Ficktion Fridays: Casual Friday

Marcia’s pinched brown face peered around the corner of my cube.

“Is she out there?”

I rolled back my chair, stretching. “Who?”

“Jeaneen Geli from HR.”

I rolled back a little further and swiveled, lazily eyeing the corridor of our beige carpeted habitat. “Nope.”

Marcia scurried out of her cubicle and shot across the hall toward the bathroom. Her maroon skirted legs had barely flashed by when I heard Jeaneen’s foghorn voice. “Marcia! Marcia, it’s Fire Drill Friday! Why aren’t you wearing a Hawaiian shirt?”

“O, God, our help,” I muttered under my breath. Poor Marcia. She was an over-educated customer service rep at the mortgage insurance company, just trying to do her job. None of us went to school for this insanity. We were all humanities majors who had dutifully diagrammed sentences and wrote literary criticisms of epic poetry only to find after five years of upper division classes, we had no marketable skills. Marcia was the worst of all of us — a Women’s Studies major who had specialised in the literature of post-Soviet Russian women. Russian women’s literature! As if that there were any Russians in the Tech Valley! Our bosses were Asian, our coworkers were South Asian, and the rest of us were a motley collection of biracial hybrids who had sifted through the cracks from elsewhere, and had settled here, the sleepy sediment of the fast-paced, high energy Tech Valley. We’d been happy with our ragtag crew — until corporate sent down word that we weren’t happy enough.

Happy workers were more productive, corporate decided, when we reached our numbers for the second quarter. Sure, we’d met expectations, but we could probably be even MORE productive, if we were encouraged toward Further Happiness. In order to be Happy workers, corporate decided, we needed… Casual Fridays.

I put on my headset and stared morosely at my keyboard. All right, at first I’d been dumb enough to think Corporate paying more attention to us was a Good Thing. I’d been fine when they’d sent down the cheery yellow desk to the lounge area and installed their good times girl, Jeaneen Geli (or Hell-ish Jeaneen, as we called her), to brighten up the place with brown bag discussions, book clubs, softball clubs and popcorn Friday afternoons. They’d bought us a few rubber tree plants and a some air hockey tables, a cappuccino machine and another snack machine, and I’d thought, “Good.” And though I considered it stupid to arrive an hour early or to stay one more minute after work than I had to, the state of the art gymnasium and weight rooms, I considered to be another Good Thing.

But it never seemed to end. We had Casual Friday, Margarita Mondays, Fire Drill Fridays (quarterly) and Weekend Wednesdays (the first Wednesday of the month). Birthdays were celebrated — lavishly — with balloons and DJ’s and pizza or sushi or take out from the Greek deli, wrapped gifts from supervisors and embarrassing singing telegrams. Each special day was accompanied by a cheery, color-coded communiqué from Janeen, and her merrily croaking voice in everyone’s voicemail. “Don’t forget – it’s blue jeans and suspenders tomorrow! It’s a Wild West Wednesday, and you cowpokes are gonna have a grand old time. Yee haw!” We were meant to see each other as Family, enjoy each other’s company, swap recipes and tell jokes and find each other sitters for special company Date Nights. Together, we were meant to form an unassailable community from which would spring the company’s greatest quarter yet.

It felt rude to be anything but breathlessly enthusiastic, blindingly cheerful, relentlessly optimistic. We were dropping like flies, people were going on sick leave just to get away from the overpowering sense of cheer at work. Jeaneen tried so hard to make everything a constant party. When the seasons changed, she instructed reception to answer, “Happy Spring! This is HGIC, how can we make your day worthwhile?” Our secretary, Alys, actually cried the first morning she had to say that in October. She was a Goth, and felt it wasn’t worth her job to have to be that upbeat. We talked her down, and she stayed, but she started rubbing ashes on her cheeks instead of blusher, and refused to wear any color but gray. Our maintenance personnel worried whenever any of us went out on the balcony, or stayed too long in the bathroom. Our office manager was put on a quiet suicide watch.

