Bad analogies aside, having a few archetypes to start from isn't a bad idea. There's a reason the same backbone exists underneath all manner of stories in a genre. When a formula works, people mass produce it, each with their own slight spin on the original. If you want to branch out and be unique, you first need to know where to start. If you're intention is to get a book sold, find a fun new perspective on a proven model and you have a guaranteed fanbase.
With that in mind, I want to kick off what will be the first in a non-sequential series called "Write by numbers," which I'm sure has itself been done before. The idea is to provide a base template, the raw stock of a good genre fiction for new writers looking for a starting point. Today's topic? Romance.
First, a clarification: what you generally see in the "Romance" section of any bookstore is only one type of romance fiction. It's typically melodramatic overly poetic thinly veiled smut, and it sells like crazy. If you're interested in that type of romance writing, you should know two things: 1) your plot matters less than the air-brushed abs of the male model on the cover, 2) you will need an entire thesaurus, Grey's Anatomy and two other languages to avoid repeating the same three words for genitalia. Make peace with that truth and you have a lucrative career ahead of you.
But today I'm talking about the other type of romance: the classic love story. It exists at every age, in every setting, between every kind of people you can imagine. Comedy, tragedy, tracheotomy, you name it. Romance is so common a theme it gets thrown into any other story sideways like a spare carry-on bag in an overhead bin. But when the romance is your story, a different set of rules apply.
Romantic comedy and romantic drama are not as distinctive as you might think: a good love story has plenty of both to give it legitimacy. All that changes is how it ends. But we'll get to that in a bit. First, the elements of any good love story:
- A lead (one half of the fated pair)
- A target (pejorative flavor aside, call a spade a spade)
- A series of nearly insurmountable obstructions
- A fortunate collision
- The consequences and aftershock of said collision
- The final triumph
In the next 1000 words or less, here is how to use the following model to write your own romantic love story, for good or ill.
The Lead
The main character in a romance is nearly always an unfortunate everyman. Whether by personal flaw, misunderstood genius or sad circumstance, the hero or heroine is alone, with no clear path toward recompense. In a comedy, the personal flaw or misunderstood genius is the most common avenue: your character is clumsy or reckless, which serves to stir up a great deal of noise and fuss to shroud the otherwise heroic qualities underneath.
In a drama, the sadness tends to come from outside. Death is a great starting point for a romance, and I don't say that just because I love killing beloved characters. If you begin a story with loss, it sets up both a greater rise to the heights of romantic bliss to come and a memory to harken back to when things take a sudden turn for the worst near the story's end. But more on that later.
The misunderstood genius is obvious at once to the audience, but the surrounding characters have no respect out of some bizarre or archaic set of social mores. If your target is to be a stand-out and unique member of this same society, it may be important to make the genius also a clutz, or simply reckless enough to struggle early in the story, so that even the one enlightened member of the backwards village doesn't see their shining qualities too quickly.
Bear in mind, when we laugh at a hapless hopeless romantic, we're laughing at ourselves. That means your main character has to be both flawed enough to connect with an audience that knows what it means to strike out while also being likable enough not to drive the reader off before they begin to turn the corner. You may have to kick a character you love in the dirt a few times to maintain the balance. Be prepared to give them room to grow. That doesn't mean just becoming accepted: if these characters are going to work, they have to make sacrifices, too. Just remember what they can't give up.
There is one other type of hero in a romance: the jerk-in-a-bind. The jerk is someone socially or even morally reprehensible (or at least questionable) who winds up by some quirk of fate bound to a close, personal relationship with the target. The Dare is one classic example, although Trapped Together comes into play quite often as well. For details on both, see the "Worlds Collide" section below.
The Target
Okay, so I could have picked a better word, but neither "love interest" nor "conquest" feel any truer or less offensive. For one reason or another, either the character is aimed at another soul in the story or the audience has a clear favorite for when the romance element kicks in. Either way, there is a point at the end of that road, and this is it.
I have one rule for the target: give them all three dimensions. Three shall be the number of the counting, and the number of the counting will be three. Plastic, one-dimensional tower-maidens are insulting to your audience and society at large. If you're going to aim your hero at another character, make certain there's a reason not only for the character to love them, but your audience as well. That goes beyond gimmicks or sad circumstances. Your target has to have hopes and dreams, and this is important: those hopes and dreams must be ignorant of the hero's own existence.
