How to Write a Brilliant Romance: The Easy, Step-By-Step Method of Crafting a Powerful Romance (Go! Write Something Brilliant) (18 page)

First,
we
want
to
make
the
hero
and
heroine
wish
for
more—a
real
future
this
time.
They
need
to wonder
what
Happily
Ever
After
might
look
like
with
the
other
person.
They
need
to
talk
to
their friends
about
this,
and
even
visualize
it
to
the
point
where
they
thirst
for
it.

In
Dirty
Dancing
we
see
scenes
where
Baby
and
Johnny
are
in
bed,
the
rain
falling
around
them,
and she’s
wishing
they
could
be
together,
have
a
happy
ending.
But,
of
course
it’s
not
to
be.
They
still have
those
Internal
Obstacles
keeping
them
apart.

However,
if
it’s
that
easy,
then
there
is
no
tension!
So,
you
need
to
hold
them
back
with
a
final warning. The Warning is
that Internal Obstacle—or wound—that suddenly becomes
so overwhelming
that
it
feels
insurmountable.
Often
the
Warning
happens
right
before
the
Black Moment
and
cumulates
in
the
Breakup.
It’s
in
this
stage
that
the
hero
and
heroine
are
made
to believe
that
they
can’t
overcome
the
Internal
Obstacle
to
love.

In
Dirty
Dancing
this
Warning
comes
when
Johnny
is
accused
of
stealing
and
he’s
fired,
even
though he’s
exonerated.
His
wound
is
opened
:
He’ll
always
be
“trash”
from
the
wrong
side
of
the
tracks. He
gives
into
this
wound
and
leaves.

Of course, true love will win the day, and that’s when The Wonderful happens. After the breakup, the hero and heroine will realize that the Whys of their relationship are stronger than the Why Nots, and this arms them to m
a
ke the Big Gesture/Sacrifice to prove their love to each other. (We’ll expand on that more in a moment.)

In
Dirty Dancing
, this scene is obvious. “Nobody puts Baby in a corner!” Johnny walks into the final performance of the season and dances “his way,” pulling Baby on the stage with him in their triumphant moment where they are truly partners. When we dive into the next section, our plot building activities, we’ll overlay romance structure on top of basic story structure and incorporate the Black Moment/Lie and the Truth that sets them free, into this triumphant Happily Ever After moment.

I’ve
had
the
time
of
my
life.
And
with
the
right
kiss,
all
that
tension
was
worth
it.

It’s not just a
kiss!

How
do
you
write
a
great
kiss?
A
great
kiss
(or
more)
in
a
romance
is
about
slowing
the
act
down, letting
the
reader
experience
it,
taking
them
back
to
the
moments
of
their
own
great
kisses.
It’s
not just
about
mechanics,
but
the
senses,
and
most
of
all,
the
impact
of
the
kiss.

Just
to
review
quickly:
Here
are
the
three
kisses
in
a
romance
(and
if
you
are
writing
a
romance
in the
general
market,
you
can
extrapolate
from
there.
☺
):

• Kiss
  One:
  An
  introductory
  “I
  didn’t
  mean
  to,
  did
  we
  just
  do
  that?”
  Kiss
  
• Kiss
  Two:
  An
  “I
  really
  want
  to
  kiss
  you
  now
  and
  I’m
  going
  to”
  Kiss
  
• Kiss
  Three:
  An
  “I
  love
  you,
  and
  I
  mean
  it”
  Kiss
  

Now,
let’s
explore
the
“hows”
of
a
great
kiss.

1. A kiss should be
   savored.
   

Again,
don’t
rush
the
act
of
the
kiss.
We
don’t
need
to
know
every
sloppy
detail,
but
the
mechanics of
his
hands,
his
eyes,
and
how
he
or
she
eases
into
this
kiss
is
important.
It’s
like
holding
your breath.
Draw
the
kiss
out
to
build
expectation.

1. A kiss should be
   experienced.
   

A
great
kiss
isn’t
just
shown,
it’s
experienced.
A
great
kiss
uses
the
five
senses
to
help
the
reader understand
it.
Use
your
five
senses.
Tell
the
reader
how
the
heroine
smells,
or
how
she
feels,
i.e.
he ran
his
hand
over
her
smooth
skin.
Go
ahead
and
comment
on
the
fact
he
just
drank
coffee
or
the
salt
of the
heroine’s
tears
(i.e.
taste).
Sometimes,
my
heroes
or
heroines
even
make
sweet
noises
of appreciation.
And
of
course,
they
should
see
the
kiss
in
each
other’s
eyes.

1. A kiss should make an
   impact.
   

The
point
of
the
kiss
is
to
cause
more
tension.
Sure,
the
sexual
tension
is
momentarily
released,
but the
fact
of
the
kiss
raises
new
internal
and
external
conflict.
There
will
always
be
a
response
to
a great
kiss,
something
that
stays
with
them
until
at
least
the
next
chapter,
if
not
longer.
Especially
for the
first
kiss,
have
an
immediate
response—and
then
a
later
response
when
they
are
alone
and
ready to
contemplate
the
meaning
of
the
kiss.

Let’s
take
a
look
at
some
examples.

This
is
Kiss
#1
for
my
book
Point
of
No
Return
,
my
January
2011
Love
Inspired
Suspense
(LIS).

Mae’s chest burned. “Why did you come
back?”

His eyes caught hers, his voice so low it felt more like a breath, whispered deep inside her chest. “You can’t figure that out, Mae? You
can’t?”

And then, as she wanted to hurt him or hold him or do anything to calm the whir of panic inside, he reached out and wrapped his hand around
her neck, pulled her to himself, and kissed her.

