To break up the arduous task of reading The MacGregor Grooms this very weblog has been working its way through Secrets Uncovered, the Mills & Boon how-to e-book. Nearing the end of what once seemed an inexhaustible pit of absurdity and education we finally covered the topic of laughter and whether emotionally galling romance fiction could also contain witticisms and handsome billionaires walking into things. After our brush with Liz Fielding and her unique brand of joke-free comedy there was one question every Bewildered Heart would have wanted to ask had they existed. What is this RIVA we keep pretending to hear about for the sake of an article? With such pressing concerns pending, a further exploration of the RIVA subgenre is called for, to allow for a complete comprehension of what one is or does, and why we, reluctant readers and aspiring authors, might choose to make this our category romance of choice.
For what we unrealistically hope for is more on the subject we turn to Mills & Boon itself, as their submission guideline web-page spells out the important technical information, such as word count, head office location and meaningless editor names, before opening their pitch with a failed attempt at an understandable sentence. 'Riva is a vibrant, exciting new stream of editorial for readers who enjoy authors such as Louise Bagshawe, Tasmina Perry, Marian Keyes.' None of those writers are published by the flowing body of liquid that is RIVA, and for those Bewildered Hearts happily ignorant of Bagshawe, Perry and Keyes' editorial a little additional clarification would be helpful. 'Upmarket, glossy and sharply contemporary, these stories sparkle with wit, humour, passion and emotion!' This is tremendous news for those readers tired of criss-crossing between two sources for their wit and humour needs. RIVA not only offers both, but mixes them with the two elements that everyone would expect from a romantic novel.
Apparently RIVA goes by the much more straight-forward name of Harlequin Presents® Extra & Harlequin® Romance. With that confusion out of the way readers can discover what to expect when opening the upmarket, glossy and potentially hazardous pages of one such book. Harlequin, we prefer our stories hot and steamy, do you have something for the sexual deviant within? 'If you like your stories hot & steamy then you’ll love the Rivas written by original, fresh authors such as Heidi Rice, Natalie Anderson, Kelly Hunter and Kimberly Lang, formerly published in Mills & Boon Modern Heat.' Of course, Bewildered Heart remembers a little something from our previous dealings with Modern Heat, a subgenre with a dark red cover that suggestively hinted at the heavy erotic content and dreary lack of story revealed on the pages of One Night with the Rebel Billionaire. Modern Heat was defined by the two words that made up its moniker. While there already existed a Modern subgenre, Modern Heat took all the topical issues plaguing attractive twenty-seven-year-old virgins with thriving careers, threw in the generic hero, and ramped up the sexual euphemisms from the embarrassing to the redundant.
'These entertaining romances reflect the life experiences of today’s young women, within a chic, glamorous, and usually urban setting. They offer international glamour, passion with a flirty young voice and a whole load of sass!' Indeed, these are novels for the many modern women who enjoy their jet-set experiences of global allure with a healthy dose of feisty sarcasm. Unfortunately these wealthy, fun-loving singletons can't seem to find a handsome, sensitive billionaire in their real lives and have nowhere else to turn but to the romance books they read aboard their private planes. Speaking of such people, 'The heroines are often your twenty-something girls-about-town but there's no compromising on the hero: he must be very alpha and absolutely to die for! There’ll be sparks flying when these two meet – and nothing short of fireworks once they get to the bedroom!' Say no more, Mills & Boon, the writing world is now all too aware that the women of today want their archetypal romances with plenty of flowery language depicting all three of the sexual acts.
While the guidelines stress the importance of retaining the desirable male stereotype they do seem willing to accommodate original subversions of their twenty-something urban professional heroines, allowing the novelist freedom to shake up the tired conventions of girls-about-town and explore the possibilities of ladies-around-the-city and women-of-the-night. Their main stipulation, however, pertains to her voice. She is confident, straight-talking and independent. She knows what she wants from her career and from her personal life, but she would be prepared to give all that up for a suitable husband. Before you begin scribbling or typing, gentle authors, Mills & Boon has more information to reveal about RIVA, and naturally this information contradicts everything that has gone before. Because Harlequin, we prefer our stories flirty and sweet, do you also have something for the easy-going prude within? 'If you like your stories flirty & sweet then you’ll love the Rivas written by flirty, young voices such as Liz Fielding, Jessica Hart, Nina Harrington and Fiona Harper, formerly published in Mills & Boon Romance.' Traditionally the Romance Romance subgenre was defined by its heartfelt love stories, revolving around single parents thinking first of their children and only then of their wanton carnal hunger. With the more adult themes of divorce, death and ageing kept to the Cherish imprint, RIVA aims itself at a more youthful demographic.
