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Several weeks ago, I asked my favorite Romantic Comedy author if she would write a column on writing Romantic Comedy. She was wonderful enough to respond, even though she was in the process of getting ready for a trip to Bermuda. Here’s what Linda Windsor has to say about writing RomCom:

I really can’t say how to write humor. I have done a workshop about the structure of it, but as to the spark itself, I think you have to have sense of humor to start with. You have to have an eye to see the humor in almost anything. You have to take life’s most embarrassing moments and incorporate them into a scene that will work for the heroine/hero.

I wish I could say more, but there isn’t a formula for it. You take the mundane and “what if” it to funny. Or you take funny real life and incorporate it into a scene. So much of the funny things in my books are real. They happened to me or someone I know. Yep, I grew up with clowns. Not really. Just ordinary people who can laugh at themselves.

I had a friend who witnessed a fire in which someone murdered had been disposed. Her son went in and dragged out the body. It was freezing, so the cops set up office in friend’s hotel suite, at her compassionate invitation, to question the hysterical widow (Black Widow). A book was written about it, one of those dark true crime stories. But to hear my friend tell all the asides, it was hysterical. How she was hugging the murderer and nurturing her, not knowing she’d just shot a man in cold blood and set him on fire. How friend’s poor hubby, oblivious to all, tried to sleep in the other room while strangers kept coming in and sitting on side of his bed to use the phone. Someday, I might be able to use that. It’s all about perspective.

And of course, there is my infamous horseback ride in Jamaica, which is in IT HAD TO BE YOU: riding bareback in the water on the horse that ate Jamaica and dodging floating islands of fresh horsey pooh. “This wasn’t in the brochure!” was my direct quote. In my Piper Cove Chronicles, (WEDDING BELL BLUES) the crab debacle happened to me. Except I was on the kitchen counter, a mallot in each hand, while the critters crawled all over the floor. I could have used a hero. Instead, years later, I used that incident, my hysteria, in a book. It was NOT funny at the time.

The “What the Lord’s forgotten, you can pad with cotton” episode in FOR PETE’S SAKE, happened when that same girlfriend (who nurtured the murderer) and I went out years ago and she borrowed my dress. We stuffed the pre-formed bodice with paper towels and, as my friend danced the night away, she left a trail of paper towels and one of her bosoms was indented.

The wad pantyhose in the pant leg of my not so suave heroine in PAPER MOON was me. I felt this lump in my leg as I knelt to get goodies from a vending machine at work. Knowing something was amiss that I didn’t want to share with the men in the lunchroom, I hastened to my office, locked the door and investigated. Somehow pantyhose had managed to get in the leg of my slacks and, my not being the most alert in the morning, had not noticed. Except in my book, I carried it a little further.

Many know I lost my late husband four years ago. I hadn’t been to the huge cemetery but twice in my life and the day of his funeral, I wasn’t making a map. So there I was wandering through the tombstones, teary and feeling like the worst widow in the world. I mean, how can you lose your husband? Then I thought of him elbowing Jesus and telling Him, “Look, you only had to watch her. I’ve been living with that for 23 years!” And I laughed. A little later I found the gravesite and as I stared at my feet, I realized not only was I a ditz for losing poor Jim, but I was wearing a navy and a black shoe…of different heel heights! I could imagine the head-shaking going on in heaven. Sad, heart-breaking, yet funny. And my dear hubby had the greatest laugh of all, of that I’m certain. He delighted in my ditziness. Couldn’t wait to see what I’d do next.

It’s all in perspective. At least that’s the “magic” that works for me.

If any of you have ever gotten an e-mail from me, you know that my tagline under my “signature” is Inspirational Fiction with a Sense of Humor. But up until I started graduate school in 2004, I wouldn’t have categorized what I wrote as humorous. Why? Because I took myself and my writing too seriously. I’m the kind of person who is very easily embarrassed by even the littlest mishap, and it’s only been in the past few years that I’ve learned not to take myself so seriously. Because of that, I didn’t want to put my characters into any kind of situation that I would personally find uncomfortable. I struggled for nearly six months, once I realized I needed to infuse humor into my writing, to allow things to happen to my characters, or for them to have internal reactions to conflicts, that were funny—or at least smile inducing. During that time, I read all of Linda Windsor’s contemporary romances (my favorite is Along Came Jones), and then took several workshops she taught and listened to her talk about how she takes situations she’s experienced and incorporates them into her stories—and they’re always the funniest scenes in her books.

As Linda points out above, you can’t force humor. I’ve never made a secret of the fact that I cannot stand Jim Carrey, Adam Sandler, Ben Stiller, and, most especially, Will Farrell. Aside from the fact that most of their humor is, simply, juvenile and degrading, I don’t like them for the most part because they try to force the humor. They do stupid things in their movies or comedy acts just for the sake of getting the cheap laugh—and many of the jokes are at someone else’s expense. But I know there are a lot of people who think they’re some of the funniest people to walk the face of the earth. (I know, I’m sounding like a curmudgeon.)

In writing, the humor needs to evolve naturally out of your own personality. What do you find funny? When is the last time you laughed so hard you cried (or nearly peed your pants)? Have you ever laughed hard and long enough that your stomach and face muscles ached for a while afterward? What made you laugh like that? What kind of comedy movies/shows do you enjoy? What’s the last novel you read that made you laugh? Have you ever analyzed why these make you laugh?

