I recently led a friend of mine through an exercise designed to shape a character, and with her permission, we’re going to discuss that exercise here. We run into this sort of issue pretty frequently: a character has a strong backstory, but that doesn’t quite translate into a strong, solid character. In this case, the character – we’ll call her Ashley – was defined as a woman in her mid-20s whose father is an abusive alcoholic.

That single fact drove most of the character creation, and was the answer to almost every question about this character. What was Ashley’s romantic history? Light and sporadic, because she can’t trust men because her father was an abusive alcoholic. What does she look for in a man? Sobriety. And so on, each question leading back to that single backstory detail. No matter the question, the answer was, “Daddy was a mean drunk.” In fact, here is what my friend offered as a brief character description:

She’s been conditioned that people will always disappoint her. Her father disappoints her by constantly falling off the wagon. Every time she puts any faith in him, he blows it. Her mother (although she has a good relationship with her) disappointed her because she never had the strength to leave Ashley’s dad and give Ahsley a more stable environment.

This is good, as far as it goes, but it doesn’t go far enough. My friend, to her credit, knew something was off with this character but was having trouble grasping the smoke. The problem is one of focus. Daddy’s not in this book. The story isn’t about letting go of the original family. This is a straightforward romance novel with a strong external plot that doesn’t involve Ashley’s dad at all. So this means that every time we were talking about the backstory, we were talking about events that occurred outside the scope of this plot. Those events have no relevance OTHER THAN the way they shaped Ashley’s character.

So we had to reframe Ashley’s character. We had to focus on the results (how she behaves in real story time), rather than the cause (Daddy was a mean drunk).

Step one in this exercise was to come up with a list of character traits. I forbid my writing friend from mentioning Ashley’s father at all. I told her to come up with a simple list of character traits to describe Ashley. Each trait should be expressed in a word or two. Here is what she sent:

Suspicious

Controlling

Self-contained

Lonely

Miserly (in that she can pinch a penny until the head pops off. LOL)

Dependable (if she wants it done, she does it herself)

Driven

That’s a sad list, isn’t it? The traits seem overwhelmingly negative. This is a romantic heroine we’re talking about. The reader will want to be able to identify with this character, so that negativity might be a barrier. Also, keep in mind that we’re trying to understand how a formative situation shapes character. Ashley was forged in fire, and these kinds of circumstances can make you hard, but they can also make you strong.

So the next step was to challenge my friend to find a positive way to express these traits. Almost every aspect of character can be positive or negative, depending on how it is expressed in the story. So I asked her to look at her list and think of positive ways these traits might manifest. For example, a suspicious character might be hard to fool, which would be a good trait in a romantic suspense novel, right?

Here is what my friend generated:

Negative                      Positive

Suspicious                   Won’t be fooled

Controlling                  Orderly

Miserly                      Responsible with money

Self-contained             Self-sufficient

Lonely                          Doesn’t need to be entertained

Driven                         Wants to do a good job

Now we understand the different ways that the same basic trait might be expressed in the course of the plot. After getting this far and looking at her list more closely, we realized that Ashley’s core trait is that she’s cautious. This caution is expressed in multiple ways, and almost every trait on the above list, both positive and negative, can be seen as an expression of that cautiousness. Now we’re starting to really understand what drives Ashley, but there’s still one more step.

That final step is figuring out how these traits manifest in the world Ashley inhabits. This is where things get really interesting. Look at that list and think about some aspect of Ashley’s present world and how it might be impacted by each trait. Do you see any potential conflicts? I do. For example, if she’s good with money, but miserly, does she buy an investment property like an apartment building to live in, or a tiny condo with low payments, or something else? If she’s self-contained and entertains herself, does she have a great television system and movie collection, or does her miserliness keep her from spending money on this sort of thing? If she’s put on a work project team with a sexy, smoking hot hero, will she agree to work late and discuss the project over drinks?

By thinking of these kinds of potential issues in the character formation stage, you not only develop a deeper understanding of the character, but you develop a sense of how different aspects of that character are prioritized. Which will she value more, saving money or protecting her privacy? In times of stress, does she hide or does she try to control everything? In the end, when this exercise is complete, you will have a more fully developed character, and you will understand better how to portray her in a deep, complex way.

***

RU writers, what’s your process for developing your character?

Join us on Monday with Ollin Morales’ post What Charlie Chaplin Can Teach You About Writing A Great Love Story

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Bio: Theresa Stevens is the Publisher of STAR Guides Publishing, a nonfiction publishing company with the mission to help writers write better books. After earning degrees in creative writing and law, she worked as a literary attorney agent for a boutique firm in Indianapolis where she represented a range of fiction and nonfiction authors. After a nine-year hiatus from the publishing industry to practice law, Theresa worked as chief executive editor for a highly acclaimed small romance press, and her articles on writing and editing have appeared in numerous publications for writers. Visit her blog at http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ where she and her co-blogger share their knowledge and hardly ever argue about punctuation.

Welcome back, Theresa!

This month we continue our line editing series with an entry that gives us a chance to talk about content editing as well as line editing. Let’s start by reading the full excerpt.

Sienna Edwards loved the feel of power and the roar of the engine right beneath her. She easily moved through the thick Chicago traffic on her beloved Suzuki Hayabusa. She didn’t know of any more powerful feeling in the world than the wind rushing through her long curls and the honks from upset drivers.

Thoughts whirled around inside of her head and as usual were spinning out of control on her birthday. A horrible day to her if she had to be honest about it. Normally everyone got older and that hadn’t been what bothered her, it was the past birthdays, or the lack thereof. Life wasn’t always as peachy as people thought, but she was determined to have fun on this particular birthday, finally being able to spend it with friends that truly cared.

Through the thick fog that settled throughout the city, Sienna could finally make out her destination from a distance. The club Diablo announced itself to the world with glowing red lights and the flashlights that seemed to make it all the way to the sky. Since her and her friends knew the owner, they were frequent visitors. The fact that her kind could also feel completely safe there, only added to its appeal.

With a motorcycle, curbside parking did not take long to find. Before she managed to perch the bike and start walking towards the entrance, Sienna pinned her hair back in a messy bun with a handy chopstick that rested between her breasts.

Glares definitely lingered on her small but endowed figure which had been accented by the tight black leather pants, the knee high stiletto boots, and the tight black V-neck t-shirt that showed the top of her breasts. Men were definitely attracted to her, which she enjoyed, though didn’t let on. After one look from her in their direction and the whole group of guys that stood smoking and waiting to get in, averted their eyes.

“Hey my lady,” the bouncer smiled as she walked up. James, one of her own, knew her since before the bar even opened. The fact that he called her his lady always flustered everyone else. James, being a man easily over six feet tall with muscles that gave Schwarzenegger a run for his money, could definitely be mistaken for a common convict. Tough though he may be on the outside, Sienna knew all too well how a gentle of a soul he could be.  His mate being one to attest to that fact first and foremost. Cutting through the entire line, to a mass of groans and some appreciating whistles, she stood before him.

“Hey James. Not being too mean I hope,” she motioned towards the line before giving him a slight peck on the cheek.

“Nah, you know me. Just wanna build the suspense up a bit,” he smiled wickedly, “but you go on and have fun. Lauren and Sonya area already waiting for you,” he said lastly and turned his attention to the next guy in line causing trouble. No one could get past James especially with his hunter senses.

My first response to this is that it’s inconsistent. Sienna could very well end up being an interesting character, but in this specific moment in time, she’s not as clear as we want her to be. The line editing in cases like this has to start with something more akin to content editing. We have to examine the way the character is coming across on the page, and we have to do what we can to shape her up – but on a sentence and paragraph level rather than on a scene and story level.

Take another look at the first two paragraphs. Look at them separately, and then look at them together.

Paragraph 1:

Sienna Edwards loved the feel of power and the roar of the engine right beneath her. She easily moved through the thick Chicago traffic on her beloved Suzuki Hayabusa. She didn’t know of any more powerful feeling in the world than the wind rushing through her long curls and the honks from upset drivers.

Okay, so (ignoring for the moment the line editing concerns), this is a paragraph about a woman who feels free and powerful on a motorcycle. There’s something uplifting and bold about her in this moment. Because of the repetition in power and powerful, we might decide she’s an ambitious, power-hungry person. Because of the repetitions in loved and beloved, we might also decide she’s a force for good, maybe even big-hearted.