'These stories should reflect the experiences of today’s young women – whether it be dating disasters, juggling a work/life balance or overcoming a broken heart. Each story should have an emotional core with believable emotional conflicts but told in an upbeat, fun, contemporary way.' There are more suitable avenues for novels concerning sadness and credible sentimental resonance. In RIVA there must be a lightness of touch to the drama, where a fit of depression can be easily overcome by some flirting with the perfect man over a low calorie cupcake. Speaking of such men, 'The hero should be sexy, aspirational and the romantic tension should sizzle, but when it comes to the bedroom – the door should be firmly closed.' Yes, unlike RIVA, those purveyors of purple, pornographic prose, RIVA would ask their authors to restrict themselves to flirtatious kissing and upbeat dry-humping before coyly turning to describe the fireplace.
The key ingredients to writing the perfect romance for the RIVA imprint therefore focus on the skilled use of flirting, the creation of the archetypes that dominate the entire romance genre and telling stories that capture what it means to be young, feisty, twenty-seven years old, possibly a virgin, skilled at flirting and gallivanting through built up areas tackling work, love, feelings and fashion with a loving spoonful of sassiness. 'We are open to romantic comedies, first person narratives and interesting twists on classic romantic themes.' Mills & Boon always end on the illusion that they are intelligent editors on the look out for exciting new voices with ground-breaking ideas, but when it comes to RIVA there might be a little truth to this notion. After all, the chick-lit trend of a decade ago is dying a slow, albeit watchable, death. Here Harlequin has positioned itself at the centre of this shift in tastes, but unlike the global behemoths of Fifty Shades and Twilight the first person narrators of RIVA are not the simpering, naval-gazing excuses for women that have seen James and Meyer to obscene wealth. Instead they are the empowered, superficial excuses for women that have seen sales in chick-lit plummet.
During Bewildered Heart's travels through the morass of romantic fiction there have been the occasional oddities, ranging from the discovery of a NASCAR subgenre to learning how sadomasochism has become the new stiletto made of cupcakes. While it remains naïve to claim that there are no further surprises awaiting us there is a subject that continues to elude Mills & Boon, and that is comedy. While the publishers have released titles such as Cowboys are For Loving, Accidental Princess and The Midwife's Glass Slipper there are no signs that formulaic romance novels are anything more than unintentionally hilarious. This is a disappointing development, but the argument is passionately refuted by numerous romance writers who either can't take a joke or don't understand sarcasm. For additional insight we return to Secrets Uncovered where those lovable Mills & Boon editors have turned their fleeting attention to this pressing matter, searching through their stable of authors and finding Liz Fielding, romance fiction's funny one.
Fielding has so far committed over sixty novels to paper and technological devices. Now she has designs on presenting Mythbusters with their most tedious episode yet. 'My job is to bust the all pervading myth that humour and Mills & Boon are mutually exclusive. Incompatible.' Well, humour is subjective and the majority of romance books are laughable, so is there any reason to believe Harlequin is a publisher of nothing but dour, po-faced stories featuring serious characters having earnest conversations and no talking animals? How to raise a smile, or even a gentle chuckle then, without resorting to predictable tactics such as jokes and slapstick? 'I don’t write jokes and I don’t do slapstick, but humour is part of our everyday lives and I want it to be part of my characters’ lives, too. There is nothing sexier than a man with a sense of humour. Nothing more charming than a girl who knows how to laugh at herself.' Even the most cursory glance at the genre suggests that while a sense of humour is sexually desirable it does not come close to comparing to physical beauty, money or personal hygiene, as Mills & Boon titles, as well as Mills & Boon writers, have testified to. A well-groomed, handsome billionaire trumps a balding, flabby wit every time. Sorry, balding, flabby wits. At least you still have the internet.
Liz Fielding writes for RIVA, which is possibly an acronym. She discredits herself as both a writer and a contributor to a writing guide with a bullet-pointed list that seems either wildly inaccurate or scarily simplistic. 'I want (the characters) to be able to laugh even when they’re crying, because that’s what real people do. Humour in romance is an extra layer that can lift a dark moment, give depth to a scene.
• You have what is being said – funny.
• What is being felt – emotional.'
Perhaps this is not a general rule for aspiring authors everywhere, but rather a deeply misguided attempt to define the meanings of words. Emotions are certainly feelings, but surely the art of writing is more complicated than characters making puns while slowly dying inside. Hopefully Liz will follow her list with a beneficial explanation. 'That’s what humour will bring to your stories. The potent mix of laughter and tears that we’re all familiar with.' Precisely, when people aren't sobbing uncontrollably they are giggling breathlessly, and this is what Liz Fielding aspires towards, a combination of soppy emotional manipulation and observational witticisms, reducing her reader to one of two extreme reactions that make it impossible to read.
