How to Write Romance, Part 1 (Writing Emotion: Twitterpated)
For the month of February, I’m focusing on how to write romance over here on Project Published.
I don’t think I picked up a romance book until about 2 years ago. And even then, it took a while for me to appreciate all they have to offer.
Now? It’s one of my most widely read genres. I LOVE romance, mostly because of the emotions I get to experience while reading it.
Excitement, nervousness, angst, devastation, sweetness, and…the feeling of being twitterpated.
This passage from romance powerhouse Tessa Bailey provides the ultimate glimpse into a scene rife with this sought-after emotion people look for when they pick up a romance.
BUT, remember that this series is focused more on the layers beneath the surface of a given scene. Yes, I like to figure out the tools an author utilizes in order to evoke a specific emotion. But, without exception, the lessons I learn always apply to good writing in general. No matter the emotion or genre.
With that said, let’s dive into this passage from one of my favorite rom-coms, It Happened One Summer:
How to Write Romance Lesson 1: New and Twitterpated
The most exciting thing about a new romance is, well, the newness of it. Novelty is one of the things we as humans find most, for lack of a better word, arousing.
In this passage, Tessa Bailey teaches how to write romance by laying the bricks, one by one, to build up to that feeling we’re all looking for when we pick up a romance book: the feeling of being twitterpated.
The first brick is one of newness:
“…she didn’t understand the language. Had never spoken it or been around a man who could convey so much without saying a single word…No one had ever looked her in the eye this long.”
In this moment, Piper is experiencing something new and exciting. The writer describes it as a new language, which communicates the significance of the moment, as well as makes us as eager to decipher the language as Piper.
Story implementation questions:
What is something new your character is encountering at a specific moment in your story?
How do they react to that newness? How does it make them feel? Can you use this newness to create excitement for the character and the reader alike?
How to Write Romance Lesson 2: Safe
The next brick the writer lays has to do with the familiarity that comes with true intimacy. Yes, this moment feels new and exciting for Piper, but it also feels safe:
“It was like he could read her mind, knew everything about her, and liked it all.”
We don’t necessarily know from this passage how Piper feels about Brendan, but it’s a rom-com, so it’s safe to say she wants him the same way he wants her.
And having someone want you for you—for all that you are, just as you are? That’s the best feeling of all when it comes to romance.
Finding ways to lace an intimacy that feels familiar and safe into the novelty of a new (or renewed) relationship helps to up the emotionality and adds layers to what already exists when writing romance.
I, especially, like romances that have an underlying feeling of safety. It’s one thing to read about characters feeling excitement, uncertainty, or even danger if that danger is presented in the form of external threats. But I tend to be put off if that sense of danger is coming from the love interest.
For me, true romance comes with the intimacy only available with someone you trust and feel a sense of safety with.
Story implementation questions:
Is there a way you can balance the novelty in the scene you identified above with a thread of safety or familiarity? Even if it’s just an echo of something they know.
How to Write Romance Lesson 3: Awkward
A scene of any kind (but especially when learning how to write a romance scene) is almost always going to benefit from a little bit of humanity. And let’s face it, if we’re feeling twitterpated, that is more than likely to result in a bit of awkwardness.
It’s right there in the definition of twitterpated: a state of nervous excitement. When we’re nervous, we don’t necessarily know how to act. That’s our human side showing its true colors.
We get a peek into Piper’s nervousness here:
“A drop of sweat slid down her spine, and she could suddenly hear her own shallow breaths.”
But that nervousness translates into full-on awkwardness as she tries to physically navigate the scene:
“Exasperated with her own awkwardness, she hopped off the stool. Then she knocked into another one in an attempt to give Brendan a wide berth.”
Now. In my opinion, a clumsy/awkward heroine can get really old, really fast. It’s a fine line to balance—showing a natural human tendency toward awkwardness versus trying to manipulate the audience into liking a character because she’s just so darn clumsy and helpless.
But the writer balances that line well in this passage.
It’s a tiny moment (when Piper bumps into a stool) that lets us sense on a deeper level what she is feeling in this moment. It raises the stakes and the tension because we can tell she’s trying to hide how flustered she is in order to save face. Embarrassment is something we all want to avoid.
But it’s a lot harder to hide your emotions when they’re making you clumsy and awkward.
Story implementation questions:
Can you create humor, relatability, or vulnerability by focusing on the awkwardness your character might be feeling in the face of the novelty they have encountered?
How does that awkwardness come across for that character specifically? Clumsiness, stuttering, shyness, etc.