My Kind of Story
Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week Series
by Laura Pohl
I’ve always loved reading love stories.
There was nothing like opening a book to find a sweeping romance on its pages, love stories like I’d never seen before. Love stories that defied everything, society, family, even death. They were stories that made me fiercely believe in this powerful, unknown force. Stories that were impossible.
I never even stopped to consider that it’s what love always meant for me: something impossible.
It took me a while to understand my place while I was still in high school. Every single person was having high school girlfriend/boyfriend dramas. Everyone wanted someone to fall in love with. I did, too, because that’s what I read about. That’s what I knew.
Every love story I’d ever loved kept coming back to haunt me. I looked around as people fell in and out of love, and at the same time, I looked around me and felt nothing. I thought that people were cute, here and there, but there was nothing beyond that. Nothing of the shaky knees, nothing of that wild heartbeat, nothing of seeing someone and forgetting how to speak. Nothing at all.
After a while, I got used to it. I didn’t have a name for it, just thought it was somehow a part of me that had come out broken or malfunctioning. I didn’t really stop reading romances, but I realized that was something I wasn’t going to have. Maybe I didn’t have the right to one, maybe we were all born to a type of story and mine just wasn’t about romantic love.
The stories I wrote were a little different.
When I started writing them, I didn’t want them to be just about romances. I loved romances a lot, but that was all I got to read—every single YA I picked up there was another love story staring at me from the pages. Girl meets boy, boy meets girl. Sometimes there was the happy variation of girl meets girl, boy meets boy. Those were the exceptions which I devoured because they had something new and fresh about them.
They still weren’t my stories, not exactly.
I first heard the word aromantic while I was in university.
By then I’d figured out a couple more things about myself. I’d gotten used to identifying as bisexual, because I definitely felt some type of attraction to people of all genders. I just couldn’t place that attraction yet. I’d heard of asexual first, but that label didn’t exactly fit me. Aromantic, though, was like opening up a door to my house I knew all along, and finding all those childhood memories that I’d somehow left behind.
It’s not a word that’s used a lot. Half of the time, I don’t think I have it entirely figured out either. But mostly, it fits. It feels right.
When I started writing The Last 8, I knew what I wanted to write. For the first time, I wanted to write about someone like me. Someone who survived the end of the world and wasn’t worried about their significant other. Just someone trying to survive on their own. I wanted to write a story about friendship and family and surviving, and have none of these things be a romantic love story.
Clover, the main character in The Last 8, is aromantic, like me. She’s my type of story.
There were a lot of things that changed in the drafting process while I was still learning how to write and what to keep. I polished and revised this story many times, but one thing never changed—Clover wasn’t interested in a romance. She had a boyfriend, who she broke up with because she just didn’t feel the same way about him as he did. She wasn’t in love with him, never was.
I got questioned about it. I even had an offer from a publisher for the manuscript, with one condition—that I ended up changing the end so Clover “learned to love again”.
Those were their words. Learn to love again, as if there was something wrong if she didn’t love on their terms.
The most fascinating thing to me is that I can’t see The Last 8 as anything but a love story. It’s about one girl learning to love herself, to love her friends. It’s about the love I’ve always experienced—the love of friendship, of people bonding without romance, people willing to go anywhere for each other.
Clover loves, in her terms. In my own terms.
Love isn’t just romance. We can’t keep reading romance and thinking that’s all there is. Love takes many different forms, and we should be able to read about all of them, to write them freely and without worry. Love shouldn’t be restrained to a bond between two people and being strictly romantic. I don’t want to write books that are just about kissing. I want to write much more than that.
I still love reading love stories. But I like mine a little different—maybe they’re about a significant other. But maybe they are about family. Maybe they are about friends. Maybe they are more than just romance.
Maybe they are just about being able to love yourself.
In the end, they’re all still love stories.
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THE LAST 8
A HIGH-STAKES SURVIVAL STORY ABOUT EIGHT TEENAGERS WHO OUTLIVE AN ALIEN ATTACK—PERFECT FOR FANS OF THE 5TH WAVE
Clover Martinez has always been a survivor, which is the only reason she isn’t among the dead when aliens invade and destroy Earth as she knows it.
When Clover hears an inexplicable radio message, she’s shocked to learn there are other survivors—and that they’re all at the former Area 51. When she arrives, she’s greeted by a band of misfits who call themselves The Last Teenagers on Earth.
