On Writing The Solitary Tales

            Sometimes writing is really all about letting go. And
I’ve spent a lot of time these past five years as a fulltime novelist saying goodbye.
that the dust has settled and the death count has risen and my four-book teen
series entitled The Solitary Tales is finished, I can stare at it from afar
with a bit of perspective. The fourth and final book, Hurt, isn’t out yet, so I don’t know what readers will
think of it. I only know what I’ve done. And now that it’s been almost a whole
year since I finished Hurt, I can
try to evaluate some things about this series.
of the things I know is that this really is my ode to my teenage years. That
doesn’t mean I won’t do another teen series in the future. Doesn’t mean I won’t
dissect some of those days during one of the four different high schools I went
in a weird way, The Solitary Tales are my way of saying goodbye to that kid I
knew. The lonely and sometimes awkward kid. The rebellious guy. The
angst-filled soul. The romantic and poet. The lover of John Hughes films and
Depeche Mode (okay—that guy isn’t going
away anytime soon). The teen who grew up fast yet refused to be boxed-in and
worry—The Solitary Tales are far more interesting than I am. But they still
have big chunks of me throughout them. I can’t help it. Every novelist does
that in some way. I think I found a cool balance between storytelling and
knew if I didn’t write something like The Solitary Tales, I’d eventually
forget. I wouldn’t remember being a teenager because I might have them walking
around my house, being awkward and rebellious and full of angst. I might
actually forget what it’s like.
Solitary Tales are my way of remembering.
are also my way of saying goodbye.
the best—and only—way I know how.