Today is about joy.
It’s about memories. About nostalgia. And yes, it’s about mixtapes.
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Why Mixtapes Still Matter
I’ve got a stack here of old-school mixtape inserts, ones I made myself back in the early ’90s. These are not just playlists. These are relics of emotion and craftsmanship. A mixtape wasn’t just a collection of songs—it was a message. A confession. A time capsule. A sucker punch.
There’s a whole monologue in John Cusak’s High Fidelity about how to structure a mixtape—you don’t start too intense, you bring it down, you build it back up. Whether it was something to cruise around town with, give to someone special, or cry over with clove cigarettes and Disintegration on repeat, every tape had its reason for being.
You know what’s missing in the digital age? That effort. That thoughtfulness. Sure, we make Spotify playlists now, and that’s cool—but drawing the insert by hand? Spending an hour queuing up tracks on a dual cassette deck? That mattered.
Why I’m Writing YA Romance
This all ties into why I’m writing sweet YA romance novels.
(Wait what? I know. Stick with me.)
You might’ve come to my work through my contemporary YA fiction—Party, Zero, manicpixiedreamgirl. And while I’ve always written horror (my roots, really), I’ve started leaning into romance for one very good reason:
Hope and promise.
The technical definition of a romance novel is one that ends in “happily ever after” or “happily for now.” And when I was going through some stuff—personally, emotionally, existentially—I realized I needed to write something joyful. Something that guaranteed a hopeful ending. Not because life always works out that way, but because we need stories where it does.
I discovered I didn’t need to write billionaire-shifter-
And the Drama Department series was born.
First came Stars of the Show. Then Duet, now live on Kickstarter. They’re nostalgic, they’re full of high school drama, and they’re emotionally honest. They start in the dark and end in the light. And most importantly, they’re about hope. Which is something I’ve believed in since I first heard Laurie Halse Anderson say: It is immoral to not include hope in books for young people.
I believe that with my whole heart.
The B-Side Girlies
You know what else this is about?
It’s about the “B-side girlies,” a phrase a fan of mine brought up on a recent livestream.
Those lesser-known songs on the second half of the album—the ones that never hit the radio, but hit you. Deep. And the people who respond to them.
That’s who I write for. That’s who I write about.
Zero was one of them. Still is. That book and those characters are in my bones. And the new Drama Department books are set at the same school Zero and Jenn attended. Who knows—maybe they’ll show up again.
On Nostalgia, Music, and Phoenix in the ’90s
My livestreams have become a way for me to reconnect—with you, with the 1990s, with the person I was and the people I knew back then. Last night we talked about REM, the Gin Blossoms, Nirvana, Faith No More, Mazzy Star, Queen, Metallica, Slayer, and more.
But it’s not just about the bands—it’s about what those songs meant. About remembering who we were, who we thought we’d be, and who we became.
It’s about dreaming of making out in the desert after it rains while Patience by Guns N’ Roses plays on the tape deck in your first car.
It’s about being the guy with the guitar in his dorm room and in a band, because you didn’t want to be the guy who didn’t follow through. (Robin from Gin Blossoms talks about this in an interview.)
It’s about the one mixtape you made for the girl who never listened. Or maybe she did…?
A Final Thought
We all need a little joy right now. For me, that means coming back to these stories, these memories, this music—and sharing it with you. That’s why I’m writing Duet. That’s why I’m doing this Kickstarter. That’s why I’m showing up here, talking about clove cigarettes and Peter Gabriel and So Tonight That I Might See like they still matter.
Because they do.
So if you haven’t already, check out the Kickstarter. Read the books. Share the stories. And maybe dust off your old mixtapes—or make a new one.
Let’s bring a little joy back into the world.
Thanks for being here.
~Tom
