Authoring isn’t something I take lightly. Readers gift me their time, so I must say something meaningful, worth their hours and attention. That said, I write with strategic purpose.
This article, however, isn’t serious and informative. In fact, it’s more of an artist’s confession, complaint, and ramble. Feel free to laugh with me as I expound on my current struggle with writing young-adult romance . . . described by New Girl gifs.
Why does boy have to meet girl and vice versa?
I’ve been writing young-adult (YA) fiction for over five years. Each book I write, to be considered for publication, needs to include some sort of love interest. I’ve exhausted every possible scenario.
How many more ways can boy meet girl, girl meet boy?
Have I fried my imagination?
I realized the other day, as I was reading through old manuscripts, that I tend to follow a similar plot line when it comes to my fictional romances. Characters meet, become friends, fall in love and remain in the honeymoon phase until disaster strikes, then they face conflict as they sort through their pain and emotional wounds.
I’ve dreamed up millions of cute scenarios . . . yet the relational foundation is unchanged.
Maybe it’s time for me to switch genres.
Does my personal life affect my fictional love life?
Over the past few weeks, I’ve experienced mood swings with my characters. One minute, I want to write a book about a hardcore, independent woman who could care less about men and the next, I want to write the most epic love story of all time.
I’ve contemplated killing off my characters.
I’ve considered breaking up love connections.
Readers would hunt me down if I did either of those things.
Why do I become philosophical while brainstorming romance?
I find myself asking the questions: What is love? Why do people fall in love? What’s wrong with people?
Whenever I write a book without a love interest . . .
Nobody likes it.
What makes love so special?
How does it work?
All I know for certain is love matters. It resonates with people.
So I have to try to figure it out.
Because if it touches others, maybe it’ll touch me, too.