On Millennial Cringe and Combating the Glorification of Small-Town Romance
An interview with author and historian Nellie Wilson
You know those once-in-a-lifetime moments when you find out a celebrity is just as cool and kind in real life as they seem on screen? That’s how I felt interviewing today’s guest, indie romance author and devoted historian Nellie Wilson.
Nellie was gracious enough to chat with me for TWO WHOLE HOURS, and while most of that convo will be locked in the vault forever, after a great deal of effort, I managed to condense our 60-page transcript down to a few thousand words.
And now you get to join the fun.
Keep scrolling for the full Q&A and head over to Instagram tomorrow, where we’ll be hosting a joint giveaway! You won’t want to miss it.
Now, let’s talk shop with the one and only Nellie Wilson.
An Interview with Nellie Wilson
(Note: All links, where available, lead to Bookshop.org. If you make a purchase, you’ll support local, independent bookstores, and I’ll earn a small commission as an affiliate. It’s a win-win!)
Alyssa: Hi Nellie, tell us about yourself! How would you describe who you are and what you do?
Nellie: I am a historian by day and romance author by night. I lovingly refer to myself as “midlist indie.” I am so grateful for my readership. I may not be pulling in Elsie Silver money, but I am pulling in Canva Pro money.
I'm originally from small-town Appalachia, right on the border of Pennsylvania and Ohio. I currently live in San Diego, California, which could not be any more different. I literally live in a blink-182 video sometimes.
I'm also a proud Millennial. I want to write for and about our generation because I feel like we are very misunderstood. We were getting sh*t on for buying avocado toast and not being able to afford houses and just living through dozens of unprecedented times, and then I feel like—all of a sudden—everything took a hard-left to Gen Z.
I just feel like there's this gap where I'm like—why is everyone 27 in a romance novel? I know that's part of the convention. I get it. But 30-year-olds are interesting, and we also have fully formed prefrontal cortexes.
Alyssa: I’m definitely noticing the discourse around Millennial humor being “cringe.”
Nellie: But here's the thing—to be cringe is to be free. There’s something beautiful about being the bridge generation because we knew the before-times, before the internet.
We learned social media, uploading 40 photos every night, and it was great. I look back at those photos and see how happy we were. We weren't being policed in the way that Gen Z is.
When I was teaching, my students were always worried that someone was going to make fun of them because the internet is mean. Millennials are like, “Okay, cool, whatever.” Like, I lived through 2009 when they called Jessica Simpson fat. Come at me, bro.
(Editor’s note: In case your brain has deleted that hellish memory, Helen Avery has an explainer video below.)
Alyssa: So, what got you into the romance genre, and what were the pivotal texts that made an impact on you?
Nellie: I was a secret romance reader my whole life. If you pulled out all my YA novels, they would be cracked open to where they kiss. I was a dorky kid. I learned later that I'm neurodivergent, so I didn't understand how to be a person. And those books taught me.
One of my pivotal texts is The Face on the Milk Carton by Caroline B. Cooney, which is not a romance at all. It's about a missing girl who looks at the milk carton one day, and she's like, “That's me. I am not my parents’ child.” But I distinctly remember her and her boyfriend getting a hotel room and almost having sex. And that was scandalous.
Then I'm reading Twilight and Gossip Girl while being in my freshman year class, saying, “Oh no, I would never touch those books. What are you talking about?”
I spent a long time not reading popular fiction. I was an academic and wanted to hide my background. I wanted to read the canon. Then COVID hit, and I could not read anything that wasn't happy. So I did the super autistic thing, which is: if I'm going to read romance, I'm going to read all of it. I threw myself into the genre.
The first series that really made me fall in love with romance is Penny Reid's Winston Brothers series. It's six brothers, and they're Appalachian, living in Green River, Tennessee. It was the first time I went, “Oh, wait. They're not portraying them like dumb hillbillies. Like these men do yoga. They talk about their feelings.”
Alyssa: What are your favorite romance subgenres, and why?
Nellie: Because I am a historian, I'm very particular about my historical romance. I DNFed one that everyone loved because it used “ego” in the Freudian sense about 40 years before it would have been published in English. I don't love wallpaper historicals, which is where you take a contemporary story and throw the characters in petticoats. That's not interesting to me.