But then we get to paragraph 2:

Thoughts whirled around inside of her head and as usual were spinning out of control on her birthday. A horrible day to her if she had to be honest about it. Normally everyone got older and that hadn’t been what bothered her, it was the past birthdays, or the lack thereof. Life wasn’t always as peachy as people thought, but she was determined to have fun on this particular birthday, finally being able to spend it with friends that truly cared.

This is not the same character from paragraph one, is it? This character is mopey, overwhelmed, maybe a little self-pitying, though she’s trying to overcome it. She has bleak thoughts, which she might be trying to replace with more positive thoughts, but nevertheless, this paragraph is packed with a kind of gloominess. Spinning out of control, horrible day, feeling gypped on past birthdays, life isn’t peachy – these add up to a negativity that seems hard to reconcile with the power-lover from the first paragraph.

So what is the character’s dominant mood in this moment? The reader won’t know because the text hasn’t told her. The character could be exhilirated from the ride, or she could be the determined-to-be-cheerful sad girl from the second paragraph. Because it’s unclear, the reader will have a harder time bonding with the character. So the first step here is to figure out what she’s really thinking and feeling in this moment, and stick with it. The character might be complex enough to feel everything currently on the page, but that kind of complexity is best developed over the whole text.

Next up, paragraphs 3 and 4 – which I won’t repeat here – focuses mainly on the fact of travel to a destination. It’s my standard practice, when an author presents a first scene with travel details, to cut most of this run-up material and start at the moment of arrival. Some editors might let this kind of short leading material to stand, but I usually won’t. The moment of arrival is almost always going to be more interesting than the moments of travel, and the descriptive details can be blended into the actual arrival. So I would cut most of what’s in these two paragraphs, though some of the details might be seeded into the rest of the scene.

One option might be to start with the moment she parks the motorcycle – that way, you still get the motorcyle into the text – and go from there. Establish her dominant mood in the first paragraph, and don’t dilute it with material that doesn’t support that mood. For the purposes of demonstration, I’m going to choose “determined to have fun” as her dominant mood in the revised excerpt below.

You can use the conversation with James to bring out the fact of her birthday, and some of the other details can be salted in along the way, too. But you don’t need to explain a lot at this point. Your goal is to hook the reader and build a quick bond, and a little bit of mystery will help with that.

Just for an example, I’m going to take a swing at this. But this is for demonstration only. I’ll use your words as much as possible, but I’m going to trim and tighten quite a bit so that the focus is on the action and interaction.

Sienna Edwards perched her beloved bike, a Suzuki Hayabusa, next to the curb and walked toward the club entrance. The club Diablo announced itself to the world with glowing red lights and the flashlights that seemed to make it all the way to the Chicago sky. Sure, she came here all the time, but tonight was different. It had to be. With a determined little sigh, Sienna pinned her hair back in a messy bun with a handy chopstick that rested between her breasts.

The group of guys that smoked and waited in line lingered on her small but endowed figure which had been accented by the tight black leather pants, the knee high stiletto boots, and the tight black V-neck t-shirt that showed the top of her breasts. Men were definitely attracted to her, which she enjoyed, though didn’t let on. Not even tonight, not even when her one and only goal was pleasure. She cut through the entire line to a mass of groans and some appreciating whistles, until she stood before the heavily muscled bouncer.

“Hey, my lady.” James, one of her own shapeshifting kind, had known her since before the bar even opened.

“Hey James. Not being too mean, I hope.” She motioned towards the line before giving him a slight peck on the cheek.

“Nah, you know me. Just wanna build the suspense up a bit.” He smiled wickedly. “But you go on and have fun. Lauren and Sonya area already waiting for you. They tell me it’s your birthday.”

“Yes, and for a change, I thought I’d have a fun birthday. You could say I’m determined.”

“Uh-oh. And we all know, what my lady wants, my lady shall have.”

See, now the premise has been established. It’s her birthday. She is approaching it as a task to be accomplished: Have fun on my birthday, for a change. We don’t know why she has this attitude, but at this point, any explanation would slow down the pacing of the narrative. So skip the explanation. Establish the facts, and get the scene moving. Use James to throw in some details, and get to the interior of the bar more quickly. You can keep the sexual interest from the men in line because that accomplishes two purposes: it gives us a little bit of character description, and it establishes the fact of her sexual power. We lost a small sense of her love of power when we cut the paragraph about riding the motorcycle, so this reinserts it in a different way.

The revised opening has a clearer emotional content and a faster pace. I think it works better, don’t you?

***

RU Crew, do you have any questions for Theresa regarding her suggestions? 

On Monday, Jessica Scott tells us how an Army company commander became a romance writer. 

Bio: Theresa Stevens is the Publisher of STAR Guides Publishing, a nonfiction publishing company with the mission to help writers write better books. After earning degrees in creative writing and law, she worked as a literary attorney agent for a boutique firm in Indianapolis where she represented a range of fiction and nonfiction authors. After a nine-year hiatus from the publishing industry to practice law, Theresa worked as chief executive editor for a highly acclaimed small romance press, and her articles on writing and editing have appeared in numerous publications for writers. Visit her blog at http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ where she and her co-blogger share their knowledge and hardly ever argue about punctuation.

This month we continue our line editing series with an entry we are told is YA fantasy.

Chapter One – A Mother’s Sacrifice

We haven’t made it past the chapter heading, and I already have to pause for comment. There’s a tendency with new-ish YA writers to focus too much on the adults and not enough on the kids. Because we’re told that this chapter will be about the actions of the mother, I’m already wondering if this book will fall into that trap. I will be watching as we read for evidence that the young people are the central characters.

Midnight, 30th September, 1509

Serena wanted to run.

This is a little vague. You can run to something or run from something, and these are very different kinds of activities. If I were line editing this for publication, I would make a note requesting the author clarify this sentence by completing the sentence, or perhaps by revising it.

The hourglass stood on the altar stone in the centre of the clearing. A cruel wind sliced through the trees, stinging Serena’s hands and drawing tears from her eyes, but that was a welcome sensation: at least, for now, she could feel.

Good sense of setting and emotion and tension, but I still want to tinker with this. The colon sounds the wrong tone for this kind of prose. It’s too formal. I’m also not wild about that pair of present participial phrases in the middle of the compound sentences. It’s not the trees stinging and drawing, even though the ordinary rules of sentence structure tell us that those phrases modify the trees. It could be read as a cumulative modifier except that the trees still get in the way of our interpretation. I would reference the trees in the first sentence and get them out of the middle of this sentence. So the new paragraph would read,

The hourglass stood on the altar stone in the centre of the forest clearing. A cruel wind stung Serena’s hands and drew tears from her eyes, but that was a welcome sensation. At least, for now, she could feel.

“Take the glass,” the witch instructed. “Turn it once and see that you have controlled time.”

On first reading, it wasn’t clear to me that these instructions were directed at Serena, so I would add the object to the dialogue tag.

It felt like ice in Serena’s trembling hand as she turned it. Beneath its surface, the rushing sands of time slowed to a trickle and were still.

That first sentence lacks the impact it probably ought to have. Despite the hand/cold, it’s a bit disembodied, perhaps because of the two uses of the pronoun it. Also, felt is a weak verb, which is a surprise because most of the other verbs in these two pages are robust and strong. And the sentence feels a bit rushed. We don’t get a sense that Serena believes this act to be momentous because she rushes to follow the instructions without hesitation. And we don’t know the goal of the magic — which is fine at this point, and actually raises the tension level, except that the lack of emotional context from Serena in this instant further undermines that first sentence’s impact.

The solution is to slow down that moment and reel out the details. Ordinarily, I would notate this to ask the author to expand the moment. Just for an example, here is something that might work.

Hesitation would be dangerous. Still, her trembling hands stretched toward the hourglass, more slowly than the witch would like but certainly more quickly than Serena preferred. Her heart fluttered as she lifted the hourglass, heavier than it looked and as cold as the witch’s heart. She turned its icy weight. Beneath its surface, the rushing sands of time slowed to a trickle and were still.

She replaced the hourglass on the sacrificial rock.