We felt ungrateful that we cringed at the sound of Janeen’s voice. But we did. Especially Marcia. Her introverted soul bubbled up and dissolved like a slug spattered with salt in the presence of Jeaneen’s loud, good natured fun. “I just can’t stand enforced enjoyment,” Marcia had admitted one day. “She’s got to be on drugs. I just can’t… maintain that level of glee. Isn’t it enough if I just do my job?”

No. It was not. Corporate had determined that we should be happy. And woe to any of us who did not get with the program.

“Is she here?” Janeen’s leaned into my cube in late afternoon. Even through my headset, I heard that hoarse magpie cackle, and flinched.

“I think she had a late meeting,” I hedged, making excuses,” “Should I give her a message?”

“No, no, I’ll just see her tomorrow. I’ll see you tomorrow, too,” Jeaneen said,dimpling mysteriously. She fluffed her wild black curls and looked twinkly.

“What’s tomorrow?” I asked, alarmed. “Did I miss a memo? Is it Hawaiian shirts? Laurel wreaths?”

“It’s Casual Friday, silly,” Jeaneen laughed. “What else did you think?”

Hearing the hysteria in her laughter was what made run the last few steps to the office. The giggles were high pitched and nervous sounding, and she sounded slightly unhinged, laughing until she was out of breath, wheezing, and starting up again.

I rushed out of the stairwell toward the sound, a stitch in my side from walking up all twenty-two flights. “Marcia?”

Her back was to me, and she was staring out of the lobby windows. I joined her, and stared. I didn’t see anything.

“Marcia?”

“A bear,” she said, and giggled.

I stared at the window, at the yellow desk, at the potted plants. “Bear?”

“Vladamir Mayakovsky utilized animal imagery to depict human emotions,” she sing songed. “Especially bears.”

“Marcia.” I touched her arm, gently. “Can you show me the bear? I can’t see him…”

Marcia finally turned to me, her face sweat smeared and her wild eyes watering. “Emotions,” she went on as if I hadn’t interrupted, “especially suffering and despair.”

“O…kay,” I nodded, keeping my fingers clamped firmly on her blazer sleeve. “Why don’t you come sit in my cubicle.”

“Could I?” she asked desperately.

“Sure.” We walked slowly down the corridor. As we passed her workspace, I glanced in, and cringed. Electric blue bears in the form of stickers, posters, pencil tops, erasers, mugs and a mouse pad were stuffed into her cubicle. A six foot fuzzy blue bear was crammed into her desk chair. Marcia passed by quickly, shying away from the doorway.

“Lord love a duck,” I muttered.

“She’s only trying to help,” Marcia said, in a high, tight voice. “I love bears, don’t I? Russian literature is full of bears. Full of them.”

“Marcia? Are you going to be all right?”

Marcia smiled at me vacantly. “Last night I dreamed I’d applied to university for my doctorate,” she said dreamily. “I sat down in a room full of people, and none of them wore Hawaiian shirts. None of them looked at me and smiled. Everyone stared at a book, and left me alone.”

“Do you need a drink of water?”

Marcia swiped her forehead with the back of her tremoring hand. “No. No water. It’s Casual Friday, isn’t it? Where’s Jeaneen? Aren’t there martinis today?”


This photograph of silliness was taken by Flickr Person Altamon and inspired this equally crazy story. Find more with The Usual Suspects at Fiction.ning.

A "YAY!" for today:

I have always thought it was SO COOL that Seven Impossible Things Before Breakfast has the 7-Imp’s 7 Kicks posts. It’s such a great thing to do, to drop everything on a Sunday and list seven Good Things that have happened during the week. Sometimes it’s a bit of a scramble, but most of the time, the Good Things just flow, which is really nice.

