. I would never tell somebody what they should be reading (promoting my books doesn't count! lol) or shame them for what they are reading.



---"I know, I know: Live and let read. Far be it from me to disrupt the “everyone should just read/watch/listen to whatever they like” ethos of our era. There’s room for pleasure, escapism, juicy plots, and satisfying endings on the shelves of the serious reader. And if people are reading Eleanor & Park instead of watching Nashville or reading detective novels, so be it, I suppose. But if they are substituting maudlin teen dramas for the complexity of great adult literature, then they are missing something."
But she is trying to disrupt the ethos...she's telling people to do the opposite of reading/watching/listening to what they like. All because she thinks we might be "missing something"....we're not. If we don't read every book ever made we are "missing something"...but we get to choose...then at least we're not missing what we want. 


---"Books like The Westing Game and Tuck Everlasting provided some of the most intense reading experiences of my life. I have no urge to go back and re-read them, but those books helped turn me into the reader I am today. It’s just that today, I am a different reader."
That's great...for you. Thing is, we are all different readers...different from you and what you enjoy. That's the beauty of diversity...and the reason your article is so ludicrous.


---"I’m a reader who did not weep, contra every article ever written about the book, when I read The Fault in Our Stars. I thought, Hmm, that’s a nicely written book for 13-year-olds. If I’m being honest, it also left me saying “Oh, brother” out loud more than once. Does this make me heartless? Or does it make me a grown-up?"
Um, neither...it makes you YOU. Others did weep. I didn't read it precisely because I knew I would weep. Your experience while reading any book is just that...YOUR experience. Let others have experiences of their own without writing an article shaming them for it.


---"But crucially, YA books present the teenage perspective in a fundamentally uncritical way. It’s not simply that YA readers are asked to immerse themselves in a character’s emotional life—that’s the trick of so much great fiction—but that they are asked to abandon the mature insights into that perspective that they (supposedly) have acquired as adults"
YA books are written by adults, with few exceptions. Adults with that mature insight you speak of. Writers do write their teenage characters from a teenage perspective, but that doesn't mean it's an immature perspective...or that anyone reading has to abandon their maturity.
Adding that (supposedly) feels an awful lot like a snarky dig...calling YA readers immature.
Nice.


---"Most importantly, these books consistently indulge in the kind of endings that teenagers want to see, but which adult readers ought to reject as far too simple. YA endings are uniformly satisfying, whether that satisfaction comes through weeping or cheering."
There you go again, telling readers what they "ought to" do. I like happy endings. I hate sad endings. But I'm not going to write an article saying there should only be happy endings.
How many YA books have you read? How can you possibly know what you're talking about? There are plenty of tragic endings in YA...yet this is your "most important" point? 


---"Fellow grown-ups, at the risk of sounding snobbish and joyless and old, we are better than this"
I would've hoped you'd be better than writing this article...instead you are spot on about sounding snobbish and joyless. Old is subjective.


---"I remember, when I was a young adult, being desperate to earn my way into the adult stacks; I wouldn’t have wanted to live in a world where all the adults were camped out in mine. There’s a special reward in that feeling of stretching yourself beyond the YA mark, akin to the excitement of graduating out of the kiddie pool and the rest of the padded trappings of childhood: It’s the thrill of growing up. But the YA and “new adult” boom may mean fewer teens aspire to grown-up reading, because the grown-ups they know are reading their books"
Why in the world would you have to earn your way into the adult stacks? I read all kinds of adult books when I was a teen...Flowers in the Attic (whole series)...The Hobbit...Danielle Steele, just to name a few. The world of book genres is not a camping ground or a kiddie pool...there is no graduation...you read what you want to read, what you enjoy reading. And that's all.
I have never heard any young reader upset because adults are reading "their" books. That's just silly. Reading is for everyone...adults included.


---"When I think about what I learned about love, relationships, sex, trauma, happiness, and all the rest—you know, life—from the extracurricular reading I did in high school, I think of John Updike and Alice Munro and other authors whose work has only become richer to me as I have grown older, and which never makes me roll my eyes."
And yet, some adult readers would roll their eyes at John Updike and Alice Munro (not me!). It's all subjective...every reader has their own taste...likes and dislikes. For you to take your dislike and try to tell us we should feel embarrassed for liking it is just....well....it's shameful.

Maybe you, dear Ms. Graham, should be the one who is embarrassed for writing such a pretentious, accusatory, and unfounded article.