I think the actions in these last two paragraphs are out of order. I think she has to replace the hourglass on the altar before she checks the one in her pocket. So I would reverse these two pieces, and I think that single-sentence paragraph makes a nice offset conclusion to the tense actions in the stretched-out paragraph that precedes it.

As to the second paragraph, I’m again troubled by the structure of the first sentence with its present participial phrase. Good writers shun this structure, and with good reason. These phrases are adjectives. This means that they must be used to modify nouns. Adjectives go next to the nouns they modify, which means that this sentence’s structure literally means that the pocket is reassuring. Obviously, this isn’t what the writer intends. Instead, she intends to indicate that the first action (reached) serves the purpose of reassurance. For that reason, I would revise that sentence like this,

Serena reached into her cloak pocket to reassure herself that the second hourglass was tucked inside.

It’s a small change with a big impact, and I would put it in the category of a mandatory grammar change rather than an optional style change. The next sentence in the paragraph flows neatly from this first sentence, though I do wonder if we ought to have some indication about whether the second hourglass is secret. This might not be necessary. In sentence three, I would cut the phrase at the thought, which is redundant. The point of view is deep enough and the action is clear enough that we know Serena is the one thinking, and we can see the causation because nothing interrupts the action of the second sentence and the reaction of the third sentence.

This leads us to the fourth sentence in this paragraph.

Such a mistake would cost thousands of lives and rob her of her children… again.

There are two issues here. The first, and more minor, is that the ellipsis is being used to provide cadence. This is not a good use for ellipses, which ordinarily should signal either missing information or a trailing off of dialogue or interior monologue. This kind of emphasis ellipsis, much like scare quotes, multiple exclamation points, and emphasis capitalizations, is acceptable in modern, casual communication such as social media posts or emails between friends. In a book set in the 1500s, though, it sounds a too-modern note. And even in a contemporary-set book, you’re better off using diction to create cadence. So I would cut the ellipsis. Even a period would be better.

The second issue with this sentence is that we now know Serena is an adult, old enough to have children of her own. As it stands now, we understand her to be the main character because we started in her pov. We understand that her main problem is that she has been separated from her children, and this ritual is meant to get them back. This is reinforced by the next two paragraphs.

“Alasdair,” the witch continued, “you, too, must control the passing of time.”

Serena glanced at her husband; his eyes, like hers, were wet. He turned the glass and set it down again. Then his hand found hers, and their fingers intertwined as they embraced this final, physical memory together. In marrying him, she had bound him to this fate. She wore her guilt like an open wound.

She’s married. Her husband is going through this ritual with her. She feels guilt about whatever she did to land them in this situation. And that semicolon in the first sentence should be edited out, but I’m no longer focused on the line edits now because I’m facing a bigger concern. This might not be a suitable story for this genre. YA books ordinarily don’t take adults as protagonists. It’s possible that this scene is a prologue of sorts, and that the action will shift away from Serena and to a more suitable protagonist. But if that’s not the case, then my advice to this writer would focus more on the substantive concerns than the line editing concerns.

Nevertheless, I would describe this piece as competently written. If I were reading this as a submission, at this point, I would pause reading to check the synopsis. I would be looking for specific evidence that the book becomes more genre-appropriate after this first scene. If I found that evidence, I would be inclined to keep reading because the line editing concerns are fixable. The story has a good sense of tension. The scene is set well. The pace is generally good. It’s not a bad piece at all, and the changes we’ve made are minor.

Putting it all together, we get,

Chapter One – A Mother’s Sacrifice

His eyes, like Serena’s, were wet. He turned the glass and set it down again. Then his hand found hers, and their fingers intertwined as they embraced this final, physical memory together. In marrying him, she had bound him to this fate. She wore her guilt like an open wound.

***

Do you see why Theresa made the suggestions she offers here? If you have any questions, post them in the comments below.

On Monday, JENEL LOONEY and SHERIDAN STANCLIFF discuss outsourcing business tasks. Join us! Enjoy your weekend, and have a Happy St. Patrick’s Day!

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Bio: Theresa Stevens is the Publisher of STAR Guides Publishing, a nonfiction publishing company with the mission to help writers write better books. After earning degrees in creative writing and law, she worked as a literary attorney agent for a boutique firm in Indianapolis where she represented a range of fiction and nonfiction authors. After a nine-year hiatus from the publishing industry to practice law, Theresa worked as chief executive editor for a highly acclaimed small romance press, and her articles on writing and editing have appeared in numerous publications for writers. Visit her blog at http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ where she and her co-blogger share their knowledge and hardly ever argue about punctuation.

Theresa Stevens (quite possibly poolside at her estate in Montecito) exposes myths about editors and gives us a glimpse of what an editor’s job is really like.   

Ten Myths About Editors

1. Myth: An editor’s job is to edit manuscripts.

Truth: These days, editing manuscripts is only part of an editor’s job.

Editors are functional project managers with responsibilities extending through all areas of the book’s life cycle. A simplified sketch of a book’s life cycle includes the following steps:

- Query/Pitch

- Proposal/Partial

- Full Manuscript

- Contract Negotiations

- Revisions

- Line Edits

- Copy Edits

- Cover Art

- Jacket/PR Copy

- Proofs/Galleys

- Pre-Sales

- Advance Distribution

- Advance PR

- Distribution for Release

- Release PR

- Subrights Sales

- Returns

- Remainders

Even though this is a very rough and simplified outline, it still contains eighteen steps. Only six of the eighteen steps (Query/Pitch, Proposal/Partial, Manuscript, Revisions, Line Edits, Copy edits) can be said to be related to the editing side of the editor’s job. One of those, Proposal/Partial, is frequently combined with the query or pitch, especially with proven authors. And another, Copyedits, is generally delegated to another editor who specializes in this task.

Each item on this list can take weeks or months to complete. Multiple people touch the project, but the editor is the shepherd. The editor is usually the only one involved in every single step of this process, even though the level of involvement will vary from house to house and maybe from project to project. For example, in some houses, editors write jacket copy. At other houses, the marketing staff drafts the jacket copy based on a memo prepared by the editor or a tip sheet completed by the author.  

2. Myth: Pitching work at a conference makes an editor more interested in your manuscript.

Truth: Oh, boy. Dare I tell the truth here?

Formal pitch meetings are an essential part of the conference experience for editors because pitches are one way we connect with new writers. We also connect in hallways, elevators, banquet rooms, cocktail parties, public bathrooms, and any other place that writers can get close enough to read our name badges.

I found my success rate for finding new authors was roughly the same in elevators, bars and taxis as in formal pitch sessions. To be honest, I think pitches are about the worst way to connect with an editor. It’s a high-stress environment for the author and, well, let’s just say that it can feel a bit claustrophobic for the editor. Not exactly a good setting for a love connection.

I took pitches because it was a quick and dirty way to get through a lot of networking in a short time, and I usually remembered the pitchers when I saw their submissions. But pitches didn’t tell me whether the writer can deliver a publishable manuscript. Only pages can tell me that. Even the most memorable pitch won’t amount to anything if the manuscript doesn’t work, so I generally withheld judgments until I had actual pages to evaluate. 

3. Myth: Editors pass on good manuscripts because they can’t recognize works of genius.

Truth: Editors are the most educated, experienced and adept readers of raw work anywhere. Period. So then why do we hear all these stories of major bestsellers being rejected seventy-seven times before finally finding a publisher?

Publishers offer a certain number of a certain type of titles in a certain interval: four cozy mysteries per month, two literary anthologies every six months, eight short romance stories on alternating Wednesdays. Editors are allowed to buy ahead, but only so far.

Keep in mind that editors already have writers under contract for many of these slots. And we have a full roster of writers who get first crack at openings even if they’re not currently under contract. So even though we might need, say, forty-eight stories in a given calendar year, perhaps forty or more of those slots will be out of reach to new writers before they’ve penned a single word.

For the few slots available to newcomers, the competition will be fierce. The slightest shades of difference between equally good manuscripts can often determine which book gets published and which gets rejected. In such cases, the rejection really isn’t about the quality of a project. I have had to pass on great manuscripts because they didn’t fit our line-up, or because we didn’t have room for them, or because they duplicated something under contract, or for a thousand other reasons that didn’t have anything to do with the writer’s genius. Or with ours. 

