LATELY, I’ve been thinking about the strange relationship readers can have with an author’s work, how some of our books are eagerly picked up while others get dismissed outright. What if a story truly is more than its designated genre? This topic is not new territory; authors have engaged with it since the dawn of fiction. Anne Rice dealt with this issue for years! But let’s get into it anyway.
This last year, I’ve experienced an increase in readers who, having enjoyed my thrillers, Vindictive and Vindictive Too, message me or speak to me in person to ask when the next one is coming. And honestly, that’s wonderful. Those books mean a lot to me. I poured myself into them, and I’m proud of the stories I told and still plan to tell. The third one is coming.
But then there are my Gay Paranormal Romance novels.
A while back, while sitting around a table with several people I know, the topic of my writing came up. As soon as I mentioned that I’d just finished my latest book, I Will Always Find You, which I genuinely feel is some of my best writing, I was met not with curiosity but with outright dismissiveness by one individual. They recoiled slightly and said, “Oh, so it’s not the next Vindictive book. When’s that one coming out, then?” While I appreciated the interest in one branch of my writing, the disdainful attitude toward my current work caught me off guard.
As the months went by, I came to see that this would not be an isolated incident. I had known, in theory, that such realities existed. In practice, however, I wasn’t nearly as prepared as I believed to face and navigate them. It was a humbling lesson in understanding my own limits in confronting both indifference and spontaneous—well, contempt may be too harsh. I’ll say flippant snideness, even when a person doesn’t realize they’re coming across that way.
It’s like when you mention being vegan or vegetarian to someone who likes their meat; they often give you that look, sometimes accompanied by a mocking remark. Just the word “romance” regarding fiction can have that same effect, especially when you add the qualifier “gay.” LGBTQ+ readers can also take issue with romance fiction, but most of my encounters around this issue have not been this audience.
For non-queer readers, when it comes to romance, and LGBTQ-centred romance, especially, many assume these books
aren’t meant for them. Because the protagonists are gay/queer, with romance and sex involved, they’re often dismissed outright. It’s less about homophobia, more about the assumption that these books are intended solely for a gay/queer audience. After all, I’ve stated that these are Own-Voice gay romance narratives enough times.
Although I can’t read minds (I wish!), I say “less about homophobia” because I comprehend that these readers know all my work includes queer content to varying degrees. So, I feel comfortable saying this: it’s more nuanced than just an uncomfortableness with “the gay thing.”
To be clear, as an Own-Voice author in this genre, I draw from my own experiences and perspectives rather than writing from an external viewpoint. However, I do not believe in gatekeeping my fiction. While gay/queer men may connect with these books on a more resonant level, I welcome readers of all genders and sexualities to enjoy the story. The diverse range of reviewers for my latest work reflects this.
You know, there’s this moment of quiet disappointment I feel when someone gives me an apologetic half-smile that says, I just don’t read that kind of thing. And just like that, the conversation ends. My books, The Night Belongs To Lovers, and I Will Always Find You, get no chance to breathe, let alone become a topic of conversation.
The thing is, these books are so much more than the genre slapped on their Amazon or Goodreads pages.
In fact, with my latest, I Will Always Find You, I chased accuracy and depth through layers of mythology, spent nights researching historical eras, and obsessed over the sensory details of each location so that readers might swear they’d actually stepped into those worlds, living that history alongside my characters.
These stories aren’t just romances between men, though that aspect is beautiful and meaningful. They are sprawling, era-hopping tales full of myth, mystery, drama, and deep emotional stakes. They are love stories, yes, but they are also about survival, identity, destiny, and the choices that shape our lives across time and place.
And yet it seems the moment some readers see the words gay and romance, even M/M (if they know what that means), they immediately check out.
It’s a humbling reminder of how powerful genre labels can be: they guide readers through an ocean of texts, yet they also limit perception. Categories are meant to help readers find books, but sometimes they confine them so tightly that anything unexpected gets overlooked. A book defined as Gay Romance, paranormal or not, is suddenly assumed to be only that—nothing more, nothing deeper, nothing broader. Simplistic, quick reads, not complex and thoughtfully crafted. Algorithmically, it’s funnelled into a tiny corner of the reading world, no matter how far its reach could truly extend.
That’s the conundrum someone like me, an author of multiple genres who always uses his own name for every title (and that’s a whole other conversation), keeps circling: how to share books that cross historical drama, mythology, fantasy, and romance when some readers see only one label, and it’s one they’re wary of.
I also get it. Thriller readers especially tend to stick to thriller lanes. Jumping from grounded, gritty crime to supernatural mythology with historical romance can feel like too sharp a turn. And the romance is a significant factor in these narratives, being gay/queer romance/sex-infused. That said, my Canadian thrillers are not devoid of romance and sex, as both Vindictive and Vindictive Too include scenes between gay, bi, and straight individuals. Well, not altogether; these aren’t erotic thrillers. The sex scenes in my gay paranormal fiction are more detailed, yet they feel more stylized and intimate, as was my intent.
I wish more people understood how much continuity there actually is with my body of work. My paranormal novels still have tension, danger, mystery, and psychological depth, just with the added richness of magic, myth, and time. Sometimes, the people who might actually love these stories most never pick them up because they assume they won’t, based on the term “romance,” gay or not.
So what do I do with that?
Recently, I’ve begun to reframe the conversation. Instead of just using the term gay paranormal romance (which I’m not ashamed of, and still use, depending on the audience/individual), I’ve started saying I’ve written two gay paranormal romances with a heavy mythic-historical fantasy element at their center. Why? Because I want to highlight the universal themes, the devotion, the sacrifice, the sweeping emotional arcs. Maybe I need to show readers that these books aren’t a left turn away from what I’ve done before. They are an evolution, a widening of scope, a deepening of craft.
And maybe, just maybe, part of the solution is simply talking about it, naming that frustration, and
offering an invitation. Because if you’ve liked my Canadian thrillers, the suspense, the atmosphere, the sense of place, there’s a good chance you’ll find the same craft, the same heartbeat, and my same emotive and descriptive writing style, in The Night Belongs To Lovers, and especially in I Will Always Find You. And perhaps readers will discover something new they didn’t realize they’d love.
I genuinely believe gay/queer romance-led stories can be mythic, sweeping, and epic, just as much as they can be thrilling and gritty. They deserve to roam across time and genre without being boxed into a single category. And I believe readers, many of them anyway, are more open to trying new fictions than the algorithms give them credit for.
So if you’re one of the readers who have enjoyed my Canadian thrillers, Vindictive and Vindictive Too, consider this a gentle nudge. Step into something unfamiliar with me. Let the mythology unfold, let the rich history breathe, let the romance surprise, delight, and even excite you. You might find something waiting for you there, something unexpected, something beautiful, something epic. And who knows, you might discover that your new favourite book is actually one not in your go-to genre.