For Discussion:
Who is you favorite comedian? What’s your favorite romantic comedy movie? Who’s your favorite RomCom author? Book? Can a romance be humorous without being a romantic comedy?

A question came up at my local writing group’s monthly meeting Saturday: what’s the difference between Historical Romance and a Historical? (Oh, and BTW, I do use “a” with the word “historical” based on CMS 5.73 which says to use “a” if the “h” sound is pronounced. If I pronounced it ‘istorical, I’d use “an.” Just to head that argument off at the pass!)

Though it would seem like there would be an easy answer to this (and there is, to some extent), in the historical category, there’s a little more of a gray area where the lines get blurred.

The easy answer is this: a historical romance is a romance novel that’s set prior to the Vietnam war (or WWII, depending on the publishing house). Remember, the definition of a romance novel is that the storyline focuses on the developing relationship between the hero and heroine—if the romance is taken out, there is no more story. Historical novels are stories that take place in a historical setting which are more about the effect of that setting on the characters—whether it’s a war, the frontier, or the Protestant Revolution. There might be a romance that occurs in the story, but it’s a subplot. For example: Georgette Heyer wrote historical romances (Regencies); Jeff and Michael Shaara wrote/write historical fiction. Gone with the Wind is historical women’s fiction (it’s about Scarlett’s internal journey and how the events of history effected that journey); John Jakes’s North & South trilogy is historical fiction (it’s about the friendship between Orry and George and how they interacted with and were involved in the historical events).

The answer gets harder when we take into account that many historical stories include a grand romance as part of the storyline. It might not be the main focus of the plot, but it is integral to the story—the main plot just wouldn’t be of any interest without it.

Historicals also tend to be trilogies or even longer series, and, even if a romance is integral to the plot of the story, such as in J.M. Hochstetler’s American Patriot series, the romance may not be resolved for seven or eight volumes (or more—please not more, Joan!). The entire series is a romance, because the overarching thread is the love story between Elizabeth and Carleton, who are torn apart by the eruption of the Revolutionary War. Each individual book can be considered historical fiction, as it doesn’t follow the seven basic beats of the romance novel—and though each has a satisfying ending (that leaves us wanting more!), it isn’t a happily ever after ending. Once the series as a whole is complete, I’m certain that we could apply the seven beats to the entire story and we’ll see the romance “novel.”

See how the definitions get muddied?

Oh, and just to add one more facet to the definition: the works of Jane Austen, the Brontes, Elizabeth Gaskell, etc., are not considered “historical” romance—because they were contemporary romances when they were written—set during the time period in which they were actually written. A true “historical” is written by someone not living in the time period in which the story is set.

For Discussion:
Who here reads historical romances? Who are your favorite authors? Who is writing historicals/historical romances? Can you define from this whether your story is a historical or a historical romance?

I’m pleased to introduce (for those of you who don’t already read her blog regularly) Patricia Woodside, a dear writing sister I met online and whose writing journey I’ve been following for the last couple of years. 

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I love romance.  I especially love Christian romance.  It’s uplifting as well as feel-good romantic, and like secular romance, it comes in multiple varieties:  contemporary, historical, suspense, etc.  However, there’s one flavor that’s all too often missing:  African American Christian romance.  In fact, there is such a dearth of these books that when one looks at bookstore or library shelves, one has to wonder such a thing even exists.

Before I get hit on the head, let me point out there are a number of successful African American (AA) authors writing and publishing Christian fiction.  Victoria Christopher Murray, Jacquelin Thomas, and ReShonda Tate Billingsley are longstanding successes.  Tia McCollors, Claudia Mair Burney, Marilynn Griffith, and Angela Benson are among the more recent multi-published AA Christian authors.  Then brand new authors, like Sheila Lipsey, Keshia Dawn, Leslie Sherrod, and Kimberly Cash Tate are making their debuts. 

However, most AA Christian fiction is more than plain, simple romance. Many are ensemble stories featuring multiple heroines, and are bigger, broader stories that are more likely categorized as women’s fiction. 

On the secular side of the market, pure AA romance can be found in offerings from Harlequin and a variety of other publishers.  In fact, the sub-genre was popular enough that in 2007, Harlequin purchased Arabesque/BET Books and now releases eight or more romantic stories monthly of varying sensuality featuring African American heroes and heroines under the Kimani Press imprint.

But where is the African American Christian romance?

One might ask why there is a need for AA Christian romance.  After all, if it’s the spiritual message that African American readers desire, they can find that in a host of Christian books.  Harlequin also publishes the Steeple Hill Love Inspired imprint, which has included AA stories by Felicia Mason, and Heartsong Presents has published AA stories by Aisha Ford and Cecelia Dowdy.  So there’s been limited success at least in category romance, where recently even a few white authors have taken on multicultural characters, an effort I wholeheartedly applaud.

For me, it is not an issue of exclusion but rather one of inclusion.  Although our God is the same and we may even worship together, AA Christians daily reside within our darker skins.  Like it or not, that aspect of our being colors our world.  Occasionally, when reading a book where the author doesn’t dwell on the physical characteristics of the characters, or where those characteristics are somewhat ambiguous—dark hair and dark eyes, for example—I find myself picturing the characters as looking like me.

