An Open Letter To Emery Lord's YA Self

I'm very excited to be featuring a few YA authors on the blog, writing their own Open Letters, through out this month. Not aware of this fab feature? Be sure to check out my introduction post HERE. You can also read my Open Letter To My YA Self post HERE.

Emery Lord has secured a spot among my favorite YA contemporary writers.  She won me over with her debut OPEN ROAD SUMMER, only to recapture that first love feeling all over again with THE START OF ME AND YOU.  (psst, I've also had the privilege of reading her 2016 release WHEN WE COLLIDED and its every bit emotional & thought provoking that I have come to expect from Ms. Lord)  Today she has stopped by the blog to write her own letter to YA Emery, forecasting words that any woman, at any age, can definitely take away from.

Oh, YA me,

I know you often think that you could handle high school a lot better if you could just see one snapshot- a single Polaroid- of your future. A little reassurance that it all works out. Are your friends still in your life? What do you major in? Are you dating someone—married?—in the future?

You'll find out. Sorry, baby girl. I'm not going to help you cheat. Your lessons need to be learned in their own course, and I won't hand them to you any sooner.

Except for this one.

By now, you've been shamed about your body and wronged as a woman more times than you could possibly count. You don't think of it this way. I know that. This is what you think: That something about you must have made that awful man approach you, that you should have known and walked away sooner that you did. No, your mom tells you. You didn’t do anything wrong. He did. This is what you think: That your chest makes even modest shirts look "slutty." Your teacher pulls you aside and tells you that your top is distracting to boys. It's a turtleneck. This is what you think: That the guy who charmed you so much became cold—made you feel guilty—because high school guys expect certain things, and you probably should have known that going in.

Everything feels like your fault.

It takes you until age 26 to get well and truly pissed. You're sexually harassed badly- terrifyingly- outside of your own home in broad daylight. And you snap. Years of micro-aggressions and more obvious offenses finally compound.

Because none of it was ever, ever your fault. It has never been that you were too nice, that you chose the wrong clothes, that you misunderstood some unspoken high school dating rule. All the other hundreds of examples that I won’t list—the ones you know, the ones you will know, all of which I wish you didn’t: Not. your. fault. Hear me.

Chickadee? I’m giving you permission for two things:

1. You are allowed to get pissed now. In fact, I insist. Let yourself feel angry, and then do something with that anger. Because I know what you currently feel is shame and hurt and confusion. Tucking those things inside only turns you against yourself. I don’t want you to operate from anger, but this particular kind of anger isn’t self-destructive or poisonous. It makes you passionate. It makes you speak up. It makes you unashamed and committed to calling out casual misogyny, to advocating for girls, to claiming what should be ours and is routinely taken.

It makes you finally hear your mom's words, all these years later. Listen to her. Do not listen to that teacher. In fact, tell that teacher she's shaming you for boys' failings, undermining your self-worth and safe space for education, then tell your mom so she can call the principal. Walk the hell away from any useless boy who pressures you, and never look back. If you don't feel comfortable with them, that is reason enough.

2. You are allowed to do whatever you want with your body. It's yours. No one gets to tell you how to feel about it. No one gets to pressure you into or out of your choices. People will try to make girls feel bad for saying yes AND for saying no- to anything. To another slice of pizza (unhealthy! anorexic!), to sex (slut! prude!), to liking our bodies (vain! self-conscious!). They should not get a say in your idea of yourself. Keep making choices from a place of authenticity to yourself and with mindfulness of health/safety. I know. I sounded like a grownup there. I am, though, kid. Don't worry; we still eat brownies for dinner sometimes.

Look, you can’t change the things that have already happened or even the things that will. But you can let these things make you a better woman to other women. When those other women come to you, give them what your amazing mom gave you. Tell them you believe them. That they didn't do anything wrong. Before you ever lift an eyebrow at another girl's choices, remember what it's felt like to be judged. That people will judge you over even a turtleneck. Support your girl friends in walking away from boys who don’t respect them. Tell them what they’re worth.

But first, know what you’re worth. Know that it's not your fault you exist as a girl in a world that needs to change. So get mad and be kind—to yourself, to others. It’s possible to be both; I promise. Do it now, bb. Don’t waste another moment.

