A Different Kind of Worldbuilding

I'm reading about Anna's adventures in Paris, and what what I love this book so much (no overhyping, must not overhype before I get to the end). This book appeals to all of my secret or not-so-secret girly girl tendencies. Plus ... PARIS. I have a sneaking suspicion that Stephanie Perkins of the Blue Hair is actually a genius. Because what kind of girly girl doesn't want to read a book set in PARIS? Do I romanticize places I have never been to? You bet your bottom dollar I do. Plus, Etienne is an American with a British accent who speaks French? Really, Blue Hair? Please find a more pleasing combination of nationalities; really, I think you're slacking. Try harder.

I need to finish this book, like ASAP, before I ruin any reason to write a review.

But all of this talk of exotic places (aka Europe) is making me wonder about worldbuilding. Not the fantastical kind of worldbuilding, because that's fun and easy. What the hey, I am going to throw a dinosaur-and-lollipop-themed restaurant here because I'm the Creator and I want to. Bam. No, I'm talking about creating a setting that already exists. Like Paris. Did you know that Stephanie Perkins had never actually stepped foot in France before writing ANNA AND THE FRENCH KISS? However, she is so good at writing Paris that it's almost unfair.

Guess where I'm not right now? Here. Paris. I'm not here. Sadface.

Okay, so apparently, it is fair, because she did epic amounts of research for months on end, reading up on French history and architecture and basically anything and everything French Can you tell I have done a thorough job of stalking her blog?. Her work shows.

In the meantime, THE FOREVER CITY is set in Washington D.C. I have been there before. But I'm no native. I don't know where anything is, not without a map. Outside of the main city, I am totally clueless. So how important is it that I go all gung-ho and make my portrayal of D.C. convincing? Do I have to research like Stephanie Perkins? I don't think I have her work ethic. Is it okay if I just make up random places, or do I have to place the Wal-Mart on the right street? I have this semi-irrational fear that people will read what I write and be like, WHAT ARE YOU DOING, THIS IS NOT RIGHT, YOU FRAUD. And okay. D.C. is in the United States and Paris is French, so it obviously is much more different than your average American city.

What do you think? Have you ever written a story set in a real place that you've never been to before?

Guess what? I'm also not here. Moar sadface.

THIS SONG MAKES ME HAPPY. Besides the grammatical error in the title.

Likes and Gripes

This was just going to be a post of gripes, but I decided that kind of negativity wasn't going to get me anywhere. So we have this.

LIKES

1) The idea of my senior thesis. Right now, I'm knee-deep in figuring out the logistics and research proposal. I'm also looking for my thesis adviser, which is a lot like looking for a literary agent if you think about it. I'm searching for someone who cares about me, is excited about my project, and is willing to give me good feedback. I want to find a professor who meshes with my personality and responds promptly. I mean, some people might be okay with having a professor who doesn't e-mail back for over a week, but I'm a needy person who wants a hands on adviser to tell me when I'm slacking, make me work hard, and be there when I need help. 

So really, looking for an adviser is a lot like dating. I'm doing a blitz this week around the history department and seeing who's right for me. Although finding an adviser is a big, year-long commitment, I'm feeling optimistic because the history professors at my university are total sweethearts, every one of them. They make me feel so loved. Plus, this is the first time I actually get to write about whatever I want and not being forced to write about Africa (specifically the rise and fall of Pan-Africanism in the Gold Coast from 1940 — 1960; tell me that doesn't make your hair stand on end in excitement). I know people who love African history. I'm not that person.*

2) Coffee. The fuel that writers and students run on, and the only thing that is keeping me alive right now.

3) Winning at ICPA. That's right. We took home 29 awards, the most of any college newspaper there, and we were named 1st place in General Excellence the 2nd year in a row. I'm a part of a pretty sweet staff. Not to mention, awesome weekend. I love Chicago.

4) Pampering myself. I know the employees at Walgreens judge me when I go to the store to buy ice cream and fashion magazines, but you know what? Sometimes you need to reward yourself with Ben & Jerry's and trashy sex articles, okay. Especially after you do Serious Reading about UN Secretary Generals and spend your Sunday night/early Monday morning trying desperately to understand why the Annales school of history even exists.

