Let’s see, firstly, you are the only person who gets to decide what kind of things you write. Not your friends, your lovers, your parents, your children. You. Other people do not even get to vote. The art you make is not a democracy, nor are the stories you tell.
Secondly, and I tell you this because you might want to tell your parents… in my relatively wide experience, the single most depressed group of writers I’ve ever run into are comedians-who-write-their-own-material and funny writers. Not all of them are troubled and worried offstage, but a lot of them are: they look sad, haunted, and they seem to worry a lot about everything.
Horror writers on the other hand, seem almost terrifyingly happy, well-adjusted and cheerful. Perhaps they get it all out onto the page. But they are easy-going folk, who laugh at jokes (writers of humour rarely laugh at jokes. They nod, when a joke is made, and say “That’s funny,” flatly) and go on picnics and are very nice company if you can overlook their occasional tendency over dinner to discuss ways to dispose of inconveniently dead bodies.
So I would write whatever you want to write, Grace, and not worry about your parents.