For another, more expletive-laden response that is pure awesomeness, check this out:
Adults Can Read Whatever the Hell They Want
Thank you, Sara, for saying everything I was thinking!




paxamo,

My Story〜Part One

I decided to do a two-part blog series (maybe more) about two traumatic events in my life that have made me realize that I am a strong person......and I have been all along. I'm not sharing these stories on a whim. I rarely talk about these times in my life, but I feel it's really important to share my experiences because so many young girls are still going through what I went through. Relationship violence and date rape are devastating young lives. It's time to put an end to the abuse......it's time for young people to be given a realistic view of sex.......and it's time for everyone to understand that actions have consequences. 
I share this story in commiseration and in hopes of helping to educate and eradicate sexual/relationship abuse.
And to let girls everywhere know that you are strong......and you are not alone. ♥




I’m seeing stories all over the internet and hearing them on the news about young girls becoming victims of relationship violence or date rape......or getting drunk and making themselves an "easy target" for rape. It breaks my heart...and makes me furious. With the advent of the internet we get to hear a lot more of these stories......they become worldwide news in a few clicks of the keyboard. But this particular societal ill has been around for decades......sadly longer. Has it gotten worse? I don’t know the statistics, but they don’t always give a clear picture anyway. A lot of these types of assaults go unreported......again, sadly.  What I do know is that it hasn’t gotten any better......and that is completely unacceptable.  I sit and I read Facebook post after Facebook post about slut-shaming......young girls killing themselves because of bullying......men getting 30 day sentences for raping underage girls. My rage burns hot because I wonder who is supposed to be protecting these girls? Colleges turn a blind eye......even law enforcement. We as parents and a society in general are failing these girls if we can’t teach our sons how to treat a girl...how not to force sex upon an unconscious girl and then drop her off on her front porch, still unconscious......and then laugh about it with your buddies.  We also fail if we don’t ingrain in our daughters’ minds that they are worth way too much to ever put up with someone who doesn't respect them in every way. I get a pit in my stomach and an anger building inside every time I hear or read about stories like this......because they were my story.


                                                       〜✻〜✻〜


When I was a Junior in high school, I was not very focused on stuff like school and grades. I was more into 80’s fashion and partying on the weekends. I wasn’t one of the popular kids, but I was friendly with them......I was friendly with each of the cliques in my school. All of my life I’ve been a people-pleaser type. Even now, though I’m a lot less likely to put up with bullshit. Forty will do that to you. =) 
One night at the beginning of the school year, my parents went out of town. I stayed at a friend’s house with strict instructions NOT to go back to my house. My parents didn’t have a lot of trust in me......all those nights of sneaking out sort of ruined any hope of that. So to that effect, they took away my house keys......but I was way too devious for my own good. I made sure I was the last one out of the house, left the door in the garage unlocked, and snagged a garage door opener. 
Yeah, I was determined.
So in my infinite teenage wisdom, I decided it would be fun to have a party......just a small party where I’d invite a few friends from school. Does that ever happen? A “small party”? Not when you’re a clueless teen......and I found that out the hard way. It started off small, just as planned......but then somehow word got spread around after a football game and suddenly half the school was at my house......the house that even I wasn’t supposed to be in. If you’ve ever seen the movie Sixteen Candles, imagine Jake’s party and you’ll get the idea of what my house looked like that night. People flooded every room of the house, including the formal living room where we weren’t allowed to walk because it would disturb the vacuum cleaner lines......the kitchen where people ate all our food, and made a huge mess......the backyard where beer cans were littered everywhere and random people were using the hot tub......couples making out and god knows what else in every bed in the house, especially my parents’ bed. They also stole my mom’s jewelry. The neighbors even called the police, but they didn’t do anything to get the people out of my house. Today I am truly disgusted by their lack of respect for someone else’s house and property.
I had clearly lost control and knew I was up a major creek......so what was my solution? Another display of my remarkable decision-making capability at such a young age.
 
I drank.

I drank a lot.

I drank so I didn’t have to worry about the consequences of that night......so that I could have a momentary escape. I had no idea that escape would lead me to the depths of my own private hell. It would set in motion some of the worst times in my life, ultimately revealing a strength I never knew I had......and that I wish I could have learned some other way.

