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I love YA, and it's been a really good fit for me. But at some point, I would like to try something else: a collection of short stories, or writing about something other than high school. A lot has happened to me since I was eighteen.

Sarah Dessen

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Sarah Dessen
Age: 54
Born: 1970
Born: June 6
Novelist
Writer
Evanston
Illinois
Something
Happened
Really
High
Good
Point
Eighteen
Would
Else
Collection
Love
Stories
Collections
Like
School
Fit
Writing
Short
Trying
Since

More quotes by Sarah Dessen

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I wondered which was harder, in the end. The act of telling, or who you told it to. Or maybe if, when you finally got it out, the story was really all that mattered.
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Sometimes. It was a good escape. Until, you know, it wasn‟t.
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Yeah. I mean, acknowledging is easy. Something happened or it didn't. But understanding... that's where things get sticky.
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With love like that, you can't get pick about how it finds you or the details. All that matters is that it's there. Better late than never.
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None of it meant anything, and all of it was important.
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I turned and looked into the gas station, where Wes was now paying, as the man who'd driven us looked on. That's too bad, I said. It's okay, though, she assured me. Someday I'll show you an extraordinary boy, Macy. They do exist. You just have to believe me. Don't worry, I said. I do.
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I always wrote about girls that went to the beach and had that summer that changed everything. So I was interested in what it would be like to live in a tourist town where everyone has these life changing experiences, but your whole life is there.
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The language of solace, and comets, and the girls we all become, in the end.
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All the bitchy girls in the world are just a training ground for what men can do to you.
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And don't change for a guy, ever, Leah added. If they're worthy, they'll like you just the way you are.
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Which is completely out-of-line behavior. Then you are wholly within your rights to stomp on their foot. No, Delia said, over her shoulder. Actually, you're not. Just excuse yourself as politely as possible, and get out of arm's reach. Kristy looked at me, shaking her head. Stomp them. she said, under her breath. Really.
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It was like discovering that some part of you wasn't yours at all. And it made me wonder what else I couldn't claim.
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Once, I was easy. Now, I was choosy. See? Big difference.
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Don't think or judge, just listen.
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How do you even begin to return to someone, much less convince them to do the same for you? I had no idea. More than ever, though, right then I had to believe the answer would just come to me.
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It was hard to remember what the yard had looked like even twelve hours before, undisturbed and pristine. Like it takes so little to change something, but to make you forget the way it once was, as well.
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It's always very pure, that last moment before an ugly, unsettling truth hits someone. The most stark of before-and-afters.
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When you've never gotten love from someone, you don't know what it might look like if it ever does appear. You look for it in everything: any bright light overhead could be a star.
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As if he was beating me to the punch, his words living forever, while I was left speechless, no rebuttal, no words left to say.
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And that was it. All this buildup to a great leap, and I didn't fall or fly. Instead I found myself back on the edge of the cliff, blinking, wondering if I'd ever jumped at all. It's not supposed to be like this.
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