I am a woman. I am queer. I exist in a body that has chronic disabilities. I'm mentally ill. In historical romance, you get to see how people had even more confined expectations and norms and still found love, still found joy, and still could rail against the system. I think that's really cool.
I also like cozy fantasy romance. I want witches in the contemporary world and vampires that are down the street from you. One of my all-time favorite comfort reads is The Ex Hex by Erin Sterling. They're just silly witches who make out in the library. Why would I not want this?
I do love an alien romance and a monster romance. Especially if they're more politically minded, like using the Other to discuss a particular issue. I'm back reading a lot of Ruby Dixon because I can't be on this planet sometimes. You've got these 7-foot-tall blue aliens who have created the most inclusive society on a frozen planet. It shows these beautiful possibilities.
Alyssa: And what about your favorite romance tropes?
Nellie: Anything forced proximity. It's my favorite thing in the world. I am a massive defender of instalust-to-love if they realize that it makes no sense. Especially if they're adults. I don't want to read about 22-year-olds in instalove because that's just being 22.
I love an enemies-to-lovers. I can't read it often in contemporary because it feels like he's just mean, and I exist with enough mean men in the world. I don't want them to have a redemption arc sometimes.
I love fake dating, especially if you can make me believe it. Marriage of convenience is so hard to pull off in contemporary, but I love it in historicals. I eat it up.
I eat up any type of opposites attract, especially if it f*cks with convention. In historicals, there's nothing I love more than when there's the rake who is the sex god and then the weird girl who's like yammering on about her special interest, and he's like, “I don't know what you're saying, but I think I love you and I hate it.” That's what I want every single time.
Alyssa: Let’s talk about small-town romance. How do you define it, and would you say you write it?
I define it as a romance that takes place in a small town. I don't think that's how most of Romancelandia defines it. I think most people define it as quaint little towns that can somehow support seven coffee shops and four independent bookstores. They have some big festival or parade for every single holiday, and the school is well-funded, and the parks are clean. It's just Stars Hollow, and I was never a Gilmore Girls fan.
These are people who have never actually been to a small town that isn't a tourist destination. These are people who go to Marin, Carmel, or some cute little coastal town in Maine.
I am a fierce defender of flyover country because I'm from a small town, and I would read these books, I'd be like, “No, not at all.” In the same way that I sometimes read books that take place in cities I lived in, and I go, “Did you even open Google Maps at all?”
(Alyssa and Nellie proceed to take a two-minute tangent on California highways like we’re on an SNL skit)
Alyssa: Why do you think romance glorifies small towns?
Nellie: I think a lot of romance is escapist and idealistic. I can understand why people want escapist fiction. I get it. The world is a hellscape.
What I always found empowering about more realistic and grounded romance is the same thing I like about historicals. In spite of these not-ideal situations, people are finding love and joy, and that is rebellious.
I also think a lot of romance novels glorify small towns because a lot of people live in crappy small towns, and it would be great to imagine that your town wasn't. In the same way that a lot of romance novels are set in California. People idealize California and forget that the Inland Empire and the Central Valley are also California. I say this as someone who moved here, being like, "Oh, it's all like The OC, right?"
There's this glorification of, “I can get rid of all these other problems, and then the only thing I need is someone to love me.” I can't get down with that for a few reasons. I don't believe that a happily-ever-after (HEA) should just involve the romantic partner. I want someone to be happy with their friends, with their body, with their job, with their city. All of that is part of an HEA. It's not just about the romance.
I'm not saying I only read challenging, political, difficult romance. I love a fluffy romance too, but I think fluffy can be serious. In this current climate, especially, we need to think critically about what we consume.
In the same way, we should think critically about the TV and media we consume. And I'm not saying that I didn't turn around and watch The Secret Lives of Mormon Wives. 100%. But I also like yapping with my friends about its messages about femininity and purity and what that means.
There's no ethical consumption under capitalism. But if you're looking at which books go viral, which authors go big, who gets the publishing money, which indie authors get picked up, which ships of fanfiction get republished, it is straight. It is white. It is not pushing at any of these boundaries or challenging any norms or conventions. And I think that really sucks sometimes.
