I’ll admit it: when the editor first pitched the idea for this piece, I wasn't entirely sure which "weird" story to share. Was it the time I spent an entire afternoon in someone’s attic inventorying their grandmother’s 1920s love letters? Or perhaps the evening I accidentally crashed a bachelorette party trying to get a quote from a bride-to-be about wedding superstitions? But no, the real winner—the absolute pinnacle of bizarre research adventures—was the time I dressed like a Victorian widow and attended a séance to "better understand the spiritualist movement." Yes, really.

Why did I do it? Because I wanted my novel’s ghostly subplot to have the ring of authenticity. And maybe, just maybe, because I still cling to that childhood part of me that secretly hoped one day I'd discover something otherworldly.

Spirited Research: Why I Signed Up for This Madness

You can blame Savannah for all of it. Living in the most haunted city in America does something to you, especially when you’ve spent most of your life bombarded with ghost tours, creaky mansions, and at least three people swearing they’ve seen the Lady in Gray float across Lafayette Square. Ghost stories are to Savannah what rom-com meet-cutes are to Hollywood: ubiquitous, enduring, and sometimes a little extra.

So when my editor suggested I dig deeper into the spiritualist trend that swept through the South in the late 19th century, I jumped at the chance. What better way to sharpen my storytelling chops than to channel the spirit of my Southern Gothic forebears? Enter Madame Persephone—world-renowned mystic, or so the glossy flyer taped to a coffee shop window claimed.

It felt perfectly reasonable at first. I booked a spot for her next séance, borrowed a vintage mourning dress from a costume shop, and arrived at an atmospheric parlor where the lighting was dim enough to feel appropriately mysterious and also probably hide the fact that Madame Persephone did all her shopping at HomeGoods.

A Room with Boo: The Séance Experience

Let me set the stage: the room was dripping with drama—candles flickering unevenly in wrought-iron holders, heavy velvet drapes trimmed in gold fringe, and a crystal ball perched on the world’s most ostentatious table. The other attendees, dressed in full Victorian regalia, were, I kid you not, a mix of amateur actors from the historic district and one very earnest guy named Todd who claimed he’d been haunted by his great-aunt for years.

Madame Persephone herself was a masterpiece of cliché. She practically floated into the room, trailing scarves, rings on every finger, and an accent that landed somewhere between New Orleans and Brooklyn. I was a little skeptical, but then again, isn’t skepticism part of the fun? I figured, at worst, I’d get a better sense of how to write a séance scene. At best, I’d channel something incredibly weird and publishable.

The séance began with your classic incantations. We held hands, murmured our names, and solicited the spirits beyond. Now, I’m not saying the table started to move, but my skeptical heart did skip a beat when the candles flickered just as Todd’s great-aunt "brought her presence into the room." Whether it was a draft or Todd’s dramatic exhalation, I can’t confirm. What I can say is that I learned two things fairly quickly:

  1. Mourning dresses are deeply uncomfortable, and no wonder everyone was upset all the time in the 1800s.
  2. Never sit next to Todd at events. He kept squeezing my hand like his life depended on it.

Supernatural Lessons for Real-World Relationships

Somewhere in between laughing at the melodrama and wondering if my own great-grandmother might suddenly swoop in with advice about cast iron skillets, it dawned on me that séances—like dating—are really about connections. We gather around tables or swipe through profiles because we’re looking for something intangible: a spark, an understanding, a sense that we’ve bridged a gap between one world and another.

Sure, communication with the dead might not be an exact parallel to the realities of modern romance, but let’s be honest—haven’t we all asked ourselves at one point or another, "What in the universe is happening right now, and is this real?"

Here’s what my séance adventure taught me that might actually be useful in life and love:

  • Set the stage. Whether on a ghost hunt or a first date, atmosphere matters. Have you ever tried having a heartfelt conversation under fluorescent lights? It’s like trying to feel romantic in a dental office. Choose your setting wisely—it doesn’t have to be candlelit, but it should feel intentional.
  • Be open-minded. Even if the other person doesn’t fit your ‘type’ (or your table doesn’t start levitating on command), connections surprise us most often when we stop clutching so tightly to outcomes. Trust that showing up is half the magic.
  • Trust, but verify. Just like Madame Persephone hinted that an ancestor I’d honestly never heard of had “much to say about my path,” someone you meet might say all the right things—but words need substance to back them up. Dig a little deeper before buying in wholesale.
  • Release what doesn't serve you. At the séance, Madame Persephone dramatically told Todd’s great-aunt her "business here was finished," which felt both convenient and profound. In relationships, too, we eventually learn what isn't worth clinging to—outdated habits, unrealistic expectations, or maybe, an obsession with someone who just isn’t showing up for us. Let it go.

The Takeaway: It's All About the Story

As the séance closed (complete with Todd weeping gently and Madame Persephone’s crystal ball “clouding” at the perfect moment), I realized the whole thing had been equal parts ridiculous and instructive. Did I walk away a spiritualist convert? Not exactly. But I did walk away with a renewed appreciation for leaning into the absurd, because sometimes that’s where the best stories—and the best lessons—live. Case in point: one of my most prized possessions now is an 1861 spiritualist handbook I found at a thrift store during my research phase. It has nothing to do with my dating life on paper and yet reminds me to approach the unknown with both curiosity and humor.

Adventures, whether ghostly or romantic, start with just saying yes to something unexpected. So, here’s to doing the weird thing. Run headfirst into the strange, my friend. You might walk away haunted—or just with one heck of a story to tell. Either way, worth it, right?