Now that humour has been clearly defined the next stage of the lesson concerns how to lace it into your heartfelt novel about a billionaire European Prince working as a bellhop and falling in love with a chambermaid who has forgotten what feelings feel like. 'What makes us laugh and cry is who we are, and can never be forced. It only works as part of our unconscious writing voice, something that comes naturally.' Despite this advice being entirely useless, and tricky to read, it does recall a recurring theme of Secrets Uncovered that establishes the importance of a strong, unaffected author's voice. Once the potential writer approaches their work honestly, with enthusiasm and a passion for the genre their personality should shine through, enlivening their prose with humour and sincerity. If this fails to happen then the writer should take solace in the knowledge that they are too good for romance fiction and can return to their families, friends and a life of productive duties. However, if the writer insists on persevering then Fielding has a few ideas for zany situations liberally stolen from classic screwball comedies of the 1940s.
'For example:
• The hero who pretends to be cooking a fabulous meal for a glamorous blonde – but with a cook hiding out in the kitchen doing all the work.
• The heroine who, while working as a cleaner, is writing a diary column for “Milady” magazine as Lady Gabriella March. The heroine who opens the door in her scrubbing the floor clothes to be confronted by the hero – and casually tosses her rubber gloves over her shoulder in an attempt to look a little less of a fright.'
Someone should check through the bibliography of Liz Fielding for novels eerily similar to Christmas in Connecticut. There has always been something suspicious about Kwanzaa in Kansas, but it seemed inappropriate to single that one out. At this point Liz Fielding moves on, satisfied she has dealt with the topic of comedy, yet knowing no discussion of humour and emotion would be complete without talk of what an emotion is. 'As human beings, we’re bombarded with emotions. They are the most simple and complex of feelings.' Before Liz gets too technical this is a suitable point to ignore her lengthy descriptions of different emotions and how those emotions make people feel and how those people then react to the feelings brought about by the emotions. Instead a few paragraphs down Fielding ruminates on how to use this innate human skill-set to make your reader react with either a laugh from the mouth or the secretion of clear salty fluid from the glands of their eye. 'Romantic fiction is character led and what brings readers back to our books time and time again is the emotion and the laughter generated by the conflicts, problems, heartaches that we toss in their path like so many hand grenades.'
There is no obstacle quite like a high number of hand grenades, but unless your heroine has fallen for an attractive, yet clumsy, hand grenade salesman the hand grenades must be metaphorical, and instead represented by internal conflicts such as surprise pregnancies, hidden identities, lack of sexual experience, lycanthropy, thinly-veiled misogyny, father issues or the classic, reliable conflict of realistically reacting to being seduced by an enigmatic, gorgeous billionaire with a self-depreciating sense of humour. 'Our reader wants to experience what the heroine is feeling. The excitement, the raised heart rate, the pounding pulse. An attraction that is all the more exciting, compelling, because she believes that it must be resisted.' These are the narrative issues every author must resolve before writing, although most resort to contrivances and word-wasting in lieu of rationality and plot twists. When this article began we were promised an examination of how to interlace humour into our profound love story. Instead Liz Fielding has offered us unhelpful clichés, a list of emotions and the vaguest notion of what makes a good romance novel without any indication of how to under-take the task, which in itself turns out to be the perfect example of how to write successfully for Mills & Boon.
As a prospective career in romance fiction writing appears a distant dream unattainable through work or talent Bewildered Hearts are encouraged to take faith in unlikely success stories and genre phenomenons such as Nora Roberts, the world's most prolific author. The dedication she shows to her craft is so great she only occasionally takes breaks, and during those brief holidays she writes futuristic police procedurals under the name J.D. Robb, the world's second most prolific author. During these last few weeks we have been coping with the task of reading about another of her franchise families, the insensitively affluent MacGregor clan. In Parts One and Two of the overly verbose The MacGregor Grooms Roberts has married off the wealthy, gorgeous and talented painter D.C. and the rich, handsome and brilliant gambler and small business owner Duncan. Nevertheless, however many that is now is still not enough for the serial matchmaker Daniel MacGregor. As a result, the wily old wino has set his gaze on grandson Ian MacGregor, a prosperous, attractive and intelligent lawyer. Ian has recently bought a large house somewhere near Boston, Massachusetts, and has begun to fill it with tasteful, expensive furniture. Damn it, barks Daniel to no one in particular, won't this boy ever settle down?