Just as years ago the need for African American dolls was proven in order to build and support the self-esteem of young African American children(1), I argue there is a need for AA Christian romance.  AA Christians need to read about characters who look like them, talk like them, and who may act in a culturally familiar manner as they are challenged and grow in their faith.  Heroes and heroines of like ethnicity as the reader removes the final barrier preventing the reader from making a full and deep connection with the characters. 

Is it simply a matter of coloring the characters African American?

A resounding NO.

The romance remains the central story but that romance is highlighted by our unique culture.   The African American community is not a monolith but we do have aspects of our culture that tie us together. 

Like food.  In an African American novel, food scenes might include ribs or fried chicken, smothered pork chops, macaroni and cheese, candied yams, collard greens, stuffing, gravy, and homemade rolls.  Recipe for a heart attack?  Yes, but not an uncommon meal in the AA community.  Throw in some West Indian blood and it might include coconut rice, curried goat, roti, and plaintain.  Add some African to the mix and it might include injera, a flat bread; doro wat, a spicy chicken stew; jollof rice; peanut stew; or couscous.

There’s our worship style. The liveliness of our worship, as demonstrated in many predominantly African American churches every Sunday morning, might include large hand-clapping choirs singing to foot-stomping rhythms played by fully orchestrated bands.  There might be praise dancers and flag teams.  Nurses’ units provide relief and comfort when the Spirit gets a bit too high; the preacher delivers the message with a particular rhythmic cadence; and of course, there’s the parade of fashion that often verges on what others might consider evening wear—hats, suits and dresses adorned with sequins, feathers, gems, and whatever else might make an attractive statement.  Then too the role of the church in African American life is based on its historical roots, and includes education, self-empowerment, political activism, social service, and economic advancement.  Furthermore, AA stories may be affected by the extent to which race, along with social, political, and economic factors, dictates the characters’ priorities and challenges.

Remember though that the African American community is a vast and varied one.  Thus, it is necessary to watch out for stereotypes.  The dinner I described above is definitely stereotypical.  As with all stereotypes, however, it is rooted in truth.  But African Americans eat other things too, like Cornish hens, beef stroganoff, scalloped potatoes, julienned carrots, stir-fry, fondue, and caviar, not foods normally associated with us.

Not all African Americans speak in an ethnically identifiable manner, or if they do, they may be selective about when, where, and among whom.

Not all African Americans attend churches with the Pentecostal worship style I also described above, another stereotype.  There are many African American Lutherans, Methodists, Episcopalians, like my mother who frowns on the “noise” in my more animated church setting.

Not all African Americans know or are involved with the criminal element of society.

Not all African Americans live in poor or struggling neighborhoods.

Not all African Americans play certain sports, dance well, rap, or sing.

As much as we are different, we have a lot in common with the majority American culture because we too are American.  We celebrate many of the same holidays with many of the same traditions.  We speak and write proper English and expect our children to do the same.  We aspire to be well-educated, financially sound, and to live well, which does not necessarily mean displaying the “bling-bling” too often negatively associated with our culture. We live in nice neighborhoods and our children attend nice schools.

There is a fine line between creating culturally identifiable characters and stereotyping.  There is also a fine line between creating characters that more closely resemble the majority culture and running the risk of those same characters being deemed “unbelievable”, as what happened with the popular sitcom of the 1980’s, The Cosby Show.  To this day, I’m still trying to figure out what’s so unbelievable about an African American pediatrician and African American lawyer parenting five kids in an upscale brownstone in Brooklyn.  When it comes to African American characterization, there’s too often a definite double-standard and an emphasis on the negative for the purposes of commercial success. 

All of this makes for added difficulty in crafting the African American Christian romance.  Shaking up those stereotypes, and going beyond them to tell a tale that reflects universal issues, is both a consideration and a challenge for those who might pen AA Christian romance and for those who edit and publish it.

Bottom line: African American Christian Romance is an underserved segment of the fiction market.

African Americans represent roughly 13% of the U.S. population and these numbers don’t include people of African descent who also claim Hispanic or some other origin, like me, who are now designated “multi-racial.”  According to the U.S. Department of State, Blacks are the group most likely to report a religious affiliation. More than three-fourths are Protestant(2).  That’s a large number of folks who would be hard-pressed to identify ethnically with the characters in the average Christian romance novel. 

Let’s do the math: 75% of 13% of 300 million is approximately 29 million people.  Then, about 37% of African Americans read fiction so let’s assume that holds true for African American Christians(3).  The result is a reader population of nearly 11 million people.  Keep in mind that a popular fiction book is considered a success if it sells a mere 5,000 copies(4). 

So here’s to hoping we see a lot more African American Christian fiction.  I’m working hard to make sure that we do!

1. http://www.loc.gov/exhibits/brown/brown-brown.html
2. http://www.america.gov/st/diversity-english/2008/March/20080313140042xlrennef0.357403.html
3. http://www.parapublishing.com/sites/para/resources/statistics.cfm
4. http://www.parapublishing.com/sites/para/resources/statistics.cfm

Patricia Woodside describes herself as an I.T. Professional, Pastor’s Wife, Mother, and Writer. She blogs about life and writing at http://readinnwritin.blogspot.com. 

