Flirt(52)

Now, how I took the charming restaurant scene and got to a man who wanted his wife raised from the dead at any cost—even the death’s of those Anita held most dear—well, I don’t know. Years ago when I had one or two books out, people would guess that I wrote romance or children’s books. As a petite woman, I guess they went for the packaging, but as my good friend who is a policeman says, “Packaging is not indicative of content.” Boy, that’s the truth.

I’d tell the people who thought I wrote children’s stories, as in picture books, “No, I write science fiction, fantasy, and horror.”

It was always that last part that got them. I had several people say, “But you look so nice,” as if you can’t be nice and write horror. If asked now, I say, “I write paranormal thrillers.” That seems to make people happier, and it’s more accurate for what I do, since I was mixing vampires and zombies with mystery and romance long before it was a genre of its own. But I still get asked, “Why do you write about sex and monsters?”

The only honest reply is, “You say that like I have a choice. These are the ideas that come to me. These are the ideas that have always come to me. If it can bleed me, eat me, or fuck me, I want to write about it.” Every girl needs a hobby.