Word by Word

Practical insights for writers from Jessica P Morrell

How Not to Write a Novel (or much of anything)

Written By: Jessica Morrell - May• 04•13

Jessica P. Morrell©
A story needs rhythm. Read it aloud to yourself. If it doesn’t spin a bit of magic, it’s missing something. Esther Freud

Inspired by Elmore Leonard’s 10 Rules of Writing, in 2010 The Guardian newspaper asked authors for their advice on writing productivity. Superstars such as Margaret Atwood, Roddy Doyle, Neil Gaiman, Richard Ford, Jonathon Franzen, and PD James weighed in on their tips for churning out pages. These tips ranged from ‘hire a good accountant’ to ‘get rid of adverb’s to ‘do back exercises since pain is distracting’. With tongue firmly planted in cheek here is advice on how not to write a novel or much of anything else.

Quit your day job so that you’re wallowing around in your bathrobe most of the day amid unstructured time as your money runs out, your confidence withers, and your spouse mutters dark threats.

As long as you’re at it, you might as well slip back into bed. After all, sleep is important, as are dreams, and daydreams. In fact, adopt prone as your favorite position since you never know, inspiration just might alight while snuggled under quilts and blankets.

Do not develop a routine or schedule, instead write when the muse winks your way. Never matter that this only happens around the full moon or more unfortunately when a lunar eclipse occurs, or when your wife asks you to mow the lawn.

Lean on your spouse, roommate, your writing group, your therapist and the barista at your favorite coffee shop for emotional support. LOTS of emotional support. After all, writing is torture, and you’re an artiste, right?

Seek empty praise whenever possible. We all know that writers need heaps of accolades in order to thrive.

Ignore criticism, feedback and advice. And while you’re at it, ignore ALL experts. Thus never attend a class, workshop, or conference, never crack a book on craft, and don’t allow your precious manuscript in the hands of a story consultant or book doctor.

Adopt writerly affectations. Here’s where creativity pays off as you don beret, pipe, red knee socks with garters, a velvet blazer, monocle, and stooped posture. Or, you could just become unshaven and slovenly. It beats writing.

Don’t learn how to be your own editor. In fact, eschew revision since most certainly each of your ideas are golden, each phrase a pearl.

Loathe life and thus develop frustration, anxiety, insomnia, depression and crippling despair which impede you from accomplishing pretty much anything at all. Then start blaming your symptoms on the people around you when your story and your world starts crumbling.

Develop  a chip on your shoulder and sour attitude about the publishing industry, agents, and authors who seem to glide to success with the ease of a butterfly.

Write from your need to vent about your lousy childhood, your ex-husband, or ungrateful children. Better yet, when writing about people who’ve done you wrong, be sure to imbue them will all sorts of ugly attributes including bad breath, vanity, flatulence, and incurable acne.

Brew another pot of coffee and gulp down a cup while wandering around your office. And another. And another. After five, switch to gin.

Instead of writing send emails to everyone you’ve ever known and play Solitaire by the hour. Check out your Facebook pals. Tweet about what you’re going to make for lunch. After lunch Tweet about the movie you’re going to see later that evening.

Avoid reading in the genre you’re writing. You don’t want another author’s methods to rub off, after all. In fact you’re probably best served by not reading altogether or choosing only out-of-print tomes.

Start projects. Lots of projects. Do not complete anything. Let alone a chapter.

Do not write about life and love and relationships and philosophy and pain, feelings and family. It’s better to write about evil overlords with violent mood swings, demonic beings who exist only to destroy humankind, existential angst, kidnapped beautiful princesses who fall desperately in love with the nerdy protagonist who strangely resembles the author, and dank dungeons scattered with bones. Realism is for sissies.

When in doubt, blame the world for your shortcomings as a writer.

Join a critique group that’s a bunch of fluffy bunnies and sunshine, fueled by wine. Make that lots of wine and praise and agreement which makes the artistic soul soar while criticism kills the muse.

Ignore the fact that readers cannot see inside your head and create stories that seem to take place on an empty sound stage inhabited by faceless, unidentifiable story people who are as mysterious as fog. Never utter a stage direction or ask the actors to lower their voices.

