I Have A Confession

Originally published 7/21/21

Just in case you’re a newer reader, I’m republishing this blog post here. It was my first entry when I started blogging, and is still available on my old website, but I wanted to repost it here since I reference it in my 2/28/22 post.

Happy reading, friends

I have a confession…. I was a total book snob for far too many years. Another confession… I am probably still a book snob to a certain extent. But I’m getting better. I don’t know when it happened, but I’m pretty confident it was some time in college. I wasn’t raised by book snobs. I was provided tons of books to read across multiple genres, granted access to an already abundant collection of books my parents amassed through the years. There were countless trips to the library and bookstore, and my parents never deterred me from reading what I wanted to. I survived middle & high school by burying myself in Stephen King, Dean Koontz, John Saul, and Clive Cussler novels. Even before then, I had the standard bookshelf stocked with Judy Blume, Lois Duncan, and Nancy Drew novels. I devoured the required literature readings and assignments through high school because I honestly loved to read and would read anything that held my interest, regardless of the subject. And some of it was really good. And some of it was Moby Dick (which I still have not finished a single reading of despite being assigned it at least 4 times in my lifetime). Even in college I had the opportunity to read amazing novels and short stories by relevant and contemporary authors as well as the required classics. Yet I still graduated with a degree in English and the complete audacity to judge what others wrote and read. And despite telling the students I taught through the years that reading whatever they wanted to read was perfectly acceptable, I still turned my nose up at reading certain genres and styles of literature and media.

Enter Covid-19, the pandemic, the lockdown, and the chaos of a shit-ton of free time. My brain was used to being in constant squirrel mode, multitasking between and within jobs was my way of maintaining order in the chaos. But now I needed to find something to do that didn’t require going somewhere and seeing people. Chaos Interruptus hit me hard. Not gonna lie, the first few days were the most anxious of my life, because, well, pandemic. The next few days were stressful because I couldn’t focus on anything. The brain squirrels were confused and anxious, and I was spiraling. Fast. My lifeline came in the form of a friend and coworker, who also happens to be an author. Of Romance Novels! GASP! She offered a free copy of one of her books to people looking for some mental escapism during lockdown. And. I. Panicked! My brain said, “What? No! We. Do. Not. Read. Romance. Novels! We are educated. We have a degree. 2 degrees! In English & Secondary English Education.” But a little part of my brain said, “but, what if…?” What. If??? What if what? What if someone else sees us reading it and judges us. What if people start to question my mental capacity and intelligence because of it? What if…. Ok, calm down, it’s a pandemic, we’re in lockdown, nobody is going to see me reading this novel. Now’s the time, right? What’s the worst that could happen? (News Flash: the worst thing that happened was staying up multiple nights in a row until 4am to finish the latest book I was reading and forgetting what day it was after a 10-day book bender).

It's been over a year since I reluctantly opened my gifted copy of CHANCE by Pearl Foxx. A book I finished in two days. And then reread. 24 hours after that I was a Kindle Unlimited subscriber and had already grabbed the next book in that series, and 6 books in another series by Pearl. After that I reached out to Pearl for recommendations of what to read next. I burned through at least 5 books a week for the first 3 months of the pandemic. All of them romance. And all of them paranormal. What. The. Hell? For 3 months I immersed myself in two genres I never gave the time of day separately, never mind together! But I was hooked. Obsessed. Enamored. Fascinated. Enchanted. Ok, fine, you get the picture… I was completely infatuated with these stories, characters, and authors. And I wanted more. I needed more. The pandemic was getting worse; we weren’t going back to “normal” by Easter. And I found more and more comfort in the books I was reading. They kept me from endlessly obsessively watching the news. They provided an escape from a frightening and all-too-real reality straight from the pages of a Sci-Fi novel I’m pretty sure I read during college.

Not only did I find comfort and joy in reading romance novels, I found comfort and kindred spirits in several Facebook groups created to celebrate specific authors, romance genres, and just romance novels in general. I connected with newbies like myself trying to find our way through a segment of literature I had no idea was so vast. I bonded with readers and writers over shared tropes, types, and even personal experiences. I found a community and, within it, a host of new friends I’ve become close with even though we’ve never met in person (yet- but that’s a story for another post. Check back for that one in November). I found my way back to my love of reading, a love dormant for so many years because I was quite honestly burned out on the classics. I stopped listening to my brain describe romance as horrible frivolous mind candy, and embraced the idea that mind candy is not frivolous, rather it’s the best kind of creative beauty. How many times did I tell my students to read whatever the hell they wanted; as long as they were reading and loving it, their choices were valid. Why did I invalidate my own advice so easily?

It’s been over a year since the pandemic hit my state. 16 months, actually, since I popped my romance cherry on March 16 of 2020. I’ve read over 200 different novels in that 16 months (some of those novels I’ve since read multiple times, so we’ll say 250 books read and call it even). I only read 20 novels in the entirety of 2019. My TBR has over 400 books on it and it grows every single day. I moved away from PNR to the world of suspense & military thrillers, broadening my horizons thanks to a Kindle landing page ad for Brittney Sahin’s Dublin Nights series. I navigated over to small-town and rom-coms, wandering back and forth and through those worlds as I’ve found other authors to read. What are You Reading Wednesday (a staple post in many author groups) and Saturday Night with a Book Boyfriend (a much anticipated thread in Claire Kingsley’s reader group) are the biggest contributors to my out-of-control TBR. Who better to grab new titles and authors from than people who I know already read and love the same books and authors I do. People who pass zero judgement about what I read yesterday, am reading now, and want to read next. Um, wow, there’s a nice lesson right there.

So, here I am, putting myself out there as a recovering book snob, and a developing romance novel book slut. For me, that means admitting I was horribly judgey and sitting with the time I lost out on reading some really amazing books. It means acknowledging that I was great at giving reading advice, but awful at taking my own guidance to heart. But what does that really mean for you, dear reader? It means you get to journey along with me as I read and write about not just amazing novels, but their authors, their fans, and their impact on others. You get to sit with my snarky self as I ramble about inappropriately hilarious memes, and memes that hit really close to home with their sincerity and oft-unintended depth. It means you get a front row seat on my squirrel brain insights as I attempt to breakdown and dismantle some of the stereotypes associated with romance novels, their authors, and their readers. Along the way I’ll also throw in some giveaways, including free kindle books from some of my favorite authors, and share bookworld news I’m excited about. And I want you in on the discussion, too, so please leave comments on posts that resonate with you (be kind. If you show your ass in the comments you’ll get yourself instasmacked with the ban hammer). Check out the groups & forums tabs on my site for more focused discussions of certain tropes, genres, etc. Message me with topics you’d like me to tackle in future posts. It took me nearly 50 years to figure out what was missing in my literary life, but I’m here for it now. And I am so freaking excited to have you here for it with me.

Update Nov 29, 2021: When I published this first post on July 21, 2021, I truly had no idea that it was the start of something so incredible. 4 months later and so much has changed. I just read book 250 for the year, my TBR has over 1200 books on it, I've been to my first author signing and met my Romancelandia ride-or-dies in person, I've edited my first romance novel, and the support and love I'm feeling from my bookish friends after what could have been a significant setback personally and professionally has my heart soaring with gratitude for the romance novel community. If you're reading this for the first time, thank you for spending your time with me. If this is a reread for you, thank you for continuing to support me. I am truly excited to be on this journey with you. All of you.