In my drunken stupor, I was led into my bedroom by some guys from my school. I was already barely conscious, but that didn't seem to trouble them. As I remember, there were four guys, laughing and telling me to take off my clothes. My drunk mind thought they were flirting with me, but that was far from their intention. The next thing I knew I was on my bed being held down. I struggled and I remember saying, screaming, “No” over and over......but they didn't stop. They violated me right there in my own bed. In my own room. There wasn’t anything I could do to stop them. I was completely powerless. They started grabbing objects from around the room. They thought it would be a good time to stick them inside of me. I cried and continued to struggle, but it was useless. So I called forth my new best friend......escape......and I slipped into a groggy, unconscious state to avoid witnessing all the vile things they were doing to me. I don’t remember how long it was happening. I don’t remember when it all ended. I remember waking up to a trashed out, empty house......and my life that was now the same way.

I felt like death the next morning. Not warmed over...just death. I had to call my parents and tell them what happened. Not a shining moment for me. They flew home immediately. My friends helped me get the house into only semi-destroyed condition. To say my parents were furious is a gross understatement. But I was so low at that point, their anger and harsh words couldn’t send me much lower. The punishment they gave me was fair, but it was a pep talk compared to the punishment I had coming......from everyone else around me......and my own relentless mind.
When I went back to school the next Monday, I wasn’t expecting to be a pariah. None of my friends were talking to me. I’d walk down the hall and people would stare, point, and whisper......like something out of an 80’s teen movie. But this was real life. I soon found out that rumors were all over school about me gang-banging four guys at my party......and how kinky it was......and how I was such a slut.  I was in total shock. My life had been up-ended over the course of one weekend and I had no idea how to set it right again. I had no friends to confide in......I couldn’t go to my parents because they were so upset about the party......and my mom was not happy with me because she heard the same nasty rumors at the insurance office where she worked via a girl from my school that worked there part-time. I was all alone......the most completely alone I’ve ever been in my life. There was literally no one who would help me. One day in class I noticed the teacher, a good-old-boy coach, talking with a group of boys across the room. They would look over at me and chuckle to each other. It wasn’t hard to figure out they were talking about me. I was mortified. Even more so when the teacher leered over at me and spoke the name “Champagne Shannon” in front of the whole class. It was a nickname I’d been given in reference to the rumor that a champagne bottle was used on me. My teacher called me that horrible name in front of everyone......and now everyone was staring at me......some of them smiling......one of them my pervert teacher.  I couldn’t stop the tears and I had no intention of giving any of them the benefit of seeing me cry. I ran out of the room, tears flowing, and went straight to the only place I knew to go in that moment. My counselor. That’s what counselors are for, right?
Wrong.
I told her what that perverted asshole had done to me and she said there was nothing she could do. There was nothing anyone could do.
I truly felt alone......like I was the only one in my situation and I had nowhere to go. I waited in the stairwell until the next class. I was heading into a dangerous time of surrender. I wanted to change schools......I wanted to kill myself......I didn’t see an end to this nightmare I was living.

A few months later we had a seminar at our school about something that was plaguing teenage girls. Something I’d never heard about before......date rape. We were separated into groups of boys or girls to view the seminar. I sat in that dark auditorium......in the very back row......and watched as the girls on screen described the awful things they went through. One of the girls told a story just like what happened to me at my party. I sat frozen in my seat. I couldn’t move, I couldn’t breathe. I was in tears realizing what had happened to me was not some fun time for guys at my drunk expense......it was date rape. It had a name......and it was against the law. Immediately afterward I stopped to talk to the ladies holding the seminar. I told them in brief terms what happened to me. They told me to call the police. I agreed, but I was so nervous. That day after school,  I called the police station and told them I had been raped. They told me too much time had passed to have any physical evidence against the guys, but that I could file a report. When the cop car showed up in our driveway, my mom was not happy. I sat down alone with the officer and gave him my story and all the names. He said there was likely nothing they could do after all that time, but they would be talking with each boy and his parents. At the time I was glad to get even that much......it gave me a sense of relief to know that their parents would learn what their sons did. But looking back, I now know that three months was not the statute of limitations on rape. Again my power was taken away......and I would never see justice for my rapists.

What happened to me that night set the stage for the most disastrous relationship in my life, which I will talk about in part two of this series. Being raped changed me. It affected my life, even to this day. I live with this skeleton in my closet because I have no choice, but I did get my power back. I learned what true love and respect are in a relationship......and I set my standards high for anyone I choose to let into my life.

Thank you for reading my story. ♥


                                                      〜✻〜✻〜



If you feel you have been sexually violated, please reach out to someone......a friend, an organization (RAINN), or you can send me an email.  No one should ever go through this alone......you have people on your side......and this is NOT your fault.



paxamo,

Re-Release & Reveal!