         Since you’re the God of your novel and story world, when it comes to plotting, never ask yourself why. Especially don’t wonder about murder motives and why fits of rage are breaking out on your pages with alarming frequency, why your characters fall in love with cads and bimbos, and why you’ve set the story in Istanbul when you’ve never visited the city. Because after all your capricious genius doesn’t need to toil overmuch and randomness and whimsy are the path to great storytelling.

If it was good enough for Dickens, it’s good enough for you. After all, Ebeneezer Scrooge is one of the most famous characters of all time. So just for the hell of it, chisten your characters with pretentious and offbeat names like Hieronymus, Beelzebub, Hortense, Prospero, and Minerva, ignoring the fact that your characters don’t live in Victorian England or long-ago Rome. While you’re at it, you can pretend you’re a brainless celebrity and bestow scratch-your-head-at-the logic names on your literary offspring such as Moon Unit, Apple, Kyd, Prince Michael, or Rocket. Then there’s Nevaeh (heaven spelled backwards) or using names that signify attributes such as Sincere, Justice, Noble, Calypso, Colt, and Cash but I need to stop this list since I could go on for days.

As for the actual words on the page: lard your story with filigreed symbols, motifs, tropes, bad metaphors, euphemisms, and purple prose. Language is, after all, for lavishing onto the page in bold, florid strokes. So bring on those round, melting orbs of day, nights of sighing, bedeviled anguish in claustrophobic rooms, and afternoons of longing so eloquent they threaten to burst your bulging heart seams and create wound dew. On the other hand, you can create worlds using beige prose that is so pallid that each sentence limps rather than gallops to a conclusion. This means the bland verbs you use most often are either passive forms of ‘to be’ or get, put, look, move, see, and saw, and your nouns are barebones (house, car, tree, bird, dog, boy, object). The answer, my friends, isn’t blowing in the wind—your style should simply never intrude.

Create characters who all sound alike—wry, urbane, and raffish—able to drop one-liners at the drop of bowler, which inexplicably your main character, who tends to be peevish and preening for most of your pages, wears year round along with pin stripes.

Use exclamation points! Lots of them! After all, your story is exciting and readers need to pay attention to your most intense moments!!

Why I Write

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Apr• 24•13

Although I’ve written since childhood, it took me years to settle into the writing life of passionate interplay with words and ideas.
I write because I find myself in writing. Writing helps me think clearer, teases me with questions, helps me figure out my life and my whirling thoughts once I type them onto a screen or scribble them in a notebook. I write because I cannot not write. I feel guilty when I don’t write, adrift when I’m not working on a book or long project, or am not excited about a fresh idea.

I write because I figure the worst that can happen is that someday I’ll read from a work in a public place and people will start booing or throwing things at me. Since that has never happened, I guess I can go on with the task that has always been a part of me. Wait a minute, I just realized that the worst that can happen is that I can be rejected—been there. Didn’t feel good; but the sting of rejection fades and you wake up to discover you’re still writing.

Writing is my refuge and solace. It makes me feel less alone in this large, rattling world and brings forth the ancient lullabies I harbor within. While writing is demanding, it’s also fun, engaging, and engrossing. And it can be undertaken in at all hours, in the loneliest hours before dawn, or after midnight. In a bathrobe, sipping tea, staring out the window, looking inward.

I write because you can never really fail when you write—you can only experiment, dabble, try; or buckle down or float away on the good days. It forces me to take risks that sometimes I’d rather avoid. It nudges the cowardly parts into the light, forces me to the computer, sometimes joints creaking, neck sore, heart not in the task at hand. But as Erica Jong said, “If you don’t risk anything, you lose even more.” So I write to awaken the bold person inside of me. I write because even on my palest days if I sit here long enough I can usually find the vibrant colors and images stored as in an unused paint box.

