At this point it was probably last year that Mills & Boon teamed up with newsagent W.H. Smith and eBookseller Kobo for RoWriLife, or Romance Writing Life, for the longer, but equally problematic, name. RoWriLife gave authors the opportunity to recycle their failed So You Think You Can Write manuscripts. The Florida-based journalist Kerry McKay has since been announced as the winner. Her novel, A Country Affair, beat out 465 submissions and is described as, 'Highly original, eccentric but romantic, a traditional romance with quirky characters in uniquely British situations.' Meanwhile, on the website and blog, the competition organisers were kind enough to offer their Top Ten tips on how to Romance Write Life. Are these perceptive critiques on the typical problems plaguing amateur fiction? Let us delve in and discover that no, they are not.
1. 'Grab readers’ attention with a gripping first chapter and a killer first line.' Beyond the title, author's name, blurb, tagline, reader's biography and some legal details about copyright and publishing dates, the opening line of a novel is often the first thing the reader will read, assuming that they start at the beginning. 'The novel’s opening can’t be all build up or backstory – something exciting has to happen!' What exciting things would be appropriate for a Romance novel featuring few characters outside the heroine and hero? The entrants of So You Think You Can Write preferred the traditional concepts of other genres, using thriller tropes to draw readers in before the big reveal that their book was a tedious will-they-won't-they love story after all. Resisting the Billionaire Playboy saw its heroine scaling the wall of a nightclub, to introduce intrigue and danger into a tale of weddings and the business of weddings.
2. 'Establish the emotional conflict that your characters are facing so that readers are dying to know how it will be resolved.' Couldn't this statement be rephrased in the form of a question that doesn't make sense? 'What is that these characters want the most and what is standing in their way?' Thank you. Without the establishing of an emotional conflict, readers would be left to guess at was keeping the characters apart, emotionally. Once the reader knows what is happening they will often keep reading to find out how things will end. In the case of Romance, the ending will be happy
3. 'Keep your central plot unique and fresh but also a clear and defined idea that you can pitch in a maximum of three sentences. You want to entice readers into a compelling novel, not confuse them with too many plot strands.' Nothing confuses a romance reader quite like plot strands. One plot is usually enough, bulked out with two subplots that are easily resolved within the central story. To simplify matters further, the two subplots can be the same as the main plot. The challenge the author faces is stringing out their idea into three sentences without repeating themselves.
4. 'Avoid clichés. The hero and heroine bumping into each other and spilling each other’s drinks has been done 1000 times! Find something new that’s completely your own.' So many spilled drinks. Should people in the throes of love be allowed to carry beverages? History says not, but at least now that cliché has been pointed out, the days of either drink-carrying or drink-spilling may be over. The avoidance of clichés is important, as is recognising what a cliché is. Fortunately Mills & Boon have spent upwards of one hundred years creating every romantic cliché they could think of. Now it is up to a new generation of writers to create some more.
5. 'Your characters need to be complex – they can’t just have one trait personalities.' Does your heroine love horses? Perhaps they love horses because of unresolved issues with their father, who himself was a horse who abandoned his daughter when she was little. This is the different between superficial archetypes and characters who feel real. While heroes often have only one thing on their mind - marriage - they carry that same obsessional will into the other areas of their life, such as billionairing and home-decoration. If they are doctors they are often also single parents. Playboys are no longer just one-dimensional caricatures. Authors have added other identifiers, including Greek and Italian, and complex traits such as ruthlessness.
6. 'Your characters also don’t have to be perfect. Flawed characters with interesting emotional conflicts make for stronger stories than characters who are practically perfect in every way.' The days of idealization are over. As we move into a new era where people are more three-dimensional than ever, readers expect their fictional characters to accurately reflect this. Mills & Boon has expanded its oeuvre to cater for as many peculiar tastes as their marketing team are capable to thinking up. There are now subgenres devoted to rich characterisation, heart-breaking emotional crises and quirky small-town locations. The publisher's tendency towards idealising the hero physically has allowed them to play around with different kinds of personal deficiencies including committmentphobia, haughtiness and having more money than they know what to do with.
7. 'Your central characters need to go on a journey throughout the story. Usually from a state of (self) ignorance or misunderstanding about what will make them happy to a point of self-awareness and acceptance.' Sometimes involving physical movement, but more often than not the journey is one of worrying while stood. The questions every romance novel asks are a series of simple ones. What makes these two characters happy and what should make them happy and why is it taking so long for them to figure out that happiness can only be found in the formulaic results of Romance Fiction? The answers are independence, marriage and narrative.
8. 'Show don’t tell. Characters and events need to be revealed through actions rather than long passages of narrative which can weaken the tension in your story.' This point misuses the word narrative, and seems confused over what events are, but the argument for show rather than tell is valid, albeit irrelevant. Reveal character flaw, motivation and unresolved father issues through the nuanced use of action and subtext. For example, rather than this how-to guide telling the reader that spelling out Bewildered Heart's loneliness, instead we can reveal so much more by subtly hinting at the problem, to no one, because Bewildered Heart has no readers.
9. 'What your characters say or don’t say to other characters can often reveal a lot more about how they are really feeling than what they directly tell the reader.' This point is identical to the previous point, reminding the aspiring not to lay things on too thickly. Despite this, speaking directly to another character is not the same as speaking directly to the reader, at least until Mills & Boon invent the 'Make Your Own Romance' genre. Even then a gentle approach will most often be better, and perhaps this will be explained by a final thought that is the same as the previous two, only worded differently.
10. 'Know your market. Who are the author you write in a similar style to? What makes your book appeal to fans of these authors and what will make it stand out? Think about why a reader would choose your book over that of another author aiming at the same market.' The call for originality is idealistic and all, but the most important question to ask is, who is you most derivative of? Is they successful? Is they very successful? If so, please continue pursuing a career in romance writing. If your influences have struggled to sell their novels, you might as well quit now.
To help prepare aspiring authors submit to So You Think You Can Write, Harlequin editors have explained how to construct the perfect novel. While this may have been redundant after the publication of Secrets Uncovered there was much that the how-to bible failed to advise on. Equally important, of course, was judging by the first chapters entered into this year's competition, no one has really learned anything despite the many lessons. For this reason, Associate Editor Rachel Burkot has written, Good Pacing: Better Than a Solid Pair of Spanx. Pacing is so important to quality writing that Mills & Boon rarely mentions it or shows much evidence that they know what the word means. Fortunately, Burkot is here to help with a series of obvious statements entirely unrelated to the topic of pacing.
What is pacing, Burkot asks. Where better to begin than with the pacing found in an instruction manual for building a shed? 'Steps have to be listed in the correct order, otherwise the pacing will be off, and you'll never get your product put together.' This is correct, albeit irrelevant. Without a floor and walls a roof will simply fall to the ground, and will not even be considered a roof. In terms of romantic fiction, the sequence of events must be ordered to best maximise emotional resonance. Traditional romance fiction prefers linear narratives with a couple of sex scenes to pad out the second act and love neither realised nor declared until the final pages often after a misunderstanding or disagreement that separates the pair for long enough for them to see that life without the other is not worth living. This is the classic formula no one wishes to experiment with, and while pertinent to writing for Mills & Boon does not explain pacing. Still, the article has more comparisons. There is an email to an old friend, cement between floors of a house, dental work and Spanx. All either require pacing or are pacing.