I'm getting ready for the re-release Solitary Sky......I don't have an exact release date yet, but I can say that it will be sometime in early April. Right before my only child turns 18.




There will be some minor tweaks......a brand new COVER (!).....and other fun stuff for the re-release......good times to come!




 
In addition to all that, I've come up with a new blurb for the back of the book......which I'm going to reveal right here, right now.....



 
Solitary Sky

My name is Lilah.
This was not supposed to be my life〜but I had to leave home......get far away from the four walls I shared with my so-called mother.
I moved to Gentian to stay with Gram, get through my Senior year, and graduate with my best friend, Val. My plans never included weird, prophetic dreams......or watching him walk right out of them.
That was the moment everything changed. I was drawn deep and held firm by his gravity......close enough to learn all his secrets. I should’ve walked away when I found out he and his family were something more than human〜but I didn’t.
I couldn’t.
I wasn't aware of darker secrets that remained hidden. Secrets that could rip away everything I never asked for〜and now I can’t be without.
Secrets I'm afraid will end the life I’m just beginning to live.


❉〜❤〜❉

Let me know what you think in the comments.....and thanks for visiting.....hope to see you back soon!

 



paxamo,
 

Imagination...

paxamo,

Ch-ch-changes...

So, I am in the midst of revising Solitary Sky (Book 1) along with writing Book 2. No big thing...just correcting a few typos and changing some wording here and there. Everything will pretty much be the same...just spit-polished until it shines. ツ

One thing I'm on the fence about is the cover. My plan was to just lighten it up a bit and make a few more slight changes.....now I wonder if I should go for bigger changes? I do like the current cover...I love the pic so much...Amanda is gorgeous and I love her! ツ  But I'd like to get input from others. Do you like it as is....do you think it needs something more...or a total re-do?

Leave your suggestions in the comments and/or answer the poll here:






Thanks for your help! ♥
Here's a bonus video:







paxamo,

Edgar & Elizabeth

This post is a celebration of my 2 favorite poets: Edgar Allen Poe & Elizabeth Barrett Browning. I'm very drawn to the dark beauty of Poe's writing...and the profound passion Elizabeth weaves with her words. She's a romantic and I can totally respect that!  They both capture my imagination like no other poets have ever done...with the possible exception of Jim Morrison...but he's technically a songwriter.



Edgar Allen PoeThere is no beauty without some strangeness.The boundaries which divide love from death are at best shadowy and vague. Who shall say where the one ends and where the other begins?There was much of the beautiful...much of the wanton...much of the bizarre...something of the terrible...and not a little of that which might have excited disgust.Deep into that darkness peering, long I stood there wondering, fearing...doubting, dreaming dreams no mortal ever dared to dream before.Yes I now feel that it was then on that evening of sweet dreams...that the very first dawn of human love burst upon the icy night of my spirit. Since that period I have never seen nor heard your name without a shiver, half of delight, half of anxiety.And each separate dying ember wrought its ghost upon the floor.

                                                                 Elizabeth Barrett Browning

Light tomorrow with today.The face of all the world is changed, I think, since first I heard the footsteps of thy soul...move still, oh still, beside me.I shall but love thee better after death.Love me sweet with all thou art...feeling, thinking, seeing.  Love me in the lightest part...love me in full being.I love thee to the level of every day's most quiet need...by sun and candlelight.  ♥~♥~♥
Do you have a favorite poet? Love poetry...or loathe it? Are there any poetry writers out there? I think it's an under-appreciated art form. My step-grandmother, who came to Oklahoma from Puerto Rico, was a poet. She had a few published books of poetry. Her name was Myriam Herrera Bevers and she was an amazing lady...very talented. 


I dedicate this post to her beautiful memory. ♥




paxamo,

Fixed

Lately I've been spending most of my time working diligently on book 2 .....when not fighting week-long bouts of chronic pain.....but I digress.  So really there's not much for me to post about, except "Yep, still working on book 2.".......or giving exciting, perhaps detailed accounts of my ER visits.......but that's not going to happen.  
In order to save anyone who reads my posts from dangerous levels of boredom, I've decided to start posting some of my short stories! ツ  
Not on any regular basis, of course (what am I, organized?!).....but roughly every week.
Or so. 