I write to add to the common discourse, to make the world a richer place, to make people laugh, to explain what is hard to understand. I write to help people. I write because I can explore life’s uncertainties and undertow. Writing helps me discover the emotional truth of my experiences and losses. Hemingway said, “Write hard and clear about what hurts.” And so I do. Because I can sometimes  rewrite who I’ve been; wrap hurt in a closet of disguises, perhaps imagining a girl tripping into puberty, bucking with confidence, not stumbling with not enoughs and doubt.

I write to conjure up the lost geography of childhood. Because I can travel in the dream machine of memory and sometimes this turns into a letter to my hometown. I write because the ritual of writing is nourishing and calming. Because writing helps me chase my thoughts when they seem to flee like a dog scampering away from its owner, rollicking over a vast beach.
I write because writing trains my eye and I love to notice the smallest things around me, the moment when the wind shifts, when the clouds are shaped into a vast mystery, a storm front is rolling in, or the leaves start changing hue. I write because poetry, sweet and sure and clear, runs through everything and transforms each thing in the process.

I write because writing forces me to constantly pump up my writing vocabulary and reminds me to use words with oomph and pizzazz and makes me fall in love with the sound of language again and again and again. My newest acquisitions: besmirch, flinchy, doxies, facile, phlegmatic, tinhorn, bailiwick, panjandrum, skulk, elfin, waylay, clobber, ascribe, wan, soulless, hara-kiri, snooker, surrus, harbinger, humdrum, thrumming, canoodle, buttress, tinhorn, tootle, sludgy, tender-pawed, stanky, trifecta, infidel, wobbly, dowdy, buffoon, ass-hattery, rhapsodize, unspooling, shunted, woozy, king slayer, tut, diddling, splutter, deadeye, agog, addled, rube, denizen, nadir, killjoy, whack, wraithish, witter, betook, logrolling, mammoth, prissy, avatar, filigree, ascribe, porn boobs, rapacious, depredation.

I write because it affirms the joyful parts of my life. Because I have long since discovered that I don’t need to only write from a place of pain or loss or rawness as if tapping again and again from an empty heart. That the whispering wonders of daily life, or a need to touch another writer are enough inspiration to start the process. I write because it makes me feel happy and alive, as in buzzing, blood-moving-fast-god-I-feel-energized-alive. But mostly because writing gives my life purpose, meaning and passion. Why do you write?

File under I for Inspiration

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Apr• 10•13

       “Most highly successful people carry around a  bulky legacy of failures, humiliations, and dumb actions. The truly wise ones know that these potholes are not necessarily behind them. What this means is that they allowed nothing kill their will to succeed. And while they may have made countless mistakes, it’s unlikely that they ever made the same mistake twice, once they learned the lesson.
Evolution teaches us that the universe kills stagnation and encourages mutation. Most successful people have mutated themselves many times. Their only other choice was to become yesterday’s newspaper.” Jeff Herman

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Apr• 02•13

      I think there are two    types of writers, the architects and the gardeners. The architects plan everything ahead of time, like an architect building a house. They know how many rooms are going to be in the house, what kind of roof they’re going to have, where the wires are going to run, what kind of plumbing there’s going to be. They have the whole thing designed and blueprinted out before they even nail the first board up. The gardeners dig a hole, drop in a seed and water it. They kind of know what seed it is, they know if planted a fantasy seed or mystery seed or whatever. But as the plant comes up and they water it, they don’t know how many branches it’s going to have, they find out as it grows. And I’m much more a gardener than an architect.
George R.R. Martin

Summer in Words 2013

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Mar• 25•13

Reminder: Registration is now open for Summer in Words 2013. You can find the registration form here.

Registrations are already coming in, so don’t delay–space is limited.
Our keynote speaker is Jonathon Evison. You’re going to love him. It’s going to be an especially helpful, potent and empowering (although I’m not crazy about that word) conference. Write to me if you need more details.

The Page Will Hold You Up

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Mar• 21•13

Intention is the writer’s soul.” William Zinsser

Like many people there are parts I love about my life and parts I’m not so crazy about. The part I love is early mornings at my computer with the sky changing in the east, the click of the keyboard, the words that emerge unplanned. The quiet that descends into the deepest parts of me. The solace of writing.

