Dec. 9th, 2009

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Dr. Johnson wanted us to write a poem for my Young Adult Novel class. Here it is:

I am not a Hardy Boy
I am not a Mean Girl
Or a Gossip Girl
Or a Rainbow Boy (okay, maybe a little)

I am not one of the Outsiders
I’m not in the Breakfast Club
or the Dead Poets Society
or the Baby-Sitters Club.

I don’t Cut. I don’t have an Infinite Playlist.
I don’t look Pretty in Pink.
I didn’t get Goosebumps from Twilight.
I don’t read Diaries, even if they’re about Anne Frank
Or Princesses or Part-Time Indians.
And just to be clear, my Pants don’t Travel

I won’t play Ender’s Game,
the Egypt Game, Hunger Games or the Westing Game.
I won’t dig Holes, I won’t Speak
and I definitely won’t Tell Mom the Babysitter’s Dead.

I don’t know how to use a Hatchet or a Golden Compass
I won’t give up my Ear, my Eye, or my Arm to fight your Chocolate War
And I’m not convinced there are any Perks to Being a Wallflower

I don’t care whether God was there for Margaret
I don’t care What Jamie Saw
and I really, really don’t care if my Business is Risky.

I’m not Dazed and Confused (most of the time)
I’m not a Monster, a Giver, Godless or a Green Street Hooligan
and I’m not going to list Ten Things I Hate About You (but I could)

I don’t live in a Teenage Wasteland
I don’t live in Loserville
I don’t live on Mango Street
I don’t live in a Paper Town.
My house doesn’t have a Redwall
and my street is entirely free of American Graffiti

This isn’t a Series of Unfortunate Events
and it’s Not Another Teen Movie,
It’s real life. Let’s see you write a book about that.

July 2010

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