Seriously, I can't take you with me. You have to come and google friend connect with me on the other site all on your own... all sixty something of your. I'd do it for you if I could.
get yourselves together, people. everything is fine. i'm just moving. the new (and a little different) blog is now located at www.emilyjgriffin.com. i'm working on relocating some old posts and comments, as well as, expanding my content to cover all areas of interest (there are only a few posts for now). though writing (and YA) will not be the explicit focus, they are still there. the beauty is-- there is no focus. only my evil whims. (mwahahaha).
*parentheses-five*
When I started this whole blogging endeavor I had NO IDEA WHAT I WAS DOING. I offered advice. Why? I talked too much. Why? I didn't label anything properly. Why? Because I was young and naive and desperate to be a part of it all.
Now, however, as I start cleaning out past entries in preparation for moving my blog I am left with only one feeling. No, not nostaglia. That would be so cute, wouldn't it? (Barf.) No, what I am left feeling is FRUSTRATION. I have over 300 posts I have to review, delete, re-label, and edit in order to move them all to the new sit in the forseeable future. The long this takes the bigger the delay. Yippy.
So, if things start disappearing (and they will) DO NOT PANIC. It's just me pretending I never said any of those things : / (Sorry, Lindsay, you're staying behind.)
I am working on building a new site/blog. Of course, it's slow moving as I am learning a lot of web design things as I go. I want to know how to do everything myself, because that's just how I roll. Also there's writing (ahem, self -- hear that!? Write now!) and various other things occupying my time.
Once I make the new precious all shiny and pretty and deliciously sarcastic (plus figure out how the hell to finally move everything I'm keeping from here to over there) I'll post a link and we'll start trash talking Lindsay Lohan like old times. Mean it.
Heading back to Atlanta from the west coast today after a long and enjoyable visit in LA with my Bestie. I am equal parts exhausted and rejuvinated and then again exhausted.
Plans for the New Year are stewing. Even the possibility of more regular postings (No! It can't be!).
For now... I am in the air.
If you're a writer (and chances are you're here for that exact reason-- or is it my award winning personality?) you've frequented Wikipedia. I'm personally addicted to it. I visit it on an almost daily basis. I get the shakes if it's not working. It's basically the crack to Google's black tar heroin. And I for one can't quit it.
Sadly, we might all have to give it up (who's opening the Wikipedia Rehab? Will Lindsay Lohan be there?) if we don't step-up and help our dealer cover their product. You see our collective habit is expensive. We're a bunch bitchy little fiends always looking for our next fix. "Now, now, now! More, more, more! This is the internet era, I shouldn't have to wait for anything longer than .0326 seconds. Rawr! Spew! Ignorance!"
I'm not going to lie, I need to do this too... but I figured if I put in on here maybe I could hold myself (and a few of you) responsible for actually taking part instead of just exiting out of that little plea box every time I take a hit from the website.
All I'm saying is pay for your crack or watch your back, see.
Punch it in the effing face.
"What matters right now are the words, one after another. Find the next word. Write it down. Repeat. Repeat. Repeat." - Neil Gaiman
For the next little while, I'll be busy doing this. Not that you're used to me posting regularly anyway.
Distracts you with shiny object while I am busy working...

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| From Flowtown (click for larger image) via Speak Coffee To Me (aka: Eileen) |
Hi, my name is Emily and I'm a slut. *wipes brow* *drinks stale, AA coffee*
There, I said it.
I know, you're all surprised (you better be surprised). I look so innocent and none Slutty Mc'Slut in my picture, right? But the truth is, in the past, I've slutted it up. A lot. I was a big whore for other people's approval. I gave my love, loyalty and trust away like a $2 hooker (two dollar make ya holla).
Not, like in the sexy-times sense. Get your head out of the gutter, people. This, my friends, is what we call a metaphor. You see, for most of my life I've been a people-pleaser, a push-over, a passive member of my own destiny and it took me a long, long time to learn the power of walking away.
About a year and a half ago, I made the first big decision towards taking back my own life. I quit my job. I've mentioned this part before. And I'm not sure why I am writing this post now, accept for the fact that everyday I am realizing more and more how RIGHT this all feels. It's not easy. It's downright hard. Before, I had job security, a group of fantastic co-workers who were also my best friends, and I had money (well, as much a teacher makes, so you know, some). But the thing is, I was desperately unhappy and this job was just another example of how I'd spent the majority of my young and early adulthood trying to fit into a conventional-shaped box that just wasn't made for me. Normal job, nice things, boyfriends, friends, hobbies. None of them made me happy. Why?
Because I spent all of my time ho-ing myself out for them and not enough time being a BIG SLUT for me. I didn't value my own interests. I didn't give any credence to my dreams (for this reason, and this reason, and this reason, and more). And I certainly wasn't brave enough to stand up to all of the people in
Read this. Read it now: Risha Mullins -- Censorship at its Finest: Remembering. (Post has been removed by author.)
