So why Paranormal Rom-Coms?

I can’t remember a time when I didn’t feel like the quirky side character in a 90s sitcom. When I didn’t feel like I was just a little too…much. My feelings were big, my imagination was outlandish, and I was really good at speaking with different accents so naturally my storytelling skills were entertaining (to say the least). Turns out, a lot of it was undiagnosed ADHD, but as a high achiever of course that wasn’t even in scope to think about for doctors. But I digress.

When I was young, it wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I was in the “gifted and talented” program, so it was probably okay if I was a little weird sometimes, right? I had all this whimsy, but at least I was smart, right?

But unfortunately my DNA required me to be a people pleasing perfectionist, so when someone had a negative opinion of me, that thought would latch onto my subconscious like a venomous barnacle. And I guess there was a magic age I hit when suddenly my muchness was too much for outside society. And one particular barnacle had spread its cement too deep into my psyche and latched itself on for the long haul.

I was 17 when the word “too” was attached to the descriptor “whimsical”. Like it was suddenly quantifiable due to its enormity and was no longer acceptable. I was no less intelligent than before. My goals in life were no less suitable. My work ethic was still entirely too integral to my sense of self. Essentially nothing about me had changed, except that this arbitrary marker of time dictated that who I was wasn’t who I should be.

It came from an AP Art Studio assignment – we had to start a 4 piece concentration with a unifying theme. Whatever we wanted as long as we could showcase its thread throughout the artworks. I decided to paint mythical creatures, but with a twist: everything that made them special would be converted into something mundane. I painted a mermaid, who was just a naked woman wearing flippers; a unicorn, who was just a horse with an ice cream cone taped to its head; a vampire with candy corn teeth; and medusa as just a lady with spaghetti dumped on her head. Those paintings SLAPPED.

Everyone in class loved them. They were fun, whimsical, and technically sound so there could be no reason for a bad grade, right?

Well, luckily, I didn’t get a bad grade. But I did get a one-on-one conversation couched as life advice from the teacher.

What it all boiled down to was that I was “too whimsical to be taken seriously” in college.

Those words haunted me for a literal decade. My muchness was going to be a hinderance in my life. My wonder and creativity was holding me back. Time to grow the f* up and get practical.

I mean, luckily I didn’t fully listen to that advice. But it did plant the seed of doubt it me. My confidence was shot. I was supremely aware of being quirky. I constantly worried about being perceived as dumb or childish or insert-any-negative-thing-here.

Through undergrad and grad school (for a practical business degree, of course) and into my first few years of corporate life I was constantly on red alert to ensure I wasn’t letting my eccentricity slip out too much.

But luckily, in my 30s, I’ve really grown up. But not in the way that I’m sure that teacher would have hoped.

I grew *into* myself. I realized that my whimsy, my creativity, and my wit were things that set me apart in a positive light. And that I could be silly AND serious. The two are not mutually exclusive concepts.

When I first attempted writing a novel in my 20s, I was so focused on being respectable. Being LITERATURE. Being taken seriously.

And all I can say is, thank God I shelved that story.

Because it wasn’t ME.

I am someone who wants to provide joy with my writing. I want to be serious but do so in a way that also carries comfort. I want to laugh out loud and bring a wry smile to a reader. I want to be an escape from the craziness of our modern society. I want falling in love to be the most fun thing someone experiences.

And that doesn’t mean I don’t take myself seriously. It doesn’t mean that my books don’t have messages (hello anti-capitalistic overtones).

It just means that I am whimsical. And I’m smart. And I’m serious.

And in the world we live in now, it’s not such a bad thing to find joy where we can.

Anyway, all that yapping to say: I love writing paranormal whimsical silly (but serious) rom coms and I can’t wait for you to be able to read them. I hope they transport you to exactly where you need to be.

Xoxo

Alicia