Yet, just what is pacing? According to Burkot, pacing romance is especially difficult because the process of courtship is, 'Less transparent, more on-the-page than in other genres, since the characters are meeting, going on dates and falling in love.' While the pacing of much fiction and non-fiction has its pacing off-on-page, Romance paces its stories with words and those words are always within the book, often printed as part of sentences. There is nowhere to hide in Romance and a lack of pacing will reveal itself by every letter appearing together as one large incomprehensible black smudge. Burkot elaborates, 'You can't have characters declare their love on the first date and get engaged on the second. That’s just not reasonable or relatable! Furthermore, the book would end at the second date.' Thus, delaying the inevitable must be what Mills & Boon thinks pacing is.
When it comes to avoiding the trappings of poor pacing Burkot has two issues. She does not want to see hero and heroine fall in love too soon and she does not want stories without conflict. 'If it’s obvious only one-quarter in that the characters are ga-ga for each other and neither hell nor high waters will keep them apart, where’s the hook to keep reading?' she asks. Secrets Uncovered delved deeply into defining conflict as the things that stop the couple from being together. Burkot explains them incorrectly as, 'Plot-wise (externally) and within themselves (internally).' Proper pacing, therefore, must be observed in both the storyline and the emotional dilly-dallying that is also the storyline. Pacing can be found within conflict, but conflict is not pacing. Nevertheless, when writing an essay on the importance of pacing without fully comprehending what pacing is, it seems sensible to stress the importance of things that you do comprehend, just as long as this advice is properly paced.
What are the benefits of including pacing in a story? For starters, there is the illusion of unpredictability. 'If you can make a reader forget that she already knows the ending of a romance for just a split second, you’ve done a fabulous job with pacing!' But what is pacing? With this sentence concluding the article it seems safe to assume that Rachel Burkot does not know either. Nevertheless, there is one valuable lesson that can be learned from favourably comparing speed and rhythm to an American hosiery company. If a romance novel is good it has either been properly placed or has an abundance of pacing. If, however, a romance novel is bad its failure may be the result of either improper pacing or no pacing whatsoever. When pacing a blogpost on the topic of pacing, a Bewildered Heart must include epiphanies at around this point to provide the piece with a reason for existing. Most readers will have skipped down to the final paragraph anyhow, safe in the knowledge that everything up until that point was filler broken up with crude innuendo.
To better understand what is clearly a misunderstood subject, we turn to Writer's Digest and an article by Jessica Page Morrell from Crafting Novels & Short Stories. She begins by asking, 'What is Pacing in Fiction?' Good question. 'Pacing is part structural choices and part word choices, and uses a variety of devices to control how fast the story unfolds.' These choices include sentence length and the use of verbs. Pace can be quickened and slowed by a variety of methods, depending on the nature of the scene. The difficulties for Romance authors stem from their preference towards a leisurely flow to the drama with plenty of stops for emotional gestation, handsomeness-noticing, skin-tingling and neuroses-having. Action scenes are rare and when they do occur they are often interrupted by lengthy summaries of what the reader already knows. Heroes and heroines are afflicted by internal conflicts created in their pasts, and this curtails narrative momentum. Writer's Digest offers an insight into action, suspense and excitement, but these words are rarely used to describe the Romance genre.
Nevertheless, what would be so bad about inventing a new form of modern romantic fiction employing some of the suggestions made by Writer's Digest? Readers would be swept along, not by wondering why the world's sexiest and most sensitive billionaire is still single, but by an author skilled at story-telling. Of Morrell's seven tips the most significant is action. 'Action scenes are where you “show” what happens in a story, and contain few distractions, little description and limited transitions.' Were Romance novels to have plot development this insight would be invaluable. The traditional Harlequin output struggles with pacing due to deeper, inherent difficulties with structure and story. A gentle pace is used to mask what is lacking. Once an aspiring author has mastered the basics they can begin to consider technical adjustments, and thus we await Rachel Burkot's next article, which will hopefully explain what the basics are.
Once an aspiring author has achieved their dream of no longer aspiring to writing there are a handful of obligations each must undertake before they can consider a follow-up novel to their under-whelming debut. Since they have become a player on a fiercely competitive global stage it is imperative they become indistinguishable from their thousands of contemporaries. No author is truly an author unless they are liked on Facebook, followed on Twitter and represented online by both a poorly-designed website and an infrequently updated blog. Here they can share what is distracting them from considering a follow-up novel and post daily word-count numbers, cheesecake recipes and essays on what they have learned for the aspiring authors who stumble distractedly onto their pages while searching for photographs of Hugh Jackman.
One such novelist is the Australian Ally Blake, who offered the internet the advice she gave at the Williamstown Literary Festival of 2006. Much of the focus of the article is skewed towards writers Down Under, and the majority of the more universal assistance sheds no new light on the subject at hand, but she does briefly touch upon one topic Mills & Boon has been somewhat evasive on, even as they constantly stress its importance. This topic is uniqueness, or individuality, to use an actual word. By now Bewildered Heart obsessives should have learned the necessary skills for strong characters, original scenarios, witty dialogue, compelling emotional conflict and sizzling sex scenes, but they should have also noticed how quality is rarely enough for their publishing house of choice and so we turn to Ally for inspiration on how to turn ourselves from Nora Nobodies into Nora Robertsies.
According to Blake, novelist and speed-reader, it is as simple as unifying the extraordinary with the realistic to create a believable combination that is no way contradictory. 'When choosing to use two to three precious hours out of your day to read a novel, you’re not looking to fill in your time reading about Jane and Joe making tea, tending the garden and watching the telly.' While this does sound suspiciously like a challenge, or a dig at literary authors, the sentiment is sensible. Don't gloss over the courtship and skip directly to married life. After all, this is romance fiction, and whether the emphasis is on romance or fiction every day tasks simply will not suffice. 'The hero and heroine in your tale go through something extraordinary. Their problems are deeper, their romance brighter, their falls bigger - they live their lives that little bit harder and faster and more spectacularly than the rest of us.' This is naturally so, as the rest of us are stuck indoors writing and reading vicariously through manifestations of our idealised selves, and at our most desirable would never dream of hot beverages, flowers, entertainment, dull relationships and short drops into shallow conundrums.
Nevertheless, as Ally goes onto point out, the extraordinary is not necessarily extraordinary unless someone relatable notices and reacts suitably. 'Romance readers have been around long enough to recognise literary devices such as forced intimacy, black moments, happily ever afters.' The naïve might believe such canny romance readers deserve to be rewarded with something superior, but these conventions are part of the genre's appeal, offering that warm buzz of familiarity. Yet all this experience affords readers a discerning eye when it comes to character. 'A vulnerable heroine who is afraid of spiders but still walks around a corner in a dark spooky house to see what that strange noise was will be deemed too stupid to live and that book will never be finished.' Why a romantic protagonist is wandering alone around a dark spooky house that makes peculiar sounds is not something Blake seems willing to deal with in this article, but perhaps the hero is a giant spider or a billionaire spider collector, thus suggesting the emotional conflict at the centre of the concept.
This is the critical concoction of grounded fantasy that Blake alludes to. A charming, albeit nervous, heroine allows for a down-to-earth viewpoint into larger-than-life tale of an innocent house-keeper plunged into a sordid battle of sexual politics with a haughty, albeit handsome, arachnoid internet tycoon. There the author has found the perfect balance of dramatic adventure beyond the ken of their readers, while maintaining a footing in the real world through how Jane deals with her predicament, her soft hands shaking violently as she stirs milk into his tea. 'Romantic literature is about keeping it real with just a touch of fairy dust.' This final insight appears to amount to a satisfactory conclusion, with Ally Blake moving onto other things, safe in the knowledge she has not let slip any useful information that might be used by others to threaten her career.
