How To Write A (Healthy) Relationship:  An Illustrated Guide.

How to Write a (Healthy) Relationship:  An Illustrated Guide.

@trappedinfairytales asked:

Hi! Let me start by saying this blog is a god send for more than just writing skills, I even turned on your notifications 😂 Anyway, I apologize if you’ve already done a post like this, but I was wondering if you could do a post with different kinds of healthy relationships? I feel like it would help, because even though I am a bi girl, I’ve never been in a relationship so sometimes I don’t know where to start 🙈 

@magnificentcollectiverebel asked:

Bro bro I’m trying to write a cute lil romance do you have any tips please I didn’t realize writing needs so much planning also thank you for all the tips on characters both of my love interests are girls the tips help

Excellent questions! 

Now, there has been a request for me to make a post about LGBTQ characters, so I will talk more exclusively about queer relationships then; sufficed to say this post applies to all types of healthy relationships.  Even though you could say I’m BI-ased on the matter.  (I’ll see myself out.)  

In the meantime, here are my personal rules of thumb for writing a ship-worthy romance. 

1.  Allow opposites to attract (but do it right!)

No, I’m not talking about two characters who have no common ground or core values;  I’m talking about two characters whose traits compliment one another.  

Maybe one’s analytical and the other’s impulse driven.  Maybe one’s a happy ray of sunshine and the other’s a grump.  Maybe one’s an idealist and the other’s a realist.

Do you see pattern here?  Not only do these proposed pairings balance each other out, but their mutually beneficial to each other:  an impulse-driven character will add spontaneity to the life of their analytical partner, while the analytical character will keep the impulsive one from leaping off cliffs;  the happy ray of sunshine will brighten up the life of the grump, while the grump will keep the ray of sunshine aware of life’s problems;  the realist will keep the idealist weighted in reality while the idealist will help them to get off the ground.

Moreover, as each of them has something the other lacks and needs, it creates a natural magnetism between them.  

Just think of it like the old Greek myth, in which mankind was split in two by Zeus and each of them are searching for their other half to become their best selves.  

In terms of writing romance, pretend your two characters are two halves of a greater whole, and allow them to complete each other.

2.  Create chemistry and attraction (but remember that it does not immediately equal love.)

If I had to pinpoint the source of my frustration with the depictions of attraction in literature, particularly YA romantic novels, I would say it roughly narrows down to the fact that the attraction, as it’s depicted, is largely extremely vapid and hollow. 

Two characters that hate each other are not going to have true chemistry or be compatible for a long-term relationship, even if one of them is equipped with excessive depictions of eye-color and can smirk like a champ.

To create true chemistry, the readers have to crave the characters’ interactions;  they have to root for them to get together, not role their eyes when they finally do.

So how do you do this?  Well, first and foremost, there are different and better ways to convey attraction than the tried and true “cerulean orbs” and obnoxious smirks and whatnot.

First and foremost, save strong, sensual language, like “she leaned in close, and I tasted her breath on mine,” “My heart thudded painfully in my chest as I felt her body press against mine,” et cetera for when your characters are actually in an intense situation.  That way, your audience isn’t desensitized to it and are more likely to root for your characters when they finally shack up.

When your characters first meet, keep the language light and playful.  Unless you’re doing a modern, queer reenactment of Romeo and Juliet (which sounds pretty awesome, honestly – so long as the ending is happier) most people aren’t righting sonnets about people they first meet.

Let your POV character check out her prospective partner if you so desire, but press hold on the purple prose.  

For instance, instead of something like this:

“Long lashes fluttered like the wings of the butterfly over peridot orbs, a faint gold dusting over the graceful slope of her nose.  Red lips as ripe as strawberries glistened in the sun, and a waterfall of gilded hair fell over her slender shoulders.”

Try something more along the lines of this:    

“She had striking green eyes framed with long lashes, a smattering of freckles over the bridge of her nose.  Her hair was a thick mane of unkempt gold, and when she saw me, she smiled.  Her lips were plump and strawberry pink.”

If you’ll notice, both passages convey basically the same thing (i.e. that this narrator finds her prospective gal-pal attractive):  one is just significantly less pretentious than the other, and in my opinion, a lot more readable.

As the story continues, you’ll likely want to build up the tension as the character’s attraction to one another grows.  Maybe your character starts to get butterflies in their stomach whenever their love interest is around, or there’s a tension-filled moment where their skin brushes together.  Maybe they’ve found themselves constantly looking at one another’s lips and mouths.

Keep in mind while developing your characters’ chemistry into something greater that contrary to what most YA novels will teach you, attraction isn’t love.  Finding one another’s meatsuits aesthetically pleasing isn’t reasonable merit for a long-term commitment.  Love, generally speaking, is often just that:  it’s a commitment.  It takes time to cultivate, and it isn’t fun 100% of the time.  But people stick with it anyway, because ideally, the payoff is worth it.

And that’s a good thing.  As an author, you get to build up on your character’s relationship, challenge it, make it stronger.  And that’s a lot of fucking fun.  Plus, you get to write all the cute romantic shit in the times in between.

If you are implying love at first sight (which, sappy bitch I am, I’m a bit of a sucker for) feel free to imply as such, but I’m still inclined to think short, sweet descriptions work best:  “Their eyes met, and for a moment, Ishmael could have sworn the earth had come to a stop while the world kept moving.”  Or perhaps, “Luna looked at Misery for the first time, and knew right away this was the woman she was going to marry.” 

Now keep moving.  Too strong language too fast weighs your story down, keeps the reader from relating to it, and detracts from the satisfaction of when your characters finally end up together.     

3.  Let your characters’ relationship be built on friendship.  

The other day, I got lunch with my best friend and her new girlfriend.  A year or so ago, she’d gotten out of a really toxic relationship that she’d been in since I’d first known her.  