PS- Okay, two cheats: Fair and Tender Ladies by Lee Smith and The Handmaid’s Tale by Margaret Atwood. You’re not supposed to find them till college, but Ivy and Offred are incredible women to have in your corner as you start showing the world that you will only be yourself. And that you will never be ashamed of it.

Emery Lord's website | twitter | goodreads

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An Open Letter to Jessi Kirby's YA Self

I'm very excited to be featuring a few YA authors on the blog, writing their own Open Letters, through out this month. Not aware of this fab feature? Be sure to check out my introduction post HERE. You can also read my Open Letter To My YA Self post HERE.

Please welcome YA author (and one of my personal faves) Jessi Kirby to the blog! Her novels inspire me as a writer, full of stories that make me feel as a reader, and propels me forward to make an impact with my own words some day. I adore the piece of advice that she gives her teenage self and how influential it will become later in her own life.

Dear Jessi,

If you could please climb down from the roof, or look up from that notebook you’re writing in, I promise this will be worth it. This will be something you’ll want to pay attention to. In fact, it’ll be something that you will probably read over a million times then cut out and paste into that journal with the sunshine on the front. You know the one. It’ll be one of the only journals you keep, and believe it or not, twenty years from now you’ll be showing it to rooms full of teenagers who want to be writers.

But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s back up.

Do you know that Shelley quote you copied onto the front page? The one you found inside the jacket of your favorite Cure album?

“We look before and after, and pine for what is not; Our sincerest laughter with some pain is fraught;
Our sweetest songs are those that sing of saddest thought.”

You chose that quote to begin that journal because a boy you loved broke your heart, and for a long time it was all you could write about. And so you wrote, and wrote, and wrote. Lots of sweet songs, lots of sad thoughts. You wrote about it until the feeling passed, and you moved on, and the words went from sad to hopeful. It’s what you’ve always done, and I’m pretty sure it’s what you will continue to do. And each time, those words of Shelley’s will ring true because life is made up of the heartbreaking and the beautiful and everything in between.

At sixteen, you’ve got an inkling that this is true. Twenty years later, you’ll know it at your very core.

In your life you will encounter people and situations and moments that’ll send you to your knees wondering how and why; and you’ll be given people and situations and moments more beautiful and dear than you thought was possible.

These things will move and inspire you. They’ll tug at your imagination and breathe life and action into that dream of yours that you keep tucked away and safe.

And one day that dream will come true.

You have always been a writer, but one day you’ll write for more than just yourself. You’ll write with the hope that you can somehow capture the heartbreaking and the beautiful and everything in between in a way that does it justice. And you’ll write with the hope that maybe, just maybe, those words will one day do for another person what Shelley’s words did for you.

That’s where the journal and the teenagers come in. Not only will you write for teens, but you’ll have the chance to talk with them about what you’ve learned and what you know about dreams and broken hearts, and about writing and life. And that will be more amazing than you can imagine right now.

So keep writing. And keep that journal safe. It’s a beginning, and one day it’ll be about more than just that boy who broke your heart.

Jessi Kirby's website | twitter | goodreads 

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An Open Letter To Melissa Walker's YA Self

I'm very excited to be featuring a few YA authors on the blog, writing their own Open Letters, through out this month. Not aware of this fab feature? Be sure to check out my introduction post HERE. You can also read my Open Letter To My YA Self post HERE.

Today's Open Letter comes from author Melissa Walker, one of my favorite YA contemporary writers.  Her books LOVESTRUCK SUMMER and UNBREAK MY HEART are two YA contemps that I am always recommending to others.  She has a gift when it comes to writing inside the mind of a young adult, so it's no wonder I wanted her to be apart of my Open Letter To My YA Self feature.  Please welcome Melissa to the blog!

Dear YA Melissa,

I know that it’s exciting to be at the center of a circle, sharing what you’ve heard about this person or that—who likes whom, who got rejected, who just asked who to Prom. Knowing these things, being able to dole out this information, makes you feel powerful. I get it. You think your value is in the information you’ve gathered. You think that if you didn’t have gossip to share, you might not have friends around you at all.