The absence of perceptive comment suggests that there is no secret ingredient to make a novel stand out from the others in the slush pile, and the likes of Blake and Bewildered Heart are deceiving struggling authors by claiming to be able to help. Ally's essay ends up making two patently obvious statements, firstly it is essential that you write an interesting story, and secondly your characters must respond to experiences as humans would. Still, adhering to these two rules would hardly mark a manuscript out as unique, rather competent. Furthermore, these comments are not particular to Blake's chosen genre. Unpredictable character reactions can be strongly utilised, and therefore none of this expert opinion is worthwhile or even accurate. Still, when scouring an author's social networking, online diaries or advice columns it does not appear as if anyone has specified exactly what to fill those empty spaces with. Nobody has learned anything and nobody has anything to pass on, and so nonsense is regurgitated endlessly, with the latest updates. 'Today romance fiction is whatever it wants to be. Within the constraints of the genre the possibilities are endless.' If anything is possible why are there constraints, and if romance cannot be defined, why are there all these articles?
Fifty Shades of Grey weighs in at a daunting five hundred and six pages. The lettering is large and easily distinguishable even at an appropriately coy distance, yet the bombastic and inept prose style of author EL James will cause every reader, regardless of their obsession, to struggle their way through, questioning their commitment as often as the heroine flushes. The admittedly congruous pain of such an arduous slog could have been avoided had the novel any merits, but Fifty Shades of Grey is utterly without distinction. Now, there are numerous websites, newspapers, magazines and people standing by themselves at parties who are all too happy to discuss the book, and therefore Bewildered Heart, still grimly wading through turgidity with several hundred pages remaining, cannot simply regurgitate plot and glaring literary flaws, as it does with the majority of the Mills & Boon's it has reviewed. What little that can be added in way of explanation of James' enduring success seems worthless at this juncture also, and yet something must be written to account for the continued reading.
Therefore we shall attempt to highlight the positives in James' tome because, despite evidence to the contrary, there are strong ideas at the heart of the novel's concept, although James seems unaware of what they are. The tale of Ana and Christian rushes headily into the bashful glancing and blushing stage, with our aloof billionaire barely able to string a sentence together without grinning knowingly at the sexual connotations of something he didn't quite say. Our virginal, yet sexy, heroine seems equally incapable of performing tasks without deciphering the sexual connotations and reddening mercilessly, to the point where her ghostly complexion is replaced by a perpetual shade of crimson. Despite this, Mr. Grey is smitten. Even after several warnings from the man himself, her only friend Kate and assorted males Ana is too a prisoner to her carnal desires and soon, after a series of contrived meetings, a polite courtship begins. However, Christian is insistent that he be the only man to force himself on Ana and a drunken pass from token ethnic José only hurries the plot towards the losing of consciousness that inevitably leads to marriage. Before the reader can shout, 'Get on with it,' James has her characters in a helicopter on their way to Grey's luxurious bachelor pad, ensconced snugly inside a mountain carved into the form of his lop-sided smile.
Yet, as everyone already knows, Christian Grey isn't your average impossibly-beautiful twenty-seven year old self-made billionaire and with comical brevity his dark secrets are unravelled, inbetween lengthy bouts of plot-defying love-making. Christian asks Ana to become his submissive, the woman he keeps in a room at the top of his stairs, who dresses as he pleases, eats as he demands, shaves where he tells her and obeys unquestioningly his every whim. Ana's acquiescence is complicated by a mysterious locked door in Christian's luxurious duplex. Fortunately, any tension is immediately squandered as the door is opened shortly after Ana notices it. Inside what is aptly named the Red Room of Pain is an arsenal of torture devices, chains, hooks, ropes and a four-poster bed, because billionaire sadomasochism has decorum. As it transpires, Christian became a submissive to his adoptive mother's friend at the age of fifteen and after many years of corporal punishment has developed a taste for inflicting pain on others. Ana is horrified, yet naturally aroused, and tentatively agrees to read over one of the contracts Christian keeps permanently tucked into his jacket pocket.
Before soft and hard limits can be discussed there is the small matter of Ana's purity to deal with. Christian is unable to believe that Ana has amassed twenty-one years without a wealthy eccentric propositioning her, yet she is as untouched as he is perverse. Quickly he regains the icy demeanour he tends towards and breaks his two cardinal rules of never making love and never sharing a bed by gently making patient love and then sharing a bed of restful sleep. Ana has a man, somewhere to live, a car, a computer, a degree, a thriving sex-life and money, while Christian has been cured of his penchant for violence and has overcome his sleep disorder. Those assuming this to be a happy ending are best advised to gloss over the following three hundred pages. By that time nothing more has been resolved and no headway has been made into understanding Mr. Grey's enigma or Miss Steele's stupidity. Herein lies the inherent problems in James' story-telling. Fifty Shades of Grey is fantastical fairytale, ignoring reality and refusing to approach potentially compelling ideas, satisfied instead to trade on supposedly risqué sexual content for a gimmick.
The sex is poorly utilised, however, as James removes all darkness, brutality and threat in order to maintain the idealised fantasy of her world. She portrays Christian as impossible to love, due to his bedroom peccadilloes and aloof sensibility, but he is the finest slice of masculinity ever committed to page. He wants Ana, but only on his own terms and makes it clear he is unable to be the man she needs him to be. This core concept might have allowed for a searing morality tale, a powerful rite-of-passage or a emotionally-wrought love story, but the set-up is fallacious, as James cannot commit to unlikeable characters or even the slightest sense of danger. Christian is an intelligent, loving, sensitive, charming control freak who enjoys hurting women, even though he has never hurt a woman and does not like to. He says he cannot share a bed and yet does, sleeping better than when he's alone. His dysfunction is not debilitating, scary or painful, but rather a lively and worthwhile interest guaranteeing countless orgasms. Ana risks nothing by being with him and without knowing what she wants she stands to gain everything all women want which we assume she wants too, what with Ana being a woman.
Every romance begins with a couple arranging a compromise where both find mutual benefits from a relationship. Unlike the more honestly conventional Mills & Boon novels, Fifty Shades of Grey positions itself as the ultimate power struggle, involving sex as a visual metaphor for that confrontation. In this sense there is great promise in the novel's central conceit, but this is incompetently wasted, as has become custom in the romance genre. James strives for a powerful conflict that her plot is incapable of earning. The narrator is a morbidly embarrassed klutz who hates her appearance and seems to cope with the world by splitting herself into three distinct personalities, all of whom hate one another and indulge in a lifelong game of Schadenfreude. This is an obvious attempt to make her sympathetic, but instead results in a series of failed jokes. Nevertheless, these signs of deep psychological scarring remain the only indication that Ana has character.
All the reader is left with is what the reader came for in the first place, the sex. Christian's paraphilia for silk ties and riding crops is consistent with the flaws in his personality, creating the arc he must resolve for his happy ending. Yet due to the book's idealised wish-fulfillment the darker aspects of his sexuality turn out hugely gratifying for all involved, meaning the hero draws the heroine into his world rather than she draws him back to a satisfying equilibrium. Does James therefore make the argument that people should be more sexually adventurous, less inhibited and more honest with themselves about desire? If she does it appears to be a purely coincidental consequence of her predictable formula. Yet the impression is offered that Ana is empowered by what she is made to do and contented by the constant rushes of pleasure that crash over her like waves. This seems to be a delusional fantasy on the part of the author, as Ana's stereotypical depiction as an unworldly virgin allows for no insight into anything. Moving forward with dwindling optimism we note, with dismay, that there are many chapters remaining. Will we learn what secrets Christian hides behind his beautiful eyelashes and curly chest hair and more importantly, will they have any worthwhile effect on the story or Ana's philosophical musings?