4. Myth: Crushing the hopes of aspiring writers makes an editor feel powerful.

Truth: Most of the time, we’re too busy and too worried about our failing eyesight to think about things like power trips.

We don’t want to crush you. We want to help almost-there writers elevate their games. My biggest complaint about my acquisitions job, first, last, and always, was that I didn’t have enough time to groom new authors. Remember the rough task outline with eighteen items on it? Remember that each of these items can take weeks or months to complete? I didn’t have a lot of time left over to educate new writers, even though we all recognize that this lack of training can hurt the bottom line in the long run.

Another editor and I started the edittorrent blog (edittorrent.blogspot.com) as a way of trying to spread technical information about the craft of fiction. We knew we couldn’t spend a lot of time one on one with writers who weren’t under contract. But the blog lets us reach a lot of writers in relatively little time. 

5. Myth: Authors don’t need to worry about grammar because it’s the editor’s job to fix it.

Truth: A thousand times, no.

This is one of the most puzzling rumors out there. Yes, of course, editors and copyeditors fix grammar errors in manuscripts. Does that mean an author shares no responsibility for grammar and usage?

Here’s a sad truth. When I evaluated a submission, the first question in my mind was not, Is this story good enough to publish? My first question was, How many hours of my life will it take to get this manuscript ready? If every other paragraph contains a grammar or usage error, that translates into time that I could be spending on other tasks.

This is why it’s easy for an editor to equate bad grammar with other flaws: arrogance, lack of self-respect, lack of respect for us, disdain for the product you’re creating. If you don’t care enough to distinguish possessives from plurals, then we’re not going to care enough to give you anything more than a form rejection.

In other words, if you don’t worry about your grammar, neither will I. 

6. Myth: Editors play favorites with their authors.

Truth: We love you all the same, but some of you more than others.

It’s true that some authors receive more house support than others. There are many factors that come into play here: sales records, marketing decisions, Jupiter’s alignment, and whether we’ve run through the week’s chocolate ration before noon on Tuesday. 

That’s only partly in jest. Sales and marketing decisions factor strongly into how much “love” you’ll get from your publisher. Publishing is a business, but it’s a business driven by the unpredictable tastes and whims of the masses. Luck is that great intangible that controls the fate of many titles, despite the best efforts of fleets of salespeople and PR experts.

And, let’s face it, editors are people, too. If we’re having a bad week and you call to whinge about the facts that your jacket copy never mentions the hero’s peculiar aversion to ramen noodles and that the cover artist drew a castle with sixty-four windows when the castle in your book clearly has sixty-six–well, we might not have the energy to care quite as much as you’d like. Especially because we’ve already had to listen to a rant from the cover artist about the impossibility of compositing sixty-six windows onto a two-square-inch castle, and even we don’t remember the ramen noodle thing despite having read your manuscript a dozen times.

Now imagine that the ramen-ranter is on a two-book contract, and I had to go through all this on her first title. Human nature being what it is, do you think I’ll be excited to show her the cover for book two? No. I’ll be bracing myself for a bad experience. I’ll still show her the cover. I’ll still hope for huge sales. I’ll still do everything I’m supposed to do, because, remember, we “love” you all the same. But I’ll be thinking about damage control before picking up the phone or composing the e-mail. Wouldn’t you be?

If you’re not getting the attention and support you’d like from your house, the best solution is to stop playing the blame game. Go back to basics. Write the best darn manuscript you can write. Turn it in on time — better yet, turn it in early. Be polite and professional even during disagreements. Don’t quibble over details unless they’re important details, and by important we mean, “The woman on my cover has three arms.” Make yourself a deal: for every time you stet the proofs, you’ll do one extra thing to promote your book. Or for every phone call to your editor to challenge your revision letter, you’ll take an online writing course. Or for every day that you miss your deadline, you’ll take out an ad in a relevant journal.

In other words, pay attention to your bottom line. It’s about sales, yes, but it’s also about what it’s like to work with you. If you do something that creates a “love” deficit, restore the balance by doing something positive for yourself and your career.

We want you to succeed. We want every book we publish to be a smash success. Be a partner in that process instead of an obstacle, and you’ll feel plenty of love from everyone at your house. 

7. Myth: Contest wins really impress editors.

Truth: It depends.

I’m a big supporter of writing contests. Writers labor in isolation and deal with constant uncertainty. Contests can address both concerns by giving you clear, honest, sometimes even anonymous feedback from someone outside your normal circle. I love contests enough to act as final judge whenever asked (and whenever my schedule permits it).

That said, I’m rarely impressed by mentions of contest placements in query letters. I know that contest pools are like slush piles. On any given day, you can have a pile of good manuscripts or a pile of really bad ones. Placing in a contest doesn’t tell me much unless I know something about the level of competition in that pool.

Some contests have great reputations. A final in one of these is more likely to carry weight because we all recognize that the competition is strong. Other than that, they probably won’t count for much.

8. Myth: No news is good news.

Truth: No news is no news.

I remember fondly the days when I could respond to queries within a week. Requested fulls never lingered for more than thirty days in my in tray. I was an editing machine, churning through thousands of pages each month.

And then something happened.

First it was the cold queries. They started to mount until before I knew it, there were some several weeks old. Where had they all come from? I wasn’t ignoring them. I spent just as many hours on them each week as before, but the pile got bigger instead of smaller.

Then the requested manuscripts from new-to-us writers started to mount. I wanted to read them all right away. I intended to read each one the second it appeared in my inbox. But–but–there were page proofs due to the typesetter, and then someone turned in a manuscript late, and a piece of the website stopped functioning, and the art director wanted feedback on a new font, and–and–

It never ends. Editors talk a lot about being busy. That part is not a myth. If we could evaluate your work faster, we would. So usually, “no news” is just that, no news. We’ll get to your submission as soon as possible. Really. 

9. Myth: If an editor loves your book, you’ll sell well.

Truth: Nobody can predict sales.

But that doesn’t stop us from trying. We do P&Ls–profit and loss statements–and scrutinize sales data like neurosurgeons slicing into brains. Why does this futuristic sell better than that one? Why did that historical not sell at all? Was it the promo, the product, the dip in the stock market, the fact that everyone spent their book dollars on the new Harry Potter that week? Sometimes it’s impossible to tell.

Armed with conflicting data, we peer into our crystal balls and try to make sense of the future before it arrives. Sometimes we even guess right. These are educated guesses, after all.

With the advent of direct publishing, I’ve been fascinated with watching authors track their own sales records and try to make sense of it all. You get it now, don’t you? You can sort of guess where things will go, but that’s about it. The best advice I can give you is to look for general trends and try not to let the sales figures make you crazy. 

10. Myth: Editors lead glamorous, exciting, celebrity-filled lives.

Truth: True! Absolutely true! And now if you’ll excuse me, I have to climb aboard my private jet to zip down to a gazillionaire author’s private island for a fabulous weekend party. Everyone who is anyone will be there! Ta-ta, darlings! 

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Has Theresa banished your myths about editors or the editorial process? Any questions about an editor’s life or function?

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Author Avery Flynn joins us on Monday, February 20th.

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Bio: Theresa Stevens is the Publisher of STAR Guides Publishing, a nonfiction publishing company with the mission to help writers write better books. After earning degrees in creative writing and law, she worked as a literary attorney agent for a boutique firm in Indianapolis where she represented a range of fiction and nonfiction authors. After a nine-year hiatus from the publishing industry to practice law, Theresa worked as chief executive editor for a highly acclaimed small romance press, and her articles on writing and editing have appeared in numerous publications for writers. Visit her blog at http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ where she and her co-blogger share their knowledge and hardly ever argue about punctuation.

RU’s Jennifer Tanner lines up a fabulous group of Visiting Professors this week, plus a fun Valentine’s Day contest!

Mon, 2/13 – Do certain characters stay with you long after you’ve finished a book? Author Donna MacMeans visits the RU campus and gives us tips on how to create likeable and memorable characters. http://www.donnamacmeans.com

Tues, 2/14 – HAPPY VALENTINE’S DAY! Whether it’s a bouquet of well-intentioned, half-dead flowers from the corner liquor store, the stale box of drugstore candy with someone else’s name on it, or the Valentine that never came, everyone’s got a love-gone-wrong story. We want your absolute worst. The most wretched, overwrought and bruise-worthy purple prose you can possibly fit into one sentence containing no more than seventy words. All the details are at http://romanceuniversity.org/2012/02/11/tainted-love-contest/

Wed, 2/15 – You only have a few sentences to introduce your main character and entice readers to come on a journey with her. Author Anne R. Allen provides tips on how to make the most of those sentences. http://www.annerallen.blogspot.com

Fri, 2/17 – Monthly columnist Theresa Stevens returns with her popular Ask An Editor blog. http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/

All Romance University lectures are generously provided by our Visiting Professors. RU is a tuition-free zone!

