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  It is also wise to avoid using several names that start with the same letter. Readers who are consuming your story in snatches need all the help they can get to avoid confusion, and the repetitive initial may cause them to stumble on each name as they try to recall who's who.

  Be cautious of using names that rhyme, like Derrick and Eric; of using unisex names, like Pat and Chris; of using names spelled in such a way that the character's gender isn't clear, like Jeramie; of using names most commonly identified with one sex for a character of the opposite sex, like Jack for a girl or Robin for a boy; of using hero-type names used for the Wrong Man (if there's both a Jake and a Matt, the readers may have trouble keeping them straight, but if you name one of them Gary or Kevin, it's pretty clear who's who); of using names with unclear pronunciations; and of using two names that look very similar typographically, such as Lee and Les.

  Referring to Your Characters

  When you're referring to characters via narrative or describing the action in your story, choose one name or nickname and use it consistently. If you refer to your hero sometimes as Jake, sometimes as Mr. Wilder, and sometimes as the Professor, the readers are going to become confused about who is who and how many people are involved. If you decide to call the hero Jake, use that name consistently in your narrative and your dialogue tags.

  In contrast, when characters talk to each other, the names they use will vary. The doorman will call your hero Mr. Wilder, his students will call him Professor or Dr. Wilder, and the heroine might call him anything from Wild Card on down. But in straightforward narrative, he should have one name and one name only.

  There are two exceptions to this rule. First, if your heroine is usually referred to as Elizabeth but the hero thinks of her as Betsy, then when you're writing from his point of view, you can refer to her as Betsy in narrative as well as in his dialogue. Consistency is the key.

  The other exception occurs early in the book and concerns both the hero and heroine. If they've just met for the first time, they're probably not on a first-name basis. If the first section of the book is in the heroine's point of view, the heroine will probably refer to the hero by both first and last name until a connection begins to form between the characters. If you're writing from the hero's point of view, he may think of the heroine as Melanie Stafford for a while before switching to Mela-nie or Mel. Once he makes the switch, however, the style should remain consistent.

  1. Look through the romance novels you've been studying. How many secondary characters are there?

  2. Is there a villain? An Other Woman? A Wrong Man? A significant third?

  3. What purposes do the secondary characters fulfill?

  4. How much do you learn about the secondary characters themselves? About their private lives? About their opinions regarding the main characters?

  1. What types of secondary characters will be useful in telling your story?

  2. Will the heroine have a best friend, a co-worker, a sister? What secondary characters will be most closely involved with the hero?

  3. How can your secondary characters help tell the story?

  4. Write a scene in which the hero or heroine talks to a secondary character about the other main character.

  The love scenes in a romance novel are different from those in other kinds of fiction. Love scenes in romance novels are integral to the plot and to character development, thus they're more important than love scenes in most other fiction. Since the love developing between the main characters is such an enormous part of a romance novel, the physical expression of that love is a crucial element of the story.

  Like many components of romance novels, however, love scenes and all their particulars are difficult to sum up in a few words. People who haven't read a lot of romance novels are apt to ask, "Is there always a love scene?" or "How many love scenes are there in the average romance?" or "Where are the love scenes placed? Should there be one in the first chapter?"

  The answer to all these questions is "It depends on the kind of romance novel." There are many varieties of romance novel, and physical affection is handled a bit differently in each one. A wide range of love scenes from many different kinds of romances appears later in this chapter.

  LOVE SCENES

  It's important to understand that a love scene isn't the same as a sex scene; a love scene in the romance novel can be any physical expression of affection between the main characters. A kiss, a hug, a touch between hero and heroine are all love scenes on a smaller scale. Even a look can sizzle with sensuality, and a foot massage—if well written—can be as arousing for the readers as a sex act.

  Relatively speaking, sex is a very small part of love, and romance novels—even those toward the erotic end of the spectrum—are love stories, not sex stories.

  While it's hard to picture two people falling in love without displaying any physical affection at all, a romance novel might include nothing more than a touch of the hand here and there, and a single chaste kiss on the last page. Or it may include mind-bending and intimately described oral, vaginal, and even anal sex in every chapter.

  Physical attraction between the characters is important, of course, but when their attraction is deeply emotional as well, the love scene will be far more involving for the readers.

  To be effective, love scenes have to fit into the course of the story and heighten the tension and conflict. Even if the actual love scene is a calm interlude in the conflict between the two main characters, the act of loving should lead to increased difficulties later. Every love scene should have a purpose in the development of the overall story, not just be there to titillate the readers. If the love scene can be removed without destroying the story, it shouldn't be there in the first place.

  Two people who have slept together are going to behave differently afterward. They will not hop out of bed the next morning acting as if nothing happened the night before. Their actions have changed them and the situation—and, inevitably, the rest of the story. Once your lovers have kissed, touched, or made love, they may try to pretend it never happened—but they, and the readers, can't forget.