But every time you share someone else’s business—positive or negative—you diminish your own ability to be a good friend. I know you often walk away from a gossip session feeling a little woozy, like maybe you shouldn’t have said all that. (P.S. This still happens—much more rarely—in your 30s, and I’m working on it.) Trust that feeling—it’s your gut telling you that all this gossip is eating away at who you really are, and it’s hurting other people.

The truth is that you have friends who will love you at your best and your worst. They will stand by you (through some pretty ill-advised behavior, gossiping included) because they love you for you. You’re smart, you’re funny and sharp, you’re a good friend, and you have good cheekbones that just haven’t quite emerged yet. There’s no need to prove yourself with gossip.

You are enough.

Love,
Older Melissa

Melissa wrote something similar awhile back for Cosmogirl magazine...

Melissa Walker's website | twitter | goodreads

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An Open Letter To Adam Silvera's YA Self

I'm very excited to be featuring a few YA authors on the blog, writing their own Open Letters, through out this month. Not aware of this fab feature? Be sure to check out my introduction post HERE. You can also read my Open Letter To My YA Self post HERE.

Today's Open Letter comes from debut author Adam Silvera.  His YA novel, MORE HAPPY THAN NOT publishes June 2nd, a date that's been marked on my calendar for quite some time seeing as though I am SUPER excited to read this one!  I love his outlook on seeking happiness, and how it has the power to recreate itself.  Please welcome Adam to the blog with his Open Letter to YA Self.

Hey 19-year-old Adam,

First off, you never grow up to regret the Gemini glyph tattoo you got at 18. It's the Tattoo-That-Shall-Not-Be-Named on your back shoulder you should've really taken another week or two to consider. But clinics with affordable tattoo removal aren't a thing yet (like you confidently assumed they'd be) so what's done is done and we're moving on.

You will sell your first novel at 23-years-old. This will only surprise you because you were confident you'd sell a fantasy series at 21. Well, that fantasy book is still a pain in the ass years later. Instead, you will fall in love with a guy despite the girl whose affections continue confusing you. This guy will not be able to love you back in the way you hope but he will indeed love you and become one of your biggest champions. He will also become an emotional source for the book you ultimately write and publish, which explores nature versus science (which you still suck at later, I'm sorry to report) and he will be cool as hell when he receives the first advance reader's copy. He'll tell you the book will feel like a long flashback, even though it's not a memoir because, come on, you will finally grow into SOME humility and admit your life isn't memoir-worthy. But the heart of the book is recognizable to those who lived through it with you. And you have many cool moments like this to look forward to.

But it's going to suck first.

If everything were easy, nothing would be interesting. And finding your pain interesting is odd, but it's your own Life Story that will take you out of the fan-fiction universe and force you to confront your harsh truths in a fictional world not unlike your own (with the addition of a slight sci-fi device, because again, your life needed some kick to it). And damn, I legit want to hug you because you're about to go through your first true heartbreak without many people to talk to about it, and you're going to have Bad Thoughts on the roof of your first apartment (this exhaustion with life won't surprise you because of the mental illness that runs on your father's side of the family; it'll feel inevitable). But the dude who you mistakenly believe is killing you will be the one to save you, over and over. And this is the start to one of the most impressive friendships you'll find yourself in six years later.

Here's the lesson here: happiness is hard. Many things are going right in your life but it's not always going to feel like enough. In the summer after your 24th birthday you'll tell a date whom you're super incompatible with that you can't keep hanging out because you have a tattoo appointment, which isn't true, but you'll actually go and get a tattoo because you don't want to be a liar. The "H G O" tattoo is on your collarbone and and stands for "Happiness Goes On" because you'll learn over and over that no matter how tough life gets that happiness will find you again. But in the meantime you have to settle on being "more happy than not." (You'll get this reference two years from now when you're sitting in Central Park with Lara the Laptop.)

Mad love,
Slightly wiser, even taller-for-no-reason Adam
(Less than two months away from his 25th birthday and publication of his first novel.)