I have something like that, let’s call it a “YAY!” for today, and my “YAY!” is NOT that the Spice Girls are reuniting, although I’m sure that is cause for wild-eyed celebration in some quarters. No, this “YAY!” is a lot more cool than that. The Extended Day Girls are on TV!!! Alanah, Alicia, Allandra, Amanda S., Amanda D., Elaine, Jahatu, Samara, Shaianne, Tyla, and their teachers Ms. Shubitz and Ms. Rodriguez are the authors of DEAL WITH IT! Powerful Words from Smart, Young Women, and Ms. Shubitz kindly emailed us last night to let me know I can see the girls in action here on CBS News!

YAY!!!!

The Extended Day Girls rock the house!

The other “YAY!” is that it’s Friday, and not only that, Poetry Friday. Hosted by the martini-riffic Bond-girl at Shaken & Stirred, today’s poems run the gamut of themes – summertime heat, holidays, war, cats, salads and more. My contribution is just as eclectic — a beautifully evocative poem of summertime… and the summertime of the past.

Ground Swell
by Mark Jarman

Is nothing real but when I was fifteen,
Going on sixteen, like a corny song?

Read the rest of this eloquent poem that speaks of writing and memory here.


A "YAY!" for today:

I have always thought it was SO COOL that 7-Imps has their Kicks thing — and I will someday remember to participate. (Duh.) It’s such a great thing to do, list the

I have a “YAY!” for today, and it’s NOT that the Spice Girls are reuniting, although I’m sure that is cause for celebration in some quarters. No, this “YAY!” is a lot more cool than that. The Extended Day Girls are on TV!!! Alanah, Alicia, Allandra, Amanda S., Amanda D., Elaine, Jahatu, Samara, Shaianne, Tyla, and their teachers Ms. Shubitz and Ms. Rodriguez are the authors of DEAL WITH IT! Powerful Words from Smart, Young Women

Briefly

Things that have made me laugh so far today:
Cherries Galore: Another M.E.M. – Best Friend’s Pet Photography and on I-505 “Fresh, Local Cherries’s.” Methinks that once cherry season has ebbed, the fruit world will breathe a much sweetened sigh of relief. (Incidentally, lest you think I am unfairly mocking fruit-growers, the same sign advertised pistachios, which was spelled impeccably.)

Our (original) Jane: Another thing which has made me laugh is Salon’s review of the All Things Austen summer which we seem to be having. Aside from the news that PBS is creating Sundays With Jane, a film series of Austen’s books in a four month celebration beginning January 2008, the most recent news, of course, is 2006’s Enthusiasm, and this year’s gloriously as-of-yet-jealously-unread Austenland. The idea of a theme park for Austen-lovers in the Austenland novel is second in …sublime ridiculousness only to the whole Potterland Theme Park thing… to quote the article: “No, it’s not one in which if you don’t marry a man of means by 25 you’re branded a spinster and forced to live off the kindness of family for the rest of your life! (Coming soon: Woolf-Wharton Water Park, where visitors wade into a stream with pockets full of rocks and can be swept down a river of laudanum! Wheee!)”

Possibly there could also be a Jane Eyre theme park, where one could lock one’s mad(dening) relatives in an attic and… Mmm, perhaps not.

The most salient point of the Salon piece is that despite all of the fun of the movies and spin-off books one must always go back to the original books. In them, one will find a Jane Austen who is unsentimental, anti-mushy, and sharply — and I mean sharply, complete with catty comments — amused by people who obsessed all day over men.

Viva la Jane.

More Than Meets the Eye: Ohh, if you didn’t actually ever watch the highly silly dubbed-over Japanese television show, this summer’s ridiculously high-action blockbuster, Transformers might just seem like, “Hm. Trucks. Robots.” But the fact that the name Optimus Prime (!!) is one I actually know… worries me. The truth is,Everything I Need to Know About (Real) Robots I Learned From Transformers… yep.

Oh, my words!

Oh, dear.

Online Dating

I’m totally not being as successful at this ‘WritingYA’ as I thought I was. Just look at our rating!! This rating was determined based on the presence of the following words:

* gay (56x)
* lesbian (21x)
* pain (3x)
* hell (2x)
* sex (1x)
I’m assuming we didn’t use them all in the same sentence!?