Only they aren’t the ragtag group of heroes Clover was expecting. The group seems more interested in hiding than fighting back, and Clover starts to wonder if she was better off alone. But then she finds a hidden spaceship, and she doesn’t know what to believe… or who to trust.
PRE-ORDER: AMAZON | INDIEBOUND
Don't forget to add The Last 8 on Goodreads!
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Laura Pohl is a YA writer and the author of THE LAST 8 (Sourcebooks, 2019). She likes writing messages in caps lock, quoting Hamilton and obsessing about Star Wars. When not taking pictures of her dog, she can be found curled up with a fantasy or science-fiction book. A Brazilian at heart and soul, she makes her home in São Paulo.
The Aromantic and Asexual Database: A Shield Against Illusions
Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week Series
by Claudie Arseneault
There is no asexual or aromantic representation out there.
Here it is. The greatest illusion of asexual and aromantic representation.
We all know lies often repeated embed themselves in our collective knowledge and pass as truth. This single sentence is what brought about the Aromantic and Asexual Characters Database.
Again and again and again, I would read these words, and they dragged on my soul. I believed in them for so long–believed that googling extensively to find stories with asexual characters would lead me nowhere, that I didn’t exist in fiction (did I even exist at all?) and that no one cared. The situation was even worse for aromantic characters. When I asked about them, I often received only recommendations for books with asexual characters with an undetermined romantic orientation. Worse, some even had alloromantic MCs! Neither really touched upon what it was like to be aromantic, except at times in passing. This knowledge sat heavy with me. It felt like the only books people recommended had been deconstructed by my community as potentially harmful, but that these were all we had, and I should be happy with it.
There is no asexual or aromantic representation out there.
Those words only ring true within a certain context. Once I started moving around indie spaces, I witnessed the effervescent creativity of my fellow ace writers, discovered their work, and it had so much ace representation! It was out there, waiting for me. So I read, and saw my experiences mirrored, over and over, sometimes strikingly different yet always familiar, connective. I did exist, away from mainstream media where the pressure of allonormativity was weaker and writers had more freedom.
There is no asexual or aromantic representation out there.
The words still dragged on my soul. No representation? Didn’t we count–we, the indies writing ownvoices stories in the shadows, baring our experiences in a wide variety of formats and genres? I knew, of course, why we didn’t make the cut: the “out there” really means “within mainstream media and traditional publishing”. Indies often aren’t treated as part of the publishing landscape–we’re never considered ‘the first’, not even when we’ve been around for years. The erasure and disdain hurt, moreso because I knew many who still believed those words, who would be discouraged by them and not search for themselves.
There is no asexual or aromantic representation out there.
It’s a pervasive idea–one that has evolved to “very little representation out there”–but gets perpetuated even today, preluding lists of examples that are too-often all trad publishing. But I’m here to tell you: there are at least 300 different aromantic or asexual characters out there, only counting prose, only counting those I’ve heard of. I have no doubt this number will grow past 400 before the year is over. While only a limited number of those are readily available in print bookstores and libraries, traditional publishing is finally catching up and that number is growing.
There is no asexual or aromantic representation out there.
There is a lot of asexual and aromantic representation out there.
And I’m here to help you find it!
This is why I created the asexual and aromantic characters in prose fiction database (“the AroAce Database”) : as a shield against that lie.
Once I had set myself to the task, I needed to decide what information I wanted recorded in the database. What struck me is that while we were all looking for representation, we’re a community with a wide variety of experiences, and none of us wanted quite the same thing. I would hear people complain about a lack of happy-and-single aroaces who firmly wanted nothing to do with sex and romance while others craved acespec representation and asexual characters in relationships and enjoying sex! Both these groups were convinced the other part of the community had it easy (they were both wrong and right; speculative fiction slants towards aroaces while contemporary and romance has a larger proportion of alloromantic and spectrum rep but few aroaces).
This led me to focus on marking specific experiences within the large communities of asexual and aromantic people. I would search for the specific ace label used, mark down romantic relationships and QPRs, kept a column for gender, etc. This way, if someone wanted an ace f/f romance, they could easily filter out everything else. I also included story length to allow people to discriminate between quick reads and long, more demanding novels. It became very easy to narrow down the search according to your own personal set of criteria.