The first offering is a very  short story called "Fixed".....please to enjoy! ♥
(warning for mild language....and no sunshine or roses)



♥~♥~♥


It burns. I don’t have to check my reflection in the rear-view mirror to see the hand-sized splotch of red radiating from my cheek. At least it’s not as bad as last time. When my eye started turning black my parents started asking questions. Sometimes it hurts that they always accept whatever lame excuse I give them. They don’t know…or they don’t care.  A trickle of blood slides down to my lip, but I ignore it. No one in the cars around me can see me through all the rain. They can’t see the blood…the bruises…the Blackest Black mascara streaking down my face.
I don’t want to cry anymore. The thump-squeak, thump-squeak of the windshield wipers is off beat with the rain pounding hard on the roof. It’s too loud. It’s too much. I’m having a hard time seeing the road. I’m having a hard time seeing a lot of things lately.Why I let him treat me like shit.
Why I let him hit me.
Why I can’t let him go.It wasn’t always this way. He was amazing in the beginning. He worshipped me. Now all I seem to do is make him angry. But we used to have a lot of good times. For our first month anniversary he gave me a stuffed pink flamingo because he knew I’m obsessed with them. I named him Flappy since one of his wings wouldn’t lay flat.  We argued about what a stupid name that was, but in the end I got my way. On our second anniversary he gave me a silver heart necklace with our names engraved on the back. He told me he loved me that night. He’s never said that to any girl before. And deep down I know he does love me. He’s just got some…stuff to work through. 
His step-dad used to beat him. He showed me the scars and got tears in his eyes when he told me. His step-dad was a monster. His mom was never around much. He never knew his real dad. That’s why he needs me. No one has ever loved him like I do. I can help him heal from everything his family did to him. Yeah, it hurts to be the one he takes his anger out on, but that won’t be forever. I just have to wait it out. 
If I leave him, he has no one. 
I just got a text. I hope it’s not my parents. I can’t go home now looking like this.
It’s him.

<I’m so sorry>

My heart does a little flip as I pull over to text him back. It takes me a few minutes to figure out what I’m going to say....if I’m even going to say anything at all. Outside the rain's slowing down to a drizzle and it's time to let him know how I feel.

<Me, too>


paxamo,

Making History

Believe it or not, there IS progress being made on the second book in the Solitary Sky Series (SSS). True, it doesn't have a title yet, but usually I don't have a title until it's finished...and it's nowhere near that. The shame of my writer's block is now semi-public...and I'm hoping the semi-mortification of that fact will light a fire under me and keep me writing.  If that doesn't work, I might just have to do weekly updates of my progress so that I'll have more to answer to than just myself.

Tough love.

Oh, the horror.

Though not a lot of actual writing has happened around here lately, I have been working on the book...books 2 & 3 together, really. I've been working out plot-lines and extensive backstory...y'know the stuff that goes way back and all over the place but most of it never ends up in the actual book? Yeah, that.  Turns out there was so much backstory...and it was really getting intriguing...so I decided to do something I have never done before. Something I swore I'd never do. Something I truly believed was not in the realm of possibility for me to even think of taking on.


I'm going to write a historical fiction novel.




No, I'm serious.

I'm taking that plunge...accepting the challenge to myself...stomping out on that limb -- which means I'm either somewhat ballsy...chock full o'nuts...or just not fit for duty.  Whatever else I am, I'm about to be a historical fiction writer...but not until after book 3 in the SSS is finished, of course.


Check-in for this week finds us at the third chapter in book two...tentatively titled "Stranger".  This chapter is almost finished, so hopefully I'll be done with it and well into chapter 4 or 5 by next check-in...if not, you seriously need to kick me in the ass.
I'll be expecting it.

No more blocks for me.


paxamo,

Doomsday Giveaway!

December 22 will be a good day for 2 reasons:
It marks 19 years of married bliss to my adoring & adorable husband, Jeff. ❤If we're still here, we survived the Mayan Apocalypse! =)
In honor of sticking around (for 19 years or just past doomsday), my e-book, Solitary Sky, will be available to download for
*** FREE *** the entire day of 12-22-12!

So, this Saturday download your free e-book and give thanks to the Mayans for their lovely calendar and its even lovelier inaccuracy ….and for providing a great excuse for a giveaway. ;o)



paxamo,

Lyricality Update

I know it's been a while since Lyricality has been updated.  I had it temporarily put on hold due to needing to focus on writing book 2 and other things...also because I've been sick a lot recently. =P
But now I'm doing a sort of relaunch...with one major change.
Lyricality now has its own site! =)

Check out PlayLyricality.blogspot.com ...starting next week with an all new word!


paxamo,