On Writing Romance (20 page)

All of the important action in a story should be shown directly to the readers through scenes, either as it occurs or through the characters' later discussion or reflection. Crucial events should not happen in the white space — the time that passes between the book's scenes (so called because of the literally blank or white line that indicates the scene change).

Important action should not be summarized. Many writers come up to a moment of high drama and then dodge it, writing something like, “Later, when things had settled down. …” It's usually far better to show crucial action as it happens, moment by moment.

Conflict is uncomfortable for most people to observe and to write, but the hard-to-write, action-filled, uncomfortable moments are the memorable ones that make the readers feel they're really there.

Though scenes and chapters aren't equivalent, they have certain things in common, like the need for an attention-catching beginning and an intriguing end.

The start of each scene and chapter is a mini version of the beginning of the book. With each new segment of the story, you must once more set the stage and get rapidly into the action. The best start for a scene focuses on emotion or character rather than description.

It's generally better to start a scene with action rather than summarize what's happened in the white space between scenes. So if you're going to show Jason at work, it's better to start with him doing something:

It's much less effective to simply tell the readers all about what's happened to Jason since they left him in the last scene:

The first paragraph or two of each scene must accomplish several things:

• Establish the time and place where the scene occurs.
  

• Clearly identify the viewpoint character.
  

• Hint at the mood of the scene.
  

• Capture the readers' attention and not allow them to put the book down.
  

Start your scenes and chapters with action. Don't summarize what's happened since the last scene, and don't begin the scene with the heroine parking her car in the company lot if the action doesn't get going until she walks into the conference room at mid-morning.

In the start of this short scene from Jackie Braun's sweet traditional category romance
In the Shelter of His Arms
, we see the homeless heroine after she's broken into her boss's bar through a restroom window in order to spend the night where it's warm:

In just a few words, Braun has told us the place and time of the new scene, as well as how much time has passed since the previous scene. She's also made clear the main problem of this short scene — Roz is hungry — and she's set up the next difficulty for her character, as we'll see when we read the end of this scene below.

The last paragraph or two of each scene should intrigue the readers into turning the page and going on to the next one. To do that, you can use one or more of the following techniques:

• End a scene with an intriguing twist. Reaching the end of a scene is like pushing the pause button on a DVD player — if you pause at a boring moment, the viewer may be sidetracked by another activity and not come back to watch the rest of the show. The best example of how not to end a scene or a chapter is with the heroine drifting cozily off to sleep without a care in the world.
  

• End your scenes and chapters when the action ends. If the hero walks out of the heroine's store, that's probably the end of the action — so don't have her turning to greet the next customer unless that customer has something important to add.
  

• End with a surprise event or announcement. Perhaps the character has made a decision about future action, leaving the readers wondering what the outcome will be.
  

• End with a question that the readers want answered.
  

• Stop in the middle of the action, or at a moment of tension, or with the character at risk.
  

You must play fair, however. If you end a scene with a hint of the action yet to come, you can't conveniently forget to carry through. If you ask a question, it has to be answered sometime during the story. If you opt for a surprise, it has to be genuine and meaningful, not manufactured or coincidental.

Here's the end of that short scene from Jackie Braun's
In the Shelter of His Arms
:

Roz is busted — and it's a rare reader who doesn't turn the page to find out how long it takes Mason to realize that his new employee is a break-in artist, and to see what he's going to do about it.

1. Review the romances you've been reading. How does each author use details to show the story? How many details do you need to picture this setting in your mind?
   

2. Does the author use flashback? How did he handle the flashback? Were you able to follow the timing of the action?
   

3. Was the narrative easy to follow? Did the author use exposition and summary?
   

4. What settings and backgrounds has the author used? What kind of details, and how many details, did the author need to make you able to see and understand the setting and background?
   

5. How many chapters were there? How did the author begin and end scenes and chapters? Did you want to turn the page and go on to the next part of the story?
   