  In many beginning writers' stories, love scenes are like frosting on a cake. Frosting is applied to the surface, and it adds nicely to the taste. But essentially it changes nothing—the cake is still the same underneath. A good love scene is more like applying heat to the cake batter—once it has started to bake, the cake gets a lot tastier, and there's no way to reverse the process.

  Sexual Tension

  The most sensual romances aren't necessarily those in which there's a lot of sex, but those in which there is a high level of sexual tension. Beginning writers often mistakenly consider foreplay synonymous with sexual tension. The characters do not need to be touching in order to create sexual tension; they certainly do not need to be kissing or in other intimate contact.

  Sexual tension is the unsatisfied attraction of the hero and heroine for each other. The key word here is unsatisfied. Why can't they act on their attraction to each other? What's keeping them from getting together? The stronger the reason, the more emotionally involving the story will be.

  Sexual tension begins at the moment the main characters meet, with their first awareness of each other. They might be angry, interested, wary, or tense, but their heightened sense of awareness of the other person provides the first stirrings of sexual tension.

  In her sweet traditional The Billionaire Takes a Bride, Liz Fielding uses the conflict between the characters—and a slow cleaning of a pair of glasses—to increase the sexual tension:

  Rich forgot all about the fact that Ginny Lautour was ransacking his wardrobe looking for a spare key to his desk and instead found himself wondering what she'd do with her hands if she didn't have her spectacles as a prop. If she didn't have them to hide behind. And what were they hiding? ...

  He removed them—ignoring her gasp of outrage—and held them up out of her reach, checking them against the light, reassuring himself that they weren't just t
hat—a prop, a disguise.

  They were real enough, he discovered ... he opened a drawer, took out a clean handkerchief and began to polish them.

  Her fingers twitched as if it was all she could do to stop herself from grabbing them back. He finished one lens, moved on to the next, taking his time about it so that he could get a good look at her eyes.

  He hadn't been mistaken about them. Grey and green intermingled in a bewitching combination beneath a curtain of dark lashes that were all hers. No magic mascara to lengthen or curl them, they'd be soft to the touch, silk to his lips, he thought. And he wanted to touch. ...

  He restrained himself. ... More exciting than the most blatant of invitations, this veiled promise of hidden fire tugged at something deep inside him.

  Or was it simply a mask to hide her true purpose?

  If Rich weren't hesitating to get closer because he found Ginny trying to break into his desk, Fielding's scene would be flat—because they're pretty obviously attracted to each other.

  In this passage from Nicola Cornick's historical novella The Season for Suitors, her hero is ostensibly teaching the heroine how to avoid being taken advantage of by an unscrupulous man:

  The path was narrow here and wended its way through thick shrubbery. Even in winter the trees and bushes grew dark and close overhead, enclosing them in a private world. It was a little disconcerting to discover just how alone they were in this frosty, frozen wilderness.

  [The Duke of] Fleet was smiling gently. "Take this as a free piece of advice, Miss Davencourt," he said. "Always pay attention to your surroundings. The aim of the rake will always be to separate you from company so that he may compromise you."

  He put up a hand and touched one gloved finger lightly to her cheek. Her gaze flew to his as the featherlight touch burned like a brand.

  "And once he has you to himself," the duke continued softly, "a rake will waste no time in kissing you, Miss Davencourt."

  For what seemed an age they stared into each other's eyes. Clara's heart twisted with longing and regret. ... Her body ached for him with a sudden, fierce fire. His presence engulfed her. She felt shaky, hot with longing. She raised her hand and brushed his away. Her fingers were not quite steady.

  "Your point is well made, your grace." Her voice was husky and she cleared her throat. "I shall guard against that possibility."

  Notice that the only touch is his gloved finger to her cheek; there's not even skin-to-skin contact. Cornick has used the rules of society—which at the time forbade an unmarried woman to be alone with a man—to build sexual tension. If the Duke had gone ahead and kissed Clara, much of the tension in the scene would evaporate, because we'd no longer have to wonder what that kiss would be like and wait for it to happen.

  In her erotic contemporary novella Out of Control, Rachelle Chase uses a great deal more touching, but the sexual tension is increased because of what the couple doesn't do:

  He chuckled. There was no humor in the sound. "If I let you leave, Ms. Thomas, you'll talk yourself out of it before you reach the lobby."

  If he let her leave? Tingles skipped up her arms at the forcefulness of that statement. His warm breath bounced off her lips, enticing her, drawing her closer. A slight tilt of her head and she would be able to taste him, just as she'd fantasized about doing.

  One tiny movement.

  Unwillingly, her eyelids lowered, her head tilted, and her lips brushed ... his cheek.

  Her eyes flew open.

  His tongue flickered against her earlobe.

  "Did you want me to kiss you, Ms. Thomas," he whispered huskily into her ear. "Like this?" he asked, letting his lips nibble and his tongue swirl their way down her neck.

  Astrid shivered, a moan escaping her.

  "Was that a yes?" he rasped, his mouth moving across her collarbone and up her throat.

  What was happening to her? "Oh ..."

  He suckled her chin. "Say it."

  Kiss me.

  She wouldn't say it.