Risha's story made me cry for a hundred different reasons-- the way the YA community rallied behind her, the crushing blow of realizing that though your heart may be good and generous there are a million other people whose hearts are turned black with hate, prejudice, and fear. But mainly it made me cry because it reminded me of exactly how I felt when I taught (7th and 8th English/Language Arts, 2006-2009). I too met with red-tape and hateful attitudes, though unlike Risha (who fought the good fight) I received this bullying without any particular "cause" for its existence. To this day, I can decipher no real reason for it. I cried because that feeling of being bullied and ostracized, of people having it out for you, and of needing to document everything and constantly look over your shoulder really hit home with me.
2 Comments on Why The Academic Study of Young Adult Literature Is So Vitally Important, last added: 10/5/2010
JK Rowling will be the subject of tomorrow's Oprah Show (Friday). Apparently The Big O asks all of the hard-hitting questions, brings the tears, and then gifts Jo with a Mazda Miata. I swear. Set your DVRs now.
Did you know, like right away, exactly who I was talking about in that title? Good, we can be friends. If you didn't, here's a convenient search link. After the appropriate research you will be allowed back on the island. We will wait...
Great. Now that we're all on board let's discuss: Great Contemporary Realistic Fiction Protagonists (for $1200, Alex).
Though I haven't discussed it in great detail, I am working on a first draft of a Contemporary Realistic Fiction (CRF) novel narrated by a 17 year old boy. I am in love with said boy. He is the reason this thing exists. Something about that voice just stuck with me.
So, now I am working to finish this first draft (somewhere in the near, near future) and have started to plan my pre-revisions reading fest. A full-steam-ahead study of all of the greatest CRF Protagonists On The Planet. As you can see from the title, I've already begun my list. Some of which I have already read (like those mentioned), but I am looking for others too.
Admittedly, I am not familiar with as many CRF books as I am other genres in the YA world. I don't know how or why this is. I love CRF, obviously. But, I need your help. Which books have the best of the best (past or present) CRF voices? Which protag stuck with you? Which story changed your world? Which one made you throw the books away in anger or frustration (they did what!?!?)? I want to full gamut of your emotions.
Here is my (very) short list:
Websites and blogs without any discernable visual hierarchy DRIVE ME NUTS.
Please TAKE A MINUTE to think before you write an unreasonable blab of endless text without so much as a line break OR before you bold, italic, punc.tu.ate, CAPS, underline, color, supersize, or, whatever-the-hell-else-you-think-is-*hip*-and-*now* out of everything on your blog, site, or even Twitter. Please, my eyes and brain will thank you. (Do you see what I did there? Do ya?)
I may or may not be guilty of doing this in the past, but from now on I promise to ask myself "What would Stanley Morison do?" You should try it.
For those just joining the conversation: Wesley Scroggins, a professor of management at Missouri State University, is attempting to ban Laurie Halse Anderson's SPEAK from his area schools (he's already succeeded in banning books by others), which he calls "soft pornography" for its portrayal of a teenage girl's rape. Local decisons of banning, like this one, are bad news for for defenders of free speech and expression everywhere. They set a precendent of close-mindedness and proposed tyranny that can spread like a wildfire on a hot Southern California day. A campaign entitled #SpeakLoudly has begun all over the internet to prevent people like Scroggins from spreading their myopic perspective of conservatism (for which who uses the shield of Christianity to justify, thus, enraging Christians everywhere) to justify the outright removal and banning of important books everywhere. Books that can spark conversation, provided comfort, and remind the hopeless that they are never really alone.
Originally, I wrote an angry letter (see below) full of spit and fire for people, including Scroggins, who use the badge of censorship as an excuse for what I consider to be the necessity of active parenting or mentoring. But more important than my outrage, or yours, are the facts. The dismal numbers that can tell a story more loudly than words alone.
Now, it's time to let the statistics SPEAK LOUDLY for themselves. (All stats according to RAINN):
By now you've heard about the Speak Loudly (or as the kids say on The Twitter, #speakloudly) controversey regarding Laurie Halse Anderson's award-winning novel, SPEAK. A business management professor at Missouri State University (I'd hate to be them right now) thinks that SPEAK is pornography. Wesley Scroggins, said professor, has has taken it upon himself to declare SPEAK unsuitable for young readers. From what I can tell of his egregiously erroneous reading of SPEAK, there's a reason why Mr. Scroggins teaches business management. When it comes to Literary Analysis, he's not really the sharpest tool in the shed. Which is perfect, right? Because who wouldn't want their accountant telling them what they can or cannot read?