As with all men Ian needs a woman, a steady, calming influence to nurture him and be pregnant with his children. Therefore Daniel begins to scour the state for eligible, single ladies and who better than Naomi Brightstone, who just took over the family business, Brightstone's, Boston's most respected and idealised bookstore. Not only has Naomi over-hauled the shop in light of the dwindling fortunes of street-front booksellers, adding a coffee bar and children's section, but she has also over-hauled herself, in light of the dwindling fortunes of overweight, ugly women who smell funny. Now she wears perfume and make-up, dresses in outfits that accentuate her slim, yet shapely, figure and has halted her shy, secluded existence behind shelves of novels. All she needs to finish her transformation is the contract officially confirming her as partner in the business, and a lawyer is bringing those papers over personally, and not just any lawyer, but a lawyer from the law practise of MacGregor & MacGregor, only the most beautiful, lucrative law practice on the planet.
MacGregor & MacGregor is the family business, where Ian works with his sister, the eminent, stunning and gifted Laura Cameron and possibly other members of his endless family. Ian has one final stop to make before he can head home. He has to personally deliver the freshly-drawn up papers to Brightstone's, where he must also unearth some first editions as a favour to his grandfather. After some reminiscing about his perfect childhood Ian meets Naomi and an enduring tale of love has begun to be unfurled. Naomi can't help but be impressed by Ian's charms, good looks, muscular frame, smarts, finances and confidence. Equally, Ian is taken by Naomi's scent, reading glasses and her most noticeable trait of being a woman. Days later and Naomi has plucked up the courage to visit Ian at his office and drop off the last of The MacGregor's book orders. What she lacks in nerve and self-belief is quietly made up for in narrative necessities, and a date is made, ostensibly to celebrate Naomi's career-achievement, but in actual fact to allow she and Ian to continue sniffing one another and sighing.
After a light bout of physical intimidation Ian displays his affection for the finer things in life, taking Naomi to a fancy restaurant where they discuss Celtic music, old things and other obscure pastimes to prove they are a couple with common interests. With everything going smoothly, the candlelight stirring romantic feelings and the silk-flavoured wine loosening inhibitions, Ian reveals his devastating tactic to keep Naomi in his life. He wants to build a library in his resplendent house. Having researched libraries on the internet Ian discovered they are filled with books, much like bookshops, so who better to help stack books into a room than the manager of Brightstone's, a bookshop that is literally filled with books? Naomi is naturally disappointed, but remains philosophical. Of course, what would a dishy and flourishing MacGregor child want with a formally dowdy potato-chip-eater like her? With the meal dispensed with and few calories consumed the date concludes outside Naomi's home, but no sooner did Roberts introduced her potential conflict of mixed signals and misunderstood verbal gestures does she negate it completely, as Ian lowers his head and luscious flow of thick, masculine hair to passionately kiss Naomi on her timid, feminine lips to reveal any number of proverbial rainbows, clouds and low-carb cupcakes.
As Nora Roberts subtly exposes Naomi as nothing more than a woman the third chapter ends and the spirited race from respectful courting to life-affirming sex to blissful matrimony has wasted little time on the respectful courting stage. As with D.C., Duncan and every other hero in Roberts' series, Ian the lawyer is a spectacular example of the glorified male. Within a handful of pages Naomi has surrendered to his will, overwhelmed by his presence and ability to speak. However, there are allusions to the difficulties that lie ahead. Unlike the previous two heroines Naomi is the polar opposite of the secure, emotionally-stubborn Cat Farrell and the possessed, uptight Layna Drake. While D.C. was able to break down the latter's prim exterior through the use of sex and compliments, Duncan had to conquer the vulnerability within Cat through the use of sex and gifts. Despite these eye-opening differences, Naomi has neither the sexual confidence of Cat nor the independent determination of Layna. After all, she is a work-in-process, an introverted virgin who has only ever read about compliments in encyclopaedias. How does a man make a wife out of such disarray and anxiety? Through the use of sex, gifts and compliments perhaps?
If anyone knows the answers to those questions we can assume Nora Roberts has a semblance of an idea, as she wrote the story and it is doubtful she will throw around trite psychological epiphanies and thoughtless scenes of casual sexism in a deluded belief this will satisfy the reader. As is typical of her focus throughout these revealing briefs Roberts switches the point of view with jarring regularity, but merely uses the opportunity to helpfully reinforce how marvellous Ian is. The MacGregor himself rears his head on two occasions, breaking from a scotch to abuse Ian's answerphone and then as the centre of conversation during the dinner, as his grandchildren have been taught to always twist flirtatious banter into an anecdote about an elderly relative. His work here, however, seems rather unnecessarily. Within moments of their initial meeting hero and heroine appear made for one another, because they were made for one another by a lazy author struggling with a deadline. Ian has designs to settle down and take a wife, and Naomi is the first woman he sees having come to this decision. Meanwhile, Naomi is powerless against male sexuality and has no thoughts or ideology to call her own. As The MacGregor lies back for his mid-afternoon nap he can rest off his stupor easily, safe in the knowledge that this is one love story that will not warrant one of his needless cameos, although it may require some of his alcohol.
