Hellooooooo Halloween Week, aka the week where you can only watch, read, or listen to magical and spooky things. To do my part, I’ve been watching Agatha All Along and Hocus Pocus (as one does), reading Arcane Inheritance by Kamilah Cole, and listening to Monster Mash on repeat. I’m doing my best to appreciate the season, not only because it’s my favorite time of year, but because woof, we’re living in intense times and you gotta enjoy all the things you can before they sink into the pit of doom and despair and––nope, let’s not finish that run on sentence. Instead, let me tell you why I’m here in your inbox and bubbling with appreciation and excitement.

Kirkus gave Until the Clock Strikes Midnight a STAR!!! Yeah, that Kirkus. It’s like getting a handshake from Paul Hollywood, but instead of delicious baked goods sitting in front of you that you’ll chomp on the moment the cameras pan away from you, it’s validation of a book that took nearly three years to sell and publish. Almost the same thing really. Anyway, here’s what they said:

Unmissable.

Two immortal beings compete to influence their human client’s fate and win an influential mentorship.

Darling Sparkleton is the first fairy to graduate from the Mortal Outcome Academy. Having overcome significant discrimination from celestials, Darling is excited to enact meaningful change and ready to bestow Happily Ever Afters on her mortal clients once she wins the Mortal Outcome Council mentorship. Fellow grad Calamity, a Misfortune who leads clients away from chaotic Unhappily Ever Afters toward stable Ordinary Ever Afters, is desperate to escape his hostile, neglectful father. When a clandestine mission earns him a chance at the mentorship, Calamity sees a way out. Darling and Calamity have seven midnights to influence their client, Lucy Addlesberg, the owner of a struggling bookshop. In a magical altercation, they immediately reveal their true selves to Lucy. Now they must pretend to be a couple and influence her choice through friendship rather than magic, all while their annoying—and annoyingly attractive—rival constantly derails their plans. Written in engaging prose, this enchanting cozy fantasy with adult crossover appeal has it all—creative worldbuilding, well-developed characters, and a sweet, swoonworthy romance. It balances whimsy with thoughtful, authentic bipolar disorder representation. The story, which captures the essence of Brandy’s Cinderella, features refreshingly realistic relationship development—no glass slippers here!—while honoring fairy tales’ world-changing magic and emphasizing a message of kindness and care. Darling and Lucy read Black, and Calamity is implied Black and Asian. Many characters are in queer relationships.

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That’s pretty incredible and I’m over the moon. In fact, I was out on my nightly walk (I’m currently getting 10k steps a day and wow does it improve the mood), when my editor emailed me. I stopped, read it, and squeaked. Then began to sob, which was a bit embarrassing but it was dark so people might’ve thought I was sneezing or something. I don’t know. It’s not important to the storytelling here. Moving swiftly on, I shook off the tears and gave the universe the biggest smile I could muster because…

This book caused a lot of crises in confidence. I wanted to write my first on-the-page character with bipolar disorder in a cozy fantasy. But when I wrote it, I upped the stakes because there aren’t that many cozy fantasies by Black authors in the YA space and I really can’t afford to flop. Getting deals is tough and I was (and still am) afraid that in one wrong move, I’m done. Add in that over the years, people have told me it’s hard for readers to connect with mentally ill characters, add in that fairies (not fae) conceptually feel more middle grade than young adult, and that’s a recipe for stress. Anyway, my editor read it, sent it back, and told me to lower the stakes by rewriting it the way I pitched it. Ensue panic. Ensue: what if I can’t do it?

I did, though, because I have a brilliant editor who sees me and what I’m trying to do, and gives me the space to do it by offering support and safety. She pushed and challenged me and believed in this story when I wasn’t sure I could write in a way others would like it as much as us. Yet Kirkus does. If we get no other stars or nominations, this reassured me that it’s okay to tell the story you wanted as a child, that sometimes you are a part of the audience you’re trying to reach too. That if one kid picks this up with our shared illness and feels like they can change the world, then we did it right.

When we began getting our blurbs, I thought: maybe I can enter my cozy Black girl era. When we got that Kirkus star, I thought: maybe I’m already in it. Maybe in between hustling to pay the bills and stay informed, raise a kid and take your medicine three times a day on the routine––don’t mess with that routine or else everything falls apart, it’s okay to be soft, appreciate the season, and enjoy all the things when the world is hard.

Thank you all for going on this (unexpectedly long) journey and celebrating my literary Paul Hollywood handshake :))

Thank you and until next time,

Alechia

P.S. Did you preorder?