All our best,
Tracey Devlyn, Jennifer Tanner, Becke Martin-Davis, Kelsey Browning, Adrienne Giordano, Robin Covington, and Carrie Spencer

From Theresa: This month we’re starting something new here with my column. Every other month, I will be evaluating sample pages sent in by readers. If you want to play along, send the first two or three pages of your novel in, and we’ll add them to the queue. This month, we have the first 250 words of an urban fantasy novel. I think you’ll all agree that this opening is already in great shape. But I think we can make it better.

Chapter 1: Bring Out Your Dead (Urban Fantasy)

They had eight hours before dawn and a lot of dirt to shift. Jane propped her Hush Puppy on the back of the shovel blade and pushed, but nothing happened. She swallowed a curse. Rennie didn’t like it when she cursed.

Rennie balanced the big lantern flashlight on her walker as she illuminated the shovel. The night sky sparkled with stars and a half moon, but it wasn’t enough to dig by. “You have to stand on the blade, honey. You don’t have the get-up-and-go you used to.”

“This ain’t my first grave, Rennie. I know what I’m doing.” She wished they’d handled this weeks ago, but they’d been hoping one of their contacts would come through at the last minute. Someone trustworthy. Someone who could keep a secret. Someone who could dig. They were both way too decrepit for this.

“Used to be me who dug the graves,” Rennie said.

“Now it’s my turn.” Jane climbed up on the shovel blade like a tightrope walker, and the tip sank into the ground several inches. A tug and a yank, and several cups’ worth of dirt popped free. Pale brown and tough as saddle leather. She piled it to the side on the tarp.

Rennie sighed. “I wish I could help.”

“You just stand guard and keep my spirits up.” Jane freed another shovel of tight-packed West Virginia dirt. “Good Lord, this ground is hard. Was he this much of an inconvenience when he was alive?”

“More,” Rennie said. “Especially there at the end.”

Okay, the first thing I want to do is rearrange the pieces in those first few paragraphs to raise the tension level. We start with a plural pronoun, they, which keeps us from knowing the point of view character right away. And then we shift into some details about the premise: it’s night, they have eight hours to dig, and they’re properly equipped. Although there’s a ticking clock, the time limit doesn’t feel pressing. Eight hours to dig a hole is probably long enough. There are some indications that the task might not be easy, so it’s not that the opening paragraphs are flat. They do contain some tension. But it’s not as much tension as it could be.

As I was reading, the first line that really sang to me was this one:

This ain’t my first grave, Rennie.

This is interesting because it’s not an everyday kind of utterance. I want to see what happens when we start with this line and shuffle the other pieces in after it. I want to make sure the pov character is immediately identified, and so for the second sentence, we’ll use that action beat that was already in place in the first paragraph. There’s a nice tension between the assertion that she knows what she’s doing and the fact that she can’t budge the shovel. Then Rennie should respond with her line of dialogue, and we’ll use the existing action beat to tag that dialogue. I think that works, and we haven’t had to change a word. All we’ve done so far is shift the bits around.

“This ain’t my first grave, Rennie. I know what I’m doing.” Jane propped her Hush Puppy on the back of the shovel blade and pushed, but nothing happened. She swallowed a curse. Rennie didn’t like it when she cursed.

“You have to stand on the blade, honey. You don’t have the get-up-and-go you used to.” Rennie balanced the big lantern flashlight on her walker as she illuminated the shovel.

So that’s 69 words, and look at all they accomplish. Using almost all dialogue and action and a brief dip into Jane’s thoughts, we’ve established that they’re digging a grave and having some trouble with it. The tension is a bit higher, and it didn’t take long to get there. I’m not crazy about the use of “as” in the final sentence because I think it’s technically incorrect. I don’t think those two actions (balancing and illuminating) are meant to be simultaneous, but are meant to indicate a causal connection. So I might change that last sentence to:

Rennie balanced the big lantern flashlight on her walker to illuminate the shovel.

Now that the opening has a bit more tension, we can build on that foundation. Now we can set the scene with a few more details to ground and orient the reader. Now the use of the plural pronoun will be less likely to confuse any readers because we know who “they” are. We’ll lead into the premise set-up (technically, exposition) with a bit of description. Notice also that referencing the night sky in the first sentence and the time until dawn in the second sentence acts almost like conceptual touchstones, almost like transitions, between the description and the exposition. This is nice and smooth, and again, all we’re doing it rearranging existing pieces.

The night sky sparkled with stars and a half moon, but it wasn’t enough to dig by. They had eight hours before dawn and a lot of dirt to shift. She wished they’d handled this weeks ago, but they’d been hoping one of their contacts would come through at the last minute. Someone trustworthy. Someone who could keep a secret. Someone who could dig. They were both way too decrepit for this.

“Used to be me who dug the graves,” Rennie said.

“Now it’s my turn.” Jane climbed up on the shovel blade like a tightrope walker, and the tip sank into the ground several inches. A tug and a yank, and several cups’ worth of dirt popped free. Pale brown and tough as saddle leather. She piled it to the side on the tarp.

So far, all we’ve done is shift things around to change the impact on the reader. But now, at this point, we need something more. We’re supposed to be in Jane’s viewpoint, and though the pov is technically correct so far, this is the point where we need to get a little deeper. I want to know what it feels like inside Jane’s body and mind right now. Does she feel a sense of victory that she broke ground? Or does she feel that the several cups of dirt is a trifling amount for the effort? We get description and action, which is great, but we want description and action that will really lock us into her perspective.

This can be accomplished in subtle ways. We don’t need to beat the reader over the head with extensive information about Jane’s experiences here. Think of it instead as signals or clues, things the readers can use to piece together the context. Look at the verbs. Do they carry emotional connotations? Climb up — that’s a good, active verb, but it carries only a very weak connotation of success or achievement. (Think about the ways climb is used — climb to the top of the heap, climb the ladder of succees, etc.) That connotation isn’t supported by the concept of tightrope walkers, so even though it’s a good image, I might be looking for something more evocative there. If we want to emphasize her uncertainty about whether she can break ground, we might use balanced instead of climbed. If we want to indicate her frailty, we might use perched. If we want to signal that the climb is performed with determination and will succeed, we might change the tightrope walker for another image. A simple change like that can add some depth and context in a way that will lead the reader to a new understanding of the text without dragging on and on about it.

I also have the urge to insert some internal reaction between the blade’s entry and the tug/yank. Maybe even a single word — Yes! to indicate a sense of victory or pride — would do it. And then I want another internal reaction after the saddle leather. Again, it doesn’t have to be length, but we do want to indicate something of her emotional state. If she’s feeling determined, she might think something like,

Didn’t matter. She’d be tougher. She had to be.

Or, if we want to signal something about how overwhelmed she was feeling, we might use something like,

It surely would be a long night.

The point is not to belabor a point, but to give the reader a character’s interpretation of the action in small, incremental ways. We might add words, but we don’t want to add a lot of words. Just enough to deepen the character perspective.

When we put it all together, we might end up with something like this:

“This ain’t my first grave, Rennie. I know what I’m doing.” Jane propped her Hush Puppy on the back of the shovel blade and pushed, but nothing happened. She swallowed a curse. Rennie didn’t like it when she cursed.

“You have to stand on the blade, honey. You don’t have the get-up-and-go you used to.” Rennie balanced the big lantern flashlight on her walker to illuminate the shovel.

The night sky sparkled with stars and a half moon, but it wasn’t enough to dig by. They had eight hours before dawn and a lot of dirt to shift. She wished they’d handled this weeks ago, but they’d been hoping one of their contacts would come through at the last minute. Someone trustworthy. Someone who could keep a secret. Someone who could dig. They were both way too decrepit for this.

“Used to be me who dug the graves,” Rennie said.