In such a month previous to this one Bewildered Heart had its first skirmish with the publishing titans Mills & Boon when an opening chapter submitted to the Fast Track competition was mercifully rejected with reassuring promptness and professionalism. This very weblog has long-held aspirations of succeeding in the world of romantic fiction, as many middle-aged authors and other flippantly half-hearted internet sites have over the years. Where once it seemed anyone could dash off fifty-five thousand words of trite emotional epiphanies and sexual euphemisms and earn money and approval from Harlequin or their modern competitors, now the standards are moving ever higher, despite all evidence to the contrary. Since Bewildered Heart's own attempt at a ground-breaking romantic tale of medical colleagues finding happiness against the odds in a world that has forgotten how to love, an admittedly wordy title, has been read and judged, and our Bewildered Heart has recovered from being as shattered as our dreams, we can concentrate on discovering why, perhaps learning a little something for the next time we dare to wager our livelihoods on our writing abilities. The Medical™ Romance Team, whose job it was to peruse the entrants in search of literary magic, sent the following message out-lining their grievances with this particular Fast Track response.
The eye is naturally drawn to the neat top three list of things worth bearing in mind. However, mere sentences earlier we learn that the characters and story did not feel sufficiently developed for an introductory chapter of mysterious billionaire doctors enigmatically fluttering their thick eyelashes in brightly-lit hospital corridors where life makes sense. This disappointing lack of development may be the direct result of reading Mills & Boon novels and assuming a style and formula from said research, but what do the proceeding hints say about this glaring fault? After all, how much development is possible in any opening chapter? Whereas a traditional speculative submission would see the opening three chapters proffered, Fast Track did away with such time consumption and chose instead to form an opinion on pieces anywhere between three and five thousand words. Can a future Nora Roberts be plucked from obscurity based upon the minimal amount of reading? Going by Bewildered Heart's own reviews of Mills & Boon novels unwavering judgements often seemed to be formed by the end of the first sentence.
Sensing an abrupt refusal was not nurturing enough, the romantics at head office attempted to soften the blow and stir the winds of inspiration by cutting and paste three titbits from a presumably endless list of generic criticisms. 'Ensure that your story and conflict are character-driven against the backdrop of a contemporary medical setting.' More fool you for writing about doctors in Ancient Greece dealing with crises created by the frivolous gods. Nothing about The Greek Surgeon's Virgin Olive Oil Salesgirl suited the Fast Track brief. Nevertheless, even with the most archetypal situation and characters a love story must be rooted in the emotional journeys of the hero and heroine. Even when limited to an opening chapter the author must lead their characters into making life-altering decisions and not have them simply react passively to contrived circumstance, as seen before in every romance novel Mills & Boon have ever published. Bewildered Heart's unfortunately restricted knowledge of the Medical™ subgenre has only Neurosurgeon... and Mum! as an example, but Kate Hardy's novel is perfectly appropriate. The heroine is broken through loneliness and professional tragedy, while the hero struggles with grief and single fatherhood, thus making the unlikely coincidence of their living together seem less formulaic and transparent than it appears when recounted later in an article on the internet.
Secondly, 'Focus on the internal emotion conflict of your characters.' This particular point is eye-opening for numerous reasons. What is external emotional conflict? Should the characters be persuaded to deal with their doubts, attraction, anger and fears solely on the inside, lessening the dramatic thrust of the narrative? Should the writer begin their book by explaining that hero and heroine are as incapable of verbalising and emoting their thoughts as they are intellectualising them in an enjoyable or readable way? To keep emotional conflict within the interior monologues of the protagonists is to play to one strength of prose. However, when handled poorly, in the style of the majority of romance fiction, this tactic quickly becomes tiresome and displays the author's shallow use of psychology and the blandness of their characters. Furthermore, the unbalanced focus exemplifies the lack of genuine twists and reveals a story merely treading water until the ending the blurb had sign-posted arrives. Despite this, a series of tumultuous revelations, tear-soaked confessions and bitter arguments works against the satisfying character arcs Mills & Boon guarantee their audience. Therefore, the author must find a compelling middle ground between neurotic, silent agonising and standing on a mountain cursing the whims of the gods.