It is difficult to explain the appeal of romance novels to people who don’t read them. Outsiders tend to be unable to interpret the conventional language of the genre or to recognize in that language the symbols, images, and allusions that are the fundamental stuff of romance. Moreover, romance writers are consistently attacked for their use of this language by critics who fail to fathom its complexities. In a sense, romance writers are writing in a code clearly understood by readers but opaque to others.
Linda Barlow and Jayne Ann Krentz, “Beneath the Surface: The Hidden Codes of Romance,” Dangerous Men and Adventurous Women

When a reader picks up a romance novel, she comes to it with certain subconscious expectations in mind as to the development of the characters and their relationship, the plot, and the ultimate ending. When an author fails to follow through on meeting these expectations, the romance reader feels let down, betrayed even. It is this “code” which creates such antipathy for romance novels in the general public while keeping readers returning again and again to buy more books. Barlow and Krentz take this one step further to point out that it is not just the structure of the stories that carry expectations, but the language—the “diction”—of the genre that draws the reader in. They believe romance readers are trained through their reading to recognize turns of phrase or word constructs and respond with a deep emotional connection to the story and the characters. In fact, they posit, the reader looks for these constructs, wanting to relive these emotions with each book they read (21). Readers also expect character development and the relationship between hero and heroine to be the main focus of the story, and through the use of “descriptive code,” they expect a detailed description of the characters’ physical characteristics (24).

Knowing that, when I read a romance novel, I expect to see a certain flow of words, certain physical and emotional reactions described in symbolic language. Therefore, it is not just in story structure that I follow the conventional structure of the genre (the seven beats) when I write. I also incorporate the subconsciously sought-after turns of phrase to connect the reader with my story as well as connect my story with the genre; for example, in Stand-In Groom when Anne first meets George, she gazes “into eyes the color of light-roast cinnamon hazelnut coffee, and her heart fluttered.” George appreciates Anne’s “shapely figure” and “Wedgwood-blue eyes.” Throughout the novel, eyes sparkle, pulses race, hearts thunder, toes curl, and cheeks burn. (Because I am writing my novel for the Christian audience, however, that is as far as the physical sensuality goes.)

Because the language of romance is more lushly symbolic and metaphorical than ordinary discourse, the reader is stimulated not only to feel but also to analyze, interpret, and understand.
Barlow/Krentz

There are some romance authors who would say that the language of romance novels is more akin to that of poetry than it is to other fiction genres.

But much has changed since Barlow and Krentz wrote this essay, published in 1992. Yes, romance readers still look for those descriptions, the metaphors and similes, the poetic devices, but romance writers have evolved, have learned to be more subtle with them, more delicate . . . more natural, less purple.

Aha. There’s that term. Purple prose. What exactly does that mean? Well, let’s see if I can’t show you:

Caught up in the tender savagery of love . . . she saw him, felt him, knew him in a manner that, for an instant, transcended the physical. It was as if their souls yearned toward each other, and in a flash of glory, merged and became one. (Linda Barlow, Fires of Destiny)

Savagery . . . transcended . . . souls yearned . . . yowsa. Getting pretty purple there. In recent years, the genre has started trending away from these kinds of overblown descriptions, words and language that the characters themselves wouldn’t really use in real life:

The glow of the dying firelight highlighted his handsome features. His was the kind of face stonecutters fashioned elegies from. Clean lines, chiseled to the right proportion. Handsome. A girlish sigh built in her chest . . . (Linda Windsor, Maire)

See the difference in the two passages? Linda Windsor’s prose still taps into that “coded” language, but it’s not so overly dramatic that it becomes purple.

For Discussion:
Just for fun, take a three to four sentence paragraph from your WIP and rewrite it as purple as you can and post it here. Use lots of flowery adjectives and overblown emotions. Use clichés.

Was it hard or easy to do? Do you think you can identify purple prose in your own work? In others’?

I don’t usually publish series posts on Sundays, but we still have a lot to cover in this discussion!

Last week, we looked at Billy Mernit’s seven beats of the romance storyline, first with his definitions, then with examples of the first five. Let’s round out the discussion with the two final beats, the ones that seemed to generate the most confusion/comments last week.

6. The Dark Moment/Crisis

Wherein the consequences of the swivel decision yield disaster; generally, the humiliating scene where private motivations are revealed, and either the relationship and/or the protagonist’s goal is seemingly lost forever. (115)

When we talk about the general structure of the romance novel, this is the “boy loses girl, seemingly forever” part. This is when the conflict between them rises to such a crescendo that it seems insurmountable.