“Now it’s my turn.” Jane mounted the shovel blade as cautiously as a bullrider in the pen, and the tip sank into the ground several inches. Yes! A tug and a yank, and several cups’ worth of dirt popped free. Pale brown and tough as saddle leather. Well, it was a start. She piled it to the side on the tarp.

Rennie sighed. “I wish I could help.”

“You just stand guard and keep my spirits up.” Jane freed another shovel of tight-packed West Virginia dirt. “Good Lord, this ground is hard. Was he this much of an inconvenience when he was alive?”

“More,” Rennie said. “Especially there at the end.”

We started with 254 words and we ended with 261 words, but I think the new version feels faster and more engaging. The bits I added to the breaking-ground paragraph might not be the right bits. The author might want different emotional cues there, and that’s fine. She should use what she likes, not what I’ve suggested. The point is to provide cues that work in the context and allow the reader to bond with the pov character.

It’s a good opening, yes?

***

Theresa, thank you for the great feedback on Jody’s pages! RU CREW, did you learn something from Theresa’s line edits that you can apply to your own opening scene?

Author Ed Gaffney (aka Suzanne Brockmann’s hubby) joins us on Monday to discuss screenwriting vs. novel writing. Be sure to join us!

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Bio:

Theresa Stevens is the Publisher of STAR Guides Publishing, a nonfiction publishing company with the mission to help writers write better books. After earning degrees in creative writing and law, she worked as a literary attorney agent for a boutique firm in Indianapolis where she represented a range of fiction and nonfiction authors. After a nine-year hiatus from the publishing industry to practice law, Theresa worked as chief executive editor for a highly acclaimed small romance press, and her articles on writing and editing have appeared in numerous publications for writers. Visit her blog at http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ where she and her co-blogger share their knowledge and hardly ever argue about punctuation.

I recently had the opportunity to visit the Art Institute in Chicago, which for me must include a swing through the Impressionist gallery. Some of those paintings are like old childhood friends. There is one gallery in particular with several Monet paintings which has been one of my favorite places on earth since I was a kid.

The display hasn’t changed much even with all the recent renovations to the museum. Along one wall are six of the haystack paintings. Another wall shows three large water lily paintings. Across from the water lilies is a wall with several paintings from the London series. Monet tended to paint the same subjects over and over again, even from the same angles — twenty-five haystack paintings, thirty of the Rouen cathedral, perhaps two hundred and fifty paintings of water lilies in his garden — and yet no two paintings are alike.

This is where the lesson lies for us today. Nobody ever said to Monet, “Geez, talk about formulaic. All these haystacks are like art for farm wives.” Yet we hear all the time that romance is formulaic and even “porn for housewives” because it examines a single subject in different varieties. That criticism is foolish, and Monet proves it.

Art, whether paintings or novels, consists of both form and content. For us, the novel is the form. It is built of language, but not just any kind of language; the novel is written in narrative prose. There is a recognized basic structure for this form (beginning, middle, end — or, if you prefer, initiation, rising action, crisis, denouement). From this basic structure, particular structural forms emerge, such as mythic quest structure and fairy tale structure, with archetypal characters beginning to take shape. From there, we can split our examination of novel form into two loose clusters of elements, story elements (plot, character, theme, setting — the things that survive a book’s translation to film) and narrative elements (action, description, dialogue, interior monologue, and exposition — the way we categorize the actual written words on the page). Even though there has been some literary experimentation with form and content, the novel’s form has held fairly steady since its inception. It’s a form that seems to work.

Content, we might say, is specific to a particular work. It’s what we put inside our form to make our specific work meaningful, or it’s what our work is about. It’s what we use to make an intimate connection to our audience. Form is “heroine,” but content is “Minerva Dobbs.” Form is “romantic conflict,” but content is, “Minerva knows Cal bet ten grand that he could get her into bed within a month, but she needs a date to her sister’s wedding so she strings him along for a few weeks.” There are other ways to define form and content, but for our purposes, form stays true from work to work, but content changes.

Photos courtesty of Wikipedia

What Monet did (and what we as romance novelists do in some ways) is extend the definition of form into areas that might otherwise be deemed content. A painter might ordinarily define his painting as “a painting of a haystack” to distinguish it from a painting of a puppy or a battlefield or a melting clock. The content in that case is what makes it unique. But with a series of paintings of haystacks, the haystack itself is as ubiquitous as the canvas, frame, or paint. It becomes part of the form. The content, then, is not puppy vs. haystack, but autumn haystack vs. winter haystack, or sunset winter haystack vs. sunrise winter haystack vs. noon winter haystack.

And so it is with romance novels. Saying that these books are formulaic because they concern themselves with romance is much like saying Monet’s paintings were formulaic because he repeated his subjects. Yes, our books are about people overcoming obstacles and falling in love. That is the form of the romance. Consistency of form doesn’t make all the works the same. What it does, instead, is free the creative mind to focus on particular aspects of the work. For Monet, it was light, season, and weather, and how those would change the appearance of a familiar object such as a haystack. For us romance writers, it’s character and conflict, what keeps people apart, what binds them as a unit.

The story begins with a heroine. She meets a hero. There’s an attraction, but there’s also something keeping them apart. How will the positive impulse overcome the negative barrier? What must the hero and heroine change in order to make that intimate connection? How do the hero and heroine know when it’s love? How do any of us know when love is real? These questions are resolved by the end of the story, which always ends happily with a committed couple.

This isn’t a formula. This is an established structure, a recognized form, and what matters is how the artist innovates within that established parameter. Innovation comes not in the big picture, but in the small details. We see shades of light within love the same way Monet saw it on the haystacks and ponds and bridges. He recorded the way weather changed the appearance of an object. We record the way the resolution of a trust issue can change the course of a life. This is an important matter, worthy of close scrutiny. That we also have a lot of fun with it says not that it’s frivolous, but that it’s satisfying and rewarding.

So the next time you hear someone scoff at romance for being formulaic, smile brightly and say, “If it was good enough for old Claude Monet, it’s good enough for me.”

Theresa

PS. Monet was also ridiculously proficient, something else he has in common with us romance writers. And people love his paintings, much the way readers snap up our books. There are benefits to innovating within a strong form. =)

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Writers, do you write out the basic structure to your novel? Do you seek out the small changes of light like Monet?

Have A Wonderful Christmas Everyone!!! Happy Holidays!

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Bio: Theresa Stevens is the Publisher of STAR Guides Publishing, a nonfiction publishing company with the mission to help writers write better books. After earning degrees in creative writing and law, she worked as a literary attorney agent for a boutique firm in Indianapolis where she represented a range of fiction and nonfiction authors. After a nine-year hiatus from the publishing industry to practice law, Theresa worked as chief executive editor for a highly acclaimed small romance press, and her articles on writing and editing have appeared in numerous publications for writers. Visit her blog at http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ where she and her co-blogger share their knowledge and hardly ever argue about punctuation.

Last month, we looked at virtue as a defining characteristic of modern heroines. (Link: http://romanceuniversity.org/2011/10/21/ask-an-editor-with-theresa-stevens-3/ ) This month, we’ll talk about the other half of the couple. What makes a male character a suitable romantic lead? The answer can be summed up in a single word: mateability.

Yeah, okay, so I just made that word up. But it suits our purpose here, so let’s add it to our dictionaries.

Mateability (n): a core characteristic indicating that a man is worthy of the protagonist’s lifelong devotion, usually expressed in physical attributes, demonstrations of sociobiological purpose, absence of availability issues, and ability to change.

Keep in mind that the genre romance, like any story that is told and retold in a seemingly endless proliferation of versions, is compelling because it appeals to readers on a deeply instinctive level. Often these retold stories play with paradoxes. Why do people die? Read a murder mystery novel, and you’ll solve the paradox of death on a micro level by figuring out how and why one character died. But the romance novel examines a primal sociobiological paradox which is uniquely feminine: we need a male to ward off predators so that we can raise our children to adulthood in relative security, but men themselves are/can be predators. So how do you choose a good one? How do you know that this male will direct his warrior’s tendencies outward to the enemy, and not inward toward his family? Romantic heroes display all the traits of a warrior, a predator, a dangerous male, and yet by the end of the book are always converted to a perfect and lovable partner.

With this basic paradox in mind, let’s examine the four ways mateability is expressed.