During these long, uncomfortable months spent searching Fifty Shades of Grey for quotes to take out of context, Bewildered Heart neglected its trusted source of nonsensical utterances, the how-to essays from Romance HQ. There remains something of a taboo to consider and that is taboos. Over at Romance is Not Dead Elise Windmill has shed light on Mills & Boon's attitude towards the topics no one dare discuss in an article entitled Sailing Close to the Wind and Pulling It Off. To extrapolate this sentence sailing would be writing while the wind would be contentiousness. The boat would therefore be you, gentle writer, or your novel. Without wind the boat would remain floating on the water, which may prove ideal for fishing, but this sailing expedition is not interesting in fish, but rather reaching land, with the land representing publishing success. Yet what if the boat is motorised with the motor perhaps symbolising talent, making the need for wind and sails largely irrelevant? Can the motor combine with the weather for greater speed, bringing you to your destination even more quickly? What if you want to sail into the wind and the motorised propellers are not powerful enough for forward momentum? Can you use an oar of convincing dialogue without the need of the life-jacket of conformity?
For an article asking so many profound questions let us waste no more time on analysis. Harlequin Romances are not renowned for their challenging material, causing offence or choosing realism, and this has tended to send a message that there are boundaries in Mills & Boon, but is this accurate? 'Let’s set the message straight, once and for all: there are no boundaries in Mills & Boon!' That certainly sounds unequivocal, but is this accurate? 'Having said that, there are some themes that will inevitably provoke strong reactions in readers.' Yet isn't that a great thing? 'This can be a great thing – everyone loves a bit of controversy!' Indeed, the indisputably positive reaction is what always makes controversy so controversial. Still, there's no sense engendering hand-wringing and forehead-furrowing without having an actual objective. 'The aim of the game is to explore a conflict/theme/issue in a thought-provoking, ultimately uplifting, way that adds unique depth to your romance.'
Therefore the rhetoric remains consistent with everything Romance HQ has taught us over the years, as long as a story is handled with credibility and tact any amount of violent crime, war, bestiality, poverty and suffering is fine and dandy. Windmill has her own ethical concerns though, 'Issues like infidelity/abortion/euthanasia (to select just a few at random from my ‘moral dilemma’ scrapbook…!) can be notoriously difficult to motivate sympathetically and/or weave into a compelling romance.' Yet why have a 'Moral Dilemma' Scrapbook unless you plan on shoehorning some into your next potential manuscript? Naturally, for a publisher proffering fairytale aspirations to a readership seeking escapism there seems little point in delving into the dark territory Windmill mentions, unless those issues are handled expertly, in which case your novel will not only be deeply insensitive, but also beautifully crafted.
It hardly needs spelling out again, but that's never stopped Mills & Boon before. 'As ever, the advice here is simple – for readers to get on board with behaviour they might disapprove of, the characters’ reasoning needs to be watertight and empathetic.' Character motivation should always make sense, but when dealing with infidelity or murder it's probably especially important. Once you've added depth and conviction to your protagonists, while maintaining the hero's brooding, enigmatic intensity, how do you have them survive as a couple and make it to a kiss and declaration of eternal devotion against a backdrop of expensive exoticism considering the cheating, foetal-termination and fatal drugging of the elderly that occurred during their courtship? 'Obviously the hero and heroine need to have a happy ending – in the wonderful world of category romance, this goes without saying.' Hmm, or so you'd think. Still, sometimes it is worth saying something that doesn't need to be said if for no other reason than saying something, and with that Elise Windmill assumes she has solved the problem and can move on.
However, the more keen-eyed observers will have noticed that Romance HQ solved nothing, but those keen-eyed observers should not fret, because there is no difficulty an author can face that can't be fixed with the sudden appearance of a supporting character. 'It doesn’t necessarily follow that all secondary characters need a HEA – sometimes, a tragic subplot adds complexity and raw power that throws the happy ending into even more bright relief.' Precisely, once you have introduced a best friend, patient, colleague, client or parent the reader will have no qualms about the fate that befalls them, allowing you to indulge your peculiar desire to kill someone off, visit a clinic or destitute a single parent. As Bewildered Heart has noted in novels such as Under the Millionaire's Influence and The Domino Effect once the central couple are married and pregnant no one seems to care what happens to anyone else, safe in the knowledge that love always finds a way to redeem those who matter.
Nevertheless, 'Don’t shy away from exploring the darker side of life in your romances. What’s important to remember is that the lower the lows, the higher those highs need to be. If you’re going to make your readers cry with sadness, the joy pay-off needs to be H-U-G-E!' That spells huge, and what's more joyful than a huge pay-off? The happiest endings are born from the lowliest of beginnings. Readers want their heroines to deserve the handsome billionaire they inevitably end up with having suffered for him physically, emotionally and however else. Jane Eyre has a nightmarish struggle before the empty shell of Mr. Rochester is her own, and Cathy Earnshaw takes things a step further and dies in agony before she and Heathcliff are able to settle down. Death brings us on nicely to Windmill's next insight. 'There’s also the grey area of ‘temporary’ happy endings – for example, if your hero or heroine is terminally ill and their happy ending is for the next twenty years rather than for life.' That's quite an optimistic forecast for a terminal illness and yet a slightly confused understanding of how life typically ends.
Next up is the latest trend in romance writing, what Windmill describes as the Modern Two-Part Epic, which is a fancy way to pretend that a sequel was always intended. This very weblog has been calling for follow-ups and novels that explore, 'What happens after the couple is married / confessed their love etc.' As the article continues Romance HQ notes how this very idea is fundamentally at odds with the tropes of the genre, and it is debatable whether anyone would want to read a story about married life and realistic representations of relationships. Therefore, much like Windmill we should forget this notion was ever brought up and move onto hardcore pornography. 'Whilst all Mills & Boon books can be categorised as female fantasy fiction to some extent, to our minds even our sexiest fiction falls in the ‘highly sensual’ camp rather than the ‘erotica’ camp because the main purpose is to entertain, not (gulp) arouse.' Heh, gulp. In as much seriousness as possible, though, it is noteworthy that Mills & Boon has admitted its product is supposed to be enjoyable, albeit not for the obvious reasons.
The point is, 'This doesn’t mean we’re not open to more explicit exploration of women’s sexual fantasies. Targeting your series is crucial here, but don’t be afraid to let your imagination run wild. We’ve already successfully embraced spanking, light bondage and the complete opposite, male impotence.' Whether or not you're doubtful about the validity of that last statement it seems safe to assume that male impotence was cured by a good woman's love. Nevertheless, dealing with all manner of issues on the spectrum of sexuality the advice is the same for every other supposedly unsuitable theme or plot point, 'As long as it’s in keeping with your characters, emotionally motivated and not introduced for mere kinky thrills, don’t be shy about giving that sizzle some oomph!' Why someone would introduce spanking or male impotence into their sex life for any reason other than kinky thrills is not explained. Nevertheless, any brave author that does sail close to that proverbial wind and still finds the audacity to pull it off surely deserves more than an unsubstantiated referential aside on a blog no one studies too closely.