Continuing the illustration with Jude Deveraux’s historical romance The Velvet Promise, the dark moment comes when—after Gavin and Judith have reunited, forgiven each other for everything that’s come before, and admitted they love each other—Judith is kidnapped by Gavin’s former lover, Alice (remember the one who created the first and second turning points [steps 3 & 5]). Now crazed because Gavin has given her up, Alice threatens to pour boiling oil on Judith’s face to steal her beauty and, she believes, regain Gavin’s love (kind of a “who’s the fairest of them all” scenario). Gavin arrives—his only thought of saving Judith, yet still not wanting to believe that Alice is the deceitful, manipulative woman of loose morals everyone has been trying to tell him she is. When Alice greets him, he finally sees her for what she is—an obsessed, crazed woman. For Gavin, his dark moment comes when he realizes how foolish he’s been in always defending Alice, in always believing she was as close to an angel as a human could get, and that because of this, he stands a very real chance of losing the woman he truly loves, Judith. For Judith, the dark moment comes when Alice drags her up onto the rooftop to try to get away from Gavin (Judith is terrified of heights). She believes she is about to die.

7. Joyful Defeat/Resolution

A reconciliation that reaffirms the primal importance of the relationship; usually a happy ending that implies marriage or a serious commitment, often at the cost of some personal sacrifice to the protagonist. (116)

This seems to be the point that generated the most questions/confusion. What did Mernit mean by “personal sacrifice”? Does that mean that to be together, the hero and/or heroine has to give something up in order for the romance to have a HEA ending? No, not necessarily.

Here is the step from The Velvet Promise (Jude Deveraux, published by Pocket Books, copyright 1981):

Alice fell backward, away from the edge, thanks to the sacrifice of her maid. But the pot of oil in her hand fell with her, spilling across her forehead and cheek. She began to scream horribly.

Gavin made one leap across the roof to where Judith still clung. Her extreme fear of heights and her resulting iron grip on the chimney had saved her life. . . .

“Look what you’ve done to me!” Alice screamed through her pain. . . .

“No,” Gavin answered, looking at Alice’s mutilated face with great pity. “It was not I nor Judith who has harmed you, but only yourself.” . . .

Gavin took Judith down the stairs to the room below. . . . “It’s over now, my love,” Gavin whispered. “You are safe now. She will harm you no more.” . . .

“What will happen to her now?” Judith asked quietly.

“I don’t know. I could give her to the courts, but I think perhaps she’s been punished enough. No longer will her beauty ensnare men.”

Judith looked up at him in surprise and studied his face.

“You look at me as if you’re seeing me for the first time,” he said.

“Maybe I am. You’re free of her.”

“I have told you before that I no longer loved her.”

“Yes, but there was always a part of you that was hers, a part I couldn’t touch. But now she no longer possesses you. You are mine—totally and completely mine.”

“And that pleases you?”

“Yes,” she whispered. “It pleases me greatly.”

The “personal sacrifice” Gavin has made here is that he saw his first love for what she really was. The rose-colored glasses were torn from his eyes and he was forced to see reality (and, as mentioned above in his dark moment, realize that his willful blindness to Alice’s faults put Judith’s life—and that of the child she lost—at risk). This book closes with a “commitment” HEA ending—because Judith and Gavin are already married. In arranged/forced-marriage stories, usually historicals, you’ll usually find this kind of an ending—a reconciliation of the couple and something that indicates their marriage will be happy. And both of these steps—from Judith’s kidnapping to the ending, quoted above—take place in the last nine pages of the book.

The “personal sacrifice” that Mernit mentions can be equated to whatever internal journey the characters have throughout the book. It’s the change they need to make in their lives—whether emotional, spiritual, or even physical (moving, changing jobs, etc.)—that will allow them to make that commitment to the other person. It can also be one of the characters facing his or her greatest fear (such as flying, heights, water, etc.), because the thought of losing the other is actually worse than the long-held fear.

In Catherine Marshall’s Christy (not technically a romance, but a women’s fiction with a strong romantic thread), it is Dr. McNeil’s prayer at Christy’s sickbed, when he gives up the tight control he’s always tried to hold over his life to God. In The Wedding Planner, it is Steve realizing he’s making a mistake if he marries Fran and going on a mad rush to try to find Mary, because he finally realizes he chose to marry Fran for the wrong reasons. In You’ve Got Mail, it’s when Kathleen goes to the park to meet her online beau only to discover it’s Joe Fox—and she realizes that, even though she’s railed against him and tried to keep from falling for him, she really loves him.

For Discussion:
Is your dark moment dark enough? What about some that are too dark so that they become melodramatic? How long are these two steps in your WIP or last completed manuscript? If you haven’t gotten that far, pick out a favorite book and see how many pages it takes to complete these two steps.

Since there haven’t been a lot of responses, I’m hoping that y’all are out there just taking it all in and anxiously awaiting the next post. So let’s look at the next three beats:

3. The Turning Point

Traditionally occurring at the end of Act 1, a new development that raises story stakes and clearly defines the protagonist’s goal; most successful when it sets man and woman at cross-purposes and/or their inner emotions at odds with the goal. (112)

In the last post, I asked if the inciting incident in The Wedding Planner was when Mary and Steve meet or when Mary learns Steve is the groom in the big-ticket wedding she’s just signed on as the planner for. As Eileen commented, the inciting incident (step 2) is when they meet. The turning point (this step) is when Mary discovers Steve is the groom. Why? Because it completely changes their relationship—from growing attraction to conflict because they can’t be together because she’s planning his wedding to someone else. In You’ve Got Mail, the inciting incident (the meet) occurs when Joe takes his “aunt” and little brother into Kathleen’s bookstore and they like each other. The turning point is when Kathleen and Joe meet again face to face as adversaries, because Kathleen knows he’s the owner of the super-bookstore that’s putting her shop out of business. Even though they’ve known each other online for awhile before the story starts, it isn’t until they meet face to face that we get our inciting incident and first turning point.