Physical attributes. The romantic hero should have sex appeal, plain and simple. If you’re not sure about some aspect of sex appeal (e.g., can my hero be short?), think in terms of gender differentiation. How are male bodies different from female bodies? Those differences link to attractiveness. Men have longer clavicles, so broad shoulders are an indicator of sex appeal. Men have thicker bones in their faces, so a craggy jaw is sexy. Larger hands, sturdier wrists, taller bodies, thicker muscles — all the things that put our libidos on high alert are also usually aspects of gender differentiation.

Every now and then, I would find a slush manuscript with a hero who was physically disabled. These sometimes resulted in automatic rejections, and sometimes in great, publishable stories. If the disability interfered with his mateability, then the story had to be rejected even if the character was otherwise compelling and the manuscript was otherwise publishable. The penis has to work! But even with a condition that doesn’t interfere with procreation, these stories are risky. You might find a wheelchair-bound hero interesting as an author, but he’ll only be interesting to readers if that doesn’t interfere with his physical suitability as a mate, both in terms of fathering children and in terms of his ability to protect the heroine and their offspring. Or, to put it another way, if he’s in wheelchair, then also make him a rich ex-marine. Find ways to exaggerate other avenues by which the heroes can create a stable, secure environment.

Sociobiological purpose. The human male has two sociobiological purposes: fathering children and fighting off predators. We see these factors expressed in common romance hero “types” — what some jokingly refer to as millionaires, billionaires, cowboys, and sheiks. Add to that list firefighters, SEALs, CEOs, royalty, and, well, every other common male role in a romance novel. These roles are shorthand ways of communicating that this man is capable of securing the area. Capable. That doesn’t mean he’s willing, at least not at first, though certainly he should be willing by the end. So give him the means, if not the willingness, and toss in a healthy dose of horniness, and you’ve got this aspect of the hero covered. Better still, let him fight off some actual predators. (Ever wonder why the rescue scene usually includes some sexy parts? Now you know. Both are important to mateability.)

Absence of Availability Issues. I like to think of this as the “No Actors or Alcoholics” rule. Yes, in real life, there might be plenty of actors and alcoholics who make exceptionally good spouses. We’re not talking about real life, but about a fantasy world populated by types rather than by people. In this case, the types can be laid out on a Goldilocks-type spectrum with respect to emotional availability. On the outer edges are the too-available and too-unavailable types. In the middle are the ones who are just right. The too-available types — actors, athletes, musicians, etc. — are the ones likely to give to other characters what they should be giving to their mate. The too-unavailable ones — addicts, misers, married men, etc. — will never be able to give enough of themselves to be good and worthy partners. Aim for the middle of this spectrum. Reader perception of the edge characters are that these heroes will never change enough to become truly mateable.

This leads into our next point, which is about the nature of heroic change.

Ability to Change. Heroes do not stay constant over the course of the book. In fact, readers don’t want them to. Part of the joy in these stories lies in watching the hero evolve from a single male to a strong mate. We all like to believe in the transformative power of true love, and in the possibility of redemption, and in the notion that the hero’s worthiness can be made evident through things like action and dialogue. But what kind of change works best? In general, any change that moves the hero closer to the heroine is the kind of change that will work. This can be a literal, physical closeness, as with long-distance lovers who choose to relocate. (This is why the hero moves to her heroine in these stories, by the way. It demonstrates his change from single male to strong mate in a direct, external way.) Or this can be a demonstration of emotional closeness, which can take place in any number of forms: consummation, public declarations of love, and so on. The point is that not all change is created alike. You want change that shows the hero’s mateability.

Each of these four factors is important to the makeup of the romantic hero. Skip one, and you are flirting with the possibility that, even if the book sees publication, readers won’t warm up to the guy. And, given that there is so much flexibility within each of these variable attributes, there’s just no good reason to undermine the romantic hero’s mateability. And why would you want to? The goal, after all, is to create a romantic hero that your readers can love.

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What are your favorite traits in a romantic hero? Are there certain types you love to read about more than others?

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On Monday,  author Kate Walker, talks about keeping the pace in your novel.

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Bio: Theresa Stevens is the Publisher of STAR Guides Publishing, a nonfiction publishing company with the mission to help writers write better books. After earning degrees in creative writing and law, she worked as a literary attorney agent for a boutique firm in Indianapolis where she represented a range of fiction and nonfiction authors. After a nine-year hiatus from the publishing industry to practice law, Theresa worked as chief executive editor for a highly acclaimed small romance press, and her articles on writing and editing have appeared in numerous publications for writers. Visit her blog at http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ where she and her co-blogger share their knowledge and hardly ever argue about punctuation.

In the beginning of the quest monomyth, an extraordinary (predestined and gifted) character is placed into an ordinary environment for safekeeping. He is unaware of his special qualities or of the fate that lies in store for him. But in a wonder tale/fairy tale, the story begins with an ordinary (pure and virtuous) character in a treacherous or unsettled environment. I like to say that it’s Harry Potter versus Cinderella. Harry Potter has gifts and a destiny, and in the beginning he lives with his muggle family for his own safety. Cinderella’s gifts are purity, obedience, endurance, and a general goodness, and in the beginning, because of family trauma and the absented father, her daily environment is hostile and even treacherous. Harry must leave his ordinary world to fulfill his destiny, but Cinderella must confront the evils in her world without leaving it. These are almost perfect opposites.

And it gives rise to a unique problem in romance: the “too good to be true” heroine. Instead of the old-fashioned Cinderella virtues of purity and obedience, though, she comes with a set of modern virtues. She’s impossibly gorgeous and totally unaware of that fact. She’s successful, solvent, generous, smart, kind to children and animals, ambitious without being blind to life’s pleasures, and an upstanding member of her community. She might be a bit downtrodden, and she might struggle to achieve her goals, but she is the kind of woman that a disappointed mother would hold up as an example: Why can’t you be more like Hannah Heroine? She always looks so put together. She’s never in a foul mood. She never would have failed her history final. No wonder we sometimes react negatively to the virtuous heroine’s nature.

We’re aware of this virtue problem without ever spending too much time thinking about its true nature and origins. We talk about giving the heroine flaws in order to make the reader like her better. We talk about what she must learn in order to be a good partner to a man. We talk about making her more normal and less perfect, more relatable and less saccharine, more kick-ass and less of a doormat. All of these things are meant to make her “virtuous” in the fairy tale sense while still making her appealing to modern readers.

This emphasis on flaws can damage both the character and the story, though. Remember that the fairy tale heroine must confront whatever is wrong in her existing world. Usually, this comes in the form of something which is prohibited to “good” people in this world: Don’t go into the woods at night! After this prohibition (or “interdiction,” according to some theorists) is violated, the evil in this world will come forward and a battle between protagonist and antagonist will ensue.

In modern genre romance, the prohibition often might be connected to romance itself. The heroine must not appear too eager for love. She must not yearn for a man, and she absolutely must not scheme for ways to get one. Her friends and family might push her to resolve her reluctance and find a partner, but she will have dozens of reasons or excuses for why this is impossible. She was hurt by a past lover, or she’s too busy, or there’s something in the entire process of looking for a man which she finds deeply tawdry and offensive to her moral sense of self.

I sometimes hear romance authors talk about this romantic reluctance as a type of heroic flaw, but this is inaccurate. They’re related to the conflict, and they’re part of the prohibition or problem in the environment which must be overcome in order for the world to be made right and good for this protagonist. In this sense, then, the arrival of the hero – the all-important first meeting – marks the moment at which the prohibition is violated. As soon as she sees him, whether she knows it or not, whether the text acknowledges it directly or not, she’s going to be turning her attention toward “getting” him.  And she’ll ultimately prevail because of her virtues, not because of any character flaws.

There might be other problems in the environment unrelated to the romantic conflicts which create external conflicts. The heroine might find herself battling supernatural creatures or a board of directors, but regardless of their nature, there will be external problems to solve. And just as with the internal conflicts, her heroic virtues will be tested in the process. This is where the dreaded “TSTL” (Too Stupid To Live) heroine might show up. If we value smartness in a modern woman, then stupid behavior in a hostile environment contradicts that value. The TSTL heroine deserves to fail or even, as the name implies, to die. But the good heroine, the truly virtuous heroine, will be smart enough to defeat the source of the external conflict without earning the reader’s scorn. By the end of the book, the reader will be convinced that the heroine really is virtuous enough to deserve the happily ever after ending. That’s sort of the point: the good guys always win in romance, and there’s no better “good guy” than the heroine, and there’s no better reward than a lifetime of bliss with the hero in the good environment she has created.