I love that I am surrounded by creative types and writers and have met prolific, best-selling, soulful, talented and envy-inducing authors over the years. I’ve met most of these people at conferences I teach at and conferences that I host twice a year. It would be silly to name names here since these meetings don’t always culminate with friendship, but there have been so many profound moments when afterward I knew something in me changed and I walked away as if holding a rare, South Sea pearl.

We’ve shared meals and drinks and talked kids and politics and world affairs and the state of publishing, but mostly I’ve listened. Which doesn’t come naturally. I’ve sat in on sessions and keynote addresses that have brought me to tears, made me think deeply about the writing life, have changed me in ways both subtle and profound.

This past January I hosted my annual Making It in Changing Times Conference where Lidia Yuknavitch was my keynote speaker. She was speaking on The Worth of Risk. Now, I had interviewed Lidia a few months earlier about her writing process and had asked her hard questions about how to write deeply from a character’s viewpoint. Her answers were inspiring, her thoughts ocean deep and enchanting and practical all at once. She described how to write from the body, borrowing or possibly burrowing into your character’s physicality to make her voice true. She talked about feeling her character’s thighs when she, Lidia was at the desk writing. She described slipping stones under her pillow and other tricks of believing in the elements that surround us.
      So naturally I was looking forward to hearing her speak. Lidia began talking about the times she’d fallen on her face from risk taking. Then she described the times she’d succeeded wildly. She’s now friends with a famous actor after boldly introducing herself at the Sundance Film Festival and she studied in a Masters writing class with Ken Kesey although she was an undergraduate student and sort of weaseled her way into his class. Kesey’s kindness and confidence in her was life changing.

As she warmed to her topic, revealed herself, I could sense the room leaning forward. Bursts of laughter and glances exchanged. But mostly a church stillness. Something powerful was happening as often does when writers gather. This something is difficult to express. The truths and joys and bruises of the writing life admitted to and celebrated.

Next, as she wrapped up her talk, she asked us what risks we take for our writing. I answered that I could write as though my mother was dead. A cruel-sounding proposition, but there you have it. She’s been my judge and jury my whole life, and although this role has faded over the years, even as she’s shrunk and is becoming lost to dementia, I sometimes feel her hot breath on my face, hear her familiar accusations.

Finally it was time for a question and answer period. One woman in the group kept insisting there were too many barriers to writing her memoir, to telling the truth. She explained that she lived in a small town, the people she would write about still were alive. And that’s when   Lidia said, “Just write. The page will hold you up.” And with this simple truth it was as if everyone in the room exhaled then shifted into the same rhythm like a bird flock taking flight. Filled with grace. Soaring.

©No portion of this essay may be reprinted without permission.

Breaking Out

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Mar• 07•13

Jessica Page Morrell©

Associate with all the smart, funny, talented, creative people you can, learn to write beautifully, but don’t stay locked in your room to do it: go out and try new things, meet new people, have a wonderful, rich, compelling, and interesting life — and then tell me about it in the most beautiful prose imaginable. Jeff Kleinman

  A few years ago at the Willamette Writers conference I was talking with an agent, asking her if she’d heard any good pitches. It was Saturday morning and she was feeling hopeful since it was early in the game. So we chatted a bit, and talked about how the publishing industry has been undergoing changes over the years and she mentioned that it seemed that editors were either looking strictly for category books or the next unusual blockbuster novel. I asked her for an example and she mentioned Alice Sebold’s Lovely Bones which has also been purchased by director Peter Jackson.

Later I was talking with author Julie Fast about the biz as she prepped for her workshop on writing a bestselling nonfiction book. She’d been attending all the editor and agent panels and had jotted down their comments about the state of publishing. I mentioned that I wished beginning writers would keep in mind that the so-called rules for getting published are different for breakout and superstar writers than they are for break-in writers. And I’ve been thinking about this ever since.

If you have an urge toward storytelling or writing the newest how-to book and also want to hit the big time, here are a few things to consider. Let’s start with a few definitions. At the bottom of the publisher’s catalogue are backlist titles. These are older titles that aren’t red hot sellers but are kept in print because of steady sales and include lesser-selling genres like Westerns.