Anyone with a rational mind might have surmised that the article on happy endings that concluded Chapter Three of Secrets Uncovered would have signalled the end of the advice-giving. Typically of the logical, however, their brains serve no purpose when working out what goes on in romance fiction. Unsurprisingly Mills & Boon have one more epiphany to share, and even less startlingly that final piece of wisdom concerns unpredictability. Such a concept is not traditionally applied to the genre. In fact, the exact opposite is considered a major selling point. After all, boy must meet girl and boy must be handsome and wealthy, while the girl must be demure, beautiful and a twenty-seven year old virgin who has never recovered emotionally from being abandoned by her father. At a given point the couple must cede to overwhelming carnal desire and indulge in spectacular, life-affirming sex. By the end of the novel they must have overcome their petty differences and unresolved paternal anxieties to marry and make countless babies. What could possibly be unforeseeable in this classic formula that hasn't worked yet and shows no signs of fixing itself?
'At Romance HQ unpredictability has become the buzzword of 2011 – we’re constantly discussing and promoting ways to ensure our authors are producing the most exciting stories possible.' As we near the end of whatever we are calling this year it is safe to assume that the current buzzword is sadomasochism, and that development certainly seems fitting. Nevertheless, there is no reason to think that unpredictability will fall out of fashion, after all predictability remains as vibrant and popular as it always has. Therefore the fact that it has taken Bewildered Heart over a year to read a short e-book should not make this weblog entry any less relevant. Thrusting aside preconceived notions that Mills & Boon is misguided, what can aspiring authors learn from this hastily thrown together afterthought of a tip devoid of inspiration and sentences worth cutting and pasting? 'Less successful submissions tend to share a common flaw - a reliance on the same tried-and-tested conflicts and themes (‘I’ll write a Greek hero and a marriage of convenience!’).' Followers of Bewildered Heart should brace themselves for the realisation that Secrets Uncovered might have confused unpredictability with originality, and it wouldn't be the first time. No matter though, because their statement remains as true as their continued dedication to not publishing any new books featuring Greek heroes and marriages of convenience, and both.
'For everyone who likes a definition, in Romance HQ-speak, an unpredictable story delivers a compelling happy-ever-after that takes the reader on an unanticipated, cliché-free and emotionally engaging journey.' This adorable explanation helps to illustrate that unpredictability can be defined by a synonym and two characteristics a reader would never associate with Mills & Boon. These qualities must be the original twists the publishers claim to be constantly on the search for. Yet no definition would be loveable without a series of antonyms that aren't particularly beneficial. 'We don't mean crazy plot twists, inconsistent behaviour or random genre mash-ups – it’s definitely not an excuse to replace conflict with crashing plot devices!' These are wise words indeed, as no amount of unconventional story-telling justifies incompetence. Still, it remains hypocritical of the purveyors of Paranormal, Medical™ and NASCAR to summarily dismiss random genre mash-ups. Who knows what else can be combined with a love story to expose new ways in which to view love, as we have seen with the addition of cupcakes, Spaniards and Washington State.
Despite the publisher's challenge we are no closer to understanding how to imbue romance fiction with unique revelations that will force readers from their comfortable chairs and hazy alcoholic stupors. What does Mills & Boon want? 'Don’t panic, we’re not asking for radical differences!' Phew, eh. After all, if we were brimming with creativity we wouldn't have chosen romance as our favoured genre. 'You’ve heard this before, and we’ll say it again – it’s all in the characters! The best way to create a strong conflict and story is by starting with two interesting, original characters with a compelling story to tell.' It is appropriate that even an essay on unpredictability will revert back to the same insight every how-to guide uses. These books begin and end with the hero and heroine. It would appear that once you have a one-of-a-kind Greek billionaire and a never-before-seen virginal orphan twenty-something caught up in an innovative version of a marriage of convenience your novel will tell itself, leaving you to work on the name and location changing that amounts to writing a follow-up.
For the redundancy of their article Mills & Boon is sensible to endlessly repeat their mantra. The unavoidable conclusion of Secrets Uncovered is that despite everything to the contrary there are no inventive ideas to revolutionise romance fiction and there doesn't need to be. Aspiring authors are best served simply telling their stories well. Through depth, humanity and honesty clichés can prove what made them such strong concepts in the first place, worthy of their endless recycling. Now Bewildered Heart has finished stripping Secrets Uncovered for parts there seems no more suitable time for a full evaluation, but there is little point. Much like romance novels themselves the e-book has a single idea bulked out with rambling padding. Even the single idea is a weak one, the straight-forward assertion that characters are everything. No words are wasted on sentence structure or how to infuriate your reader with a clumsy simile comparing the churning in the heroine's stomach to a sinking boat on a stormy ocean of concupiscence. Perhaps such skills come naturally. Before the inevitable panic does kicks in, there is one way to bring genuine originality to your novel. 'If you want to tackle a more controversial theme, go for it!' There you are. Not only the inspiration, but more importantly the permission.
Harlequin's quest for vitality has seen it attempt to escape its reputation for generic romances grandmothers read. Nowadays hip, young perverts are found buying Twilight and Fifty Shades by the wheelbarrow-load. Mills & Boon have struggled in vain to prosper from this audience, consistently thwarted by their own authors playing it safe. Of course, the aforementioned phenomena are about as ground-breaking as they are scandalous, but their sales reflect a change in reader mood. There may never have been a more suitable time for pertinence to be introduced into romance fiction. What are these contentious issues Secrets Uncovered talks of? Racism, ugliness, elitism, actual prostitution, the list of options seems endless and increasingly unlikely to ever be published. In September Harlequin Teen printed Speechless, a Hannah Harrington novel involving a vow of silence following a hate crime. She somehow finds love and learns any lessons Laurie Halse Anderson’s Speak forgot to teach. Might Harlequin adults follow Harlequin teens in dealing with realistic social problems in a way that isn’t deeply offensive? Would such earnest examinations benefit from being interwoven into an idealised love story with a happy ending? Are there serious and divisive subjects connected to relationships worthy of exploration and later a possible mention on Romance Novels for Feminists? There appears to be only the one way to find out and a firm rejection from the improved, politically-conscious Mills & Boon would only serve to exemplify their hypocrisy, and that would prove just as satisfying as seeing a book on the shelf.
As the predictably tedious wisdom of humans dictates all good things must come to an end. On a related note all Mills & Boon novels must end as well, usually with some lip-locking and a few grand promises between two people standing somewhere expensive. Romance fiction is defined by its happy endings and there is no room for manoeuvre when it comes to the meaning of the word happy. Therefore every Harlequin book must conclude in the same manner, with the hero apologising for his previous errors in judgement and the heroine accepting his behaviour in exchange for money and babies. Authors are perceptively advised to finish writing at the most delirious and idealised moment of a relationship, the initial declaration of eternal love, while leaving the reader to ponder the implications and whether it all worked out for the best. Despite this seemingly straight-forward lack of ambiguity Secrets Uncovered closes out Chapter Three with a brief lesson in how to conjure up the most satisfying of happy endings, helpfully spelt out with five tips that are fairly obvious.