I found this via another R rated site, (you should TOTALLY worry about A Chair, A Fireplace & A Tea Cozy — An R rating! For shame!) and I tell you — you ought to check it out. You just never know how disingenuous and awful you are until you are told…

Our Jane is away in Scotland – where it is pouring buckets on her summer – and she is having her joy of word counts. I, too, hate word counts. Even in school I was horrible at them — we had a professor who required us randomly to write a 40-page paper or a 3000 word essay on an unnamed topic — “Just write,” he would tell us. I loathed him. I can either be wordy, or I can be brief, but having strictures put on word count just puts me in knots.

I had to write a synopsis of my own novel this past week – and I had to count words. That’s enough to remind you of all of the awful college English professors in the world – and I had good ones, for the most part. I’ve discovered that there are some things I’m awful with — the Evil Synopsis, the first line, and the novel conclusion. I wrestled for three days with the three sentences that ended my last piece. And eventually you hope something like that pays off — like it did for these authors. Congratulations to them for having superb first lines!

Via Eve @ the Disco M’s, we find a very funny link to Editorial Anonymous that teaches us what those between-the-lines editorial letters really mean. We read, laugh, and groan — and hope for an editor — together!

In all the hubbub of last week, I forgot to mention a small review of a picture book that made me a little misty. The Chronicle reviewed Fred Stays With Me!, which received a starred review from the School Library Journal. The first lines tell the whole story: “Sometimes I live with my mom. Sometimes I live with my dad. My dog, Fred, stays with me.”

Hope you’re keeping close what you love this week.


Streamers trailing, brain's mushy; party's over…

Whew, you guys, what a week! My brain’s a little mushy after reveling in all of this writerly brilliance these last seven days. Thanks for dropping by for the wild week that was the Summer Blog Blast Tour. I can’t wait to do it again.

Here are a few crumbs and streamers littering the floor of my brain:

ChickenSpaghetti, linked to La Bloga, where they’re talkin’ multicultural books, which brought to mind our recent discussion with the ever-awesome Julie Anne Peters, about which groups should write which literature for whom. If the only books children see about Hispanic culture include piñatas and parties, the only books for Chinese-American children include dragons and moon cakes, and the only stories for African American children include watermelon and double-dutch… well, you see the problem? So, the only pictures we have of gay and lesbian children and teens should portray… what? And be written by whom?

(Random point: I have had people tell me that all stereotypes are based in some fact, so maybe we should all just give up and let stereotypes at least give people an entrance into the various cultures. I’m sure you already know my opinion on THAT — two words. Cop and out.)

The “bad” news is, the internet is once again destroying our culture, and we’re going to the dogs, er, the rabbits (via Original Content) – at least that’s what yet another alarmist has said. The good news is, the Carnival is in town! Check out the offerings at A Year of Reading. I love the little newspaper dealies they concocted. Very cool.

Salon‘s talking graphic novels, and NPR This Morning interviewed Shannon Hale about Austenland. Shriek! MUST read that book! I’m so jealous of EVERYONE WHO ALREADY HAS. (Ahem, LW and whichever other of my bookstore/librarian Cybils sisters who have been DISCUSSING IT WITHOUT ME. Ahem!)

It’s time again for another M.E.M. report – the Most Egregious Misuse of the English language I saw today was on 9th Street in my Very Own Town. Some civic-minded people have taken it upon themselves to plant signs in their front lawns, advising others to drive carefully. “Slow it Down!” one sign urges. “Drive Safe.”

SIGH.

My kingdom for an adverb. L-Y. Is it really that hard!?
Of course not, but we most often hear that phrase, and it no longer matters that for that misuse I got red check-marks on my papers in school. Okay. I can accept that. It’s wrong, but I can accept that.

At any rate, I had to save my most annoyed huffing for the next house. Its pastel-painted sign read, “15 mph~! Drive neighborly!”