So how does this help you as an author? I hope, for one thing, it liberates you from the idea that you must manufacture flaws in order for your heroine to be beloved by readers. What you must do instead is find ways to make her warm and real, to make her someone the readers will relate to and cheer for and never scorn for being somehow too pure or too stupid. Yes, she can have flaws, but those flaws must serve as a means of growth in the context of the story, and they cannot make her ineligible for love. Any flaws she might have cannot undermine her heroic nature, yet they can’t be those cutesy fake flaws such as an overwhelming urge to bake cookies when times get tough. They have to be flaws we can forgive as modern readers, such as a tendency to use genuinely bad language when something awful happens. Or a righteous temper in the face of injustice. An inability to trust easily, a feeling that she has to do everything for herself in order for it to be done right, even a tendency to think of relationships as disposable or interchangeable. None of these take her out of heroic territory, because none of them destroy her essentially virtuous nature in the modern sense.

So before you’re tempted to slap a few flaws on top of a too-perfect character, evaluate those flaws in this context. Ask first whether the flaw will undermine the heroine’s virtue and eligibility for love. Ask next whether the flaw will serve the plot in a direct way. Finally, ask whether the problem is not that the character needs flaws, but that she’s coming across as artificial or dated. Your ultimate goal is to make a good woman who is worthy of victory and reward.

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RU Crew, what are the flaws which you as a reader can’t forgive? Can you think of any stories where the heroine’s flaws walked that fine line between too cute and too awful?

Join us on Monday when Kelly L. Stone explains “Role Modeling as a Way to Writing Success.”  And she’s giving away a 15-page critique, any genre, to one lucky commenter!

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Bio: Theresa Stevens is the Publisher of STAR Guides Publishing, a nonfiction publishing company with the mission to help writers write better books. After earning degrees in creative writing and law, she worked as a literary attorney agent for a boutique firm in Indianapolis where she represented a range of fiction and nonfiction authors. After a nine-year hiatus from the publishing industry to practice law, Theresa worked as chief executive editor for a highly acclaimed small romance press, and her articles on writing and editing have appeared in numerous publications for writers. Visit her blog at http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ where she and her co-blogger share their knowledge and hardly ever argue about punctuation.

The class is yours, Theresa!

Physical intimacy is an important part of romance. In fact, you might say that it’s what distinguishes a romance from a friendship. In romance novels, the degree of physical intimacy ranges from the implied or subverted to the outright celebration of adventurous sex. If you include scenes of physical intimacy in your stories, here are some tips to make sure those scenes work well.

Consider the Internals First

Before you write the sex scene, decide which character will be the point-of-view character. If you’re uncertain which point of view to choose, consider which character will change the most during the scene. This means determining both characters’ emotional states at the start and end of the scene and being able to accurately appraise which change creates the stronger arc. This can require you to consider the totality of the story and how the scene will unfold. For example, changing from frustrated to satisfied might be stronger or weaker than changing from frightened to secure, depending on the depth of each emotion.

Regardless of the emotions involved, take a close look at the change arc. What can you do to sharpen it up? How can the beginning and end emotions be made deeper without veering into melodrama? Will the arc move smoothly through the scene, shifting from one emotion to the next in increments, or will it be a sharp, sudden change? Which type of arc will have more impact in this particular scene? A lot of this is specific to your particular scene and story, but often, if we think carefully in advance about the emotional arc, we can generate a better scene with fewer drafts.

Consider the Setting From an Emotional Position

Now that you’ve identified both the pov character and the dominant emotions at the start and end of the scene, the next step is to consider ways to use the external environment to highlight the internal emotions. Yes, I know, you want to start writing the fun parts, but the fun parts will be even more fun if you re-evaluate the setting first.

Think about your pov character’s opening emotion. What kind of setting would highlight that emotion? Will that setting also tie into the changed emotion at the end of the scene? If the starting emotion is fear of intimacy, and the ending emotion is newfound trust in the partner, then maybe a slightly unsettling environment will tap into that emotion. In other words, if the heroine is in her own cozy living room when the hero makes his move, her fear might not feel as pronounces as if they’re in a car and he stops dead in the middle of a one-lane bridge. Her safety might not be literally compromised on the bridge as it might be, say, on the railing of a high-rise balcony. But the sense of isolation and exposure and strangeness might be enough to show first, that she’s fearful, and second, that it’s safe to trust him after all.

Consider the Use of Props From an Emotional Position

Now that you know how your characters feel and where the scene takes place, the next step is to examine the environment for props that might help dramatize the emotions. Props are things that can be removed from the environment without resulting in a change in environment. Consider everything – clothing, small objects, big items. How might they be used?

In our one-lane bridge example, what would best tie into the emotional arc, a big van with a bench back seat or a tiny sports car with little room to maneuver? I’ll bet you can make an argument for either, but the point is to figure out which works better for your specific scenario. Should the heroine be in a skirt or trousers? Are there any objects in the car that might help or hinder the sex scene?

We tend to think of props in the erotic romance sense – bindings, blindfolds, toys, and the like – and these are certainly useful props for a particular kind of scene or story. But don’t overlook the surprise value in using an unexpected prop during these scenes. Which would be more memorable, a car scene in which the man ties the woman’s hands with his necktie, or one in which he uses the seat belt for the same purpose? Even if your sex scene will be traditional, you can use props to add layers of emotion. What if they have to race to finish against the oncoming headlights of a big, slow truck?Be inventive. This is a chance to play and flex your creative muscles.

Now, About That Sex

There is one important thing to keep in mind about sex scenes in romance novels: They’re meant to tap into feminine fantasies about good sex. This might seem obvious, but the implications of this core truth are wide-ranging. What are some of the hallmarks of these fantasies? There’s a strong emotional compenent, without question, which we discussed above. Also, the heroine always climaxes, no matter how unlikely or even impossible that might be in real life, unless there’s a compelling plot reason to keep her from finishing. Sometimes, she even crosses that finish line more than once. The focus is on what would feel good – in both the emotional and physical sense – for the woman. But that doesn’t mean the sex will be one-sided because women take pleasure in men’s bodies, too.

So think about your complaints and your girlfriends’ complaints about sex, and then eradicate them from your sex scenes. He finishes too fast? Romance heroes know how to make it last. He falls asleep the second he finishes? Not a chance – our hero likes a good cuddle, though he might revert to focusing on the external plot after sex. He can’t find her g-spot with a flashlight and a map? Come on. This is a hero we’re talking about. Not only does he find it, he teaches it new tricks. He’s not only good at sex in general, but he’s particularly good at it with the heroine because he’s so into her. He pays attention to her responses. He knows how to read her body. He makes her feel gorgeous.

And this is all true no matter what kind of romance novel you’re writing. Even in the sweetest stories, the implication is that he’s eager to get wild with her, and that when that day eventually comes, it will be gloriously fulfilling for her. Yes, for her. Whether implicit or explicit, the sexual content in romances is female-oriented, and that’s something to be cherished. Everywhere else in life, we might have to worry about other people’s needs. But in the pages of a romance novel, the woman gets to be the undisputed star at center stage of a beautiful fantasy. So, writers, have fun with it!

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RU Crew–What are your favorite tips for writing sex scenes? Have you ever read a scene with a really great, unusual prop or setting? 

On Monday, Donnell Bell shares her thoughts on why it’s important to have a good editor.

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Theresa Stevens is the Publisher of STAR Guides Publishing, a nonfiction publishing company with the mission to help writers write better books. After earning degrees in creative writing and law, she worked as a literary attorney agent for a boutique firm in Indianapolis where she represented a range of fiction and nonfiction authors. After a nine-year hiatus from the publishing industry to practice law, Theresa worked as chief executive editor for a highly acclaimed small romance press, and her articles on writing and editing have appeared in numerous publications for writers. Visit her blog at http://edittorrent.blogspot.com/ where she and her co-blogger share their knowledge and hardly ever argue about punctuation.