My mother is also the person responsible for my aesthetic. I am the first generation born in America on my mother’s side. I have an aesthetic, as the kids say, and I live that aesthetic to the hilt in the fashion choices I make, the movies I consume, and the books I read and write. Percy Bysshe Shelley, Phantom of the Opera, German-language musicals, Flowers in the Attic, Jacques Cocteau films, Jane Eyre, Crimson Peak, Ann Radcliffe (with whom I share a birthday). Those who know me know how I am a lover of all things dark, gothic, and Romantic (with a capital R).

It is also the most personal and most me book I have ever written. It is set in late 18 th century Bavaria and in a Germanic-influenced fantasy world populated with goblins and Lorelei. It was inspired by Jim Henson’s Labyrinth, Christina Rossetti’s Goblin Market, and the myth of the Erl-king. My debut novel has no overtly Asian elements. Roshani spoke of the tales of both her Indian and Filipino heritage she read about as a child, while Marie told an amazing story about witnessing the events of Tiananmen Square as a little girl and how that influenced the dystopian world of her novel, Legend. The albatross about my neck stirred, flapping its wings and fanning the flames of my guilt. I watched her face, shining with hope and eagerness as Roshani and Marie gave their answers. Like the three of us, this teenager was also of Asian descent. A young woman-a teenager-raised her hand and asked, “How does being Asian influence your writing?” We gave answers both earnest and glib to those who asked us where we got our inspiration, how we came to be published, what our writing process was like, until we got to the final question of the evening. After a successful panel with my fellow young adult fantasy authors Roshani Chokshi and Marie Lu, we opened up the floor to questions. The first time I truly felt the weight of my albatross was at the launch party for Wintersong.

I am an American writer of Asian descent. I smile, I nod, I continue as though I don’t feel it there, sitting as heavy as denial upon my chest as I answer questions, sign books, and pose for pictures. Most of the time, I don’t notice its weight, but whenever I speak of my book, I can feel it hanging there, transforming from an albatross to the elephant in the room everyone is too polite to discuss. Every day, I write with an albatross about my neck.

Jae jones