I decided not to include disability and races–I didn’t know how to label these in categories that would remain easily searchable without lumping things I shouldn’t together and flattening complex topics, and I was feeling terribly out of my depth and lane. This is, by far, the decision I regret the most. They should have been there from the start, and going back to add these on 300 characters is a lot more work than keeping track as I went would have been. I’ve made notes of those I knew in the representation notes, but this is what my next major update is about. I’ve grown a lot over the last years, and I feel better equipped to handle this (and I have a stabler income to pay the disabled aroaces of colour to check my categorization, too).
My database has its faults, but I love it deeply and I’m incredibly proud of the work I’ve achieved with it. While maintaining it takes considerable time, it gives me an overview of the representation out there, puts me more in touch with my community, and lets me discover and promote their work in addition to mine. As time passes, it even allows me track how our stories have evolved over time. It’s an incredible tool bound to become better as time passes and I add more features to it or around it.
Things have picked up quite a lot for asexual representation in the last two years. I’m convinced 2019 will see the database break the threshold of 400 characters, and I hope the next two years will see a flourish of amazing aromantic representation as well. Because here’s the thing: 300 is a lot of characters, but it’s also not enough–not enough to cover the wide variety of aro and ace experiences, not enough to explore the intersections of several marginalizations, not enough to provide these stories and characters across many genres, in many formats, many times over. We can still do better. We must.
For now, however, one thing’s sure: there is plenty aromantic and asexual representation already out there, and I can’t wait to keep reading, recording, and writing more of it!
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Do you want more aromantic stories? Along with two other amazing arospec editors, Claudie is currently crowdfunding Common Bonds, an anthology of science fiction and fantasy short stories centering aromantic characters in platonic relationships. Check out their kickstarter!
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Claudie Arseneault is an asexual and aromantic spectrum writer hailing from Quebec City. Her love for sprawling casts invariably turns her novels into multi-storylined wonders centered on aromantic and asexual characters. Her high fantasy series, City of Spires, started in February 2017, and her latest book, Baker Thief, features a bigender aromantic baker and is full of delicious bread, French puns, and magic.
Claudie is a founding member of The Kraken Collective and is well-known for her involvement in solarpunk, her database of aro and ace characters, and her unending love of squids. She was long-listed for the 2018 BSFA Awards for her essay Constructing a Kinder Future in Strange Horizons. Find out more on her website!
Working Draft
Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week Series
by Rosiee Thor
Draft 1: I stumble through the motions of a story told poorly. It is flimsy framework, a bare beginning most of which I will tear down and rebuild. But it is written, and it is done.
No one kisses anyone in this draft. I know I’ll have to change that, because everyone tells me teens only read YA for the romance–“If they can’t ship it, they’ll skip it.” Was I not a teen once too? Who will write for the girl I was, who lied about crushes at slumber parties and danced alone in the bathroom at prom? I knew, even then I was different, but still I don’t know exactly how. So I put that girl in a corner along with this draft. This draft is for her. The next one won’t be.
Draft 2: I change everything but the opening line. It is like a funhouse mirror version of draft one, it’s like the loopy text they make you replicate to prove you’re not a robot. It barely resembles a story, with whole pieces carved away and filled with something that does not match the rest. It’s a patchwork of new ideas.
Still, there is no kissing, but there is a sexually aggressive villain who embodies everything I fear. Because that is what the stories I’ve read have taught me must be present in order to show my main character is strong.
Draft 3: Finally, this story resembles a book. There is a beginning, a middle, and an end. They match each other well enough, but still I know, given a magnifying glass, a reader will see the places I’ve sloppily glued the pieces together.
They will see how this kiss has no business in chapter seven. They will see I have placed a boy and girl beside each other like dominoes spaced too far apart, expecting Newton’s laws to do my work for me, surprised when they don’t both fall. They will see how I’ve copied and pasted the world onto my characters’ lips because I don’t know how it’s supposed to feel, because the way it feels to me isn’t what I’ve been told people want to read.
Draft 4: Everything is smoother now. Chapters no longer feel jammed together like uncomplimentary pieces of a puzzle. Sometimes I even let myself like a line here or there, as if someone else has written them and I’m allowed to enjoy them.
And still there is this kissing scene where I have thrown a boy at a girl, a mimicry of the world around me. It is unnatural, unearned. I think I know it, but I second guess myself. I erase it and rewrite the same scene over it word for word because I still don’t know what a romance is supposed to read like. I don’t know if I hate it because I’ve done it wrong, or if I hate it because somehow I am wrong.