There are no WORDS. I mean, I guess it could have been worse if they’d tried to parse it “Drive neighborly-ly,” but… OY. Adverbs: the most misused part of speech yet.

All right, coming down off the soapbox until next time.

Thank y’all for contributing to a great week.

Streamers trailing, brain’s mushy; party’s over…

Whew, you guys, what a week! My brain’s a little mushy after reveling in all of this writerly brilliance these last seven days. Thanks for dropping by for the wild week that was the Summer Blog Blast Tour. I can’t wait to do it again.

Here are a few crumbs and streamers littering the floor of my brain:

ChickenSpaghetti, linked to La Bloga, where they’re talkin’ multicultural books, which brought to mind our recent discussion with the ever-awesome Julie Anne Peters, about which groups should write which literature for whom. If the only books children see about Hispanic culture include piñatas and parties, the only books for Chinese-American children include dragons and moon cakes, and the only stories for African American children include watermelon and double-dutch… well, you see the problem? So, the only pictures we have of gay and lesbian children and teens should portray… what? And be written by whom?

(Random point: I have had people tell me that all stereotypes are based in some fact, so maybe we should all just give up and let stereotypes at least give people an entrance into the various cultures. I’m sure you already know my opinion on THAT — two words. Cop and out.)

The “bad” news is, the internet is once again destroying our culture, and we’re going to the dogs, er, the rabbits (via Original Content) – at least that’s what yet another alarmist has said. The good news is, the Carnival is in town! Check out the offerings at A Year of Reading. I love the little newspaper dealies they concocted. Very cool.

Salon‘s talking graphic novels, and NPR This Morning interviewed Shannon Hale about Austenland. Shriek! MUST read that book! I’m so jealous of EVERYONE WHO ALREADY HAS. (Ahem, LW and whichever other of my bookstore/librarian Cybils sisters who have been DISCUSSING IT WITHOUT ME. Ahem!)

It’s time again for another M.E.M. report – the Most Egregious Misuse of the English language I saw today was on 9th Street in my Very Own Town. Some civic-minded people have taken it upon themselves to plant signs in their front lawns, advising others to drive carefully. “Slow it Down!” one sign urges. “Drive Safe.”

SIGH.

My kingdom for an adverb. L-Y. Is it really that hard!?
Of course not, but we most often hear that phrase, and it no longer matters that for that misuse I got red check-marks on my papers in school. Okay. I can accept that. It’s wrong, but I can accept that.

At any rate, I had to save my most annoyed huffing for the next house. Its pastel-painted sign read, “15 mph~! Drive neighborly!”

There are no WORDS. I mean, I guess it could have been worse if they’d tried to parse it “Drive neighborly-ly,” but… OY. Adverbs: the most misused part of speech yet.

All right, coming down off the soapbox until next time.

Thank y’all for contributing to a great week.

The Summer Blog Blast Tour Concludes: Justina Chen Headley


Justina Chen Headley’s been out and about throughout the ‘blogosphere’ this week. At HipWriterMama’s place, we learned she doesn’t always write the greatest pf titles, and once, she had to name a book in just three days. (She rocked it, though: Nothing But the Truth (and a few white lies) is a pretty cool title.) At Big A, little a, Justina let us in on the name of her brother’s vineyard (Patton Valley!) and introduced us to the idea of REAL green tea frappucinos. Sounds like they could be tasty.

And here at Finding Wonderland, we’re really pleased to welcome our final Summer Blog Blast Tour interviewee, Justina Chen Headley, to our humble treehouse, and we beg you to forgive us for forgetting, and to remember yourselves: Patty Ho is Taiwanese. Taiwanese. Don’t forget, okay? We won’t either.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

FW: With the Nothing But the Truth Scholarship Essay contest, and your donation to the American Optometrics Association’s InfantSEE program from the proceeds you earned from The Patch, you’ve really lived the idea that every writer should give back to the world, not just with words but with actions. Why is philanthropy so important to you, and what do you see as the writer’s role within the larger community?