Use those wants and desires to flesh out an otherwise trophy character into something more believable. Aspirations and perspectives don't have to be unique for your target character (that's the hero's job here), go with something simple: getting out of their small rural town and seeing the world, becoming a successful artist, performing on stage at Carnegie Hall. Make it a dream the hero can push them towards in their own unique way, even if they never quite get what they were expecting.
Alternatively, you can turn the trope on its head and turn the target into a surprise counter-suitor. I like to think of it as the ninja reversal: the unattainable love the hero has pursued makes the first move, typically just as they were about to give up the chase. It's a wonderful twist that has yet to be overdone and will be a pleasant surprise to long-term romance enthusiasts eager for something fresh. It's also a wonderful pivot point for humor, or a way to restore a great deal of humanity to a target that's in danger of losing it. See "social boundaries" below for more details.
This post is becoming so self-referencing I'm considering turning it into a choose-your-own-adventure book. If you wish to learn about boundaries to the otherwise obvious romance, turn to page 93. If you wish to follow the black knight...
What Lies Between
Internal or external, something is getting in the way of these two characters shagging like rabbits. It may be more than one something, so feel free to mix and match as you see fit. The most common elements are:
- Societal boundaries (Class, race, religion, chosen profession, species, etc)
- Social boundaries (a "4" dating a "10" is a common example, as is a rival suitor)
- Physical boundaries (distance, warring nations, one part of the couple being dead, etc)
- Personal boundaries (clumsiness, inflated sense of self-worth, previous/existing relationship, etc)
- Bad luck
That said, there are cautions to be taken with the various types of boundaries: bringing in society and its taboos risks the book becoming trite or preachy. If you try to avoid this by inventing new mores to fit a fictitious society, chances are your readers will readily draw lines to real-world parallels. Be sure to use these elements as a backdrop and an influencing factor. If they are all that keeps two lovers apart, congratulations: you just wrote Romeo and Juliet. Again.
Social boundaries are a good fit for most youthful romances, especially in the high school age range. That said, if your target is aware of his or her social worth, don't let it define them too richly: your audience needs to like the target as much as they like the hero in the end. They'll stomach an uppity target a little longer than a loathsome hero, but they won't tolerate it forever. Be sure to drop hints that there's more to the target than their social status, or the reader may start to wonder why the hero is bothering at all.
Physical boundaries can be great. They lend towards questing, travel and adventure. As a further bonus, your pair can be in love from the start, torn apart by factors beyond their control until one of them decides to tell reality where to shove it and try to close the gap between. This can be a delightful direction for sci-fi and fantasy especially, where a magical curse, a bodiless A.I. or the chance to return from the dead are all believable elements.
Personal boundaries help to round out any of the others. If your target is a stand-out member of an otherwise simple or blinded social mainstream, you can't always count on social or societal factors to keep them apart. Having a good-natured protagonist suffer under her own awkwardness early in the story can buy you time (as well as a host of comedic fuel) as you work to suck the readers into the tension you're building.
Worlds Collide
Sooner or later, despite all obstacles, your lead and its target are going to come together. This is the moment most fans of romance come to see. There's a hopeful insinuation in the often random happenstance of the two characters seeing at once in each other what your reader has seen all along. Milk that moment for all it's worth.
There are a number of different collision types, pivotal moments where the last boundary is overcome and the two fall into an unplanned romantic encounter, no longer able to fight their instincts. Perhaps my personal favorite is a literal collision. Have the two characters wind up in each others arms through a sudden shift in gravity: a carefully placed crack in the sidewalk, a boat that rocks unexpectedly, an assistive nudge from a fellow character or other.
Some deux ex machina punts the two characters into a surprise embrace, one that can quickly lead to anger or violence on the part of the target depending on how the calamity is misunderstood. If you want it to stick, turn the tables on your target and let them be the one to trip. If nothing else, it may set up a more intimate moment later, when the main character gets to apologize for being clumsy and thus showcase his or her own maturity and worth.
"Trapped together" is another common theme. Whether hiding from an external threat or another dose of bad luck and clumsiness, trapping the two characters in close proximity causes frustrations to soar. The sudden rage and awkward restricted movement set up a calmer heart-to-heart talk later on when the futility of their situation settles in. It allows both characters to vent directly without anywhere to storm off to. The residual passion of their respective verbal explosions segues nicely into the eventual embrace (typically only seconds before they are rescued).
