I was thinking about it on the jeep today. Sir Los Banos said it himself--he never termed the class Young Adult Fiction--just Young Adult Writing. So, if my protagonist happens to be a slightly edited version of myself (with biases left and right, of course) then it shouldn't be a problem. I'll call her Anna Andalusia, and she'll have that wide-eyed stare, that baby-face, that embarrassing bowl cut in first year high. She'll have a vague idea of what to do with her life (drawing! writing!) and the story will end when she turns eighteen, or nineteen (a house party, a night ending in a long sigh of relief, a few twangs of her brand-new ukulele, which she plays in the darkness of the dining room) and by that time everything will have folded itself away, and the creeping sense of inevitability that Peter Pan will never ever feel will have crept in.