The turning point is the main conflict between your hero and heroine that will contrive to keep them apart for most of the story, even as they’re falling in love with each other. It’s usually the setup for the plot—a wedding planner tasked with planning a wedding for a man she’s falling in love with (whether he’s the real groom, as in The Wedding Planner, or he’s just pretending to be the groom, as in Stand-In Groom); a woman whose former flame returns and is resentful toward her for turning down his proposal years before—she must watch while he flirts with and seems to build a new relationship with someone she’s close to (Persuasion); the woman who’s falling in love, unbeknownst to her, with the man putting her out of business (You’ve Got Mail); this is the shotgun wedding, the arrival of the mailorder bride, the wedding day when the arranged bride and groom meet for the first time, and so on. The turning point is the realization that this isn’t going to be a smooth path to romance—it’s the first (major) bump in the road. 

4. The Midpoint/Raising the Stakes

A situation that irrevocably binds the protagonist with the antagonist (often while tweaking sexual tensions) and has further implications for the outcome of the relationship. (113)

This is taking the conflict you’ve just raised at the turning point and continuing to raise the stakes—throwing as many twists and turns and conflicts as you can at the characters to keep them apart as long as possible. In Jude Deveraux’s Velvet Promise, the turning point is just after Judith and Gavin’s arranged wedding, when Judith comes upon Gavin and his lover in the garden—the lover is threatening to kill herself if Gavin falls in love with his new wife. Because there had been an immediate attraction between Judith and Gavin, this is the first time Judith realizes she isn’t in for a happy marriage. The raising of the stakes is when Judith is captured by an enemy who believes he should have been given Judith as his wife. Even though Gavin rescues her, because he has been unfaithful to Judith, he believes the enemy’s story that Judith has been unfaithful to him as well and now bears the enemy’s child.

5. Swivel: Second Turning Point

Traditionally occurring at the end of Act 2, stakes reach their highest point as the romantic relationship’s importance jeopardizes the protagonist’s chance to succeed at his/her state goal—or vice versa—and his/her goal shifts. (115)

Let’s pause for a moment and consider the characters’ “goals” in a romance novel. In every work of fiction, each character must have a goal, motivation, and conflict for them to be believable to the reader. In Stand-In Groom, Anne’s goal is to plan the wedding she’s just been hired to plan to the best of her ability; George’s goal is to get through planning his employer’s wedding without anyone finding out he’s not the groom. When Anne and George begin falling for each other, both of their goals are jeopardized—if Anne falls in love with a client, her reputation as a wedding planner, and her business, would be ruined. As George falls in love with Anne, he risks revealing the truth to her, even though he’s signed a confidentiality addendum to his work contract; if he breaks the contract, he’ll have to return to England because he’ll lose his job, which means losing his work visa.

In Velvet Promise, the second turning point occurs when Judith and Gavin go to London to attend court. Through the contrivance of the king and queen, Gavin and Judith realize they’re in love with each other, and Judith is able to convince him the child is really his, that she didn’t have an affair with the enemy. But Gavin’s paramour isn’t giving up quite so easily. One night, after Gavin and his brother get rip-roaring drunk, Gavin falls into the nearest bed to sleep it off. The paramour climbs into the bed under his inert form and sends one of her servants to fetch Judith to help her husband back to their room. When Judith sees her husband in what she believes is an intimate position with his lover, she falls down the stairs and begins to miscarry the child, putting her life in jeopardy. Though Gavin is miserable at what happened and fears for Judith’s life, he will not abide anyone’s saying anything ill against his paramour. Judith, on the other hand, believes he’ll never change and blames him for the loss of the child, barely tolerating his presence. Because her goal was to have a happy home and a loving marriage, this second turning point has now jeopardized her chance at succeeding. And it seems like nothing will ever be able to bring them back together again.

For Discussion:
From your own work, a published novel, or a romantic film, identify the Turning Point, the rising stakes in the Midpoint, and the Second Turning Point. Is there a way that you can make the conflicts even bigger/worse?

Yesterday, I gave you the seven basic beats of the romance storyline, as defined by Billy Mernit in Writing the Romantic Comedy. Let’s look at the first two beats and see if we can start clearing up exactly what they mean as far as writing and structuring a romance novel.

1. The Setup/Hook

A scene or sequency identifying the exterior and/or interior conflict (i.e., unfulfilled desire), the “what’s wrong with this picture” implied in the protagonist’s (and/or antagonist’s) current status quo. (Mernit, 110)

Because Mernit wrote his book for screenwriters, the first couple of steps may come across as slightly different than what we, as novelists, are used to seeing, but really, they’re the same. This is your introductory scene—the opening hook and introduction of your hero or heroine (whichever has the first POV scene). As with all opening scenes, this is the establishment of that character’s story goal, as well as hinting at the main conflict for the entire novel.