GRIPES

1) Actually doing my senior thesis. You know, it sounds all sophisticated and great to be sitting in the library and reading giant volumes on Woodrow Wilson and Teddy Roosevelt, waxing eloquent about the dying moments of idealism and romanticism, while hoping that cute history major** with the glasses will come over to talk to you, maybe ask you out for a cup of coffee, and then you can be gloriously geeky together forever while traveling the Mediterranean and gathering artifacts for The Greatest Historical Breakthrough Ever. But really, this is all a very far off pipe dream. Having to write a research proposal is not fun. It is even less fun hoping your proposal isn't so unrealistic or dumb that you get laughed out of the department. It becomes downright depressing thinking about all of the time you have to spend in the Main Stacks, getting lost among the floors of socialist history that are all in Russian and getting smashed by the moving bookcases. When you think about the grants to apply for due in less than a month, the recommendations you need to get the grants, and the 60+ pages of history you need to turn out to be judged by professors -- well, that just makes you want to jump ship now to another major. 

Except, the only thing that is less attractive than doing all this, is being a fifth year senior.

2) The money I spend on coffee. Why is it so expensive to stay awake?

3) Not writing. This makes me sad. One day when the weather gets warm, I'm going to give the world the middle finger for four hours and go to the public library where the walls are glass, the smoothies are delicious, and nobody talks to me for an entire afternoon. And I can just write. 

4) The LSAT. This is going to be a gripe until June 6, 2011 at approximately 4 p.m. 

5) Responsibility. I guess you can never really escape this. But it seems, at this point in my life, like everything I do has giant repercussions on my future. For once, I'd like to be truly, actually irresponsible, and not have it screw anything up. I'm not talking little things, like going out on weekends and waking up not remembering the night before. In the grand scheme of things, the most you lose in that scenario is some brain cells and a piece of your dignity (unless you did something in that memoryless span of time that will actually mess things up big time, like rob a bank or get pregnant). I am, on the whole, an extremely conscientious person who has ambitious goals, likes school and work, and looks toward the future. I have never felt like this was a bad thing. Most people would like to have already planned out their life to the extent I have. I don't know if it's a mid-college crisis or what, but I feel like it would be great if I could take advantage of the fact that I have no one dependent on me and do hugely stupid things just to do them. Instead of always doing things that will make the future better or easier. 

And yes. This is a spoiled rich kid problem if I ever saw one.

*I learned a lot, despite working on something I didn't want to do. My senior thesis would be THAT MUCH harder if I didn't have to do this preliminary class on Africa, which required a 25-page research paper. And as always, my professor was super cool, and I adored him. So there are benefits to being forced upon academic projects.

**LOLOLOL those don't exist. Either major hipsters/socially incompetent/faux intellectuals or total bros who needed a course of study to set them on their life goals of being douchey lawyers. I can say this on good authority because I am a history major.

Self-Centered Word Vomit

Otherwise known as, filler post where I talk about random things. Like Randomosity by Krispy, except I feel cheap just mooching that title from her. Things I need to tell you but cannot write an entire post on:

1) I finished THE AMBER SPYGLASS! It was spectacular. Really, some of the passages near the end made me weep enviously of their sheer beauty. And other times, I was weeping because it was sad and it broke my heart into itty, bitty pieces. I was sitting in my apartment in between classes just crying my eyes out. Dumb, because I had just put on makeup. I tend to put on makeup for the most inappropriate things like going to see Toy Story 3. Bad idea. Just. Really bad idea. So here is my warning to you. Don't read this book with makeup on. Also, I am in desperate need of talking about this book, but my friend who recommended the books "has exams to study for." Trololol college. what is college. I think my response was something remarkably caring and considerate like, "WELL TAKE THEM FASTER." Because he can do that, obviously.

2) I am really excited to start ANNA AND THE FRENCH KISS. Review upcoming. Promise. I'm trying not to overhype it for myself. You can tell that it's working well.

