Sorry. No Blood Suckers.
It’s only natural that my debut novel, Curse Me Not, should fall into the genre that I read the most and like the best—paranormal romance. What’s unnatural, however, is the novel doesn’t involve any of the usual elements found in the genre. Not a one. In fact, to some “PR” lovers, I may have committed a sacrilege.
For instance, Curse Me Not manages just fine without any of the following:
a vampire, whether good or evil, teenage or daddy of ‘em all
a werewolf or other furry shape-shifter who just happens to make hairy look good
a witch with bodacious boobs or a wicked laugh
a fay creature such as fairy, sprite, elf, faun, brownie, nymph . . . uou know, the usual suspects.
a ghost, spirit or banshee (Well, come to think of it, one of my characters does sort of qualify as a banshee in a non-paranormal sort of way.)
a god or mythic being (C’mon! If a real Atlantean had lived for every Atlantean written about, well, it would explain why Atlantis sank.)
Seriously, folks, I haven’t broken any law by bringing a new twist to PR. After all, the genre is a subset of “speculative fiction.” To quality as PR, Curse Me Not just has to boast an element—In addition to romance—that’s outside the “real world.” The element I’m talking about is not auras. I’m not ready to say auras aren’t “real.” Nor am I talking about “curses.” No way would I dismiss the efficacy of those on some people out there.
No, the truest PR element found in Curse Me Not is Elzetta herself, a prematurely menopausal woman who can see auras and clean away curses—a bodywasher. She doesn’t kick ass, she’s flawed and she’s way past her teens.
Come to think of it, maybe an “Elzetta” really is out there somewhere.