It wasn’t a gentle, tentative kiss either, like it had been that night on the balcony,
or
even
a
hello,
slightly
sad
kiss
like
the
one
he’d
given
her
before
he broke
her
heart
in
Moscow.

No,
this
kiss
tasted
of
desperation
and
regret,
of
missing
her,
and needing
her,
and
as
he
pulled
her
tighter,
she
needed
him
right
back.
His
lips
were sweet orange and spicy halva, tasting of everything she’d remembered
and more.

And
for
a
second,
she
did
nothing.
Didn’t
move,
didn’t
breathe.
Just
tried to understand exactly who this man was . .
.

Then,
it
didn’t
matter.
He
wrapped
his
arms
around
her,
she
curled
hers around
his
shoulders
and
she
let
herself
kiss
him
with
everything
she
wanted
and
everything
she’d
lost,
deepening
her
kiss
and
forgetting
how
infuriating
and bossy and overprotective
and—

“I’m
sorry.”
He
broke
away,
and
brought
his
hand
to
cradle
her
jaw,
his blue eyes in hers. “I’m so
sorry.”

Oh no, not again . . .

Let’s
break
it
apart
a
bit.

First, we have some sparks: “You can’t figure that out, Mae? You
can’t?”

Those are Fighting Words. Accusatory.
Breathtaking.

Then,
we
have
the
action
of
him
kissing
her.
I
just
state
it.
Sometimes
people
write,
“His
lips
met hers,”
or
even,
“He
leaned
forward,
touching
her
with
his
lips.”
Whatever
you
want
to
do.
Just
tell us
what’s
going
on.
Don’t
get
too
poetic
or
we’ll
get
confused
and
won’t
get
to
the
good
part
.
.
.
the savoring.

Then,
tell
us
about
the
kiss.
I
use
an
intro
phrase
here:
It
wasn’t
a
gentle,
tentative
kiss
either. No, this kiss tasted of desperation and regret, of missing her, and needing
her,

Then
I
throw
in
a
sense:
taste.
His
lips
were
sweet
orange
and
spicy
halva,
tasting
of everything she’d remembered and more.

And
finally
I
move
into
the
effect
of
the
kiss:
Then,
it
didn’t
matter. She let herself kiss him with everything she wanted and everything she’d lost, deepening her kiss and forgetting how infuriating and bossy and overprotective
and—

Now,
since
this
was
the
intro
kiss,
I
needed
it
to
end
with
an
“Uh
oh,
what
did
we
just
do” moment…

“I’m sorry.” He broke away, and brought his hand to cradle her jaw, his blue eyes
in hers. “I’m so
sorry.”

Oh no, not again . . .

Let’s look at another one. This is the middle kiss—the one where it is right and good with the world. (Before the Breakup).Her eyes searched his, a pain, or hope in them so tender it nearly broke his heart. “I do need you, Chet. I do need you.”

And of course, those words coming out of her mouth as she sat in the swaddle of his arms, the sun backlighting the sky, her beautiful green eyes in his . . . he traced his gaze around her face and stopped there, at her incredible mouth.

What was a guy to do? He caught his breath, met her eyes for a yes, then kissed her. Sweetly, touching his mouth to hers, testing, then tasting her tears. She didn’t move toward him, but she lifted her face, and he curved his hand around her neck, deepening his kiss ever so slowly. Something about her surrender made him want to weep. Tough, beautiful Mae, needing him . . . Oh, Mae. He didn’t hurry, just explored her mouth, then broke away to kiss her cheekbones, her forehead, her eyes, one then the other, then, finally, finally, back to her lips.

She sighed in his arms, a slow shudder that seemed a release of something she’d been holding tight, and when he broke the kiss, touching his forehead to hers, she looked at him, and smiled.

Smiled.

He traced it with his finger. “I need you too, babe.”

Note
again
the
steps:

Sparks—or
a
bit
of
conversation
that
arrests
our
attention.
How
often
do
we
say
we
need
each other? “I do need you, Chet. I do need
you.”

The movement/action of the kiss: He caught his breath, met her eyes for a yes, then kissed her.

I
have
a
bit
of
taste:
then
tasting
her
tears

And
then
the
effect
of
the
kiss:
Tough,
beautiful
Mae,
needing
him
.
.
.
Oh,
Mae

And . . . She sighed in his arms, a slow shudder that seemed a release of something she’d been holding
tight.

Finally,
the
end.
Remember,
this
is
a
happy
kiss:

When he broke the kiss, touching his forehead to hers, she looked at him,
and smiled.

Smiled.

He traced it with his finger. “I need you too,
babe.”

Now,
just
a
note
about
the
senses.
You
don’t
have
to
use
taste.
You
can
also
use
smell,
and
touch and
sound.

Here’s
another
kiss
example.
This
one
is
from
Mission:
Out
of
Control
,
also
a
LIS
about
a
bodyguard who
falls
in
love
with
his
client,
a
rock
star.
Try
and
figure
out
what
kiss
it
is…the
first,
second
or
last?

“Brody.”

“Don’t
talk.”

Wow. He pulled her down the darkened street, and now he was
scaring her. “Brody, what’s the
matter?”

He stopped then, rounded on her as if he had something to say.
But whatever
it
was,
the
words
wouldn’t
make
it
past
his
mouth,
his
shaking
head.

And then, just like that, he kissed her. Just put his mouth on her
lips, hard and fast, and practically inhaling her as he pushed her against the
stone wall
of
some
ancient
building.

Brody—?

He had the most amazing smell—the sun on his skin, his after
shave, and
a
late
afternoon
stubble
that
made
her
bring
her
fingers
to
it,
rub
them
through
it.

She
couldn’t
remember
the
last
time
she’d
kissed
a
man,
and
even
so, she’d
never
been
kissed
with
the
focus,
the
sense
that
the
world
had
dropped away around
them.