With your heroine—whether in third person or first person—there is something to keep in mind: a romance heroine wants to fall in love, even if she thinks she doesn’t. There has to be some part of her that is going to be open, receptive, to falling in love. It’s much easier to accept a hero who’s not at all interested in romantic entanglements or the emotional side of falling in love. But because we want to be able to put ourselves in the heroine’s place, there has to be some indication that she’s emotionally available and ready to fall in love. A romance heroine who has so much internal conflict and turmoil going on, combined with so much external conflict that she can hardly breathe or think would probably be a better main character of a chick lit or women’s fiction novel—the story would be more about her getting her life together than about her falling in love. There can still be a romantic interest in a story like that, even a happy ending, but it’s not necessarily a true romance novel if it’s more about her internal life and less about the relationship.

2. The Meet/Inciting Incident

The inciting incident brings man and woman together and into conflict; an inventive but credible contrivance, often amusing, which in some way sets the tone for the action to come. (111)

The inciting incident for a romance novel is when the hero and heroine meet. It doesn’t matter what other conflicts are going on in the story or with the characters. Since a romance novel is about the developing relationship between hero and heroine, it is the meet which sets the rest of the action of the story in motion. In a category-length romance (HeartSong, Love Inspired, Harlequin, Silhouettes, etc.), this is expected to happen in the first chapter. In trade/mass-market romances, this might not happen until the second chapter—so long as the hero and heroine are both introduced and it is shown as being inevitable they’ll meet by the end of the second chapter. In my historical romance, which includes two additional POVs other than just the hero and heroine, I don’t have them actually coming face to face until the end of the third chapter. The feedback I’ve gotten from an editor is that it’s much too late, so I’m trying to rework it so that the first chapter ends with the hero knocking on the front door, and they’ll come face to face in the beginning of the second chapter.

These two beats go hand-in-hand . . . the meet/inciting incident can be your opening hook. And in a romance, it is really the meet that is the hook—beyond your initial hook-sentence/paragraph at the beginning of the story. Romance readers want the hero and heroine to cross paths as soon as possible so that we can start to see the chemistry between them from the get-go. That’s the hook that keeps us reading.

When the hero and heroine meet, even if they initially seem to hate each other, you must show that there is some kind of attraction, something that will allow them to start seeing the good in each other—even if that side is only shown to the reader. Once again, I’ll reference the film You’ve Got Mail. If we didn’t see the softer sides of the two characters, we’d never believe there was any way they could ever fall in love with each other. They’re so hateful toward each other through the first half to two-thirds of the film, when they’re face to face, that we’d never buy it as a romance if we didn’t see their pain, their internal conflicts. That’s what makes us root for them to work it out in the end—because we know they’re meant to be together, even when they don’t.

For Discussion:
From a favorite movie or romance novel, what’s the opening hook that introduces the character(s) to the reader/viewer? Is the meet between h/hn the opening hook? If not, when does the inciting incident occur? In the movie The Wedding Planner, would you consider the inciting incident when Steve saves Mary from the run-away garbage bin or when Mary learns Steve is the groom of the wedding she’s been working so hard to land? Is it possible for the meet and the inciting incident to be separate?
 

In Writing the Romantic Comedy, Billy Mernit breaks the romance storyline into “seven basic” pieces, or “beats.” Most of us have heard that we should structure novels like plays or movies: in three acts. In a romance, the three acts can be broken down by the plot points we’ve already looked at: the meet, the lose, and the get. But Mernit breaks it down even further into these seven elements that are important to every romance:

1. The Setup/Hook

A scene or sequency identifying the exterior and/or interior conflict (i.e., unfulfilled desire), the “what’s wrong with this picture” implied in the protagonist’s (and/or antagonist’s) current status quo. (Mernit, 110)

2. The Meet/Inciting Incident

The inciting incident brings man and woman together and into conflict; an inventive but credible contrivance, often amusing, which in some way sets the tone for the action to come. (111)

3. The Turning Point

Traditionally occurring at the end of Act 1, a new development that raises story stakes and clearly defines the protagonist’s goal; most successful when it sets man and woman at cross-purposes and/or their inner emotions at odds with the goal. (112)

4. The Midpoint/Raising the Stakes

A situation that irrevocably binds the protagonist with the antagonist (often while tweaking sexual tensions) and has further implications for the outcome of the relationship. (113)

5. Swivel: Second Turning Point

Traditionally occurring at the end of Act 2, stakes reach their highest point as the romantic relationship’s importance jeopardizes the protagonist’s chance to succeed at his/her state goal—or vice versa—and his/her goal shifts. (115)

6. The Dark Moment/Crisis

Wherein the consequences of the swivel decision yield disaster; generally, the humaliating scene where private motivations are revealed, and either the relationshio and/or the protagonist’s goal is seemingly lost forever. (115)

7. Joyful Defeat/Resolution

A reconciliation that reaffirms the primal importance of the relationship; usually a happy ending that implies marriage or a serious commitment, often at the cost of some personal sacrifice to the protagonist. (116)

Okay, now I know this is a short post, and that beyond giving the definitions straight from the book, I haven’t really explained what any of them are. But I want you to formulate questions about them for us to discuss for the rest of the week. I want to get into all of these points, but I don’t want to belabor one of them if it’s something that everyone understands. So re-read these and post a comment with all of your questions about each point and let’s start exploring the structure of the romance!

