Championing Contemporary YA: Confessions of Georgia Nicolson

The lovely Bee at Dreamcatcher's Lair is hosting Championing Contemporary YA between the 3rd and 10th of June. In her words, "Championing Contemporary YA is a movement in celebration of June as the Contemporary month over at The Contemps."  I'm thrilled to participate in this movement by discussing a few of my favourite contemporary YA books.

Today's Book: Confessions of Georgia Nicolson

In this wildly funny journal of a year in the life of Georgia Nicolson, British author Louise Rennison has perfectly captured the soaring joys and bottomless angst of being a teenager. In the spirit of Bridget Jones's Diary, this fresh, irreverent, and simply hilarious book will leave you laughing out loud. As Georgia would say, it's "Fabbity fab fab!" (Summary and picture are from goodreads.)

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In grade nine, we often had silent reading at the beginning of English class. Nine times out of ten, I brought a Confessions of Georgia Nicolson book to class--often one I'd already read--as did nine out of ten girls in my class. 

We didn't have breaks between most classes, nor were we allowed to carry our schoolbags, so I had to bring my English books to science class. One day, my science teacher saw my book and asked me, dead serious, "What's snogging?"

And that was one of those rare times when all the girls I went to junior high with laughed together, instead of at each other. #YASaves, friends, YA saves.

Junior high was as awkward of an experience for me as it was for everyone else. But, I was so lucky to have a wonderful group of friends, who made even the worst days bearable. We all read this series. We measured any progress with boys by the snogging scale. All boys were given nicknames, much like Dave the Laugh and Robbie the Sex God. We were French immersion students, so it was natural for us to follow Georgia's example and speak in Franglais. 

I can't speak for them, but it's a safe assumption that we all saw ourselves in Georgia like I did (and we quite possibly saw each other the way Georgia sees Jas ;)). Of course, Georgia's a bit exaggerated, but everything feels so dramatic as a fourteen-year-old. Rennison captures that well, and even gives her readers a good-natured way to poke fun at themselves.

Oh, and this book is really funny. Like, really funny. Probably not the best book to bring for silent reading, as I definitely remember some girls (myself included) cracking up as they read it in class.

If I were to teach English to junior high students, I would love to assign these books to them. It's not The Giver, which I read and adored in junior high, but it's a funny, well-written series which united girls who were, more often than not, making life terrible for each other. Also, people who said they hated to read picked up this series by choice, and loved it. What more could an English teacher ask for?

For the record, I never answered my science teacher's question, because a girl I'd had issues with in the past saved me with a smart explanation, that surprisingly wasn't awkward at all. And that was a great moment. 

Why We Shouldn't Ignore Our Weaknesses

I love dance, but I am not a good dancer.

I do all the moves pictured on the left every night in my basement. Seriously.

In elementary school, I enrolled in every week-long summer dance camp I could, the ones taught by high  school students in gymnasiums that claimed to be combination of hip-hop, jazz, modern, and contemporary, all at the same time. The first age appropriate song I performed to was "Waiting for Tonight" by Jennifer Lopez, and a couple years later, I made my debut as a co-choreographer with a piece to "Space Cowboys" by N*SYNC. I did not gain any technique from these experiences, but they were fun, and a huge part of why I decided to look for a studio.

The first studio I joined is one of the most respected ones in my city, and I joined a hip-hop class like any suburban girl would. And I loved it. The class was small, my teacher was awesome, it was fun, and I was half decent at it. Problem was, the class was so small that the studio had to cancel it, though they encouraged me to sign up for the intermediate class when the next term started. So, I signed up.

I was so intimidated during the first intermediate class that it became my last. My classmates were real dancers, who were older, taller, skinner; who dressed like dancers and wore their hair in ponytails; who picked up choreography like that; who could perform moves I only saw in So You Think You Can Dance.

I wasn't an intermediate dancer, so I quit. My friend, who actually is a wonderful dancer, was part of a different studio, and from her recitals and competitions, I knew their choreography was easier than what I'd tried to do. I joined their hip-hop/jazz class, and took it for two years. The class was really a jazz class--with the occasional booty shake--yet I learned little technique beyond pointing my toes. But, that was what I signed up for, and though it always took me awhile to pick up choreography, hitting the moves was rarely the problem.

When I watched the DVD of my performance back, I realized why I didn't struggle with the steps in class. Unless we were doing a move that required the use of our arm, we were told to put our hands behind our back, because we'd look messy if we didn't. The problem with that is there were moves where we needed to use our arms, and mine looked more like spaghetti than anything else. They were weak, flimsy, awkward, and everything else a dancer shouldn't be. In class, we never worked on strengthening our arms, because they were hidden most of the time, anyway.

You can't put your hands behind your back when you write.

My weakness as dancer was my arms, and one of my weaknesses as a writer (definitely not my only, and the easiest one to fit into this analogy) is setting. When my hands were behind my back, that didn't matter. When setting isn't important to a scene, it doesn't matter.

But, when I had to use my hands? My weakness showed, and it was so obvious that it ruined my entire performance. When I get to a point where I have to mention setting? Well, in revisions for my current project, I realized my paraplegic character left the hospital much sooner than he should have, which of course affected the time-line of the entire novel.

It's easy to ignore our weaknesses, to put our hands behind our back and hope no one notices. But, if there's one element of writing we should focus on (especially in revisions), it should be the one we least want to confront, the one we're worst at.

It's important we stay in the intermediate class, even when we're intimidated by it, because we won't grow as writers if we stay in a class where we're comfortable, and our flaws are hidden behind our backs.

What are your weaknesses as a writer? Are you working on them? How so?