Draft 5: I think, perhaps, it is the couple. I’ve paired them wrong, I’ve given them a relationship they would never choose for themselves. I reassess, and a girl made of pink lace and stars pours out of my fingers. I try out the word bisexual–first on the page, then out loud. It feels better. It feels closer. My characters begin to thrive under this new label, but I know I haven’t completely found myself yet.
The kissing scene remains untouched. Because it is the only way I know how to show bisexuality, to show her kiss a boy but fall in love with a girl. I hate it because I know that’s bullshit. I hate it because I know I’m bullshitting.
Draft 6: Is it really a draft if I change nothing but grammar? I know it’s not. I finally let someone else read it, someone I don’t know if I trust. I am scared because I worry she’ll see past this pretense of a romance I’ve written. I worry she’ll see me.
Instead, she tells me to rethink my villain. She’s right and I know it. Still, I keep him because I don’t know how to write a romantic happily ever after. I am afraid to write another kiss, even if this one is earned, even if this one is right. I don’t send her the rest.
Draft 7: I can’t ignore the problem with my villain anymore. I’ve been chosen for PitchWars and my mentor isn’t going to let me slide by on excuses. She tells me I have to cut him, and I cry because it feels like the only part of this story that’s part of me. But she’s right. I am too tied up in trauma to be truthful.
I rewrite the book from scratch, unravelling all the places of the narrative he’s touched. I write over the kissing scene, washing away this piece of a story I never wanted to tell, but still the nameless voices echo in my mind, telling me I must write a romance between a boy and a girl. So I become a magician, making romantic tension out of nothing.
Draft 8: My mentor tells me I’ve done it wrong. I am gutted. But I am not surprised. I have to write it all over again, and I have to do it in 16 days. I am exhausted. I do not sleep, I barely eat, I write the climax in a Quiznos on the way home from Seattle at 9pm. I finish the book at 2am and send it to my mentor.
But I like it. For the first time, I feel like even if I’ve failed again, even if this draft isn’t the one, at least it feels like me. Because this time, I ask if I have to write the m/f romance. I tell my mentor it just doesn’t feel natural, that Nathaniel wouldn’t want it even if maybe Anna might. And my mentor gives me permission to try without. She mentions the word asexual, and though I’ve heard the word before, something inside me reaches for it. It is a deep feeling, like it’s buried under a mountain of propaganda society has piled on me. I don’t know if this word belongs to me, but I take joy in erasing every ounce of this contrived romance, making room for the other to blossom, letting the word asexual fill in the spaces left behind.
Draft 9: When my agent signs me for this book, I know she’s seen that I queried it as #ownvoices for bisexuality. I know this isn’t true, but I don’t think it’s exactly a lie either. I know I feel the same for all genders, and that’s what it means, right? But still I waver on it. I wonder if she will pitch it to editors that way. I know she will unless I tell her the truth.
I learn the word aromantic and feel safe for the first time. The word asexual was a piece, but it was not the whole. Now I have them both, one carried in each hand as a type. I write Nathaniel as aromantic and asexual deliberately, this time. I don’t include the words, because I am afraid. I am afraid if I do, I will be told no. I’m afraid if I do, someone will recognize them in me and I’m not ready yet.
Draft 10: One of the first things my editor asks me on our call is what each of my characters’ sexualities are. He wants me to define them more clearly in the text. And because I’ve spent 6 months on sub being anxious and doing anything but write, I know the words, and I’m ready to claim them. I do so on the phone. I tell him Nathaniel is Aro/Ace… like me. He says he wants more of it on the page.
I write Nathaniel’s coming out scene that night. I use the words.
Draft 11: We’re getting close, I’m told. It’s almost done. Just a few more tweaks here and there. It’s time to write a new kissing scene–between different characters, in a different chapter, after an entire book building the foundation for them. I know it will be better this time, but still I am afraid. I write they words, “they kissed,” and leave them there, undeveloped this time instead of unearned. I realize I am not afraid to write this kiss; I am afraid that if I do it and do it well it will mean these words I carry in my fists aren’t mine to hold. I worry if I celebrate this queerness it will make my own less valid. But these fears are of my own making, and no one else can decide who I am.