What say you, editors. 'Be Creative – We know that it's hard to avoid happily ever after clichés and there’s certainly nothing wrong with a fairytale wedding or a baby bump but think of what new twist or spin you can put on these tropes.' While it is good to know that all the creativity we haven't been using up until this point may finally be expended, how does one think of fresh spins on pregnancy and marriages, besides making them secret pregnancies and secret marriages? 'For example maybe your hero and heroine get their happy family by adopting or maybe your heroine is the one who proposes!' Those certainly are fresh spins on conventional tropes and are sure to delight your readership of old-fashioned traditionalists, but is this really the most ambitious subversions we can hope for, and would such things ever be accepted in idealised romance? Has the time come for assertive, modern women to buy their own engagement rings and out-source baby-making to those physically capable? What will become of our beloved commitment-phobic alpha males now such contemporary heroines have found a way to build a domestic life without needing a man's willingness, bended knee or sperm?
'Your ending should belong to your characters – Make sure that it grows organically out of who your characters are. As you write keep asking yourself what the characters want most in the world, why they want it, and what’s stopping them from achieving it.' While this piece of advice suggests authors must guide their archetypes to a contractually-obligated finale with a natural grace that belies the truth, every love story depends upon an allusion to destiny and complex ethereal forces that do not exist. Therefore with a hero and heroine so utterly hopeless without one another and barely able to function in their successful careers or contented home lives the inescapable choice of being together can be tailored organically because the characters are simply too shallow to think of alternative ideas. This somehow brings us on suitably to the next point where Secrets Uncovered explains how murder mysteries are basically romances, except a murder is replaced by a meet cute and a chase after the guilty party is largely retained. 'The solution, once revealed, must seem to have been inevitable,' as Raymond Chandler once said, or as Harlequin put it, 'No shock twists for the sake of it!'
Of course there have been no surprise revelations in romance since Jane Eyre found a wife in the attic and Cathy discovered that Heathcliff was a ghost. Nowadays handsome millionaires turn out to be gorgeous billionaires and sexy bellhops are unmasked as Mediterranean Princes, which is hardly as devastating or dramatic as Mills & Boon writers seem to think. With the narrative structure involving dual internal monologues through an omnipotent third person narrator there is little mystery to intrigue the reader. The recent trend has given the author an opportunity to play on tension between hero and heroine, but more often than not this is squandered, as hidden truths are never particularly disgraceful and everyone concerned is far too polite and desperate for love to cause a scene. Consider titles such as The Truth about the Tycoon, in which the heroine learned that the man she loved was not only someone else, but someone richer, more famous and with a slightly more credible back-story. The supposedly shocking finale of The Domino Effect piled incredulous disclosure upon contrived decision until the reader decided on a suitable place to stop and never thought of the book again.
'Tie up all loose ends – Make sure you keep track of even the smallest sub-plot aspect, and that you resolve them. For example you can’t have a secondary character go for a walk around the ground of your hero’s stately home and never come back!' Actually them never coming back would be a resolution as there is a certain finality to never, but Secrets Uncovered argues a compelling case. While practically every Harlequin novel fails to adhere to this most basic tenet of story-telling few aspiring authors should send a secondary character for a walk and then not at least mention in the epilogue that they were eaten by a bear. The final hint treads on similar territory and even manages to repeat many of the same words, 'Resolve the central conflict – Most importantly your hero and heroine must face up to and overcome their internal conflicts by the time you reach the climax of the story.' Failing to do this is what separates actual finales from abandoned novels. After all, if your characters have not dealt with their neuroses and married then the chances are your novel isn't finished yet.
At this point Secrets Uncovered moves on to whatever comes after endings, leaving us to ponder what we have learned. What would anyone have learned from reading this cobbled-together collection of clichés? Well, there is more to writing an ending than simply typing THE END and closing your laptop, just as there is more to writing a novel than simply typing the first fifty-five thousand words that spring to mind. While readers know what to expect from the climaxes of romance fiction the ending remains a strong selling point of a book, rivalled in importance only by the hero. When a couple kiss and commit to several months of idyllic sex followed by endless months of painful divorce proceedings this moment of certainty and hope is the culmination of all the novelist has been working towards, the final definitive statement on love and happiness. This creation of life-affirming optimism is the very reason millions read Mills & Boon books, and continue to read Mills & Boon books, even though on numerous previous occasions they have been disappointed or betrayed by an ending. Every new bundle of synonyms holds a promise of capturing these feelings, and for an aspiring author there is both an implied and contractual obligation to see hero and heroine achieve what they desire and deserve. Meanwhile, when the dastardly, cloying, second suitor disappears on a walk and is later found to have been eaten by a bear his fate, while surprising, must be seen to have been inevitable. That's a sign of quality writing.
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.
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.
Once an aspiring romance author has created their two conflicted characters and spun a tale involving mistaken identity, a lucrative art collection and an unsettling wager between a controlling misogynistic and a desperate student moonlighting as a hotel maid, they must move onto the task of spending the first paragraph using words to describe locations. With their novel coming together as almost started there is one final skill left to master, the mysterious mistress named dialogue. For more on this subject we turn to our trusted source, Secrets Uncovered, to find Flo Nicoll talking the good talk. Now, Flo, why should writers use dialogue at all? 'It keeps the text alive, creates pace and flavour, allows good insight into character, shows how the hero and heroine are communicating and most importantly, shows the developing dynamic of the central relationship.' Nothing is more indispensable to a prospective relationship than communication, besides money and physical attraction, and is there a better way for your characters to communicate than through communication? Mills & Boon wisely believes not, and therefore they fully endorse dialogue as the only means to this end. Without it writing drags along at an interminable speed with no old-fashioned seasoning or exotic spice, and then dies an agonising death, drowning in the shallow end of a rancid swimming pool somewhere no one holidays.
Furthermore, dialogue allows the novelist to commit to the key tenet of writing, to show and not tell. 'There’s no point telling readers about the sparks flying if they haven’t seen them in action,' explains Flo. While numerous examples of Harlequin Romances seem to contradict this suggestion, there is no greater lesson to be learned from reading Secrets Uncovered than reading Secrets Uncovered is more beneficial than reading the books they are helping you to write. The guidebook continues with the following golden rule, so read on carefully. 'Dialogue needs to be character-appropriate – if your heroine’s Little Miss Prim, would she really start talking dirty in the bedroom? So, work on channelling your in-depth knowledge of your hero and heroine into their speech.' Assuming you have decided to give your protagonists personalities you can then shed light on their thoughts and feelings through what they choose to discuss while having sex.
Even though Secrets Uncovered seems to think it has covered this topic comprehensively, the obvious importance of dialogue forces us to turn elsewhere for additional information. Where more suitable than The Art of Romance Writing, by Valerie Parv? 'If you have to struggle to write dialogue, it may be because you're overlooking the work the dialogue has to do. Far from being idle chatter which breaks up the narrative, dialogue has to help to tell a story.' Anything that does not assist in moving the narrative forward should be left on the writing room floor, but deep meaning can be loaded into a seemingly banal conversation about absent fathers or blackmail etiquette. Thus dialogue can become a tool of great subtlety in a genre of storytelling devoid of nuance and perception. The wisdom of The Art of Romance Writing teaches every aspiring author to have a clear idea of what they hope to achieve from every scene, building credibility into sequences through a pinpoint understanding of the characters who are speaking. After all, would a romantic hero and heroine really talk honestly and openly when they are denying their heartfelt desires because he had only paid her for attachment-free sex, or she were only using him to get free medical treatment for her disease-ridden nephew?