Thirdly, 'Use the secondary characters to add richness and depth to your central romance but don't let them take over!' When discussing the problematic nature of Medical™ the issue of patients was an obvious concern. How can a plot weave in injury or illness, giving the characters something to do besides pining, without the life and death emergencies of the profession becoming more gripping than the they-will-they-will machinations of the romance? Kate Hardy side-stepped the dilemma by utilising a series of one-off patients, never allowing the reader to become involved, but as a result squandered any excitement by applying a superficial gloss to the individuality of the subgenre. Does the reader wish for a House MD mystery, an ER-style shot of adrenalin, a bit of whatever happens in Grey's Anatomy, or do they simply want some technical language involving blood cells between their vital scenes of internal conflict and external love-making? Since Bewildered Heart has no more expertise to go on other than the rejection letter we can only assume we still have no idea.
For many the Fast Track experience will have proved beneficial and for a few it will bring the opportunity of a lifetime. While the three points this weblog received shed no light on how to break into the industry there are lessons to take away otherwise. For example, there is no sense attempting to write a Medical™ Romance unless you have a passion for the field or for the subgenre itself. The research required for even a veneer of credibility is time-consuming and a distraction from the actual writing of the book and the additional reading about Ancient Greece. Mills & Boon will ask their aspiring author to pursue the novel the author wants and not the novel the author thinks Mills & Boon will want. This is fair advice, albeit possibly misleading and certainly frustrating to consider once the rejection letter lands on the doorstep. Since the results of Fast Track have been revealed the publishers have announced their new competition, bigger than New Voices and Fast Track combined, and with it the prospect of achieving a long-held and half-hearted aspiration has begun to emerge. Enough trying to offer romance readers what they desire and what they already have, here is the chance to offer them something better. So You Think You Can Write is that chance, despite what appears to be photographic proof that we, in fact, cannot.
When we left Part Two of The MacGregor Grooms at the end of the third chapter, Catherine 'Cat' Farrell and Duncan 'Duncan the Blade' Blade where smoothly gliding down the Mississippi River on their way to eternal love and sassy bickering. As the fourth chapter began, however, what had once seemed plain sailing on calm waters had somehow turned to a perfect storm, with high winds of intrigue, tidal waves of emotion, undercurrents of refusal, preying sharks of unresolved family issues and Somali pirates of sexual tension. Duncan had bought Cat elegant, thoughtful gifts such as perfume and trinket boxes and made heartfelt, honest offers of candlelit dinner and candlelit sex over the course of one frustrating week, but every advance was thwarted by a swift rejection. As the Comanche Princess docks in New Orleans Duncan has begun to wonder just what he has to do to convince Cat to sleep with him. As always in romance fiction leaving the woman with no choice turns out to be the way to go. He takes her into town for authentic local cooking and then down a darkened alley for a sampling of authentic palm-reading. When the day is through Duncan is more smitten than ever, while Cat remains as beguilingly enigmatic as the plot forces her to be for the sake of narrative padding.
Shortly thereafter the twosome’s chemistry proves too great and as another evening of luxury, singing and gambling comes to a close Cat and Duncan indulge in a bout of unprotected sex and their lives are changed irrevocably. Duncan is just so glamorous, charming, handsome and wealthy that Cat is powerless against his roaming tongue, fancy suits and big words. Equally, Cat is available and has a tendency to call people Sugar inbetween sips of water, a combination that prove impossible to resist. Within minutes Cat has moved her clothes, gifts, perfumes and American sofa into Duncan's sizeable cabin and they are at the mercy of their unwavering attraction for however long it is before Nora Roberts returns to the story. Taking temporary respite from Duncan's manhood, Cat strolls about the boat in search of Duncan and a room with a lock. There she finds her hunky piece of masculinity with his arm around a gorgeous, svelte blonde and her romance is about to meet its first and only fleeting obstacle. Nevertheless, hold your raging, Cat, because this sophisticated young woman is in fact Duncan's mother, Serena MacGregor, and with her is husband Justin Blade, of family Blade, world-renowned arms dealers with absurd genetics.