3) The fateful day has come. The Borders in my hometown is closing, the first casualty in the 30% cut corporate is making. I'm 99% sure that if the CEO of Borders saw my Facebook newsfeed and beheld the outpouring of grief from the citizens of Bloomington-Normal, he would reconsider his decision. The 1% of uncertainty I have is in the event the CEO is actually a raging asshole. So here's to you, Borders. I will always remember the times I spent inside your cozy walls. I love the random crap you sell during the holiday season, like chocolate covered bacon and bath products. I love the Seattle's Best Coffee you have. I loved that time you weren't poor and extended your holiday hours to 1 a.m. and you still had to kick me and my friends out at closing time. I love the sale racks in the front of the store and the giant shrine to Twilight in the YA section. I love how my friends and I made a parody video of "Christmas Shoes" on your front doorstep. I love how your lights are warmer and friendlier than Barnes and Noble's lights. I love your carpet. I love your patterned ceiling. I love the way your shelves are organized and how I know where my favorite books are. I love how you are basically home. I love you, Borders. I will drink to your memory. Not tequila, because you're way better than that. Something quality. And I will boycott any store that dares try to set up shop in your place once you close. Nothing deserves the hallowed ground on which you stand. You'll always be in my heart.

4) I'm going to ICPA (Illinois College Press Association) Conference this weekend in Chicago with the other editors of my paper. Hotel rooms covered and everything. Best group of people I can imagine going with. So thrilled, especially as I'm not a journo major; this is a definite treat for me. Here's to hoping we win stuff. Although even if we don't, I know I work for the best independent student newspaper in the state of Illinois, in the country, and in the world. Booyah. 

I hope you all have a lovely weekend! [Edit: Just realized it's probably confusing to say that, but since production for the daily paper I work at is Sun-Thurs, that's how my internal clock runs. I consider Fri-Sat to be my weekend.] And I hope your Borders is not closing like mine is RIP MY SOUL OUT WHY DON'T YOU.

Advice To Young Writers

This is to Nobody426 and all of the young people who have contacted me from fanfiction.net asking for a beta and writing advice. You guys are so amazing to ask for feedback and to message other writers. That's REALLY brave, and not something I ever did at that age. I don't consider myself an authority, and I'm pretty young myself, but here's my best attempt at a response. 

1) Read. A lot. All of the time. Read everything from magazine articles to historical romances to science fiction to the classics. None of it is wasted, I promise. The first thing to being a writer is not writing. It's reading. You can hone your craft for as long as you want, but you will not get better unless you're reading widely, and you're reading with purpose. Read YA, read kidlit, read adult fiction. Read good fiction. Read bad fiction. Read the New Yorker. Read Joyce Carol Oates. Read C.S. Lewis. Read short stories! Don't stick to things you think you'd like. I never, ever read chick lit until last summer, and then I realized I was missing out on writing styles I wasn't familiar with. Read books by men. Read books by women. There are two things you need to do when you read. One, you need to read to understand the craft. Look at how the author breaks scenes. Look at how dialogue is written. Pay close attention to how emotions are conveyed. Why do reading certain parts make you feel happy or sad? How does the author do that? Notice the pacing. Two, you need to read for pleasure. Do both. Not always at the same time. But always, do both.

2) Learn the rules. Get some books on writing. For starters, I like ON WRITING WELL (Sol Stein), PLOT & STRUCTURE (James Scott Bell), WRITING THE BREAKOUT NOVEL (Donald Maass), and BIRD BY BIRD (Anne Lamott). That pretty much covers your bases on good books on the craft of writing. For people who struggle with writing in its technical aspects, definitely invest in THE ELEMENTS OF STYLE (Strunk & White). Read these books. Learn the rules. Always "said" for dialogue tags. Start with action. Don't do info dumps. Avoid adverbs. Concise as possible; don't describe things you don't need to. Don't use stupid similes. Inciting incident needs to be within the first fourth of the novel. Learn the rules.

3) Break them. But you are not allowed to break the rules until you learn them. If you're breaking them, there has to be good reason. There can't be good reason unless you know what the rules are.