Due to exhaustion brought on by spending the last several days at work packing up to move to new offices next week, I wasn’t able to write a new post for Writing the Romance Novel. But just in case you’re jonesing to read something about the craft of writing, check out these past posts on Characters and Point of View:

Creating Credible Characters (June 2007). See also Be Your Own Casting Director, Point of View
Creating Credible Characters—Introduction
Creating Credible Characters—Where Do Characters Come From?
Creating Credible Characters–Who Are You?
Creating Credible Characters–Culture Clash
Creating Credible Characters–Let’s Get Personal
Creating Credible Characters–Mannerisms and Quirks
Creating Credible Characters–What Do You Want?
Creating Credible Characters–What’s in a Name?

Point of View (June 2007). See also Creating Credible Characters, Showing vs. Telling
Point of View–Whose Story Is This? 
Point of View–How Important Is It?
Point of View–Semantics & Book List
Point of View–Giving POV the Third Degree
Guest Blogger Erica Vetsch–Making your Point (of View)
Guest Blogger Georgiana Daniels–Getting POV Right
Point of View–Showing vs. Telling

Though this is coming under much more debate these days, with all of the editors and agents saying chick lit is dead, dead, dead (which they said about historicals several years ago, but I digress), the standard POV for romance is third-person limited, past-tense, featuring the viewpoints of the heroine and the hero. That is what the romance reader is looking for.

I have heard from several authors recently that their first-person/present-tense “romance” novels were rejected, because the editor felt they were too chick-litty; or the author was asked to rewrite the story in third-person/past-tense and include the hero’s POV. And, by way of full disclosure, I am extremely prejudiced against the first/present POV and have only read two authors whose first/present chick lit novels I’ve enjoyed: Georgiana Daniels and Laura Jensen Walker.

Yes, single viewpoint romances have been written, and yes, they can be done well. In fact, we could say that there is almost a subgenre of romance which is the “girl must choose between two boys” romance. Young adult romances use this setup a lot (such as the Sunfire romances I read as a teen), as does chick lit.

I just want you to be forewarned that selling a romance novel that isn’t third/past/dual POV might be a struggle. Not impossible. But a struggle. But, don’t just take my prejudiced word for it.

A writer should stick to one POV per scene. “Headhopping” is a definite no-no.

For category romance, a book should either contain just the heroine’s POV, or, optimally, the heroine’s and hero’s POV.

Multiple POVs [more than hero/heroine] should be reserved for single-title works only.

In general, third-person POV is the preferred viewpoint.

(Rebecca Vinyard, The Romance Writer’s Handbook)

What does she mean, no headhopping? What about Nora Roberts and Jude Deveraux and Julie Garwood and Lori Wick? They headhop all over the place! Yes, and they’re all multi-published authors whose books sell on the strength of their brand-name, not the strength of their craft. Honing the skill of writing in deep, third-limited POV will strengthen your writing like nothing else.

The most common point of view in Christian romance is third person limited, alternating the hero’s or heroine’s POV by scene or chapters. . . . This method allows readers to enjoy getting to know both the hero and heroine intimately by seeing their relationship through both characters’ thoughts.
(Gail Gaymer Martin, Writing the Christian Romance)

Let’s take, for example, the movie You’ve Got Mail. What if it only had Meg Ryan’s scenes and the scenes in which she and Tom Hanks are together? Take out all of the scenes of him apart from her. You’d lose a big chunk of what’s important to the development of Kathleen and Joe’s relationship: the conflicts he brings to the table because of his family. If the story were told only from Kathleen’s POV, we would probably never understand why she ends up falling in love with him—nor would we get the chance to see the change and growth in him. Without getting inside the hero’s head, it’s a lot harder to convince the reader that the hero is worthy of our heroine’s love.

By using POV to allow the reader an intimate glimpse inside the character’s perspectives, the writer allows the reader to understand why the character is threatened by the conflict and why she [or he] feels so strongly about the subject.
(Gallagher/Estrada, eds., Writing Romances)

Including both the hero’s and heroine’s viewpoints not only gives us insight into both sides of the developing relationship, it’s also a way to create and maintain suspense and conflict. As we talked about in the Hooking the Reader series, being able to cut away from a character’s POV at a pivotal moment—a moment of decision or the cusp of taking a new action—hooks the reader and keeps them reading to find out what happens next.

In romance, it is the hero who carries the book. Within the dynamics of reading a romance, the female reader is the hero, and also is the heroine-as-object-of-the-hero’s-interest. . . . Through her own and the hero’s eyes, the reader watches and judges the heroine . . . the closer she moves toward spontaneously identifying with both hero and heroine, the more rich and rewarding the romance is likely to be for her.
(Laura Kinsale, “The Androgynous Reader,” Dangerous Men and Adventurous Women)

For Discussion:
What POV do you prefer to read romances in? Do you always want the hero’s POV? Would you ever consider writing a single POV romance from the hero’s viewpoint? Do you find yourself identifying more with the heroine when you see her through the hero’s eyes—wanting to be in her place as the object of his admiration? What POV have you chosen to use? Any other thoughts on POV in romance?