Once the embarrassment fades into excruciating memory likely to haunt her forever, Cat surmises Duncan Blade comes from a mighty dynasty of fantastically beautiful people. Not only are Serena and Justin onboard, but The MacGregor and Wife also show up, due to the contractual obligations of the novella. Daniel Duncan 'Mac The MacGregor' MacGregor takes an instant shine to Catherine and she develops quite the crush on him too. Who wouldn't, of course, the devious silver fox and his excessive drinking have combined to seduce numerous women into his burgeoning legacy and soon enough Serena, The MacGregor and Anna have declared Cat suitable baby-making material. They then urge Duncan to continue what he has been doing for weeks already as they return to their memoirs of breath-taking reflections. While the male half of the couple is easily convinced Cat remains somewhat dubious for reasons that the author never bothers to explain. Perhaps she feels undeserving of such a glorious specimen as Duncan, or maybe she doesn't understand love, or she could possibly be holding out for more expensive presents. Then there is her dream of a singing career and perhaps a marriage aboard a boat, back and forth along the Mississippi, isn't as appealing as it is for Duncan Blade, the drunken gambler who loves boats.
Unbeknownst to Cat, and any readers not paying close attention, Duncan had sent her demo tape to Reed Valentine of Valentine Records and, to use musical terminology, Reed had flipped for that groovy jam. Duncan breaks the news with champagne and moonlight, and Cat is overwhelmed with joy and amorous gratitude. As Part Two draws to a conclusion there is only one final fight to be had, in which Cat attempts to break things off and fly to New York to be a professional chanteuse, only for Duncan to persuade her to marry him, live on a Mississippi riverboat and then fly to New York to be a professional chanteuse. At long last Cat realises she can have it all, love and a career, singing and gambling, copious amounts of food and a slim figure, a giant diamond wedding ring and no worries about anything ever again, because a man is here and he has money and all of life's answers at the bottom of a bourbon bottle.
While Part Two of The MacGregor Grooms is a woeful waste of time Nora Roberts appears completely aware of its absence of drama and compulsion. While Part One, concerning DC and Layna, showed enough glimpses of genuine hang-ups and personality clashes, there is so little standing in the way of Cat and Duncan the story instead represents everything that is wrong with modern romance fiction. The characters are unrealistically good-looking, to the point of parody, they are talented and without troubles, they move through life utterly at ease, all the while waiting for their perfect lives to improve with the introduction of idealised love, attained without struggle or sacrifice. Roberts needlessly shoehorns in Serena and The MacGregor, if only to break up the endless number of sex scenes, but with in-laws this perfect there is never any danger of conflict. Instead Roberts utilises the steadfast opinions of the impossibly youthful old people to further demonstrate how wonderful Catherine is and how canny The MacGregor's eye, as if additional proof were necessary or interesting to read of. It is more likely that the strongest appeal of the MacGregor series is the loveable rascal who dominates proceedings through meddling, sentimentality and a haze of cigar smoke. While Daniel Duncan MacGregor's cult of personality is the highlight of every story this isn't achieved so much through his magnificence, but rather through how hopelessly tiresome and predictable all the other characters are.
The MacGregor Grooms belongs to a bygone era when physically flawless billionaires were aspirational and therefore suitable for romantic heroes. Unlike the majority of similar fiction, however, Roberts comes unstuck with her male protagonists for numerous reasons. Namely, she is unable to write convincing male characters, and while the narrative jumps back and forth between viewpoints, the book's title and family theme will always draw the reader to respond emotionally to the hero, as Duncan and DC are the active pursuers with goals to achieve. Whereas a more conventional novel will see the poor, innocent heroine nurture the powerful, arrogant tycoon into the emotionally stunted mummy's boy hiding within, The MacGregor Grooms subverts the formula while retaining the archetypes. The reader is expected to empathise with the controlling playboy as his years of getting what he wants are momentarily delayed by a stunning woman who is as equally successful and purpose-built. Roberts then asks her fans to relax and enjoy the easy-going, passionate, tender romance as it builds toward a marriage proposal and endless offspring, foolishly assuming the truncated word count absolves her of a professional duty. Now Nora has one final opportunity to get things right, as Ian meets Naomi and somewhere, in a castle over-looking the ocean, a ninety-year-old shouts merrily at no one to bring him more whiskey. How canny that man is.
No sooner had we Bewildered Hearts sent our Fast Track entries into the Mills & Boon offices than Harlequin had announced a brand new competition. Yes, the benevolent publishers have launched a multi-layered global writing contest with a press release and a website, So You Think You Can Write, finally throwing down the gauntlet to their many admiring readers who probably all believe they are literate. ‘Do you dream of being a world-famous published author?’ they begin. If so, writing for Mills & Boon is a deeply illogical choice. However, simply by removing the phrase ‘world-famous’ from that sentence the slightly amended meaning suddenly seems much more appropriate. ‘Do you dream of being a publisher author?’ If so, does the internet have the career opportunity for you. Here is your chance to send a manuscript to that hallowed centre of disposable romance fiction and perhaps see your fake name sandwiched between a bombastic, sexist title you did not choose and a gently pornographic photograph of two unsuccessful models canoodling that you had no say over. Last year’s winner, Kat Cantrell from Texas, will see her debut published in February 2013 and critically-lambasted on this very weblog possibly afterwards.