My job as a writer is to write down the truth—in all its silly, improbable, joyous, crazy, and ugly truth. But personally, I want to be more than a truth-scribe. I want to be an ambassador for the truths I feel passionately about. That’s what my mom taught me.

Put it this way: if I’ve devoted a year (or more) to writing a book and exploring a specific theme, then I’m usually fired up when I’m finished. I *have* to do something about what I’ve learned—put actions behind my words.

So why not help a worthy teen with a college scholarship—when my parents had to sacrifice to put me through college? Why not promote awareness for the need for childhood eye exams—when I myself had no idea that babies are supposed to be tested! And why not inspire teens to change their world with a Challenge Grant that I’m co-sponsoring with Burton Snowboards in honor of my forthcoming novel, Girl Overboard?

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FW: Many people are uneasy with the idea of confronting racism in their fiction and in themselves. How have people responded to Patty Ho’s rage, which her friend Jasmine seems to encourage?

To be honest, when adults talk to me about my debut novel, Patty’s anger rarely—very rarely—comes up. Instead, they describe the book as “fun” and “funny.” I’m glad—because certainly I hoped my novel would be a pleasure to read while still exploring deeper questions, such as self-identity and self-esteem in the aftermath of racism. But I am truly baffled that so few adults even reference the spitting scene, which is neither fun nor funny.

That said, my teen readers will talk specifically about racism with me—whether they found the spitting scene shocking (they had no idea that stuff like this happens) or that it was therapeutic (because something like this had happened to them). I find that openness extremely heartening.

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FW:Mark Scranton and Steve Kosanko are two racist characters who humiliate Patty and keep after her about her Asian heritage. Patty is angry with them, but most of her anger turns inward as humiliation. Do you feel that anger/humiliation have fueled creative responses to racism in your own life?

I hate confrontation, and to this day, I struggle with the right response when people cut in line, when I see a friend’s kid talk back to her, when someone says something hurtful. I am not quick on my feet; I need time to deliberate, which is why I love writing and rewriting. I get to mull the situation over. I get to play with different scenarios. I get to react across a spectrum of responses.

The problem is, life is real-time.

So I do have to say, the things that have happened to me—whether it was being spit upon or called racist epithets while I lived in Australia for a year—inspired this book. I’m rewriting history. I’m not sugar-coating it, but I am giving it a more fulfilling ending.

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FW:The Mama Lecture Series is hysterical, and certainly bypasses all ethnicities and cultural boundaries to unite us all in groaning loathing at being preached at. In your own experience as a Mom, have you felt that lecture series creeping up on you as part of your parenting?

It is terrible to hear The Mommy Lecture Series spewing from my mouth.

Lecture 1: Your room is a pigsty.
Lecture 2: You have two feet; get it yourself.
Lecture 3: When you take something out, put it back. In the same place. Now.

So, yes, I am guilty of reciting my own set of lectures. I can only imagine what my children will write if they ever choose to become novelists.

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FW: Attitude is a big deal in NBtT. At one point, Patty wonders if it’s only her attitude holding her back. “Is attitude truly the only thing separating embarrassment from triumph? That a little sass could turn you from a social zero to a social hero? (page 174)” Can you talk a little about that little bit of “sass” in terms of dealing with racial discrimination? Is sass a way to survive?

Let’s face it: in certain situations nowadays it’s better and safer to walk away. And in some cases, to run away. Running away sometimes takes more courage than confrontation.

That said, sass is certainly a way to maintain your self-esteem when you’ve been trod upon. I may live to regret it, but I do encourage my kids to practice sassiness. In the right circumstances. Sassy humor—getting someone to laugh in the midst of a heated argument—now, that’s a gift.

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FW:Many people feel empowered by the reclamation of a word. ‘Hapa’ means “half,” and is a word of Hawaiian origin. How have people responded to your non-Hawaiian use of the word ‘hapa’? or, Have people suggested other words to suggest ‘half’ or a biracial origin?

