The Beat Generation makes my novel thus far, "Matches" look like petulant, falsely introspective bullshit. Okay, yeah I'm only 19 but I'm still not cutting myself any slack. I need to focus more on humanity and less on trivial, chick-lit elements like one-liners and immature humor. Sex is always a necessity, but I need infinitely more profundity embedded in it. Although, honestly, I have the rest of my life for deeper meaning. The more you live, the more you know, the more you learn, primarily through experience. Well ONLY through experience, or in other words, the harshest of teachers. 
One of my friends said that "Matches" reminds her of "Mean Girls" and I was like "Oh great!" I was not going for that---imitation. Originality is tough. Sure, Mean Girls is a cultural phenomenon. Boys and girls across the nation can quote it effortlessly and Tina Fey is a bonafide genius but I want to produce a more serious work. My second novel will be more so. We'll just have to wait and see what comes up at that point, only time will tell. I will take it as it comes. But for now, I have a long way to go with perfecting "Matches." 
I need some direction. I am so very stuck at the moment, at a point where my main character, Jane, is talking about how she strolls past this rather eerie house down the block from her after school all the time. Where on Earth was I fucking going with that? Was I going to discuss her and Edna's tomfoolery more? I don't know. I'm so stumped. Over Thanksgiving break, I'll be on the grind. Back to the drawing board. I'm going to read what I have thus far over and over and over till the lightbulb goes on. I'm going to not try hard to be more profound and reflective and ponderous because then I'll really sound like a phony, I'm just going to go about doing it the stream of consciousness way and see what goes down.