Does your novel need a romance?
‘I’m thinking about adding a romantic subplot. Is that a good idea?’
‘Will readers be disappointed if there’s no love story in my book?’
‘How do I fit a romance into my plot?’
I’ve lost count of how many times I’ve been asked this question by newer writers I work with as an editor and coach, especially in historical fiction (but sometimes in fantasy, too).
I suspect two reasons why this comes up so often.
Reason 1: Romance is very common in stories
The first is simple: writers imitate what they know. Most of the stories we consume – both on page and on screen – include a romantic subplot. Romance remains one of the most perennially popular genres. Within the genres I work in, historical romance has had an established tradition for ages, and romantasy (fantasy romance) has come into its own in the last few years.
With all that love-bombing they receive as readers, it’s no wonder if many writers have internalised the idea that romantic relationships are an essential component of storytelling, a secret spice without which a novel comes out of the oven tasting bland or wrong.
That’s why my first response to this kind of question is reassurance: No, there’s no rule that a story needs romance. Romance is common because lots of people like it, and publishers and studios need to make money by appealing to as many readers and viewers as possible. Plenty of stories succeed without it, and some readers don’t even enjoy it. If your story doesn’t have room to develop such a relationship or you don’t want it, don’t shoehorn it in. Readers can tell, and it won’t be much fun for you or them. Write the story you actually want.
Technically, the conversation could end there. The asker could breathe a sigh of relief and go on their merry way writing their tryst-less tale.
But I usually don’t leave it there. Why? Because I don’t think Reason 1 tells the whole story.
Because when I read the asking writer’s work, something is often missing. It’s just not what they think it is.
Reason 2: The story is missing a central relationship
I think many of these writers have good storytelling instincts and are, only half-consciously, trying to use romance to compensate for a deeper problem in their manuscript.
That problem is the lack of a central relationship.
In my developmental editing work, I see many drafts in which the main character has many relationships with other characters, but there’s not much of a hierarchy of importance among them. Instead, the reader’s attention is diffused across them all.
Why is this a problem? Because no relationship is spotlighted for deeper development. If all relationships are given more or less equal attention, all of them feel shallow. As a result, the story will usually be missing an emotional core, a heart. The central relationship is the most common place this heart lives.
Developing a relationship in enough detail to get readers invested takes page space. The book may well have space for only one such relationship.
That one relationship would be the central relationship, which I define as the relationship that’s most developed on the page.
It’s usually essential to the character arc of at least one party, as well as having an arc of its own.
It’s idiosyncratic and moves beyond the stereotypes for the type of relationship that it is.
It’s often where the story’s thematic message is explored and/or serves as an emotional anchor in the story for readers.
(If you’re a story-structure nerd like me, think of concepts like the B-story and the contagonist. That’s pretty much what I’m talking about. I just don’t like to be quite as prescriptive as some craft advice is about the specific form the relationship needs to take.)
Central relationships are often romantic…
Notice how a romance is a very convenient solution to this problem of the central relationship.
It’s usually an exclusive relationship and therefore easy to single out for attention.
The relationship exists for its emotional value. The moment you make a romance primarily about something else, it typically doesn’t feel romantic anymore. The nature of the relationship serves as a guardrail to keep writers focused on the emotions involved.
It requires page space dedicated to the development of the relationship itself. While some newer writers (and even some published ones) do make the mistake of expecting readers to care about an undercooked romance, others intuit or learn that insta-love often fails.
It has strong cultural and literary templates, meaning it doesn’t need much explaining for readers to catch on to the feelings the writer is trying to elicit (which is why insta-love sometimes succeeds!), unlike some other kinds of relationships.
So yes, romance is a solution.
But it’s not the only solution.
… but they don’t have to be romantic.
The reason it’s helpful to distinguish between a romance and a central relationship is that it frees writers from the belief that romance is their only option for an emotional core.
Don’t want to force a love interest into your cast? Great – don’t!
But do think about who or what else your main character(s) might have a deep relationship with.
Some non-romantic options for deep relationships include:
a mentor-mentee relationship (e.g. teacher and student, master and apprentice, the character’s older self and younger self)
a family relationship (e.g. sisterhood and brotherhood, parent and child, even a character’s relationship to their whole family/clan as a unit)
a friendship (e.g. intellectual companionship, confidantes, comrades in arms (or in crime), frenemies, unlikely pairings who cross demographic lines or otherwise seem to have nothing in common at first glance)
a deity and devotee
a practitioner and their passion (relationship with an art form, a sport, a cause or organisation, etc.)
a human and an animal
a human and a place
You get the idea.
Think of Mr Miyagi and Daniel in The Karate Kid. Think about what Black Beauty does with horses. Think about sisterhood in Little Women and Marlin and Nemo’s father-son bond in Finding Nemo. (In fact, Pixar films happen to be full of non-romantic central relationships: Woody and Buzz in Toy Story, Sully and Mike in Monsters, Inc., Carl and Russell in Up, Remy and Linguini in Ratatouille, and so on.)
Yes, some of these examples also have a romance. But all of them would work without one. The emotional core would remain intact thanks to the central relationship.
Only one relationship?
Also note that a story can have more than one deep relationship. Most good stories probably will.
The point of the concept of a central relationship isn’t to limit yourself to exploring one bond. It’s to think about whether your story has a sufficient emotional core at all and to ensure you always know which one should receive priority page space.
After that, if the story has room for more and you feel skilled enough to give each their due, go for it!
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Most of us have known people (and maybe have been one of them!) who seek romantic love to fill an emotional void that might be better fulfilled some other way.
I think some writers are doing the same thing with their stories.
If you ever find yourself feeling pressured to insert an obligatory romance, don’t stop at ‘I don’t need that. I’m a strong, independent person, and it’s the twenty-first century. I can write whatever I want!’
That’s completely true! But it might also be ignoring your craft instincts.
Listen for what’s really missing. Your story may end up richer for it.