Adam Silvera's website | twitter | goodreads

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An Open Letter to Annie Cardi's YA Self

I'm very excited to be featuring a few YA authors on the blog, writing their own Open Letters, through out this month.  Not aware of this fab feature?  Be sure to check out my introduction post HERE.  You can also read my Open Letter To My YA Self post HERE.

Today, please welcome YA author Annie Cardi to the blog!  I adore her debut novel THE CHANCE YOU WON'T RETURN, so naturally I had to ask her to get involved with my Open Letter To YA Self feature.  She's sharing some empowering advice in her letter below, that I can definitely relate to.

Dear My YA Self,

Let’s have a little talk about body image.

I know this is something you’re well aware of. This is something you’ve always been aware of. You know you’re supposed to love yourself no matter what, but that’s not always easy. You can’t remember a time when your body didn’t make you feel conspicuous. You’ve always been one of the heavier girls in your class, if not the heaviest girl. You wear baggy jeans and hide yourself under sports bras like they can protect you from anyone noticing how much space you take up. When other girls in your class talk about the embarrassment of a salesperson handing them a size medium instead of a small, you cringe because you know you’re lucky if you can fit into the medium at all.

Even when you were younger and reading Sweet Valley Twins books, you knew you weren’t a Jessica or an Elizabeth or a Lila or even an Amy. Nope, you were more likely to be Lois Walker, somehow the only overweight middle schooler in all of Sweet Valley. Lois Walker never flirts or goes to sleepovers or auditions for the school play. Lois is defined by her weight, by one aspect of her body. Even the books you read that you love—Harry Potter and His Dark Materials and Feeling Sorry for Celia and Dangerous Angels—are about people who look more like Jessica and Elizabeth than Lois. When you talk about body image, it’s hard to talk about loving yourself no matter what when you know that your body is not the image you are supposed to see.

Screw that.

Your body is not the enemy. Okay, I know it’s hard to believe that on days you end up in front of the mirror crying about how nothing looks right. But it’s true—your body is not the enemy. Your body is one part of who you are and what you can do, and let me tell you—there is a lot you can do. You can choose great friends; you can make those friends laugh; you can write thoughtful essays and elaborate fanfics and novels that (I’m sorry) will never see the light of day but will teach you a lot about writing. And even though right now you think gym and sports are a torture specifically designed for people like you, one day your body will run a whole mile. One day your body will run a half-marathon. It will dance at your wedding and bake pies and move your things into different apartments and walk across a stage to accept your high school and college and grad school diplomas. Your body is for hugging and dancing and flirting and auditioning for plays and making funny faces and so much more. Your body is here for you, and screw any messages that your size defines who you are and what you can do and what kind of love you should expect.

Because you have friends of all shapes and sizes, and you don’t love any of them because of how they look. You love them because they’re kind and funny and smart and thoughtful. And all of you will find love and happiness because you’re all of those things, no matter what size you are.

In the meantime, don’t hide yourself. Your body isn’t for hiding; it’s for doing everything you want to do. And there are a lot of things you’re going to do, and it’s going to be awesome.

A few recommendations for my YA self:
• Gabi, a Girl in Pieces by Isabel Quintero
• Eleanor & Park by Rainbow Rowell
• Hairspray the musical

Annie Cardi's website | twitter | goodreads

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An Open Letter To Sarah Combs's YA Self

I'm very excited to be featuring a few YA authors on the blog, writing their own Open Letters, through out this month.  Not aware of this fab feature?  Be sure to check out my introduction post HERE.  You can also read my Open Letter To My YA Self post HERE.

Please welcome my dear friend, and lovely author, Sarah Combs to the blog today, sharing her own Open Letter To YA Self.  She is the brilliant mind behind BREAKFAST SERVED ANYTIME, and in case my love for this book hasn't caused you to read it already, I hope today's letter will inspire you to.

Dear fifteen year-old Sarah,

I’ve been thinking about you, and thinking that I owe you some thanks for a decision you made on our behalf almost twenty-three years ago.

It’s spring 1992, and your freshman year is drawing to a close. Things are going relatively well: You’ve found your people, you’ve been cast in The Skin of Our Teeth, all the world Smells Like Teen Spirit (literally and figuratively—your Walkman runs on Nevermind and your deodorant, which will forever be eau de freshman year, is Romantic Rose), and, like always, you’re in love. In love with, among other things: your Humanities class, your subscription to Sassy magazine, your Birkenstocks, your devoted and stalwart best friend, and (of course; you can’t help it) a boy.