Alyssa: What is missing from small-town romances that you wanted to include in Steel My Heart?
Nellie: Queer people. I always joke that every hillbilly knows lesbians, but they don't know it. They’re always like, “Oh, no. They're just two besties. They live together, and they died within five minutes of each other, and they share a bed. Weird.”
What else is missing? I didn't want the ending of Steel My Heart to be, “and everything's beautiful.” These are generational issues that are intentionally done to disenfranchise entire swaths of the country. They're not going to be fixed overnight.
I don't feel like I'm the person to write this, but I would love more stories about addiction and recovery in small towns, especially around the opioid epidemic. I think we are also missing a lot of stories about 18-year-olds who went off to Afghanistan because they had to pay for college.
Alyssa: What do you want readers to know about real rural America?
Nellie: I think we have to get a little bit more comfortable with making some strange bedfellows. And I know it's easy to say online, right? However, I've noticed over the last two years that I've seen it more often, where people say, “Well, you said one thing I don't like, so I'm writing you off forever,” instead of, “How can I open up space for this?”
And these are not things like saying genocide is okay. We're not saying that. I think we have to be willing to engage in conversation. I can tell you that there are people in Steel My Heart who probably did not vote the way that you and I voted. There are probably people who didn't vote. And we still have to live together in this country and in communities.
What I want to show in Steel My Heart is how you can still live in a small town even though it hurts. It’s still your home even when it speaks against you. You don't want to give up on it.
I'm not the kind of person who's going to move out of America because I don't like it. How can I stay and make my community better? How can I build my support system? How can I make schools safe for queer kids? How can I make a difference?
A lot of my books are about really soft, tiny moments. We all think that protests have to be big and in your face and in the streets. And sometimes the most progressive thing you can do is surprise someone.
I'm not going to pretend that life in Appalachia is all fun, jam band, bluegrass songs. It's a hard life for people. It doesn't mean they're not human. And it doesn't mean that they don't have a common humanity that makes them deserving of a good life. When people write off entire regions or entire voting patterns, that feels like dehumanizing, and I don't want to do that.
The most progressive thing about romance is its potential to humanize groups that have been othered. Diversity in romance doesn't just mean race. It also means class, ability, and life experience. What's beautiful about romance is that, in the end, we all just want to be accepted.
Alyssa: Are there small-town romances you recommend that subvert the genre? Conversely, which books do you love that celebrate the big city?
Nellie: Other than Penny Reid’s Winston Brothers series, here are my small-town recommendations:
Eliza MacArthur’s Soft Flannel Hank is a really delightful small-town paranormal romance. She describes it as where the guy pumping your gas might be a werewolf.
Jess Hardy’s Wish You Were Here—I cried through 45% of it. It begins with a couple breaking up because he relapses, so you have conversations that are very real.
I've been reading a lot of Beverly Jenkins, who is the queen of Black romance for a reason.
I really loved Rosie Danan's Fan Service, which does a wonderful job of showing how fandom can be a lifeline when you grow up weird in a small town.
I go back every year and reread KD Casey's Unwritten Rules series, which are three queer baseball romances. There's a sober character, there's a recently out character, there's a character with OCD, there's second-chance, there's everything. It is a love letter to baseball, but it does not shy away from problematic aspects of the sport, which I think a lot of sports romances do.
Megan Cousins’ Wild Pitches series is specifically about women in baseball, whether they're coaches, broadcasters, or journalists. It isn't afraid to talk about how it can suck to love sports and know that sports don't love you back.
And then, as far as books that celebrate a city:
Cat Sebastian's We Could Be So Good is a love letter to New York City and sh*tting on Robert Moses. So I love it.
Denise Williams’ Airport Novellas series is really delightful because I also love airports, and it's just something that feels very hustle-and-bustle about it.
One on One by Jamie Harrow is a good college-town romance, as the characters both work for their alma mater. I thought that one was really, really powerful.
Betty Corello’s 32 Days in May is a love letter to the Jersey Shore, which is awesome.
Mallory Marlowe’s Love at First Sighting is about a paranormal investigation show that visits weird, funky sites in LA. He believes, she doesn't. They did a good job going to the Queen Mary and the Cecil Hotel—like you can tell she lives in LA, which is nice.