      Midlist is a publishing term that means the titles occupy the biggest part of a publisher’s catalogue. These books are dependable sellers but not best sellers. If an author is called a midlist author it means he or she hasn’t written a bestseller yet, but his or her sales are good enough to justify publishing his books and buying more books from these authors. While the majority of books published are midlist, the majority of book sales don’t come from midlist because the big bucks come from best sellers such as the Harry Potter books. While being a midlist author might make some writers feel like Cinderella’s stepsister with big feet, the reality is that most midlist authors can make a living at it and can hope that perhaps after a few books or half a dozen books that they might break out.

Breakout means that a published author pole vaults from so-so sales of maybe 10,000 or 20,000 to mega sales. Dan Brown is a good example. After a mediocre career as a musician and composer in L.A. he returned to New Hampshire and a teaching gig at his old school and began writing. He sold three novels and two humor books, with small sales for all. Then his fourth novel The Da Vinci Code was published in 2003, sold 60,000 copies in the first week in print and skyrocketed to the top of The New York Times bestseller list. It has gone on to sell over 70 million copies. Needless to say, that’s a big time break out.

Generally a breakout book is somehow extraordinary. If you are like me and could not get past page 20 of The Da Vinci Code because the writing is lackluster at best, you’re probably wondering what makes a book break out. Often the book has a super tantalizing hook, creates strong reactions in readers, and is high concept, meaning that the essence of the story can be whittled down to a single sentence, can be understood by anyone, and the story or book idea explodes with meaning and intrigue. Both Lovely Bones and The Da Vinci Code are high concept.

The good news is that publishers are always on the lookout for breakout writers because they’re generally already polished or at least reliable writers and because they can buy their titles cheaper than they can buy from the big dogs. Breakout is synonymous with up and coming and can refer to memoirists, authors of how-to books, and novelists. In other words, they have the potential to become superstars and garner mega sales.

What gives a breakout author an edge is if they have an established platform such as a web site and other ways to attract readers and if the author is easy to work with. So turn in your manuscript pages on time and accept editing suggestions gracefully. These writers understand the business and will help all they can to boost sales. Other ways of breaking out include winning or being nominated for awards, sparkling reviews, and garnering a blurb from a household name such as Stephen King.

Sometimes a breakout will occur when an author switches genres as in the case of Mark Haddon’s The Curious Incident of the Dog in the Night-time. Haddon who is also a poet has written a number of children’s books. Everything about Haddon’s book is highly original especially the voice, that of an autistic boy and the puzzle about a dead dog at the center of the story. It also won several prizes and will be made into a movie.

A breakout book means the author has somehow upped his game with meatier or more sizzling or original content. Sometimes an author hits the big time and breaks out after only one or two books such as Jeannette Wells’ The Glass Castle or Elizabeth Gilbert’s Eat, Pray, Love. Both books are memoirs.

Then there are the super star authors whose names are synonymous with bestseller. These are the folks that publishers put their money behind in printing thousands of copies, paying for multi-city book tours, and creating bookstore promo and display items. Publishers will also lavish money on promotions for breakout authors, but most often books break out because of word of mouth sales, winning awards, or being chosen by a major book club such as Oprah’s or ABC’s Good Morning which chose Lovely Bones. Often a publisher will be caught by surprise when a book breaks out and will rush more copies into print and start the promo machine rolling. Cheryl Strayed’s Wild is a good example of a break out book that has caused waves of success and recognition. Another is Gillian Flynn’s Gone Girl. Both are being made into movies.

Celebrity books are another sales category and include writers such as the Clintons. Publishers will also lavish big bucks behind selling their books because of name recognition.

The superstar category are the writers who have sold millions of books. No matter what they write, and that means even if it’s drek, they will land a book deal and the publisher will print thousands or millions of copies. These big dogs include the late Michael Crichton, John Grisham, Stephen King, J. K. Rowling, Ann Rice, James Patterson, Tom Clancy, and Nicholas Spark. You can also throw in best-selling authors like Dean Koontz, Catherine Coulter, Diana Gabaldon, George R.R. Martin and Norah Roberts into this crowd. Typically their name on the cover guarantees sales and their books often are often turned into movies.