Added bonus: After four (4) years of nightmarish orthodontia (you’ve had it all: headgear; rubber bands stretched slantwise across your maw; a torturous expansion device that lived for nine months betwixt your molars and had to be adjusted nightly and excruciatingly via the turn of a key), you’re fixing to get your braces removed. You cannot wait. There’s a jumbo bag of celebratory gummi bears in your backpack. Only: Wait. Hold on. The orthodontist is looking at you quizzically. He’s checking out a sheaf of X-rays taken over the last four years. He’d like for you to return to the waiting area, and could you send your dad in for just a sec?

The sec lasts a million years, and here is the upshot: The orthodontist (who deals in teeth, not noses, you remind yourself later—it has long been your habit to seek fault in any kind of authority figure, especially those who deliver unpleasantries) thinks you might have something called a deviated septum.

A what?

A deviated septum, says the Ear Nose & Throat doctor a few days later. It is indeed what you have, and it means that the bone and cartilage separating your nasal cavities is all out of whack. It also means that your breathing passages are sort of dangerously obstructed, which means you have to have an operation. Sooner rather than later.

What? But you breathe just fine. You sleep fine, too: vivid dreams and all. You throw an anguished look at your father, who is nodding along with the doctor. Doctor Ear Nose and Throat, whose authority you are already questioning in your mind. In your mind, he is already the person conspiring with the orthodontist to make you wear braces for the rest of ever.

Okay, your dad says on the exhale. He is, after all, your father, and he wants his daughter to be able to breathe.

Your face is going hot—the first outward sign of the fear gathering in your gut. You’ve got a question for this guy, this Doctor EN&T. Is this—this surgery—going to change the way I look?

No, says Almighty Doc EN&T, super-nonchalant. However, should you desire corrective surgery, we could certainly perform rhinoplasty at the same time. Those are maybe not the doctor’s exact words. You can’t be expecting your grown-ass self to be recollecting the exact words a quarter of a century later. Anyway it doesn’t matter what he said. What matters is what you heard, which is:

1. Rhinoplasty, which might be the ugliest word ever invented, some horrible zoo-animal/Tupperware hybrid; and 2. IN MY PROFESSIONAL OPINION, YOU NEED A NOSE JOB.

Immediately, your mind zooms back to that faraway land you thought you left behind forever: middle school. You’re back in middle school, home of those horrible boys who twist the last name you’ve always privately loved and been proud of—Van Arsdale, regal and one-of-a-kind, Dutch badass at your service—into Van Long Nose. The same boys who duck when you walk down the hall—because if they stood upright they’d get lanced by your gargantuan nose of course, ha ha, super original (you could eyeroll that ha ha, super original all day long to yourself, but here is the awful truth: It hurts. They are hurting you, and you won’t ever be able to forget it, not ever).

Your best friend is the best: The unwitting object of desire of not only these particular mean boys but also every other boy in your middle school, she is also a dancer made of fierceness and speed and most of all loyalty, the kind you’ll still be counting on decades from now. She cares not a fly for the admiration of these stupid boys, and she can run faster than all of them combined. So when one of them passes you at your shared locker and whispers Big Nose before disappearing down the hall, your best friend is after that asshole at lightning speed. She is grabbing him by the arm and whirling his body around to face her and she is hollering, like she can’t believe how dumb he is: You can have a big nose, but you can’t be a big nose.

Which cracks you up, and makes you weep with gratitude, and which you particularly appreciate because—even in middle school, that hellhole—you have a vested interest in words and semantics. You think you might like to be a writer someday.

But: Even though your best friend tells you daily that your nose is beautiful, that it looks a little like the one that belongs to her hero Wendy Whelan of the New York City Ballet, you sometimes—in your darker moments—look in the mirror and wonder if what those boys said was true. If you really can be a big nose, and nothing else.

It’s what you’re thinking now, in the office of Doctor EN&T, who is giving you a benign smile.