  His tongue moved up, tracing her lower lip. "Say it," he said hoarsely.

  She struggled to free her hands.

  His grip tightened.

  Kiss me.

  If she didn't get away from him, she was going to say it. She was going to arch toward him, strain to meet his lips ...

  His hold on her hands loosened, lightly caressing, no longer restraining. He pulled back and stared unsmilingly at her. The hunger radiating from his gaze stunned her.

  Abruptly, her hands were free. "You've got ten minutes," he said. His voice sounded rusty.

  "Ten minutes?" she asked drunkenly.

  "To think about it." He left the room.

  If Astrid had given in and asked the unnamed hero to kiss her, Chase's couple would have been well on their way to admitting their attraction, and we'd have been cheated out of the fun of figuring out why she can't or won't surrender.

  Three very different styles—traditional, historical, erotic—and in all three cases, withholding a kiss creates much more interest and tension in the scene. But it's not just that the hero and heroine don't kiss; the sexual tension is increased because there's a real reason they don't.

  Dissipating Sexual Tension

  One of the easiest ways to dissipate sexual tension is to let the lovers admit their feelings too early in the story. Once the readers know that he's wild about her (and he knows it) and she's wild about him (and she knows it)—even if the hero and heroine haven't told each other—the sexual tension evaporates. The resulting warm, cuddly feeling is highly desirable at the end of the book, but it's murder if it happens halfway through.

  Another way to lose the sexual tension is to let the lovers consummate their relationship too early in the story. The unwritten rules of the romance novel don't allow casual sex, and the readers know those rules, even if they can't enunciate them.

  Even in chick-lit, which technically allows the heroine to make love with more than one man, it's a rare heroine who actually does. In chick-lit, if there is more than one man, sex with the wrong one is perfunctory, ho-hum, even clinical rather than enthusiastic. With the hero, the heroine has meaningful, emotional, special sex that indicates that a serious and lasting relationship has begun.

  Erotica, too, is a special case. In erotica, the characters are making love—or at least having sex—frequently throughout the story. The most effective erotica presents characters who, though they are liberated sexually, have good reasons to avoid permanent commitments, so the readers are kept uncertain about how the couple will end up together.

  Because of the no-casual-sex tradition, once the hero and heroine have made love, the readers know that at some level they're committed to each other, even if they're still shown as having doubts about their relationship. So the sexual tension is reduced, and only a very strong conflict will keep the readers' doubts going at that point.

  If, however, the problem between the hero and heroine is still so deep and so threatening after they have made love that they may not reach a happy ending no matter how good their lovemaking is, then the sexual tension still exists. In fact, it may even be stronger, because they're no longer just fantasizing about what it would be like to be together. They know exactly what's at risk, and that raises the stakes even higher.

  Delaying the Love Scene

  A delayed love scene is nearly always a more effective love scene, one that keeps the readers eagerly reading as they wish for more.

  But don't break off a love scene just to frustrate the readers, or just to keep the story from progressing too fast. There has to be a darned good reason why two people who are ready to make love—or even kiss, for that matter—suddenly change their minds.

  Delaying a love scene doesn't mean avoiding the subject. Don't send the hero off to fight in the wars, leaving the heroine knitting at home. Instead, dangle the idea in front of the readers: Show the lovers' feelings developing; show them sharing their questions and their doubts; play on their uncertainties about each other, us
ing every moment they're together to heighten their desire for each other. If the hero and heroine don't know whether they can trust the other person, the readers don't know either—and they have to keep reading to find out.

  Keep in mind that a couple's second sexual encounter is seldom as exciting as the first for the readers. You may be tempted to set the scene in an unusual location or add a slightly kinky twist to keep the excitement level high, but many times the result of that approach isn't exciting at all to the readers—just disquieting. It may be better to delay the important first lovemaking scene than to try to pep up a second one in order to maintain anticipation.

  An alternative is to delay the second lovemaking scene. Sometimes after the hero and heroine make love once, they have good reason not to repeat the experience, and this too can increase the sexual tension. Because they know what making love together is like, their desire is piqued and the readers' interest level is even higher.

  In her single title You've Got Male, Elizabeth Bevarly's heroine attempts to entrap the villain through online sex, but she and her partner in the investigation lose control and make love. Then they have to deal with what's happened:

  "We should talk about that," she said. "... about what happened between you and me last night."

  "We had sex," he said flatly. ...

  "And that's all it was," she said emphatically. ... "It won't happen again."...

  That remark seemed not to surprise him at all. It also seemed to piss him off. Not that she cared.

  Nevertheless he sounded agreeable enough. ... "Sounds like we're both on the same page then. Let's get to work."

  Gee, Avery thought, it was just so great when two people could talk like grownups and get right to the heart of a matter. ...

  Because their lovemaking was unforeseen and unprofessional, and a repetition would interfere with their investigation, this couple has an excellent reason for calling a halt to further intimacies. Does she really think it's wonderful? Is he really agreeable? Of course not—and every time they look at each other for the rest of the book, they (and the readers) will remember that night.