Writing Romance Part Two
By Kathy Lipscomb
The
spark. If you read romances of any kind, you know immediately what I’m talking
about. I think the quick infatuation between two people can work in a romance,
but only if it’s done well. You’ve probably seen the spark in your own history
of romance and crushes.
It
certainly played a big role in my life.
When
I was in kindergarten, I sat next to a girl and across from two boys. I
remember one of the boys had brought in a handful of rocks, and the other boy
told him that he should put them back outside. That one comment of responsibility
and standing up for what he thought was right sparked something in my tiny
heart. Now, I was only five and didn’t understand the flirting thing, so I bat
my eyelashes at him. And that’s all I did thankfully. It sounds silly, no? I
totally laugh when I think of this point in my life, but I was five. It was the
start of the spark.
In
junior high, the spark started to mean more to me. I walked to a class by
taking the shortcut outside (way less students = so much faster), and two boys
were rough housing along the way. One of them got shoved right into me, and
that moment happened—his face was maybe, maybe
six inches from mine. We both froze, and his gorgeous blue eyes went from
startled to a smile. I was so shocked that I side-stepped and hauled it to
class. But, oh man, a spark ignited. Only since I was now older, that spark
stayed lit for a long time. I had a crush on him for a few years, keeping the
flame going by seeing him, talking to him, eventually flirting with him
(awkwardly at first). Nothing ever happened, but that spark was there waiting
for the possibility.
The
third spark that has meant the most to me happened in high school (Why yes, I’m
comparing these to all the different age groups, which we use as writers of
children’s fiction). I was a social butterfly and a huge flirt. It was around
Christmas time, so I’d made a list of eighty friends to give a treat too (Yeah,
it was excessive). Anyway, I was rummaging through my list, alone for the
moment in the hallway, and a boy I knew (we had two classes together) but didn’t
really pay much attention to, came up to me. I smiled and said hi, but was
shocked when he gave me a tiny box of chocolates. I happened to know this kid
didn’t hand out a lot of treats, only to really close friends, and as I thanked
him, I panicked. Here, on my eighty list of friends, he hadn’t made the cut,
and he was handing me one of his precious few boxes of chocolates. I handed him
an extra candy cane.
I’ll
admit that moment didn’t ignite the spark, but it got me to notice him, to pay
more attention. A few weeks later, I was really upset over something personal.
I smiled at school, pretending everything was fine, but I was really hurting.
My friends, my best friends, didn’t
notice. But this boy from before came up to me in the hall later and asked if I
was okay. I lied, said that I was, but I was stunned again. This kid had seen
through my façade when no one else had or cared. He paid attention and took
action when he needed to. This started a spark in my heart that led to me
getting to know this boy, to dating when we were sixteen, and when he came back
from his mission, I married him.
Sparks can work in fiction. We know this,
because it works in real life.
I’ve
given several stages of sparks throughout children’s fiction. In elementary
school, the spark is small and maybe as a grown up the reason for the spark
seems silly, but it all makes sense to the kid. And the spark doesn’t really
get tested. It’s innocent. In junior high, the spark happens more suddenly,
with confusing emotions, and could be tested or could be left to slowly burn
for years to come. In high school the spark can still catch someone by surprise
(as is the sparks nature), and it could ignite the first time or maybe it takes
a few ties. This one gets tested a lot. I had a lot of drama with the boy who I
married in later life—our spark was certainly tested.
Now you all know that I’m
a fan of conflict in stories. Conflict drives a plot. An author at a writer’s
conference told us to put your favorite characters in a tree and throw rocks at
them. So when a spark does not work
is when you throw too big or the wrong kind of boulder at your characters.
Let’s play with some
examples.
Let’s say two teens feel
a spark, but one of them is a “bad boy” and is supposed to kill the girl (no joke,
I’ve read this book). He even tries but then at the last minute, the last
possible second, can’t. This is supposed to make him redeemable in the reader’s
and girl’s eyes, right? It is unlikely that the girl’s flame would still be lit
after such an incident, even if the boy didn’t go through with the murder. If
this girl hadn’t been so pretty and interesting, the boy would’ve killed her.
How can someone’s spark survive that? It’s too much.
It doesn’t have to be
this extreme. Maybe there’s a spark when two people meet and have a great date—maybe
the perfect date. Then one of these people is in an accident and has to be
taken care of, and becomes grumpy and rude. After so little time together, this
spark would not last. There’s nothing solid enough to hold onto.
This being said, there
are many conflicts that can make a spark grow. Use something where the couple
has to work together, where the conflict attacks them both. Set the scene
beforehand so we really believe the spark has ignited and it ignites in your
readers hearts too.