4) There are going to be people who tell you they know how to write a novel. Write in the morning. Write in the afternoon. Write 500 words a day. Write 2,000. Character-driven is best. No, plot-driven. Write when you're inspired! Butt-in-chair method every day gets it done! Spit out your first draft; edit later. Take your time. Outline. Don't outline. The point is, nobody has a godforsaken clue how to write a novel. This is something you discover on your own, by yourself. Whatever gets it done for you is how to do it.

5) This is obvious: Write. When I was little, I used to write at dinner parties my parents dragged me to with nothing but a notebook and a pencil -- the old fashioned way, kids. I used to write until the skin on my fingers had grooves and my hands hurt so bad I couldn't even hold dining utensils. I'm not saying you should hurt yourself in the process. I'm just saying, anything worth doing is worth doing until it hurts.

6) A lot of what you write is not going to be very good. Open those old notebooks of mine. Everything in them is TOTAL JUNK. I have a harrypotterfanfiction.com account with stories from when I was in junior high. Barring being held at gunpoint, I will not ever reveal what my user name was. Because everything is embarrassingly bad. There's a lot of embarrassingly bad stuff on my fanfiction.net account. But I still use it, so I can't hide anything. C'est la vie. Just know, you have write mountains of unusable ugliness before you get anything remotely okay. I don't regret anything I've posted, because every story I wrote taught me something new.

7) Don't let anyone make you stop. People used to say I was "so cute" when I was constantly scribbling in a notebook. What they were really thinking was, wow, this kid is a nutcase. She's probably going to end up wearing beanies, unemployed, smoking weed on street corners, and reciting shitty poetry to homeless people in New York. Doesn't matter what anyone else thinks. Writing is about you and who you are writing for. You are not writing for the cynics. The cynics don't deserve your awesomeness anyway. Someone once told me teenagers didn't have enough life experience to write. Someone was an idiot. Don't listen to someone. You are never too young to start writing. America could use a lot more kids who want to write. Don't be that kid in college who can't even string together a decent sentence for a Letter to the Editor. Seriously, don't be that kid or I'll be the one sitting behind the computer screen, making sure you don't sound like a dumbass to the public, and judging you.

You should hang out at Write On Teens and read Ten Rules For Writing Fiction (from various authors). You should check out the blogs of authors you love. I suggest Gail Carson Levine, because she has lovely writing advice. And because she's lovely. I also like Maureen Johnson, because she's hilarious and one day I will be her best friend (meaning, one day I will be Libba Bray, the coolest woman I have never met). Probably Stephanie Perkins, whose book I have not read yet, but I've already decided she must be a pretty cool lady too because she has the best blue hair dye job I have ever seen. 

Finally, I know it's not "hip" or whatever to write or tell people you're an unpublished writer. But a) your real friends will think you're cool no matter how actually strange you are and b) anyone else is not your friend. You will learn that people who are not your friends are not worth your time. 

Thank you for reading, reviewing, and favoriting. You are -- wherever and whoever you are -- always welcome to message me. No matter where you go or who you meet, I hope you keep writing.

Hey, I Read

Since Borders is going bankrupt soon,* and I have a full year of Borders plus membership left, I have been splurging on books lately. I have found that reading is a good warm-up for writing. I like to establish a routine that gets me ready to write, because opening up the word document and starting right away is hard. So usually, I will read a chapter or two of a novel before I start writing. And voila! Forty-five minutes of wasted time on Facebook and various blogs have been eliminated. (Usually; this is no guarantee because I have zero self-control.) I HAVE to do this. I have no time to be screwing around. I'm snatching writing time in between classes and work and LSAT practice and homework and being social, so it's not like I have those nice four hour blocks of time I did freshman year.

These are the books I am currently working on/are in line to be read.

