Owning the Romance
I've been reading a lot of romance lately. This is not news. What is news is that I'm finally starting to shrug the unapologetic shrug, smile the I-have-a-secret smile, and own the fact that I've become a romance reader. The part I have trouble with is the idea that I'm somehow a romance writer. I didn't invent this idea. A couple of my friends did, to explain why I needed to join them at an author signing event next month. An event filled with writers whose books I've read, whose books I want to read, and even a couple authors whose books I devoured with the kind of binge-reading frenzy normally reserved for full seasons of Homeland or Game of Thrones. Penny and Elizabeth, you know who you are. Or maybe not, and now I'm on a watch-out-for-that-one-she's-crazy list. I couldn't belong at that event. How could I possibly fit in? When I talk about my book, Marking Time it's a YA urban fantasy, or maybe just urban fantasy without