According to another Mills & Boon package, And Then He Kissed Her..., dialogue is capable of achieving five crucial objectives, all of which stand alone and in no way contradict due to their vague and empty rhetoric. Number One, Claim Reader Attention and Set the Story in Motion. Much like every other facet of writing a novelist must use any available tactic to sucker their audience in and let them know, in no uncertain terms, that this is a book where things will happen and now they have started following the words on the page they are obligated to keep doing so until there are no more words. Number Two, Allow the Characters to Reveal Themselves. So often the two main players of a romance reveal themselves through ham-fisted interior monologue and while Mills & Boon says this is acceptable it is probably not. Retain the secrets of your enigmatic billionaire for as long as possible through short, non-committal sentences and eyelash movement, while allowing him to maintain dignity as a human man, who always infuriates women by not describing what he is thinking. Your heroine and your readers will tolerate this because the man in question is handsome, muscular and wealthy, and will enjoy the slow drip-feed of intriguing disclosures about just how handsome, muscular and wealthy he truly is.
Number Three, Provide Information. Such as, who is this tycoon and why is he carrying the heroine towards a small commuter plane? How did he make his money? Why is he intent on breaking up a wedding and does he use a special moisturiser and a curler on his eyelashes? Remember to be cautious with your concept, gentle writer, as the more indistinct and ludicrous the opening chapter the more your heroine will have to talk about during those troublesome middle eight chapters. Your publisher is likely to explain every detail in the blurb and what cannot be assumed from the cover photograph can be pieced together through experience, so hold a shock or two back to allow the second one hundred pages to fly by.
Number Four, Add Pace and Tension, Create Emotional Mood. Naturally these two pithy ideas fit under the same heading because this fourth objective points to writing technique, while the previous three suggestions were idiotic. Dialogue allows for numerous possibilities, but it is important to choose your moments intelligently. A poignant, touching conversation can be achieved solely through speech marks and occasional references to moonlight or Mariachi music playing softly from the distant valley. Equally, a bitter argument of unanswered questions and desperate measures can create empathy and compelling antagonism, the Mexican band closer now, their fingers faster on their strings, a lone singer's voice haunting in the sultry night air.
Finally Number Five, Move the Story Along. Harlequin Romances have a tendency to skimp on action, and as a result stilted dialogue and emotional resonance take centre stage, much to the chagrin of the reader, keen for excitement and believable conclusions. Once a story has been decided, with enough turns and revelations to justify its telling, dialogue can play a role in feeding narrative exposition and character secrets, working well when juxtaposed with a twisting plot of strong moral dilemmas and life-altering decisions. While Secrets Uncovered, The Art of Romance Writing and And Then He Kissed Her... all fail to mention this explicitly, we can assume it was a message similar to this that they were attempting to explain. The final quality check is in reading your dialogue out loud, assuming a dashing Mediterranean accent and two arched eyebrows, arrogantly admiring your startled cat's curvaceous form with devastating diligence, before taking a sip of your third glass of wine and making a short and non-committal put-down about dress length. If it sounds like something a Mills & Boon alpha male would say then you can smile daintily at the cat and respond with a feisty quip that hints at a nurturing nature.
Following on from Secrets Uncovered's discussion on opening chapters and cursed clichés, they move onto a different, but equally essential, first that is often riddled with clichés, the first time hero presses his lips against those of the heroine, melting her contempt and hostility into a womanly puddle of romantic fantasy. There are key incidents in a fictional relationship that must be realised credibly, compellingly and sometimes misogynistically to help a novel soar from being the work of an author with little knowledge of a good kiss to a book betrayed by poor plotting, lifeless characters and hackneyed dialogue, but with a really great scene of lip-locking about five chapters into it. Yet how do aspiring writers make the exchange of saliva sexy, exciting and not in the least bit disgusting? Fortunately, the editors of Mills & Boon are happy to offer the kind of advice we have grown accustomed to being disappointed by. 'Have you ever wondered why some first kisses leave you cold, while others are page-turningly, stomach-flippingly wonderful? Well we at Romance HQ have!' What a coincidence, because Bewildered Heart had just been thinking the same thing, so who knows how many others will also have been slightly curious for the sake of having something new to write about.
Now then, Anna Boatman, what is first and therefore most important? 'First, and most importantly - let the tension build! Anticipation is the key, and without it any kiss can never be more than a simple physical act. Compare kissing the man at the end of a first date who you quite like, to finally getting to kiss the man you’ve been fantasising about since you first saw him by the photocopier!' There is nothing more erotic than a billionaire tycoon who reproduces his own billionaire business papers, pushing those buttons, closing the lid and then perhaps running a hand through his luscious hair as the machine makes those illicit beeps and whirrs. What happens when the photocopier runs low on paper and toner, and he casually walks into the stationary cupboard? Go to him, Anna Boatman, you can punch the staple in his unruly pile of documents. 'By the time those lips come together, your readers should be absolutely desperate for the kiss and virtually able to hear the hero and heroine’s hearts pounding!' Quite right, and contractually relevant, as there is no going back once hero has kissed heroine and found her to taste just as she smells, looks and acts in social situations, of strawberries and with a hint of resentment. It is a combination no photocopier repairman can resist.
Nevertheless, there is no going back for the chosen couple once their novel has begun let alone once they have made out, or discovered their true identities, or discussed the shared tragedy of own back-stories over herbal tea onboard a private jet headed towards a Portuguese principality. While teasing may heighten temptations and eat up the word count, the act must also offer additional insight beyond revealing their physical infatuation is symptomatic of their emotional connection. 'Make the kiss characteristic. Since a great first kiss is the natural result of all the simmering tension between your hero and heroine, make sure that the moment itself reflects the dynamic you’ve been building.' Unlike the softcore pornography Mills & Boon is equated to, by those who have foolishly dedicated their time to pointing out comparisons between softcore pornography and Mills & Boon, the kiss and the sex scene sure to follow should drive the story forward, allowing the journeys of the characters to develop. While the kiss can never be anything less than ideal it does allow the author to challenge the protagonists expectations, as long as this has been foreshadowed by the narrative. Readers demand meaning behind every action and slip of the tongue. 'A kiss is much more than two sets of lips meeting - or it should be! A proper kiss, the kind of kiss that gave the Little Mermaid her voice back, gains its emotional power from its implications. To make the moment unforgettable, show your readers that for both characters, even if they don’t consciously realise it at the time, their first kiss means that nothing in their lives will ever be the same!'
For all her romantic bluster Anna Boatman forgets one pressing concern. Typically this transitory flash of passion occurs relatively early in the structure. For example, the standard Mills & Boon will take place over the course of anywhere between twelve and fifteen chapters, with the first kiss taking place slightly before the midway point. With the wheels of true love set firmly in motion therefore an author has a troublesome thirty-thousand words left to write, with only the promise of two sex scenes to bulk the remainder of their story. Does Secrets Uncovered cater for this glaring problem? ''Take your time with this scene, give it the attention it deserves and you’ll be rewarded with a kiss that does proper justice to your characters.' Anyone reading that can only possibly take it as a No, and for that reason all the points before it are rendered devoid of value. For the majority of Mills & Boon authors the first kiss is a scene of great significance for the reader, but only to the characters for the period of contact. Once the kiss is over so the chapter ends and the next begins with heroine and hero straight back to denying their lapse in judgement contained any meaning. Perhaps their feelings become harder to fight, but fight them they must, as internal conflict barely registers once all sense and decorum have been defeated by the electricity of stomach-flipping touch.