Once again, you look over at your dad, who is the reason you have your nose in the first place. It’s something you inherited from him—along with your badass Dutch last name, your freckles, and your tendency to question authority. No one can make you feel inferior without your consent, he’s been telling you for years, quoting Eleanor Roosevelt. Hold your head high. How many times did your broken-record of a dad also point out to middle-school you—middle-school us—that some of the most unforgettable women in the world have aquiline (he loves that word) noses? Princess Diana, who is even smarter than she is lovely. In fact, her mind is what makes her lovely, because, daughter, listen: that’s exactly how it works, and it’s the part of this conversation that you need to remember. Think of John Singer Sargent’s elusive Madame X—she would be nothing without her nose. Think of Botticelli. Think of Waterhouse.

You are a work of art, is what your—our—father was trying to tell you.

You don’t have to decide right now, says the doctor. Give it some thought.

And you give it some thought. You do. In the space of a moment you think of all the times you have felt and believed that you are a big nose and nothing more. And then you think of all the times—the huge number of times—when you have proven yourself more than that: a daughter, a sister, a friend. An actress whose talent and aquiline profile land her the juicy roles, the bold ones, the ones the ingénues don’t get. The girl finally now in high school, where not once has anybody ever said anything about her nose—except of course the boy, who has given her picture postcards of Sargent’s Madame X and Dicksee’s La Belle Dame Sans Merci. Who has said: They remind me of you. Who has used the word classic. He’s the kind of boy who has actually seen The Lion in Winter and likes to call you Eleanor of Aquitaine. The kind of boy who deserves your very first sans-braces kiss.

Strangely, although the doctor has confirmed that you have an actual physical defect that is hazardous to your health and requires surgery, it is not until he utters the word rhinoplasty that you find yourself unable to breathe. You have never loved your nose. And aside from the miraculous gift of breathing it provides, will never really love it, just as you will never love mirrors or cameras or photographs with you in them. But you make your decision right then and there, and you are absolutely sure that it is the right one.

Your best friend is there with you at the hospital, holding your hand and making you laugh as you fall under the fog of the anesthesia (she’ll be in the exact same spot when you get your wisdom teeth removed years later and when—years even later than that—you give birth to a child, a second boy, who will have your freckles and your strong will). When you wake up, your deviated septum will be fixed. Although there will be pain, and bandages, and lots of gross swelling for a while, you will eventually look in the mirror and see once again the same person you were before you went under the knife.

The change will be this: Now you can breathe. You can breathe. You can breathe. You will marvel at breathing, what a wonder it is, what a gift. You will ask yourself: How was I even living before? You will tell yourself: Don’t take this breath for granted, ever again.

So thank you for keeping our nose, fifteen year-old Sarah. You are wise beyond your years, and you are as brave as your Eleanors Roosevelt and Aquitaine, and although you’re far from perfect, I’m so, so glad you’re me.

See you on the other side.

Love,
Sarah

P.S. I know you have your ever-loyal Weetzie Bat and Franny Glass to keep you company, but in the interest of messing with the space/time continuum (one of our shared obsessions!), here are some other kindred spirits you'll want in your coterie: Frankie Landau-Banks (the eponymous heroine of The Disreputable History of, by e. lockhart); Taylor Markham (from Jellicoe Road by Melina Marchetta); and Priscilla "Petey" Willis (of Laura Ruby's exquisite Bone Gap). Oh, honey: These girls have got your number...and your back.

Sarah Combs on goodreads

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An Open Letter To Trish Doller's YA Self

I'm very excited to be featuring a few YA authors on the blog, writing their own Open Letters, through out this month.  Not aware of this fab feature?  Be sure to check out my introduction post HERE.  You can also read my Open Letter To My YA Self post HERE.  Please welcome author Trish Doller to the blog today, sharing her very own Open Letter To Her YA Self.

Dear Patti (because that's what you go by at the moment),

You know yourself better than you think. Don't let other people's expectations get in the way of what you know you need.

That college that none of your friends are attending? Go there.
That college major that's lurking in a quiet corner of your heart that you're afraid to talk about because you're afraid of what your family might think? Major in it.
That boy you like who likes you back but both of you are afraid to talk about it? Talk about it.
That body you think is too big? Embrace it, because one day you're going to realize how amazing it was.