As I reread this draft a final time, I dread the queasiness I used to feel reading the old kissing scene. I am nervous in a way I haven’t been in a long time, afraid I won’t connect to my own words. But when I read, I don’t cringe. I don’t look at my screen through the slits of my fingers. I read Nathaniel coming out, getting to claim his identity, and I read the new kiss. It makes me smile, because there I am, and there they are, and there we are. Because I did it, I wrote it, and I love it.
I finally see the arc jacket wrap for my book. My editor tells me they made a few changes to the jacket copy because they “want to draw attention to the fact that this is a story about queer characters.” I never in my life thought anyone would want to highlight that about my book. I was told over and over again that queer stories don’t sell, that aromantic stories don’t sell. I thought if my book sold it would be in spite of its queerness, in spite of my own identity, but here my publisher is telling me different. This gives me hope, because it means yes, our stories can sell; yes, our stories are wanted; and yes, our stories matter.
I don’t get another draft, and perhaps that’s okay because finally I am at peace with my own words. I think it’s true that authors will revise forever until publishing forces them to stop, and I wonder just a little bit what my draft 12 might look like or draft 13. What pieces of my identity will I uncover next? How will I learn to understand my aromanticism and how might they change the way I see this story? Sexuality is fluid. Mine will always be a working draft, and though I may not get to change this story anymore, I do get to write the next one.
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TARNISHED ARE THE STARS
A secret beats inside Anna Thatcher’s chest: An illegal clockwork heart. Anna works cog by cog — donning the moniker Technician — to supply black market medical technology to the sick and injured, against the Commissioner’s tyrannical laws.
Nathaniel Fremont, the Commissioner’s son, has never had to fear the law. Determined to earn his father’s respect, Nathaniel sets out to capture the Technician. But the more he learns about the outlaw, the more he questions whether his father’s elusive affection is worth chasing at all.
Their game of cat and mouse takes an abrupt turn when Eliza, a skilled assassin and spy, arrives. Her mission is to learn the Commissioner’s secrets at any cost — even if it means betraying her own heart.
When these uneasy allies discover the most dangerous secret of all, they must work together despite their differences and put an end to a deadly epidemic — before the Commissioner ends them first.
PRE-ORDER: AMAZON | INDIEBOUND
Don't forget to add Tarnished Are the Stars on Goodreads!
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Rosiee Thor is the author of TARNISHED ARE THE STARS (Scholastic, 2019). She lives in Oregon with a dog, two cats, and four complete sets of Harry Potter, which she loves so much, she once moved her mattress into the closet and slept there until she came out as queer. Follow her online at rosieethor.com and on Twitter at @rosieethor.
Centering Friendship in YA Lit
Aromantic Spectrum Awareness Week Series
by Ashia Monet
The power of friendship has always been one of my favorite tropes to read and write. Watching a group of strangers become lifelong friends is entertaining in its own right. Adding in the acknowledgement that accomplishing their goals is only possible through the love and trust they have for each other makes this a trope for the ages. Not only is it fun to see characters banter and play off of each other’s strengths, it is heartwarming to watch people learn to love each other platonically.
There’s a very specific beauty to the complexity of friendships—and it’s a complexity that YA could greatly benefit from.
I started reading YA when I was about fourteen. I expected this new (new to me, anyway) genre to greet me with the same emphasis on friendships and platonic bonding that middle grade had introduced me to.
I had a big storm coming.
YA seemed to rely on romantic relationships as a crutch for interesting character relationships and development. It didn’t matter if the romantic interest had even an iota of chemistry with the main character—if it was a YA book, there was a romantic subplot. And this is something that still plagues YA to this day.
Fourteen-year-old Ashia didn’t know she was on the aromantic spectrum. What she did know was that YA was presenting her with a very specific type of relationship that she just couldn’t relate to. Worst, YA’s reliance on romantic relationships made me feel ostracized. I didn’t feel the emotions these books claimed were the epitome of human interaction. This left me—a young, aromantic reader—feeling as if these books weren’t meant for me, despite being the target audience.
YA is teen friendly, but it certainly is not aromantic-teen friendly. This reliance on romantic relationships leaves a whole chunk of human relationships completely untouched, locked behind a door.
I’m not fourteen-year-old Ashia anymore (obviously). I’m in the final few months of my teenage years. And, as I make my dramatic exit out of the YA’s target audience, I’d like to ask for one thing.