Now, my list of mega stars is probably short–writers I’ll read no matter what they publish. My latest mega star is Jess Walter. Some of these authors write great books, some of these authors write a mix of great books and so-so books. It does you no good to compare your writing to any breakout because your writing needs to be better than theirs. Which is the point of this column.

One last thing. Often when I’m teaching a workshop a writer will pipe up with an example from Thackeray or Henry James or Faulkner to dispute some point I’m making about craft or rewriting or getting published. Here’s what I think: there is no one right way to write, but there are thousands of ways to write poorly and make mistakes in your career. While all authors are wise to read the classics, you’re wiser to read breakout books and puzzle out what sets them apart from the author’s previous works and try to somehow emulate them.

Summer in Words Writing Conference 2013

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Feb• 27•13

Imagine Write Publish

Registration begins March 15

Dates: June 21-23

Cannon Beach, Oregon

For updates check here.

Bitter Truth # 8

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Feb• 23•13

Bitter Truth # 8

Someone is always going to write better than you.

Make that a lot of someones. And I’m not talking about famous dead authors and Pulitzer Prize winners or high up there writers you can never hope to meet. I’m talking about the cranky oldster in your writing group or the whippersnapper prodigy down the block. Or the woman across town who just landed the 7-figure advance. Since there are millions of people working at writing these days there are bound to be many that write better than you.

You can dwell on this, allow envy to make you judgy and twitchy, or you can acknowledge the facts and write anyway. You see writing brings a lot of joy and solace into our lives, but then along with those cheery aspects there is anxiety, doubt, and envy.

And envy, my friends, is a bitch. It’s your true enemy who needs to be shown the door.

Now you can wallow in envy, or you can write anyway. You can curse the fates that your work will never appear in the New Yorker, or you can keep writing.  Then write some more. Especially on those days when your writing path is potholed and your creativity is choked, this offers little consolation. Keep at it. Write for love, to witness, to  capture truth, or simply to tell a great story. Without looking over your shoulder at the competition, without feelings of jealousy, or competition.

This isn’t fifth grade. This is the writing life. Play the long game.

Write From Your Soft Parts

Written By: Jessica Morrell - Feb• 13•13

©Jessica P. Morrell

Tears are words that need to be written.” – Paul Coehlo

          Church scholars are uncertain about the identity of Saint Valentine. The confusion exists because there are several  Valentines who are linked to February 14. It’s commonly accepted that is that he was the bishop of Terni; he was beheaded in Rome because of his faith and buried in Terni. It was observed that birds started mating on the anniversary of his death and that this is why he became the patron saint of lovers.

As the holiday approaches, let’s ruminate about writing about love and, relationships. Let’s get it right. I’ve read love scenes that had me sweaty, yearning, and stirred with emotion. I’ve read love scenes that were about as romantic as Naugahyde upholstery. In a dumpy diner.I’ve read stories where relationships are sparked like dry tinder in August. They begin with a chance meeting in, say, the produce aisle. The couple shares a joke over a cabbage and next thing we know, they’re bonded and bonding, if you get my drift. Not to mention cooking together. No in between stages or trials. Kiss, kiss, bang, bang.

The problem is that readers want to experience a couple’s emotional chemistry and also want to participate in the ups, downs, and travails of love. You, writer friends, need to write about a special and always-mysterious bond that exists between couples. But love isn’t always sublime, especially on the page. It’s often not the solace we all crave, that soft place in the world we all need. You need to delve into the difficult parts of love; expose the graceless, the awful, the words that cannot be taken back, the horrible emotional purgatory of not knowing if your love is returned in the beginning stages of a relationship.