But even if you chose none of those things and your life goes in directions you wish it hadn't, just keep going. Because your life is going to be spectacular anyway.

Love,
Trish (because it suits both of us a lot better)

P.S. Read these books: Brooklyn, Burning by Steve Brezenoff; All the Rage by Courtney Summers (in fact, read all of her books); and 13 Little Blue Envelopes by Maureen Johnson (because maybe this whole writing thing we do might get off to an earlier start).

Trish Doller's website | twitter | tumblr | goodreads

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An Open Letter To My YA Self

Dear YA Ginger,

You are about to graduate high school and walk across that stage to receive your high school diploma.  You've just spent the past four years making new friends, losing old friends, crushing on that boy from a far, studying for math exams that literally made your head hurt, staying up late into the night on the telephone, driving with the windows rolled down and the tunes cranked way up, worrying about the size of your jeans and why you are always bigger than your friends, looking to your sisters for advice but never quite knowing how to ask for it, dancing on football fields at half time, eating endless amounts of Whataburger fries with your friends, and jumping into swimming pools long after the sun went down.


You will say goodbye to your high school days with a smile on your face and a longing in your heart. You'll feel anxious to see what lies ahead, anticipating the summer you turn 18 and those last few moments spent at home before you pack it all away for college in the fall.  I know your motto right now is to "live in the moment" and worry about tomorrow when it comes.  You speak those words to your friends, even whispering them to yourself, hoping that is truly in fact how you live.  But to be honest, you are a worrier.  A planner.  Someone who has to think ahead.  Yes, you make choices that make you happy right then, but you also think about the effects of those choices later.  When you turn 30, you will finally come to terms with this about yourself.

You will chase after the boy who never stops running, making it difficult (and painful) to ever reach.  Pay attention to the boy who is standing next to you, asking to run beside you, never ahead of you.  He is the one you should give your heart to, not all those other boys who don't even know the first thing about appreciating such a precious gift that you are.  You are beautiful, no matter what size or shape you are.  You are intelligent and kind.  Your heart has the capacity to hold so much love inside.  You are worth so much more than you'll ever give yourself credit for.

You will be grateful for your parents never putting you through awkward conversations that leave you uncomfortable and wanting to pull away.  However, you'll need those conversations in the years to come.  You'll want to know what your mother would have said in those moments.  You'll long for answers to questions you'll never get advice for.  Ask questions, seek conversation, no matter how uncomfortable it may be.  These are your parents, Mom and Dad, the two people you can trust no matter what.  Open your ears and listen.  Whether you take their advice or not, that is up to you, but at least the words are there to think about.

You have reached the stage, the one that bridges the gap between your high school years and the rest of your life.  I know you'll walk across it with grace and dignity.  You might slip up now and then, falling down a few times, but have faith you'll find your footing again, you always do.  I wish I could tell you that life is beautiful, wild, and free from here on out.  I can tell you that life is an adventure, one that you will truly enjoy and fully embrace.  Will everything be just as you thought it would be?  Absolutely not.  Will you graduate college in four years, get married, and have a few kids?  No.  Will you travel the world, visit enchanting places, and see life through different lenses? Yes.  Will you find happiness when you reach 30 years old? Absolutely.  And it's a happiness you never thought you were ever deserving of.  It's a happiness that took a great loss to truly appreciate.  But its happiness nonetheless.  Hold on to that.

For your graduation gift, I've pulled a few books from my shelves that I feel you'll want to read. I know, I know, you're not much of a reader right now.  But trust me, books will become your greatest escape and the biggest catalyst for your future career.  You are a romantic at age 17 and you'll continue to be one when you reach your 30s.  So naturally I've found some books with a good dose of romance in them ;)  But I've also pulled together some books that will open your eyes, and your heart, to a world of diversity, one you'll thank me for later.