I want YA to open the door.
Naturally, YA needs books about the aromantic experience. But it could also benefit from stories that are aromantic friendly. As in, stories that uplift the beauty and nuance of non-romantic relationships. It is entirely possible for a narrative to be fulfilling without featuring romance. There are many other forms of human bonds worth celebrating.
For example, it is often assumed that a narrative featuring queer characters must be in want of a queer romance. But why not have a story about a bisexual adventurer joining a group of queer bounty hunters? Why not have a story about a pansexual boy in southern California supporting his sister when she comes out as pansexual as well? (For $1000 upfront I will give you full rights to my story ideas, I accept cash and check) Limiting narratives of the queer experience to “and then they fall in love” is restrictive. Queer friendships matter just as much. It’s about time we opened the door for them.
When you’re a teenager, your most important relationships aren’t always the romantic ones. Sometimes it’s bonding with a sibling. Sometimes it’s discovering your romantic orientation and learning that you can have love in your life without having a romantic partner.
Sometimes it’s the power of friendship.
I would love to see a future for YA where the forms of love are as diverse as the characters. Where aromantic teen readers do not feel isolated by a genre that seems to doubt its ability to create interesting, non-romantic relationships. YA is in a very fortunate position to tell tons of colorful, lush stories about platonic and familial love. So, let’s open the door for aromantic stories, for aromantic-friendly stories, for stories about grandparents and siblings and cousins.
Let’s open the door for the power of friendship.
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Ashia Monet is a speculative fiction author whose work almost always includes found families, diverse ensemble casts, the power of friendship, and equal parts humor and drama. Some of her favorite things are The Adventure Zone, Ariana Grande, and the color pink. You can follow her on Twitter @ashiamonet and Instagram @ashiawrites. You can also add her debut novel, The Black Veins, on Goodreads.
16 LGBTQIAP+ Books by Black Authors
by Kaitlin Mitchell
Happy Black History Month, readers! When I wrote our February book list in 2018, it was disheartening to see how few recent LGBTQIAP+ YA books by Black authors there were. Writing this list now, I am overjoyed to see how much progress has been made in the past year. There are also several books coming out later in 2019 and 2020 that you need to add to your tbr lists and preorder ASAP. While there is still so much work to be done to improve intersectionality in publishing, I am so happy to be able to celebrate these thirteen authors for helping more teens see themselves reflected in YA literature.
Books Out Now:
This Is Kind of an Epic Love Story by Kheryn Callender
Nathan Bird doesn’t believe in happy endings.
Although he’s the ultimate film buff and an aspiring screenwriter, Nate’s seen the demise of too many relationships to believe that happy endings exist in real life.
Playing it safe to avoid a broken heart has been his MO ever since his father died and left his mom to unravel—but this strategy is not without fault. His best-friend-turned-girlfriend-turned-best-friend-again, Florence, is set on making sure Nate finds someone else. And in a twist that is rom-com-worthy, someone does come along: Oliver James Hernández, his childhood best friend.
After a painful mix-up when they were little, Nate finally has the chance to tell Ollie the truth about his feelings. But can Nate find the courage to pursue his own happily ever after?