Listen up, because I cannot say this loud enough--
Dear Wesley Scroggins and every other censor loving, judgemental know-it-all:
CENSORSHIP IS AN EXCUSE FOR NOT PARENTING YOUR CHILDREN. If you do not wish for your kids to read a certain book, or watch a certain show, or a million other forms of expression then by all means exercise your parental rights and prevent them from doing so (don't get me started on asshats who don't even have children but profess to know what's best for all).
Parents with inquisitive teenagers who are hesitant about the content of a book, here's a novel idea: READ IT WITH THEM. Discuss what makes you nervous, why it could be considered sensitive matter, ways of dealing with troubling reatlities, painful feelings, abuse, etc. BECAUSE EDUCATION IS THE BEST PREVENTION and TIME SPENT LEARNING AND GROWING WITH YOUR KIDS WILL CREATE AN IMPENETRABLE BOND FOR LIFE.
Simply sweeping difficult things under the rug doesn't make them go away. It makes them taboo and exciting. It cripples your children should they (god forbid) ever find themselves in a situation where that knowledge could have helped them in some way or another.
Also, Mr. Scroggins. Rape isn't all pretty bows and happy feelings, to represent as anything other than graphic and painful doesn't really send out the right message to teens who may find themselves in questionable circumstances at some point in their lives. Nor does it provide comfort and the decency of truth to any person who has had to deal with something similar.
So, kindly remove your head from your ass, step down from your high horse, and allow information to flow freely amongst the masses. Exercise your right to screen your own children's experiences if you like, but by all means NEVER TRY TO FORCE YOUR BELIEFS ON OTHERS. There's enough of that happening in the world already.
There are like two things (ha) I find immediately repulsive and vomit inducing: cat food (of the non-dry persuasion), and while we're at it make it all wet animal food, and phlegm. I would rather puke a thousand times than have one ill-fated phlegm situation arise. (You see that? I thought before I spoke and only gave you the suggestive version rather than the straight forward one. You're welcome).
This week I am stuck feeding my parents cat (well, our family cat) and every morning I get to enjoy the sweet fragrance of soggy cat food (before I have even a drop of coffee to dull the pain). Delightful. Last week, I was sick. There was phlegm. I almost died. So, thanks Universe. If you could just throw some raw poultry, perhaps a whole chicken, for me to touch into the mix then this torment would be complete.
Apply metaphor liberally too all creative endeavors two-three times daily. Repeat. For external use only (perves).
...Jumpstart my kaleidoscope heart
Love to watch the colors fade
They may not make sense, but they sure as hell made me
I won't go as a passenger, no
Waiting for the roads to be laid
Though I may be going down
I'm taking flame over burning out
Compare where you are to where you wanna be
And you'll get nowhere...
(Notice this is in Atlanta. A-town down.)
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This, THIS IS AMAZING.
And this, hilarious.
And if you have ever worked in a school-- you know this. This is EXACTLY what the education system is like. I kid you not.
I cannot stop watching this video and rocking the song in my car, my bathroom, while running, at the house... You get the idea. Perfectly disturbing and quirky video and completely catching and layered music!
How dare all of you bloggers have lives? What are you thinking?
I don't care if you're busy working 'real' jobs by day and writing by the pale shadow of candlelight in the middle of the godforsaken night while everyone and their brother is happily enjoying sleep and you are stuck slaving away as you work on the best turn-of-phrase for 'taking a shit,' which consequently is actually 'taking a shit' (if ain't broke, don't fix it). Why can't you entertain me on the weekends too?
Look, it's pretty obvious you have an issue with selfishness and should probably re-examine your priorities. I'm only saying this because I am your friend (and everyone was starting to talk behind your back).
What will we do with ourselves now that the drama of Mockingjay is over? How will we go on. What is the next book we should all be obsessing over?
Personally, my new proposed obsession makes me sound really, really, ridiculously selfish, but I'm obsessing over my own book. Wait! No, don't go. I'm not saying it's the next big anything (unless foul-language is the new vampire), I'm just saying I'm focusing on my own goals. I've been playing the role of reader for a while and now it's back to that of a writer.
In January, I'm starting an intensive MFA program at Vermont College of Fine Arts. I expect to be equal parts inspired and scared out of my effing mind (this is a combination I enjoy in both my writing and dating lives-- one of these isn't exactly healthy, can you guess which one?). So, while I have the freedom and the focus and the drive, I'm putting on my big girl panties and telling this MS who's boss.
If you like random thoughts and mixed metaphors you maybe the only person who enjoyed this post. I salute you.
Death. Lots and lots of death. And maybe a dragon or two?
(Remember the warning-- see below.)
Are you moving off Blogger? What site?
Yes, to Wordpress. Not a free blog though, a hosted website. That's part of what's taking me so long. That and the old one... grr.
Are you thinking about moving yours?