[THE AMBER SPYGLASS] If you have been paying attention, I've had this book on my nightstand for a while, but that is because this book is SO GOOD I am actually having pre-withdrawal symptoms. I'm avoiding finishing it for that reason. This is super pathetic, I'm aware. Anyway, I'm rationing chapters so that I can drag it out for as long as possible. I know this will only last until page 300 or so, and then I will be so consumed with curiosity that I'll probably end up barreling through it in an hour. This is what happens most of the time. I will try to keep my thoughts to myself and not bombard people with texts as I go through it. When I get excited about books, I stream-of-consciousness anyone in my contact list who has even vaguely heard of the book I'm reading. Trust me. Everyone hated me when THE LAST OLYMPIAN came out, because I stopped after every two chapters to text things like, "why is percy so awesome, omgomgomg" like a hormonal, pre-pubescent girl to my friends. 

The cover. It has spoilers. I disapprove of this edition, but it looks pretty.

[ANNA AND THE FRENCH KISS] I don't like chick lit, most of the time. But I have on good authority that this book is awesome from many, many different sources, so I am really excited to give it a try. Seriously, everyone loves this book. This is the book that is supposed to keep my heart from breaking into a million pieces when I finish THE AMBER SPYGLASS. The author of ANNA, Stephanie Perkins (whose writing blog I stalked for about two hours last week, nbd nbd), has blue hair. Like, good blue hair. I'm-cool blue hair, not I'm-trying-hard-to-be-hipster blue hair. She loves, "swashbuckling adventures, mocha lattes, fairy tales, loud music, neighborhood walks, jasmine tea, and afternoon naps. And kissing." Wow, no way, I love all of those things too! We can be friends, Stephanie Perkins. After I finish reading your book, so that my blog-creeping is no longer considered stalking, but fangirling. That's more socially acceptable.

I can't see the face of the guy (Etienne St. Clair), but I bet he's hot. 

What a sexy shoulder/exposed wrist.

[TWENTY BOY SUMMER] I am on a chick lit roll! I never planned on buying or reading this book, but -- no exaggeration -- I've come across this book at least five times in the last three months. It shows up in my Amazon recommendations (why?!), and I see it in different places every time I go to Borders. I am forced to conclude that either God wants me to read this book or Sarah Ockler has an incredibly stealthy/pushy ninja marketing team. Fate has foisted this book into my lap, and thus, I shall read it. Plus check out that cover!

It looks like a heart made out of melted blue jolly ranchers! 

How do I know what those look like? 

THAT'S HOW. My friends and I made these for New Years. 

Melted blue jolly ranchers, ftw.

Let's be honest. If a boy made a heart out of melted blue jolly ranchers for me, I would be his for life. Don't judge my low standards. Also, I like books about boys and death, which is what this book is about, apparently. No, it is not about killing twenty boys in one summer, although that would be kind of a cool premise too.

Books you are reading? More suggestions welcome!

*If Borders goes bankrupt, I will be homeless. Fact. Taking donations now. 

Teaser Day-That-Does-Not-Alliterate

I must keep up my goal of blogging twice a week! Unfortunately, I am sick, uncreative, and have approximately 258 tons of homework. And I watched Letters to Juliet instead of attempting to start it.* So even though I practically never share excerpts from my WIPs on my blog (idk, it's kind of intimidating when it's just a first draft), I will today. New Years Resolutions still a go!

 

Below is part of a scene from THE FOREVER CITY. Quick recap: Clare's mother dies in the beginning, and her half-sister Emma (30 years old, from her father's previous marriage) helps around the house following the funeral until the family can transition back to a state of normalcy. Clare and her sister Bree got two weeks off school after the funeral, and now they are preparing to return. Okay, go.

Tomorrow is school. It’s weird. As mad as Clare has been about Dad keeping them away from school, tonight her stomach is doing somersaults at the thought of going back. By now, everyone will know what’s happened. She’s had her cell phone off since Mama’s funeral. But she has to face it sooner or later. 

She tells herself this as she and Emma take turns reading pages from Mystical Creatures. Reading to Bree is another way Emma tries to feel useful. Even though Clare was thinking this would be a nice two-sister bonding activity, she can’t begrudge Emma her need for usefulness. Clare has been feeling useless the past few days too. Maybe school will make her feel useful again. 