Some wonderful women at Swirl, a mixed race organization, warned me that there would be people who would not take kindly to my use of the word “hapa.” So, yes, one Hawaiian has expressed—shall we say, displeasure over my use of that word. The nice thing is that 99.9% of readers have agreed that in the case of this novel, hapa was the right word to use.


See, what Patty learns is that labels are just that: labels. They’re just manufactured syllables, no different from the words she creates. Or the ones that naming company creates for a huge paycheck.

We all have the power to define ourselves, using whatever words—real, made-up, co-opted—that feel right and good to us.

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FW: In choosing to write about a mixed-race protagonist in NBtT, you had various choices to make, such as giving her a strict first-generation Chinese mother rather than someone more culturally assimilated. What made you decide on the specifics of Patty Ho’s background? Are there real-life people or events that inspired her character?

(Egads! Taiwanese, not Chinese, ladies! You can bet that Patty’s Taiwanese mom is having an ultra-conniption now!)

Anyway, I wanted to emphasize the experience of feeling other —- not fitting in to one community or another. That’s why I decided to have a first-generation (Taiwanese) mother.

So the characters—every last one—has a tiny piece of me inside him/her. Even the awful characters.

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FW: NBtT was, in part, about finding one’s place in the world, whether that involves blazing your own trail or finding kindred spirits to make the journey easier. Do you think this story will help mixed-race and/or Asian-American youth to find their own place? Do you plan to write other stories with similar themes?

Books help people find their own place, understand their experiences, identify their dreams. Growing up, I didn’t have books featuring girls who looked like me. That’s one of the reasons why Janet Wong (TWIST), Grace Lin (The Year of the Dog), and I went on our Hi-YAH! Tour last spring. We wanted to encourage more mixed-race and Asian-American youth to write about their experiences and to share their stories.

My next novel, GIRL OVERBOARD, coming out in January, 2008, also explores the notion of finding your place in this vast world—but from the viewpoint of a snowboard girl who seemingly has the Midas touch. After all, her dad is a billionaire. And still with all her open doors and all her golden opportunities, Syrah has this overwhelming sense that she doesn’t belong. That she’s not good enough. That she’s not worthy. And that impostor feeling is something, I think, we have all experienced.

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FW: In light of your role as one of the readergirlz, what do you see as the advantages of virtual meeting places such as MySpace in promoting literature—and literacy—among teens?


People who care about teen literacy—whether authors or publishers or librarians—need to make literature as accessible as possible. And that means being where teens are. These social networking places are today’s community centers. That’s why the readergirlz co-founders—YA novelists Dia Calhoun, Janet Lee Carey, Lorie Ann Grover and I—decided we needed to have a strong presence on MySpace. 70% of girls are on MySpace! And in September, we’ll be rolling out our profile on Facebook since so many college students have been clamoring for readergirlz.

That’s why to support YALSA’s Teen Read Week in October, readergirlz will be rolling out a new program on MySpace called “31 Flavorite Authors.” Every day throughout October, a different, acclaimed YA author will be available to chat with readers for an hour on our readergirlz group forum—groups.myspace.com/readergirlz.

I love being able to connect readers to authors. I love being able to talk to my own readership about my books and learn how my words have impacted them. These virtual meeting places made it easy and immediate…and best of all, they create community.

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Unless you’ve been hiding under a big rock, you know that one of Justina’s ongoing books-to-readers babies is found at readergirlz, which kicked off this past year. Questions about who they are and what they do can be answered here, and here. For more on Justina’s philosophy of philanthropy, click here.

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The Summer Blog Blast Tour has been an incredible week!

And we at FW feel a little bit like we’ve been a part of bridging the gap between readers and books, and it’s been a lot of fun. We owe so much to our participants, Gene Yang, Ysabeau Wilce, Kazu Kibuishi, Svetlana Chmakova, Chris Crutcher, Julie Anne Peters, and of course, Justina Chen Headley for giving us the opportunity to take a closer look at their writing, their philosophy and their lives. It has been a privilege, and we look forward to doing it again!