The Ruby Slippered Sisterhood has invited me to discuss episodic structure, and how to avoid it when writing romance novels. Come check it out!

As a romance writer there are two crucial questions I must answer for every book I write. The first is: Why do these two people fall in love. The second is: How do these two people achieve intimacy?

Now, sure, sex creates intimacy, but it should also be the culmination of intimate encounters. When it comes to structuring a romance novel, I like to think of intimacy as a progression–a series of gestures or tender moments that lead, inexorably, to a deep and abiding relationship between my hero and my heroine.

We all know the expected tropes. The hero saves the heroine from certain doom. The heroine is that one plucky gal who tells the hero where to go, and he loves her for it. Thousands of writers have used these techniques to create intimacy, and done so effectively. But what about trying something different?

Last night I was watching a film entitled Lie With Me. I’m not usually a big fan of independent art films–I gather that I’m just not smart enough to enjoy them–and there were many things about the film that annoyed or scandalized me. However, I was absolutely dumbstruck by the inciting incident between the hero and the heroine of the movie.

Picture it: She is drunk and stumbling about a smoke filled party. A man pulls her into a bathroom, presumably to get a little action, but when she stoops over the sink to splash her face, the man doesn’t undress her. He doesn’t even touch her. Instead, he gently cups his hands under the running water so that she can take a drink.

It was such a strange but courteous thing to do, one filled with beautiful symbolism, and it created instant intimacy.

So how can we use such techniques in our own work? I have a few ideas.

Reverse expectations.
If your hero is a policeman sent to arrest the heroine, intimacy can be formed when he takes the time to sponge her hands clean after fingerprinting. He’s supposed to be a gruff law enforcement guy, but this kind of consideration says more about him than you could have with hundreds of words. If your heroine is a tough-talking, no-nonsense kind of girl, but the hero sees her inner child come out at the sight of a carousel, that’s an unexpected moment of vulnerability that can help your characters bond.

Make Your Characters Vulnerable.
I’m of the opinion that intimacy develops through vulnerability. We all have faces we want the world to see, but no one can truly love us until the mask slips and they’ve seen what’s behind it. These moments usually come in times of pain or peril. If your hero is a hot-shot accountant, let the heroine be the one who sees him when he’s messed up a major account. If your heroine is a perfect mother, let the hero help her out when her kids are having a meltdown and she’s finally come up against the one parenting issue she’s never had to tackle before.

Put Obstacles in the Way of Intimacy.
In my debut novel with HQN Silhouette Nocturne, POISONED KISSES (October, 2010), my hero’s blood is the only thing that can kill my heroine. Being near him–especially when he has an open wound–might very well mean an excruciating death for her. And yet, when he’s hurt, she tries to stitch him up. Her instinct to help him is stronger than her fear for her own life, but her terror makes the moment more intimate than it could have been if she were a nurse, and this was part of her job.

So the next time you’re wondering how your characters fell in love, give them a few unexpected moments of intimacy to build on. My guess is that you’ll have a stronger story for it.

Author Holly Lisle just proceeded to annoy me–purposefully so–then grabbed me by the metaphorical lapels and shook me. She did this in her newsletter, and then said:

If you’re looking for a way to write a story that doesn’t step on toes, just pick up your toys and go home. You’re trying to play dead on paper. It can’t be done, you won’t do it, and if you try you’ll end up writing meaningless drivel.

If you are a writer, you give conflict a voice. If you fear conflict, you can’t be a writer—fiction is the art of pushing creative conflict to meaningful resolution through the actions of compelling characters in exciting places.

If you’re a writer, you’re giving a voice to the people who have struggled all their lives to give words to the same thoughts you think.

Her advice, though more lengthy than I can or should reproduce here, boiled down to: To be a good writer, it’s important to piss someone off.

It was sort of shocking advice for me. Given that I’m opinionated and argumentative, you’d think I would enjoy conflict more. But I don’t. It’s one of the reasons I left the legal profession. I could never find a way to leave any argument at work–it always followed me home and festered.

Conflict stresses me out because I get a little too passionate about everything. I prefer to be unstressed, and I also like to get along with people. Hence, a career change. I never think of myself as a provocateur, but given my recent reflections on why I write dark fiction, maybe I am. And I guess Holly Lisle would probably think that’s a good thing. Holly gives out a lot of good advice, so you might want to check her out.

Are you an aspiring paranormal romance author? Harlequin’s Silhouette Nocturne line is one of the best markets out there for innovative speculative fiction and here are the top five tips I’ve learned writing for HQN:

1. Nocturne Heroes Don’t Cry

Editor Tara Gavin once shared with me that she rejects many books for Nocturne because the heroes are too soft. Nocturne readers are looking for an unrepentantly alpha hero. Now, as a writer, I know that showing a hero’s heroism is tricky when he’s not the type to show the chinks in his armor, but there are ways to delve into his emotions without letting him get weepy. By way of example, in my Nocturne Bite WILD, TETHERED, BOUND, my hero is a wounded soldier and a gambler. He doesn’t know how to say romantic things, so he explains to the heroine how much he loves her by using casino metaphors instead.

2. Exposition Should be Tightly Woven Throughout

In category fiction, you don’t have a lot of room to both build your world and tell your story, especially when it comes to the novella length Nocturne Bites. Don’t think you’ll save space by dropping a big info dump at the start of your story–you’ll only slow down the pace. Better to draw your world-building through the story with expert exposition, making use of every opportunity to let the mystery of your paranormal world unfold.

3. Settings Should be Atmospheric

It’s always been my belief that a reader wants to be swept away, someplace interesting and exotic, even if that place is simply the wooded lot behind her own house. A writer should exploit the lushness of the setting, conveying the sights, sounds, scents, textures and even the tastes. In my first Nocturne Bite, MIDNIGHT MEDUSA, the Greek god of fury kidnaps the heroine and takes her on a whirlwind journey across the world. My editor seemed to appreciate the small but telling details I included about Asia and Scandinavia, and I have noticed a definite Nocturne trend towards stories that are set in exotic or unusual locations.

4. Avoid Episodic Structure

As an author of much shorter stories, my first instinct is to let the reader infer anything that doesn’t need to be stated outright. As I was told by one of the Nocturne editors, however, readers of romance novellas prefer more grounding. Ideally, each scene should give cues to where and when it is occurring sooner, rather than later.

5. Don’t be Afraid to Color Outside the Lines

There’s been a transgressive element in everything that I’ve written for Nocturne. In MIDNIGHT MEDUSA, I made the unconventional choice to tell a story about love and war crimes; that story ended up being my first sale to Nocturne. In WILD, TETHERED, BOUND, I felt compelled by the divided nature of my hero to write a foursome, and my editor didn’t bat an eyelash. In fact, she asked me for an additional sex scene. In my forthcoming novel about an arms dealer and the knife-wielding nymph of the underworld who is intent upon killing him, I proposed a story about profound identity betrayal, and it was met with an enthusiastic offer. So if your story is good and it speaks to you, don’t hold back. Let your freak flag fly. It might just land you a contract.