When they shut the door behind them softly, after doing all of the goodnight kisses and tucking in, Emma exhales as if she were holding her breath the whole time in Bree’s room and says, “Too young.” Clare says nothing. Go away, she thinks. The pity crawls up and down her skin, almost makes her sick. At that moment, she hates Emma. Then Emma turns around and pats her on the arm. The anger clunks to a halt and evaporates immediately, and Clare feels cold and tired. She’s mad at her father for being empty and mad at Emma for being sympathetic. Unreasonable. 

“So are you ready for school tomorrow?” Emma asks. 

Clare thinks about her backpack that she already filled with notebooks. There are freshly sharpened pencils and a new pack of pens in the side pockets. This afternoon, she tucked the explanation for absence her father wrote in his scrawling, unmistakable handwriting in the front flap. She had folded it in half and in half again. Everything is in the right place. “No,” she replies bluntly. 

“I thought not. Do you want to talk about it?” 

While Clare can be appreciative of Emma’s gung-ho attitude about being the responsible adult, there are times when it gets annoying. Like now. Do I want to shove splinters under my fingernails, is really the question this amounts to. Talking is what people do when they go to therapists, and Clare imagines a therapist might have better things to say than a half-sister who has been gone for seventeen-odd years of her life. “Um, no,” she says. “Not really.” 

Emma sits down at the dinner table. Reluctantly, Clare sits down across from her. “If you are really stressed out about school tomorrow, I can tell Dad about it and…”

“No thanks,” Clare says quickly. She has to go back, whether tomorrow or a month from now. Tomorrow will be bad, but a month from now would be infinitely worse. Clare has learned that things are best dealt with quickly. Procrastination is just not her style. She quells the shaking in her throat. “I just have to do it, you know? Get it over with. Move on.” God, could she sound any stupider? 

Emma looks at her, the shadows accentuating the hollows of her eyes and making her look much older. “Okay,” she says finally. “You’ve been very brave this whole time. I just want you to know”—she looks up at the ceiling and Clare thinks incredulously, holy cow, is she crying?—“I feel horrible for not trying to contact you before. Before everything, I mean. I’m a bad sister, I know.” 

“You’re – you’re not a bad sister,” Clare says, but she sounds unconvincing, even in to her own ears. “It’s just the way things happen.” Stop, please stop, she pleads silently. Stop crying. She has never been equipped to deal with a situation like this, when older people cry. Regardless of the alarming frequency of times it’s happened since Mama’s accident, she’s never gotten better at handling weeping adults. It makes her want to crawl out of her bones and escape. 

It’s a good thing when Emma reaches her hand across the table and grabs Clare’s hand, squeezes it briefly and lets go. “I want you to know if you need someone to talk to, I’m going to be here. I’m going to be a better sister from now on. I want to be helpful and I at least want to be here. You might not want to talk to me now, and I understand completely if you don’t, but when you’re ready, I will be too.”

 

Clare stares at the chandelier – has it always hung that low? She shakes off the discomfort. “You are being helpful,” she says. 

“Can I at least drive you to school? Just for tomorrow?” Emma sounds like she’s begging. Clare wonders just exactly who is doing the favor for whom; she can drive, after all. But refusing this offer seems like it would seriously hurt Emma’s feelings, as backward as that is. 

“That’s fine. Yeah.” Emma wipes her eyes on her sleeve and relaxes into a watery smile. “I’ll pick you up at seven-thirty?” 

She thinks about how Mama used to drive her to school before she got her license and is sure she’s not going to enjoy the ride over. She doesn’t have to do this, another way to let Emma feel useful. She’s on the verge of saying this out loud. 

“Sure,” is what she actually says. 

Another thing to dread on top of school itself.

*It was worth it. As are all of my endeavors to procrastinate in college.

**I need to point out that it took me half an hour to correctly format this post. Technology = +10000, XiXi = 0, maybe even -5.

***Now I ACTUALLY have to go write my paper on Thomas Paine and political history now. Rahhhhhhhhh. Facebook stalking can only waste so much time.

Black History Month! And Stuff.