6. Did the author use past tense, present tense, or past perfect tense in telling the story?
   

1. What is the primary purpose of this scene?
   

2. What else can I accomplish with this scene?
   

3. Which characters do I need to bring on stage?
   

4. Which characters don't I need?
   

5. Which characters are possible point-of-view characters?
   

6. What unit of time and place does this scene represent?
   

7. Why does the scene begin at the moment it does?
   

8. How can I best capture the readers' attention in the opening paragraph or two?
   

9. How can I establish time and place within the first few paragraphs?
   

10. What are the dozen events that could happen in this scene?
    

11. Can I use this scene to foreshadow future actions or events?
    

12. How can I use this scene to build suspense?
    

13. How does this scene lead into or set up the next or subsequent scenes?
    

14. How does the end of this scene draw the readers into the following scene?
    

By the time you actually start writing your book, you'll have already developed your hero and heroine, and they'll remain the most important characters throughout your entire story. But your main characters don't live in isolation. With few exceptions (such as a book in which the hero and heroine are marooned on a deserted island), your main characters will be surrounded by other people — families, friends, coworkers, authority figures, opponents, and enemies.

These people are the secondary characters in the book, and together they can act as a framework, a background, a contrast, and a sounding board for the main characters.

The limited length of many romance novels allows little time or space to fully develop secondary characters and subplots. Even in the longer books — historical romances and long contemporary category romances, in which subplots and secondary characters are encouraged — it's important to keep the emphasis on the main romance, the main plot, and the central characters.

Because there are fewer restrictions on the personalities and behavior of secondary characters, they are often less difficult (and more fun) to write about. They can actually become more fascinating than the hero and heroine for the readers and for the writer.

This is especially true in sequels; characters who were previously at the heart of their own book appear in another character's story and sometimes want to take over. Beware of spending too much time bringing your readers up to date on recurring characters, because the readers who picked up that earlier book want to read
this
story.

Creating too many secondary characters — filling the landscape with friends and co-workers and neighbors — is a common problem for new writers. Every secondary character takes time and space and attention away from the hero and heroine. Before you create another character, think about those who already exist and ask yourself if one of them could take on an additional role. I sometimes think, “If this were a movie script, would this part be worth hiring an actor to play? Or would I assign the lines to someone I've already agreed to pay?”

If your heroine has two best friends, can you combine them into one? If she has four kids, do you really need them all, or can you show her as a mom with one or two?

Romance novels don't have a standard cast of supporting characters. In many books, the heroine has a best friend in whom she can confide, but there's no requirement to construct such a character. There are some types of secondary characters that appear frequently, however. Each type offers potential for the story but can also detract from the main romance.

A good many modern romances involve a very specific kind of secondary character, one who falls into a gray area between a main character and a secondary character. This significant third character is far more important than other secondary characters. Typically, this person is the cause of the conflict, or the reason for the story — she's central to the action. Because of this character's important role, there is generally only one significant third in a story.

The significant third character is most often the child of the hero or heroine, though she can be a parent, sibling, or friend who plays a very large part in the story. If the hero and heroine are together only because they've been named guardians to an orphaned six-year-old, the child is the significant third character. If the hero needs the heroine to provide care for his very sick father, and much of the story happens at the old man's bedside, the father is likely to be the significant third character. If the story is a psychological thriller in which the hero and heroine know exactly who's chasing them, the villain is often the significant third character.

It's a challenge to keep this character in her proper place — at the edge of the main story, not in the middle. It's easy to get careless and drift away from the main characters toward the significant third, particularly when this extra character is a child. We're almost programmed to put a child's needs before those of adults, and that carries through in odd ways when writing about a child. The result — anything from a textbook on child raising to a dictionary of baby talk — isn't a romance.

Many a romance novel has been destroyed by a significant third who became too important. The romance
must
remain firmly fixed on the two main characters. Even if the most troublesome problem between them revolves around the significant third, it is the tension between the two main characters that is important.

