What Grease got wrong, and what When Vinyl Vibes, wants to get right

There’s no denying it, Grease is iconic. The music, the fashion, the energy of it all still holds a kind of magic decades later. I grew up loving it for the same reasons so many people did: the songs that stick in your head, the glitter of teen romance, the unforgettable dance numbers. But as I got older, I began to see the things Grease got wrong, and began reimagining Grease through grace.

One storyline that always stood out to me? That Grease was the subplot of a student considering dropping out of high school. It’s not horrible. It’s subtle, maybe even a little overshadowed by the more dramatic elements, but it’s there, and it matters. That pressure, that uncertainty about the future, that feeling of not knowing if school fits you or if you fit into it at all, that’s real. That’s still happening. And Grease handled it with a surprising amount of compassion and nuance.

But when I sat down to write When Vinyl Vibes, I didn’t want to retell Grease, I wanted to reimagine. So I kept the heart of that theme, the pressure teens face to define their futures, but reshaped it. Instead of focusing on dropping out, I explored what it looks like when a girl raised in comfort and wealth suddenly faces the harsh reality of losing it all.

In When Vinyl Vibes, one of the main characters is used to her life looking a certain way. Designer labels, the right crowd, a safety net she’s never really had to question. But what happens when that net disappears? What happens when you have to keep showing up to school, to life, to your friends, but now you’re carrying the weight of shame, uncertainty, and fear?

What I wanted to explore was how poverty, or even the threat of it, changes how you see yourself. And more importantly, how friendship can step in as a form of grace. Because sometimes, what saves you isn’t a plan or a perfect solution. It’s someone saying, “You’re not alone. We’ve got you.”

That’s a kind of love story too. Maybe not romantic, but deeply powerful.

So while Grease tackled its own version of growing pains, When Vinyl Vibes takes those questions and digs deeper into how we define ourselves when the image we’ve clung to starts to crack. It’s a story about identity, resilience, and letting others walk with you through the messy middle.

Another big difference? The way romance and sexuality are handled. Grease Got Wrong, its subplot involving pregnancy scares and locker room gossip. It’s cheeky and irreverent, yes, but it doesn’t leave much room for girls who are still figuring things out, or who want to pause and reassess what the world is asking of them.

So I wrote space for that. I wrote for the girls who’ve been told that the only path is forward, faster, more. I wrote a character who realizes she can stop and take a breath. That it’s okay to want something different. That choosing stillness, or modesty, or simply asking “why am I doing this?” doesn’t make you weak. It makes you brave.

And I did my best to approach all of this with compassion. I’m not here to preach. I’m here to tell the truth as I’ve come to understand it: that real transformation, the kind that sticks, is personal. And spiritual. It doesn’t come from changing for someone else. It comes from looking inward, then upward.

So yes, Grease had its fun. It gave us summer nights and schoolyard drama and finger-snapping choruses. But in When Vinyl Vibes, I wanted to give readers something else too: a story where the music still matters, the energy still pops, but the message leaves a little more room for grace.

Because sometimes, real change doesn’t happen in a makeover montage. Sometimes, it happens in quiet prayers, honest friendships, and the courage to become who God has been calling you to be all along.

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