Today is February 1st. As you may have heard in the news, it is SNOWPOCALYPSING outside here and I attend the Only Major University In Illinois to not declare a snow day. Thanks, administration; keep up the fail. Look, I'm an Illinoisan for life, so I can deal with shitty, inclement weather. But it's not just snowing outside. It's snowhailwintrymixing -- small pebble-like pellets of Midwestern winter defecating on your life. And windy. So when you go outside, it literally feels like glass is being thrown in your face. I almost starting crying on the way home from class. Ouch. 

More importantly, it is the kickoff of Black History Month, so I'm going to take this opportunity to talk a bit about African-Americans in literature. That segue. It was great, I know.  This is brief and the issues of people of color (POC) in fiction are long and complicated, but I'm not African-American and don't feel completely qualified to give expert opinions on this topic. (In May, when it's Asian-Pacific-American Heritage Month, I'll be doing a weekly post on Asian-Americans in literature and society.)

POC are clearly underrepresented in fiction, and I have to admit, the list I came up with this post of books I've read in this area is sadly limited. That's my fault. But I don't think it would be too much of a false accusation to say YA publishers are not eager to put out books with POC. There have been many recent incidents of cover white-washing, the most publicized being LIAR by Justine Larbalestier, and now, even complaints of ACROSS THE UNIVERSE by Beth Ravis is getting buzz for its subtly photoshopped cover (the ARC apparently featured a more ethnic-looking profile). Cover white-washing is unacceptable.* It makes me sick. The prevailing reason for it -- POC books don't sell/bad economics -- is 100% shit. The old South said they couldn't get rid of slavery because their economy would crumble without it. Sorry, racism can't be justified by the economy; couldn't be back then and can't be now.

So without further ado, these are books I've read and enjoyed with POC.

1) UNCLE TOM'S CABIN by Harriet Beecher Stowe. "The little lady who started the great war" has written an enduring classic, my favorite classic, actually. I read it when I was ten. The vocabulary and colloquialisms were tough, but it was SO worth it. This is the only classic to date that has brought me to laughter and tears. It's masterfully written and should be required reading for everyone. I honestly can't believe Pride and Prejudice is more required than this book. Travesty, I say. It's a splendid, moving read, full of devastating historical momentum and emotion. Please, if you only read one more book in your life, go read this one. You won't regret it.

2) BLACK ANGELS by Rita Murphy. An older book, this is set in the summer of 1961 in Georgia. Historical, with perfect touches of magic realism, this is a book about discovering your roots, having the courage to stand up for something when everyone else disagrees, and what happens when you are not who you thought you were. The main character, Celia, is wonderful, and her struggle with learning about a side of the family she didn't know is real and affecting. I highly recommend it. It's beautiful to read, all around.

3) ALLIGATOR BAYOU by Donna Jo Napoli. My favorite author makes an appearance on this list. The main character, Calogero, is Sicilian and not black. But this is a book set in the Deep South, and it tells a story about race, what makes someone "not white" and the multi-faceted tensions between races in the post-slavery South. It's based on a true, horrifyingly unspeakable event, which is what makes the ending even more unforgettable. The second I turned the last page, I immediately went to find out more about the circumstances this book is based on. So will you. I love this book, from every loaded scene to every carefully considered word.

Others, equally awesome:

DAY OF TEARS Julius Lester

OTHELLO Julius Lester

LIAR Justine Larbalestier

THEIR EYES WERE WATCHING GOD Zora Neale Hurston

BELOVED Toni Morrison

ROLL OF THUNDER, HEAR MY CRY Mildred D. Taylor

Anything by Toni Morrison, Zora Neale Hurston (some excellent short stories, definitely check those out), or Maya Angelou is recommended. This is a nice link for more authors of color. Look around the Internet. There are plenty more links where that came from. 

And YOU. The world is full of different colors, and books should be too! Don't write your stories monochromatic.

*99.99999999999% of the time, the cover!fails are not the author's fault. It's the marketing department or whoever decided to make the cover. As we all know, authors get little to no input in their own covers. Just to clarify. Not faulting any of the authors listed for cover scandals.