When a romance is prominently featured in a story both characters will have an acute awareness of the other. The story exposes their vulnerabilities and because of this, write from the softest, most vulnerable part of you. Write from the times when you were crying in the dark alone feeling like the last person stranded on a faraway planet. Now that’s not to say that you cannot write from your happy memories, or that your characters cannot make it to the altar. Or the bedroom. For example, write from the memories of joy and awe when you first met a newborn. But love always stems from a deep-held need for acceptance and belonging. And those feelings make us vulnerable. Writing about love requires that you put your own emotions into the scenes and create a tender double edge and sometimes a jagged edge.

Science has identified the human need to connect, belong, and bond. Like many instincts, these drives hearken to long-ago times when humans stuck together to increase their odds for survival. Hunting, traveling, fighting, all work better in a group. A group provided possible mates, which then provided children. But the truth is that cooperative tribes, happy families, sweet, lasting relationships can be found more often in books than in real life. So you gotta give readers what they long for.

Which brings us back to writing about love. Since these days badly-written porn passes for literature, you might be tempted to steam up your story with naughty and daring sexual exploits. This supposes that we all want to peer into not only the bedroom, but a room of forbidden appetites. But love comes in so many forms. Only you can decide to risk writing a sex scene that ignites like fire spreading or if you write best from your comfort zone.

It can be helpful to think back to the moments when you first experienced love or a blinding crush. You might want to play the music of that era or find other ways to bring on potent memories. A boy in high school shattered my heart and my longing for him was a physical ache. I dreaded passing him in the hallways, clutching his new girlfriend. The one I was convinced was prettier than me. He was a tall wrestler with crooked teeth and curly dark hair, with no interest in reading or writing, my life-long passions. I was already an editor who wrote angst-blooming poems trapped in a world without operating instructions. It was misery and luckily we were doomed from the get-go. My high school boyfriend turned out to be a much smarter and kinder person.

In fiction start the relationship with a foundation based on back story, an inciting incident, or a believable set up. Is the relationship based on friendship? {Ron Weasley and Hermione Granger)} A misunderstanding or adversarial meeting? {When Harry Met Sally}Adversity? {The African Queen}After the set up with outcomes dangling, trust fragile; then build in sexual tension. Next, stir in complications and reversals such as miscommunication, lies, separation, or betrayal. But remember that readers always long for the release of that initial sexual tension and sexual tension is tied to conflict.

Whatever weight a romance plays in the story, respect your readers who spend time with your characters. Give them what you’ve promised. If you’ve promised a romance, bring it on. If you’ve established a steamy, passionate dynamic, deliver it with damp sheets included. If the characters are drama magnets, stir in extra heartbreak. Readers expect some form of change: The characters change, the situation changes, or leads to disappointment or tragedy. If your story doesn’t deliver what the opening promises, then your readers won’t return for your next story.

Writing about love is difficult because words can seem inadequate, sexual tension is difficult to portray and love scenes are action scenes with lots of, uhm, moving parts. Always a tricky proposition. When you write avoid the clinical, instead set the mood for yourself. Play music, light candles,{and for the ladies} spray perfume, slip into fabulous lingerie and tippy heels. Then write from the heart.
Here are a few more tips:

  • Always know how your character’s last relationship ended.
  • Create warring emotions in your characters. Desire and doubt. Or logic versus longing.
  • Take your characters into new emotional territory. It’s okay if it’s awkward.
  • Know the characters’ motivations: lust, culminating love, desperation.
  • Work hard at just the right dialogue — not too much, heavy on subtext. Feature power struggles, challenges, capitulations.
  • Emphasize the senses, especially touch. Feature contrasts.
  • Avoid creating sex scenes happening in unlikely moments — such as when your characters are running for their lives.
  • Use sex as game changer.
  • Write love scenes that seem to exist outside of time.
  • Skip the purple prose and corny euphemisms.
  • If the romance is a subplot, plan the emotional nadir at the end of Act Two. Hitting love’s rock bottom adds emotional depth to the story.
  • Use language that your characters would use.
  • Read the Modern Love column in The New York Times. These tales of the heart are required research.
  • Write for appropriately for the genre. Horror, suspense, thrillers need varying levels of realism in the romance subplot. Is it used for relief of tension? To prove the protagonist is human? To expose the protagonist to more danger?
  • Last and not least: Do not defy gravity.