Dread Nation by Justina Ireland Jane McKeene was born two days before the dead began to walk the battlefields of Gettysburg and Chancellorsville—derailing the War Between the States and changing America forever. In this new nation, safety for all depends on the work of a few, and laws like the Native and Negro Reeducation Act require certain children attend combat schools to learn to put down the dead. But there are also opportunities—and Jane is studying to become an Attendant, trained in both weaponry and etiquette to protect the well-to-do. It’s a chance for a better life for Negro girls like Jane. After all, not even being the daughter of a wealthy white Southern woman could save her from society’s expectations. But that’s not a life Jane wants. Almost finished with her education at Miss Preston’s School of Combat in Baltimore, Jane is set on returning to her Kentucky home and doesn’t pay much mind to the politics of the eastern cities, with their talk of returning America to the glory of its days before the dead rose. But when families around Baltimore County begin to go missing, Jane is caught in the middle of a conspiracy, one that finds her in a desperate fight for her life against some powerful enemies. And the restless dead, it would seem, are the least of her problems. Let’s Talk About Love by Claire Kann But then Alice meets Takumi and she can’t stop thinking about him or the rom com-grade romance feels she did not ask for (uncertainty, butterflies, and swoons, oh my!). When her blissful summer takes an unexpected turn, and Takumi becomes her knight with a shiny library employee badge (close enough), Alice has to decide if she’s willing to risk their friendship for a love that might not be reciprocated—or understood. This Is What It Feels Like by Rebecca Barrow It doesn’t matter what the prize for the Sun City Originals contest is this year. Who cares that’s it’s fifteen grand? Who cares about a gig opening for one of the greatest bands to ever play this town? Not Dia, that’s for sure. Because Dia knows that without a band, she hasn’t got a shot at winning Sun City. Because ever since Hanna’s drinking took over her life, Dia and Jules haven’t been in it. And ever since Hanna left — well, there hasn’t been a band. It used to be the three of them, Dia, Jules, and Hanna, messing around and making music and planning for the future. But that was then, and this is now — and now means a baby, a failed relationship, a stint in rehab, all kinds of off beats that have interrupted the rhythm of their friendship. No contest can change that. Right? But like the lyrics of a song you used to play on repeat, there’s no forgetting a best friend. And for Dia, Jules, and Hanna, this impossible challenge — to ignore the past, in order to jumpstart the future — will only become possible if they finally make peace with the girls they once were, and the girls they are finally letting themselves be. Rebecca Barrow’s tender story of friendship, music, and ferocious love asks — what will you fight for, if not yourself? Running With Lions by Julian Winters Bloomington High School Lions’ star goalie, Sebastian Hughes, should be excited about his senior year: His teammates are amazing and he’s got a coach who doesn’t ask anyone to hide their sexuality. But when his estranged childhood best friend Emir Shah shows up to summer training camp, Sebastian realizes the team’s success may end up in the hands of the one guy who hates him. Determined to reconnect with Emir for the sake of the Lions, he sets out to regain Emir’s trust. But to Sebastian’s surprise, sweaty days on the pitch, wandering the town’s streets, and bonding on the weekends sparks more than just friendship between them. Odd One Out by Nic Stone Dumped. Again. And normally I wouldn’t mind. But right now, my best friend and source of solace, Jupiter Sanchez, is ignoring me to text some girl. Rae Evelyn Chin I assumed “new girl” would be synonymous with “pariah,” but Jupiter and Courtney make me feel like I’m right where I belong. I also want to kiss him. And her. Which is . . . perplexing. Jupiter Charity-Sanchez The only thing worse than losing the girl you love to a boy is losing her to your boy. That means losing him, too. I have to make a move. . . . One story. Three sides. No easy answers. A Blade So Black by L. L. McKinney Life in real-world Atlanta isn’t always so simple, as Alice juggles an overprotective mom, a high-maintenance best friend, and a slipping GPA. Keeping the Nightmares at bay is turning into a full-time job. But when Alice’s handsome and mysterious mentor is poisoned, she has to find the antidote by venturing deeper into Wonderland than she’s ever gone before. And she’ll need to use everything she’s learned in both worlds to keep from losing her head . . . literally. The Beauty That Remains by Ashley Woodfolk Loss pulled Autumn, Shay, and Logan apart. Will music bring them back together? Autumn always knew exactly who she was: a talented artist and a loyal friend. Shay was defined by two things: her bond with her twin sister, Sasha, and her love of music. And Logan has always turned to writing love songs when his real love life was a little less than perfect. But when tragedy strikes each of them, somehow music is no longer enough. Now Logan is a guy who can’t stop watching vlogs of his dead ex-boyfriend. Shay is a music blogger who’s struggling to keep it together. And Autumn sends messages that she knows can never be answered. Despite the odds, one band’s music will reunite them and prove that after grief, beauty thrives in the people left behind. Little & Lion