The "spectacular surprise" is another good one, although it will take some thought and creativity on your part. A best fit for the misunderstood genius type, this can also be used with heroes capable of taking the target on some form of breathtaking journey at the drop of a hat. Riding through the clouds, swimming deep in the sea, traversing a dreamscape, something so out of this world that it leaves the target speechless.
For the genius, it's all about the target coming to see what the audience has known all along: the hidden or discarded talent of the hero is actually something amazing. Walking through the silent workshop of half-finished inventions or happening upon the cast-aside canvas with its hidden masterpiece depicting the target are just a couple of the thousand options to choose from. It's best if the target makes this discovery in relative private, with the hero busying about with some menial task, seemingly oblivious to their own genius. When they return from whatever meaningless errand, the target has had time to see them in a whole new light...
...which leads, in turn, to the rabbit-like shagging, which will not be covered in this tutorial.
The Leftovers
Any such collision brings with it an aftershock: a ripple that extends well beyond the two lovers, destined to return with a vengeance. Sooner or later, the fantasy is over and the world comes rushing back in. This is the eventual dip before the final triumph. Now that both characters (and your reader) have something to lose, it's time to dangle it over the fire.
The most common method is an outside element. This is the rival's time to shine, if you have one. The war takes a disastrous turn. Drawn back from the brink of oblivion, the target is pulled away again by some darker abject force. In short, something goes wrong.
But don't count out your hero yet: they could well be the agent of their own demise. Remember that flaw, the one that was meant to humanize your hero? Now's the time to tweak it. Cause it to flare up at some small feature of the days or hours that follow and spoil the moment, driving the newly enchanted target off in a huff. At times the mere suggestion that the flaw has returned (a misunderstood word from an old friend or ex-lover should do nicely) is enough to spurn the new lover. Whatever it is, something breaks up the happy moment, because nothing is ever that easy.
Nevermind that your hero fought through seventeen layers of hell to get their love back. I'm still calling that "easy."
The Final Triumph
This is where the story stops being a love story and starts being a heroic journey. Whatever happened to force the two lovers apart, it's time for the hero to risk everything to get the target back. It's going to sting something fierce, but nothing could rival the pain of being separated from the one they love. And yes, you'll find yourself writing narratives like that as your hero turns the final corner. Don't worry, the truly sappy lines are yet to come...
Now the real test of love begins. No matter what the hero had to fight past before, this is ten times worse. What sucks is that you only have about 50 pages left to cram it into, so get going! One last epic challenge, an obstacle that only your hero can overcome. Let them shine. Take the thing you love most about this character and crank it up to eleven. Only by being themselves (and more themselves than ever before) can the hero win out in the end.
Remember that even a bumbling, snot-nosed, 90-lb weakling can be brave when he has to. The most intelligent engineer who ever lived still has to stand in the line of fire to use the world-saving machine strapped to their shoulders. If you threw all the cute qualities of your lead into the collision, this is the scene to house all the bad-ass she's been secretly stowing away.
Whether you're in a comedy or tragedy, the hero is going to win. The force that kept them apart (even if it was their own screw up) is going to lose one way or another, usually only after the hero has a few broken ribs to show for it.
In a comedy, they're reunited. The hero deflates from his moment of bad-ass and reverts to the adorable, lovable twerp he started as (minus the more obnoxious personal flaws) and basks in the glow of his reforged romance. If you're the type who likes to play the joke on your audience, look no further than the Mushroom Kingdom: a brief forestalling of the final reunion can be a great way to break up an otherwise dramatic scene with one last good guffaw before revealing the real princess and galloping on to the epilogue.
In a tragedy, winning sucks. The hero or the target survives, but without the other. A last and lasting moment passes where they say their final promises to each other before one or the other departs the mortal plane and begins pining for the fjords. The most important element is not to let the story end there. The half that remains has to carry on, forever changed, with a new determination to seek out their dreams with passion and purpose.
In the end, there's nothing all too complicated to writing a romance. The pieces are largely interchangeable, and all manner of seemingly ridiculous elements can be brought in as character flaws or external obstacles. Consider the wisdom of Scott Pilgrim vs. the World: ridiculous brings a new spin to romance. Don't be afraid to branch out and try something crazy. New flavor is always appreciated by someone when it comes to romance.
The same is true for the other type of "romance" novel, but it's probably best we not dwell on that thought.
In short, don't fear the tropes, remember to make both halves the pair lovable, and just when everything's going great, make 'em really earn it in the end. After all, Shakespeare did, and people have been using his tropes for centuries...
No comments:
Post a Comment