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[W]e know precisely why it is that women and their influence within YA fiction—their building of YA fiction—falls into the margins. We know why it is that men like John Green write Love Stories and women like Sarah Dessen write Romances. We know why it is that a World War II novel like Marcus Zusak’s The Book Thief sees much more recognition and receives more accolades than Ruta Sepetys’ World War II novel Between Shades of Gray. It’s not the quality. It’s the way the system is built that makes women the outsiders in the category of fiction they made.

Kelly Jensen, A Censored History of Ladies in YA Fiction

This is an incredible article about the work women writers have done to make YA what it is today—and how often and how HARD we work to we neglect that very important part of the category’s history—especially when we want to credit it with anything good. 

Or, as Kelly so eloquently put it, “S. E. Hinton’s story foreruns those of other women in YA fiction. While YA was allowed to grow and develop, too often, the work women did laying down the tracks to its success was recognized not on its own merits but because of the approval of their expressed work by men.”

Read the whole article here.

(via summerscourtney)

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Have some red pants fic for your monday morning:

Calendar Boy – Sherlock’s discovered some old pictures of John in red pants.

teaser below the cut

John walked in to the flat and found Sherlock with his laptop on the couch. “Nothing new?” Asked John, hanging up his coat.

Sherlock started. John recognized the guilt before the laptop was closed. In three steps he had the laptop in his hands and turned around. His eyebrows went up. “Of course you found this.”

The picture was taken maybe five years earlier. John was more fit, no scar marred his shoulder. Around his neck were his dog tags. The only other thing  he was wearing was a pair of red pants.

“Calendar shoot for charity. They decided not to use my picture.” He closed the laptop. “Is the milk spoiled again?”

“Possibly.” Sherlock wrapped his arms around his knees and watched John stalk into the kitchen.

**

The next morning John stepped out of the shower to find his ordinary pants had been replaced with a red pair. He shook his head but put them on, then his robe. He was aware of Sherlock watching him as he sat in his chair and picked up the paper.

continue on AO3

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I had a random dream this morning that John Barrowman found my fanfiction and instead of getting upset,  he started offering me character insights. Alrighty then, brain.