by Brandy Colbert When Suzette comes home to Los Angeles from her boarding school in New England, she isn’t sure if she’ll ever want to go back. L.A. is where her friends and family are (along with her crush, Emil). And her stepbrother, Lionel, who has been diagnosed with bipolar disorder, needs her emotional support. But as she settles into her old life, Suzette finds herself falling for someone new…the same girl her brother is in love with. When Lionel’s disorder spirals out of control, Suzette is forced to confront her past mistakes and find a way to help her brother before he hurts himself–or worse. Upcoming Releases: THE WEIGHT OF STARS by K. Ancrum (March 19, 2019) Ryann Bird dreams of traveling across the stars. But a career in space isn’t an option for a girl who lives in a trailer park on the wrong side of town. So Ryann becomes her circumstances and settles for acting out and skipping school to hang out with her delinquent friends. One day she meets Alexandria: a furious loner who spurns Ryann’s offer of friendship. After a horrific accident leaves Alexandria with a broken arm, the two misfits are brought together despite themselves—and Ryann learns her secret: Alexandria’s mother is an astronaut who volunteered for a one-way trip to the edge of the solar system. Every night without fail, Alexandria waits to catch radio signals from her mother. And its up to Ryann to lift her onto the roof day after day until the silence between them grows into friendship, and eventually something more . . . In K. Ancrum’s signature poetic style, this slow-burn romance will have you savoring every page. IF IT MAKES YOU HAPPY by Claire Kann (June 4, 2019) High school finally behind her, Winnie is all set to attend college in the fall. But first she’s spending her summer days working at her granny’s diner and begins spending her midnights with Dallas—the boy she loves to hate and hates that she likes. Winnie lives in Misty Haven, a small town where secrets are impossible to keep—like when Winnie allegedly snaps on Dr. Skinner, which results in everyone feeling compelled to give her weight loss advice for her own good. Because they care that’s she’s “too fat.” Winnie dreams of someday inheriting the diner—but it’ll go away if they can’t make money, and fast. Winnie has a solution—win a televised cooking competition and make bank. But Granny doesn’t want her to enter—so Winnie has to find a way around her formidable grandmother. Can she come out on top? FULL DISCLOSURE by Camryn Garrett (September 10, 2019) Simone Garcia-Hampton is a black teen born HIV-Positive. Raised by loving queer parents who assure her that her diagnosis doesn’t define her, Simone must navigate a whole new world of fear, disclosure, and radical self-acceptance when she falls in love—and lust—for the first time. Simone’s journey to share her secret while still protecting her heart is a thoughtful, compelling, and heartwarming look at the particular challenges of adolescence, written as only a teen could. HOW TO BE REMY CAMERON by Julian Winters (September 2019) Everyone on campus knows Remy Cameron. He’s the out-and-gay, super-likable guy that people admire for his confidence. The only person who may not know Remy that well is Remy himself. So when he is assigned to write an essay describing himself, he goes on a journey to reconcile the labels that people have attached to him, and get to know the real Remy Cameron. YESTERDAY IS HISTORY by Kosoko Jackson (Spring 2020) A contemporary gay teen mysteriously slips through time and lands in NYC on the eve of the Stonewall riots, where he meets a runaway whose future is in jeopardy. JAKE IN THE BOX by Ryan Douglass (Spring 2020) It’s hard being the only Black kid at a conservative prep school, especially when you’re routinely harassed by the dead. In his junior year of high school, sixteen-year-old Jake Livingston plans to make real friends, which won’t happen if he keeps retreating to a world no one else can see. But when Jake meets Sawyer Doon, he discovers a spirit too vengeful to ignore. Six years ago, Sawyer carried out a school shooting and killed himself before finishing the job. His targets are still out there, and he’s determined to possess Jake to finish what he started. The more Jake tries to ignore Sawyer, the more he feels the ghost boy’s impact on his psyche. And the more he uncovers about who Sawyer was, the more he realizes how similar he is to Sawyer–a boy once bullied relentlessly for his sexuality, now hell-bent on taking power from a world that took it from him. To protect himself from possession, Jake will have to find a voice in a school he feels he has none and discover his own reason to live. Do you know a LGBTQIAP+ YA book by a Black author that wasn’t included on this list? Tell us in the comments below, send a message to our ask box on Tumblr, or @ us on Twitter. Happy reading! 
Alice had her whole summer planned. Non-stop all-you-can-eat buffets while marathoning her favorite TV shows (best friends totally included) with the smallest dash of adulting–working at the library to pay her share of the rent. The only thing missing from her perfect plan? Her girlfriend (who ended things when Alice confessed she’s asexual). Alice is done with dating–no thank you, do not pass go, stick a fork in her, done.
Courtney “Coop” Cooper
The first time the Nightmares came, it nearly cost Alice her life. Now she’s trained to battle monstrous creatures in the dark dream realm known as Wonderland with magic weapons and hardcore fighting skills. Yet even warriors have a curfew.
We’ve lost everything…and found ourselves.