  

  

Dreamland by Sarah Dessen [add to goodreads]

Sloppy Firsts (Jessica Darling series) by Megan McCafferty [add to goodreads]

Harmonic Feedback by Tara Kelly [add to goodreads]

The DUFF by Kody Keplinger [add to goodreads]

Since You've Been Gone by Morgan Matson [add to goodreads]

The Summer I Turned Pretty by Jenny Han [add to goodreads]

Audrey, Wait! by Robin Benway [add to goodreads]

I hope you find a romance to fall in love with, a friendship to last a lifetime, and a story to carry your heart through an endless adventure.  Pay attention to these books, I might just be hinting at some lessons you could learn from ;)  Happy Graduation Day, YA Ginger! You did it!!!

Love,
30-Something Ginger

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Enjoy this playlist I put together that brings me back to my youth :)

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For more details on this new feature, be sure to check out my INTRODUCTION POST HERE.  You'll find the full list of participants +  a GIVEAWAY!

Introducing: An Open Letter To My YA Self + GIVEAWAY

A few weeks ago, I took to twitter and asked my followers if they were interested in getting involved with a feature on the blog, highlighting YA contemporary reads.  The response I got was overwhelming and so very humbling.  I was ecstatic to learn that so many wanted to be apart of my little project, not even knowing the details just yet.

The idea to write a letter to my young adult self was partly inspired by the Dear Teen Me book (that I helped promote a few years ago), as well as my current profession in teaching middle school students.  Each time I discover a contemporary YA novel, it causes me to reflect back on my own youth and how certain themes played a significant role in my younger years.  I see these same stories, coming alive from the pages of the books, inside my classroom every day.  All of this propelled the idea to write my own letter, and ask others to write a letter to their YA selves as well.   

Over the next month bloggers, readers, and authors will be sharing their open letters to their YA selves.  Please join me as we reflect back on our youths, recommend books to our younger selves, and share personal stories waiting to be told.  Below you will find the schedule of bloggers and readers who will be posting their own letters.  I've also got a handful of YA authors who will be sharing their letters on my blog, as well.  I look forward to reading all the letters and the coming together of a YA community.

(If you would like to participate on your own blog, please feel free to do so! Please link back to this post and let me know in the comments with a link. Thanks!)

Be sure to follow the schedule below to read all the Open Letters:

Tues, March 31 - Dianne @ http://www.oopsireadabookagain.com
Wed, April 1 - Erin @ http://www.thehardcoverlover.blogspot.com
Thurs, April 2 - Gaby + Lisa @ http://www.bookishbroads.com
Fri, April 3 - Hazel @ http://www.staybookish.net
Mon, April 6 - Brittany @ http://www.bookaddictsguide.com
Tues, April 7 - Candice @ http://www.thegrownupya.com
Wed, April 8 - Jordin @ http://www.abottomlessbookbag.com
Thurs, April 9 - Lauren @ http://www.bookmarklit.net
Fri, April 10 - Tiff @ http://www.mostlyyalit.com
Mon, April 13 - Andi @ http://www.andiabcs.com
Tues, April 14 - Willa @ http://www.willasramblings.com
Wed, April 15 - Sarah @ http://www.whatsarahread.com
Thurs, April 16 - Heather @ http://www.theturningpages.com
Fri, April 17 - Alexa @ http://www.alexalovesbooks.com
Mon, April 20 - Joli @ http://www.actinupwithbooks.blogspot.com
Tues, April 21 - Margie @ http://www.bumblesandfairytales.blogspot.com
Wed, April 22 - Jenna @ http://www.bookiemoji.com/
Thurs, April 23 - Carmel @ http://www.carmelandkyla.blogspot.com
Fri, April 24 - Kyla @ http://www.bookbuddiesph.blogspot.com
Tues, April 28 - Christy @ http://www.novel-ink.blogspot.com
Wed, April 29 - Jen @ http://www.jenuinecupcakes.blogspot.com/
Thurs, April 30 - Jaime @ http://www.fictionfare.blogspot.com
Fri, May 1 - Lauren @ http://www.laurenheartsbooks.com

And you don't want to miss this GIVEAWAY:

a Rafflecopter giveaway

Giveaway open to international readers (the book depository must be able to ship to you)

Good luck! & stayed tuned for My Open Letter To My YA Self tomorrow on the blog!

Huge thanks to the talented Georgie of What Georgie Did for the beautiful graphic