A question: right now, are we writing YA for teenagers, aged 12 through 19, or are we writing YA for those of us not-so-young-anymore adults who devour them? I don’t have an answer to this question, but it’s something to think about.
She was very near hating him now; yet the sound of his voice, the way the light fell on his thin, dark hair, the way he sat and moved and wore his clothes—she was conscious that even these trivial things were inwoven with her deepest life. — Edith Wharton, The House of Mirth
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