Alyssa: On this Substack, we like to get grumpy and share our hottest takes. What’s making you grumpy about the publishing industry right now?
Nellie: I think it’s the survivor bias in publishing. With American individualism, if you're not succeeding, you think it's your fault. I think the scary thing with algorithms and publishers and readers’ tastes changing so quickly is that the algorithm can change. 2015 was the era of the motorcycle gang romance. Everyone was in a motorcycle gang. I haven't read one of those in years, right? Hockey is dying now. What happens if that was your whole brand?
After I published Steel My Heart, I was having a full-on mental breakdown. I went into my favorite used bookstore in San Diego, which sells mass-markets, and I looked at the shelf. I want a Lisa Kleypas career. I want a Beverly Jenkins career. Do I love those authors? Yes. Does every book hit? No. But there are also songs by my favorite band that I skip.
How can I publish books sustainably? That's my new goal. And the biggest part was going, “Okay, I'm cutting all the sh*t that everyone told me I should do. Sorry. No more preorders, no more ARCs, no more custom art unless I can afford it, because I pay artists what they should be paid. I can't have every single thing and be a human. I can't be on TikTok and Instagram and Twitter and Facebook and Pinterest.
Like so many indie authors, I'm guilty of falling into this trap of, “Well, it's working for them, so it should work for me,” instead of asking what I can do realistically.
Niching down also means building your community. The one thing I can say for certain about my online presence is it's going to be me. There's no artifice, no bulls*t. And that's going to piss a lot of people off, but the readers I have are phenomenal. They are ride or die. They are amazing.
Alyssa: Now, let’s end with your moment of sunshine: what have you loved reading, watching, or doing lately?
Nellie: I’ve been watching The Pitt because it's amazing. If you want a medical drama that doesn't shy away from real issues, it's phenomenal. And Noah Wyle aged like a fine wine. It’s also got great autism rep in that show. So I've been enjoying that.
Josh Johnson is a stand-up comedian I’ve been watching. It's so cool to be watching someone who is so in their bag and see them grow. It's also the way I can tolerate the news.
This year, I also had a goal of watching all the Miyazaki films. Every one makes me cry for a different reason. I just watched Kiki's Delivery Service, and honestly, I think it's been one of the most effective things in curing this round of burnout.
There’s also an amazing movie podcast called What Went Wrong, which has made me love watching film again. So, that's my last recommendation.
Alyssa: What’s next for you? What are you working on right now?
Nellie: I'm working on something to query, but that’s all I’ll say for now. When I’m ready to share more, my readers will be the first to know!
Alyssa: As someone who’s pulled back from social media, how can people keep in touch with you?
Nellie: My Substack is probably going to be the best place going forward because, again, I like conversations with nuance. I still check my Instagram, but I just don't want to be the person who just scrolls, you know.
Alyssa: What else haven’t we discussed that you want to make sure gets included?
Nellie: I want to put in a plug for people to read backlists. Just because something was released three or four years ago doesn't mean it's no longer interesting. Some of my favorite books are not recently published.
It's one of the reasons I pulled away from reading ARCs. I deleted my NetGalley account because I hated feeling like I was always behind, even if I read the book the day it came out. It didn't feel fun.
There's nothing better than finding an author and being like, “They've got six books. I get to inhale all of them.” And going at your own pace. Reading shouldn't feel like a competition. It shouldn't feel like homework.
I think a lot about this interview with Kevin Smith, where he said, “I spent my 20s and my 30s yelling about everything I hated, and now I'm spending the rest of my life yelling about things I love.”
Yelling About What We Love
Nelllie and I have so much in common, it’s scary, and I’m so glad she took the time to share what she loves most. If you’re a fan of the Glam Fam series, you’ll fall in love with Nellie’s books too.
Be sure to enter our Instagram giveaway tomorrow for a chance to win signed paperbacks of Love and Paklava and Steel My Heart. They’re the perfect twosome to depicting romance in real small towns.
Are there other authors or bookish folks you’d love me to feature in a future interview? Drop your suggestions in the comments below!
As a millennial, I relate.