In the first chapter of Penny McCusker's long contemporary
Noah and the Stork
, the significant third character appears just as the hero, Noah, and the heroine, Janey, are about to say good-bye after their first meeting in nearly a decade:

Once Noah knows about his daughter, he's no longer in a mood to shake hands and walk away; he's furious, and he's determined to have a part in raising his child. The rest of the story happens only because of Jessie. Yet, though we see Jessie interacting with each parent, the majority of the story is about Noah and Janey, with their daughter remaining on the edges of the action.

Not all romance novels have villains, and in the ones that do, the villain may be important enough to be considered a significant third character or he may be a secondary character, less crucial and less well developed. The villain's goal is usually not directly connected to the romance. He isn't trying to break up the couple; they're just standing in his way as he's trying to get revenge, acquire money, or eliminate a threat. So the classic villain is much more likely to appear in single-title or mainstream books, historicals, or long contemporary
category romances — all of which have more room for complex subplots, mysteries, or intrigue.

A truly powerful and effective villain must have something sympathetic about him or he will be interchangeable with dozens of other forgettable bad guys. The readers don't have to approve of his breaking in to the bank vault, but if they understand — and maybe even respect — his reasons, he'll be a much more effective foil for the hero and heroine.

A villain always has a reason for doing what he does — and he's always convinced it's an excellent reason. In real life, a bad guy's reasoning may make no sense to other people, even though it seems perfectly legitimate to him. In fiction, however, the more logical the villain's reasoning is, the more involved the readers will be in the outcome. If you explain your villain's actions by simply saying that he's crazy, you won't satisfy your readers.

In this selection from her single-title historical
The Warrior
, Claire Delacroix shows her villain justifying any means to gain control of an important relic — because it will establish his claim to take over his enemies' land:

In Dubhglas's mind, this relic is important enough to kill for. Though we as readers don't agree with his reasoning, we understand why he feels that way; Dubhglas is a scarier opponent for the hero and heroine because it's clear that he won't be easily stopped.

Not every romance novel includes an Other Woman who competes for the hero's attention and love, but many do. She might be a current girlfriend or an ex-wife, a co-worker, a friend, or someone he's never paid attention to at all. The Other Woman provides opposition to the heroine and adds an extra level of interest.

Like the villain, the Other Woman is more effective if she's at least somewhat sympathetic — at least in the beginning. If it's instantly obvious to the readers that she's a complete bitch, how could your supposedly intelligent hero ever have fallen for her? And if she's clearly a self-centered liar, why does your supposedly intelligent heroine believe her? But if she starts out as a reasonable person, it will be even more shocking when she ultimately reveals her inner nastiness.

And if you give the Other Woman not only some redeeming characteristics but a reason for her interference (not just a desire to make the heroine miserable), you'll create a much more interesting and believable scenario.

The heroine should never descend to the Other Woman's level, but she should be able to put the Other Woman in her place — as does Melody, the heroine of Annette Blair's single title
The Kitchen Witch
:

Melody makes her point and puts Tiff any on notice not to attack her again, but because she hasn't exactly called Tiff any a name, she hasn't sacrificed her standing as a heroine.

Though the Other Woman can play a pivotal part in the romance, she is a secondary character, and she shouldn't take over the story. Since she can sometimes be more fun to write about than the heroine, limit the amount of time the Other Woman and the hero are together without the heroine present. Avoid writing from the Other Woman's point of view, because going into her thoughts takes the focus off the heroic couple.

The masculine equivalent of the Other Woman is the Wrong Man — the one who's bad news for the heroine in one way or another. He might be her fiancé, ex-husband, or the man she's dating when she meets the hero. The heroine may have dated him just once, but he continues to pursue her because he's convinced she's the only woman for him. Or, he might not be anything at all to her, but he'd like to be.

The Wrong Man comes in many varieties. He's not necessarily a bad man, he's just wrong for the heroine. He may be so devoted to his job that he has no real time for the heroine, or he might be so passive and dependent that he's more like a doormat than a man. Alternatively, he might be so nice and agreeable that he has no convictions or strength. He may be using the heroine financially or emotionally. Or he might simply be self-centered, arrogant, and oblivious to her needs.