Secrets Uncovered claims their work on the subject is complete at this point, leaving Bewildered Heart to pick up the slack, once again. This superficial exploration of the first kiss is emblematic of Mills & Boon's simplistic story-telling. Their books set out every conflict within the blurb, signal the plot's intention by the cover photograph and have every issue solved by the overwhelming power of love, thus under-mining the moral dilemmas of the hero and heroine as irrational neuroses easily conquered by marriage. The kiss follows the initial brushing of hands as merely another step toward a happy ending, and therefore these instances become the structure. The characters meet and instantly fall in love due to their aesthetic appeal. This is emboldened by accidental physical contact and a handful of conversations to exemplify these two have functional personalities. They kiss as attraction overcomes them and then sleep together as if further proof of their emotional connection was needed. Shortly thereafter they conclude that whatever was stopping them from kissing and sleeping together without latent feelings of guilt and recrimination were not strong enough to cancel out their love. Finally they agree to spend the rest of their lives in the same location. What happens between these plot-points merely rehashes what has already been established in the punchy one paragraph concept. The kiss signifies the predictability of all that is to follow and extinguishes any final remnants of hope the reader might have had that this novel will keep them entertained until the photocopier starts malfunctioning once more.
With the deadline for Fast Track steadily approaching there has never been a more suitable time to explore the demands of beginnings, and so we turn back to the warm bosom of Secrets Uncovered and shout, 'I want to write for Mills & Boon – but where (and how!) do I start?' Like any good instruction manual Mills & Boon's waits until Chapter Three before discussing how to get started. They argue, somewhat perceptively, that a good place to begin is with an opening chapter, but what is an opening chapter and how does an aspiring author with only a computer and a barely discernible grasp of language go about writing one? 'Your potential readers are busy women juggling studies, careers, families and time is precious – so you have to grab their attention with a gripping first chapter.' Nothing grips like grabbing, but how do we impress these ladies somehow combining school, work and baby-making? With such hectic lives should they really be whiling away idle minutes on romance fiction, inbetween changing nappies while commuting from university to the office?'Start at a truly interesting point, e.g. when your hero and heroine meet. Don’t waste valuable time telling the reader about mundane, everyday details – make sure you open with a point of change in their lives, an exciting moment.' Mills & Boon can throw about phrases such as exempli gratia all they like, but, as Penny Jordan previously advised, all couples must meet on the first page. Occasionally an author will circumvent this obligation with a mysterious prologue, where the hero makes a wager about buying a woman or a working class waitress learns she is princess of a Central European nation from an overly-optimistic Ouija board. Harlequin novels and their readers know what they want and expect to receive it. Therefore early characterisation and scenic descriptions are an unnecessary distraction from throwing lovers together and having them deny their feelings for two hundred infuriating pages.'Establish the emotional conflict so the reader is dying to know how it will be resolved. Think of the scene in Casablanca when Ingrid Bergman asks Sam to play As Time Goes By…' While the editors of Secrets Uncovered may have missed the point of Casablanca, or not completely understood the meaning of the term emotional conflict, they are right to recommend the film as a masterpiece, although were that film to have been a manuscript it is comforting to know that Mills & Boon would have rejected it. While the thousands of novels published every month fail to adhere to even these most basic of tenets, a competition such as Fast Track will look for a comprehension of narrative form. However, as history proves, skill and inspiration will not suffice and so we continue onto the next important element all winning romances must contain, clichés. 'If you type cliché and romance into Google, you get thousands of sites dedicated to the world of romance clichés.' Yes, but if you type onion and hat into Google you get thousands of pictures of hats made from onions, because Google works as a search engine. Hi, Google! In fact, a search for cliché and romance will likely yield the Mills & Boon website, so what's your point?'There are ways for a successful writer to use a conventional theme and twist it, and by that we mean taking the tried and tested plot and turning it on its head to deliver something with real wow factor that will help you knock readers’ socks off.' While Secrets Uncovered is more than happy to supply the clichés and stereotypes they insist on leaving the twists to you, the gentle authors. No one enjoys subversion quite like Bewildered Heart, of course, and so the struggle to reinvent the gorgeous billionaire Lothario as new and sock-knocking begins here. Still, tragic gorgeous billionaires have been done as many times as arrogant gorgeous billionaires, and even revolutionary spins such as the sensitive, handsome millionaire have been attempted, to obvious less effect. The novelist faces the daunting task of involving a favoured archetype in an unusual situation, allowing an aspect of the character to emerge through the life-altering event he is confronted with, perhaps by a nurturing, beautiful heroine, who may or may not be a single mother and virgin.For all their talk of invigorating variations on classic themes, Mills & Boon have been unsurprisingly reluctant to divulge a definition of any of those words, until now. 'Romance conventions are a must, they only become clichés when they don’t bring their own personality along for the ride. The trick is to understand the convention before you twist it. How many stories/films/TV series/cartoons etc. feature the Cinderella storyline and how many then go on to twist it? A few examples which work are Pretty Woman, Twilight, The Holiday, My Big Fat Greek Wedding, Maid in Manhattan, Working Girl, 27 Dresses, The Wedding Date. All of these featured a less than lucky heroine, a make-over and a Prince Charming – but all with their own spin!' First and foremost none of those examples worked, and several cannot be compared to Cinderella any more appropriately than Cinderella can be compared to Pygmalion. Furthermore, once you have removed allusions to Solicititilation, Katherine Heigl and ethnicity you are left with Twilight, which was only mentioned to draw in the Twilight audience, a useful trick, admittedly. Twilight. Edward Cullen. Look at his perfect crooked smile. Monetize your blog.The conclusion drawn from this contemporary examining of Cinderella is both eye-opening and disheartening. Firstly, whoever wrote it has a woeful taste in film, but secondly they are right to call for the reader to understand the appeal of Cinderella before making her Mexican and liberally stealing ideas from Roman Holiday. Mills & Boon seem increasingly intent on pushing the aspirational attraction of their books. Cinderella is a fairy-tale of fate, a rags-to-riches story of over-coming adversity with the trendy moral that beautiful people are better than ugly people. Readers empathise with characters who have made good and realised their dreams despite coming from nothing, often relying on nothing more than stunning good looks, a magical deux ex machina and a man with an unlimited fortune and plenty of time on his hands. Therein lies the secret to Cinderella's ever-lasting success, and the reason a handful of superficial changes can lead to publication, Hollywood adaptation and a red-headed actress reinterpreting the legendary character as something deeply offensive to women everywhere.Somewhere awhile ago Secrets Uncovered gave up on trying to offer advice for writing a first chapter and simply slipped back into the standard sentences all of their articles slip back into, 'Make the reader believe that true love exists. Make characters unique and believable. Dialogue needs to fit with your characters and not be forced.' Those statements may well prove worthy of implementing, but a wannabe writer can look to the nonsensical contradictions of Secrets Uncovered for the reality behind the Mills & Boon spiel. The lack of depth of the characters and non-enterprising scale of the plot forces the author to fall back upon recognisable tropes. What other choice do they have when told to introduce both characters to one another and reader within the opening pages and hurry the story onwards with the minimal use of external conflicts? More worrying, however, is the implication that the target audience will not accept large-scale changes to the formula. 'Mills & Boon is about creating fantasy out of reality. Surprise us with your characters, stories and ideas!' The article ends on an uplifting note of innovation, but this is possibly the fantasy they were mentioning moments earlier. When working within a much tighter structural framework than the publishers seem willing to admit to, competition entrants may struggle to create characters and plotlines enterprising enough to shake the editors from their comfortable chairs while remaining suitable material for the Fast Track brief. If they do, mind, it is likely they have rewritten Casablanca with a happy ending and less memorable dialogue.
