OT: (Can it be off topic if I haven’t said anything yet?) At first I was like, oh gee what on Earth will I blog about today? And then I bopped over to the Manuscript Mavens blog where I left a comment on Maven Darcy’s post on revision almost the friggin wordcount of her original post. *sigh*

So anyway, what I meant to talk about today was something I read in Donald Maass’s Writing the Breakout Novel. (One of my pals, who shall remain nameless unless she outs herself, just had her head explode by reading those words. She is not in love with WTBN. She believes too many people take it as the word of God. So, for the record, Donald Maass is not God. Some things he says I really dig, and others I don’t. As with any craft books or advice, always do what works for you.)

Okay, now that we’re done with the mini public service announcement (what is my issue with interrupting myself today??) we’re back to WTBN, Chapter 7, Contemporary Plot Techniques.

When conflict level in a novel is high–that is, when it is immediate, credible, personal, unavoidable and urgent–it makes us slow down and read every word. When it is low, we are tempted to skim. [...] The moment tension slacks off, reader attention slacks off, too. It is as if the derivation of the word is “at-tension”.

At-tension. I kinda like that.

He then says (btw, in case you didn’t know, he’s a successful literary agent) when he reads manuscripts, there are certain scenes that guarantee the writer will bore the reader to tears. These include scenes where a character is driving/walking/flying etc from point A to point B, scenes where a character is relaxing in the shower, scenes where a character is fixing tea/coffee/dinner, etc.

Basically, he says unless the car is careening out of control or hurtling off a cliff, don’t think for a second that the reader is paying the remotest attention to paragraph after paragraph of introspection, even if you throw in beautiful prose about the lovely scenery.

My second novel, Witness, was dinged in contests (and rightfully so) for one such scene. The story opened with the heroine en route to the recording studio of an infamous white-boy rapper who was going to get a bullet in his brain moments before she reached the front door step.

(BTW, he’s not killed because he’s a white-boy rapper, but because he’s an ass. Villainess totally justified. *g)

Her stumbling across a dead body is all well and good, but her driving to do so really wasn’t. Neither she nor the reader knew she was on her way to becoming a murder witness, which meant there was zero tension (or at-tension) in the scene.

Plus she was alone. Alone often equals boring. As my pal Julie Elizabeth Leto pointed out to me later, there was no reason why her best friend (whose request for an autograph sent the heroine to the rapper’s door in the first place) wouldn’t also be present.

Duh.

I am pleased to say my writing has improved in leaps and bounds since those days.

However, as I prepare to revise both Touched and Trevor & the Tooth Fairy, I will remind myself to pay special attention to low tension scenes.

I do not want to bore the reader at this stage of the game. Especially if the reader is, say, a potential buyer.

Touched, my third book, has several scenes in which the hero or heroine is alone (actively pursuing a goal, not just sipping tea and ruminating on their lives!) that Maven Lacey suggested I could revise such that the hero and heroine were working on their goals together rather than separately.

Again I say: Duh. Brilliant idea.

In TATTF, my fourth book, the hero and heroine actually do work together a good portion of the time. (See? I learn!) But that doesn’t mean I don’t have other scenes where, for various reasons, they are alone. I will be paying special attention to make sure those scenes are necessary, and if so, I will strongly consider whether or not the scene would be improved with the presence of an additional character.

(At least I don’t have to worry about boring travel scenes, seeing as how Daisy can teleport. *g)

YOUR TURN: Fess up! Any “transportation” scenes in your story where the characters are going from one place to another? Scenes where they sit around thinking about all the GMC in their lives? What is your opinion of all this?

I’m no doubt butchering the maxim, but it goes something like: Readers want heroes to die for and heroines to cry for.

We’ve discussed tortured and non-tortured heroes, so now let’s talk about what makes heroines heroic.

In Selling Your Story in 60 Seconds, Michael Hauge offers some suggestions on how to make your reader empathize with your protagonist right off the bat. (I know, and you thought it was just a book on pitching, right? Ah-ha moments can come from anywhere!)

The suggestions for creating empathetic heroes are:

1. Create sympathy
   In other words, make the reader feel sorry for the character. Hauge gives the example of us seeing poor Harry Potter living under the stairs thanks to his jerktastic relatives. But we’re applying this toward heroines, so… how about Lucy in While You Were Sleeping? The opening shows us how incredibly lonely and unappreciated she is. Or how about Vivian in Pretty Woman? Not exactly living the American Dream, is she. (Please mention other books/movies in the comments where the opening scene serves to create sympathy for the heroine!)
2. Put the hero in jeopardy
   Hauge says “jeopardy” can range from losing your life (Bourne Supremacy) to losing your gym (Dodgeball). Again, we’re talking heroines, so how about… Scarlett losing Tara? Kathleen losing her book store in You’ve Got Mail? Lucy losing her memory in 50 First Dates? Or Andie Anderson losing a bet in How To Lose A Guy in 10 Days?
3. Make the hero likeable
   I agree with Hauge’s examples here, too–who couldn’t love Will Ferrel’s character in Elf, or the cute little clownfish in Finding Nemo?–but we’re discussing romantic heroines. So… I’m thinking Julia in The Wedding Singer. She was just so freaking nice. Funny and cute, yes, but above all else, a good sport. Or how about Cher in Clueless? She was so quirky and so unapologetically, well, clueless, I couldn’t help but like her.
4. Make the hero funny
   Hauge gives Bad Santa as an example here. I’d imagine someone like House as fitting the bill as well. We don’t have to like the character as a person, but we have to like the character as a character. How about Bridget Jones? Neurotic, whiny, self-absorbed… but funny as hell. Or how about Abby in The Truth About Cats & Dogs? Even though I knew her unrelenting sarcasm was a defense mechanism, sometimes I wanted to smack her for getting into her own way–but I couldn’t help but like her as a character. Or how about Brooke in the The Break-Up? Not the most mature of women, but totally funny and therefore empathizable. And Mary Catherine Gallagher? OMG.
5. Make the hero powerful
   The Bride in Kill Bill is one of Hauge’s examples, and it’s a good one. She’s strong mentally, physically, emotionally. She does what she has to do. Wonder Woman, Elektra, Buffy the Vampire Slayer, Marie Antoinette, Catwoman, Charmed, Medium, Ghost Whisperer, Angelina in Mr & Mrs Smith.

I think the main takeaway is that there’s no one right way to create reader involvement, but rather, several right ways, to make an intriguing, unique heroine readers can’t help but empathize with.

YOUR TURN: Why do we empathize with romance heroines? What makes a reader want to be her, or be her best friend? Do you know any examples that illustrate the suggestions above? Can you think of any other ways to create that sense of reader identification with the heroine?