I’d thought she was happy (because at the time, I didn’t have anything else to compare it to) but seeing her with her new girl was like seeing the proverbial sunrise for the first time.  (Pardon the floral language.  Even I’m not totally exempt from purple prose.)

We laughed, we made jokes, we all checked out the hot waitress together.  Overall, it was just like spending time with two close friends – just, y’know.  They happened to be in a romantic relationship with each other.  And that, let me tell you, makes all the difference in the world.

I’ve said this before, and I’ll say it again:  all the sexual attraction in the world will not make up for the lack of a strong basis of mutual respect, affection, and camaraderie.  

Sorry to burst your bubble, authors of the mainstream publishing world:  even if they kiss in the rain till the cows come home, even if the music swells every time they make contact, even if it’s a love story for the ages, that means your characters actually have to be friends.

So ask yourself these questions:

Do your characters have any shared interests or hobbies?

Do they actively take interest in their partners’ hobbies?

Do they crack each other up, tell each other jokes?  Exchange playful jibes that aren’t pointed or hurtful?

Do they do the above more than they fight and bicker?

Would both your characters feel comfortable with their partner seeing them at their most comfortable (e.g. stuffing their faces with Nutella and watching bad reality shows)?

If so, would they join in?

If one partner feels hurt, neglected, or insecure, will the other partner take notice and attempt to comfort and reassure them?

Can they confide in each other?

Do they share the same goals, desires, and core values?

If you answered  ‘yes’ to most of these questions, congratulations:  your characters’ romance is more akin to Gomez and Morticia than most YA pairings today.  And believe me, that’s a good thing.

  4.  Make sure your characters are more or less equals.

She’s a ridiculously hot, intelligent, accomplished twenty-something.  He’s a an out-of-shape manchild in his thirties who makes lots of fart jokes and probably has a neck-beard.  

This pairing probably would raise quite a few eyebrows in real life, but it happens so much in movies and TV (particularly comedies) that no one even questions it.  Do I really need to remind you that the entertainment industry is largely male dominated?

This doesn’t always equate to characters being equal in conventional attractiveness:  movies such as Legally Blond and Hairspray, for example, both have adorable pairings featuring lovely plus-sized/chubby women and thinner, more conventionally attractive men.  Tucker and Dale vs. Evil consisted of a satisfying romance between a chubby, kindhearted hillbilly and a thin, conventionally hot girl.  Moreover, they don’t leave anything resembling the bad taste in my mouth that the aforementioned Manchild + Hot Girl trope does.    

But your characters will need to be more-or-less equals in terms of positive attributes.  Even if they differ significantly in conventional attractiveness or status, they’ll probably roughly even in out in terms of intelligence, good manners, kindness, conscientiousness, et cetera.  

It’s also best to avoid blaring power imbalances when writing healthy romances.  I’m inclined to avoid huge age differences (though there are instances where it can be healthy), and definitely avoid huge age differences where one of the characters is underage.    

Basically, if your pairing looks like they could belong in a Woody Allen movie, no dice.  (If you think I’m kidding, just look at his fifty-six-year-old self with a nineteen-year-old love interest in Husbands and Wives.)

Differences in wealth and status are also generally be okay, but be conscientious that they can easily become abusive if one person misuses their power (lookin’ at you, 50 Shades.)    

Last, and certainly not least, your characters will almost definitely need to be equals in terms of three-dimensionality.  No exceptions.    

Which brings me to my final point:

5.  Give your love interest purpose (outside of being a love interest.)

I’ve talked about this before, but why do you think there’s such a huge following for Kirk and Spock’s romance (besides that one episode where Spock gets super horny and the two of them role around in the sand for twenty minutes), when there are droves of female love interests for both?  

Why are Dean and Castiel AO3′s most popular pairing (besides the recurring prevalence of romantic tropes throughout their narrative), when the following for their more canonically established relationships are practically nonexistent?  

What about Holmes and Watson (besides the blaring case of queerbaiting in the BBC version, and the fact that Doyle’s Sherlock was rife with gay subtext), or Steve Rogers and Bucky and Barnes (besides the fact that the writers somehow find the possibility of making Steve a Nazi less offensive than having him love a man)?   

Internalized misogyny and fetishization of MLM by straight women is sometimes a factor.  But considering the popularity of these M/M pairings amongst queer women, I’m inclined to think its simply because these male main characters are simply the most interestingly written in their respective franchises. 

It also works the other way: why do you think everyone hates Kara and Mon El’s romance so much? Because Kara is a wonderfully developed, benevolent character (surrounded with equally developed, benevolent characters who would work much better as love interests, I might add) and Mon El is a callous, entitled jerk who only wants to become a hero to woo his prospective girlfriend. 

This is also why heterosexual pairings with equally well-developed characters have no problem at all finding followings.  Just look at Han and Leia, Mulder and Scully, Booth and Bones, Monica and Chandler – both characters hold roughly an equal amount of weight in the narrative, so we give a fuck what happens to both of them. 

Healthy, well-balanced WLW romances with happy endings are difficult to find in media, but some of my favorite examples of ship-worthy pairings that fit this criteria are Korra and Asami from Legend of Korra, Willow and Kennedy from Buffy (even though I’ll never forgive them for what they did to Tara), Carol and Susan from Friends, and Alana and Margot from Hannibal.         

And of course, there’s these lovely ladies from Sense 8.

Bottom line is, make sure both your characters are important;  don’t follow the trend of meaningless, forced heterosexual romances in media in which one party could almost invariably be replaced with a sexy lamp or a dildo.

Make the love interest a hero in their own right, and the audience will root for them.

Best of luck, and happy writing!  <3