Much like New Voices and Fast Track in every way conceivable, So You Think You Can Write will attempt to discover those hidden talents whose manuscripts were until now doomed to remain where they belonged, in a drawer or on a slush pile. Because Mills & Boon lack imagination and originality they have decided to create an event of their competition, but unlike the ebook Secrets Uncovered that preceded New Voices, So You Think You Can Write submissions will have been tailored to perfection by a twenty-four hour a day, seven day a week week-long online conference where potential entrants will work alongside fifty romance editors over a variety of cutting edge technological communication tools, including, ‘Podcasts, videos, webinars, blogs, live chats, community discussions and Twitter events.’ Many of those are things that exist. Webinars are seminars that take place on the internet and are so-called because who ever invented the term didn’t take the time to check the etymology of seminar.
In case everyone wasn’t excited enough by the illicit thrills of learning the differences between webinars, videos, podcasts and live chats, ‘Aspiring authors will attend a virtual romance-writing "boot camp" designed to teach them how to write a romance novel that will attract the attention of publishers.’ Who doesn’t enjoy a boot camp experience? This online international festival of smut and mediocrity will last from the seventeenth to the twenty-fourth of September, giving plenty of time to those wishing to hone their novel before the competition deadline on the thirteenth of October. From there participants will submit an opening chapter and brief synopsis before the many hopefuls will be whittled down to twenty-eight through a combination of a public vote and Harlequin themselves. The twenty-eight writers will then send off their finished manuscripts, which professional editors will judge and select a final three for another communal election. The overall favourite will win a publishing contract to write a series romance novel, slightly undermining the amount of work, stress and unrestricted online opinion they will have had to endure from a contest with such a friendly, non-confrontational name.
With the press release released Mills & Boon swiftly moved onto the next obvious step. In order to prepare for the crash university course taking place in September there will be three month prep class, which will consist of numerous blog entries regurgitating the wisdom of Secrets Uncovered and fed to the next generation of unskilled romance writers eager for learning and eventual worldwide fame and glory. First up are two short essays, Vanquishing the Terrifying Empty Screen and How to Stand Out from the Slush. According to the latter, the crucial difference between the thousands of rejected opening chapters and the few selected success stories is, ‘The author’s natural voice – all too often we receive submissions that may be technically very good but there is no personality or spark to the writing. Sometimes it feels like writers are trying to emulate authors that they have read before but we’re not looking for a paint by numbers romance.’ While it may intermittently sound as if Harlequin lies in its promotional material this statement has the indefinable, elusive enigma that explains the publisher’s vague notion of quality control. Helpfully How to Stand Out from the Slush immediately moves on without a further word of insight.
Other than that opening, head-scratching statement the leftover hints are the straight-forward classics we have covered before such as dazzling dialogue, emotional intensity, colourless inflammable hydrocarbon, originality, humour, chemistry, characterisation and relatable, contemporary issues no matter what century the story occurs in. As Bewildered Heart has foolishly promised not to repeat itself on countless occasions we can therefore return to the troubling challenge of believably faking naturalism. We are consistently told that writing romance fiction is not easy, and while an understanding of sentence structure and narrative form can be acquired from schooling or scrolling downwards the skill of displaying affection for love and for this genre is an innate gift authors either have or do not. Furthermore, and most troubling for anyone after an easy payday, a winning personality cannot be disingenuously engineered, unlike technical ability. If a high standard of romance writing could be achieved through cynicism, research and pretence the company behind our cherished novels would lose any remaining credibility they hadn’t squandered through the drearily low standard of their product.
After all, Harlequin have set their stall out as editors with a sharp eye for the real thing, and can distinguish between writers born to churn out special moments and those writers willing to change a few adjectives in a Marie Ferrarella book and calling it their own. Expecting… In Texas becomes Trouble in Tennessee with a minimal amount of reworking and would a Mills & Boon editor really sense the missing ethereal elements they are paid to discover lacking between the words? If they were unable to shouldn’t we Bewildered Hearts establish a competition entitled So You Think You Can Judge? Regardless, So You Think You Can Write will select as winners only the novelists passionate about romance and dedicated to rewriting Marie Ferrarella with loving attention to detail. This should call to an end the dispiriting years of cynicism, research and pretence. There are romance writers and then there is everybody else. With any luck the boot camp will crush any desire among the aspiring authors to make any such suggestions about the duality of man.
