'Tis the Season

I always forget this part.

I look forward to the Christmas season all year long. The music, the festive colors, the reminder of what it all means. Sure, it's hectic. And sure, sometimes I get stressed. But what I think of first is the warmth of the season and the sense of celebration.

Then December approaches, and it starts. The rumbling of the retailers. By Thanksgiving week, it's built to a ferocious din as all the stores try to outdo each other. To beat each other to the punch. To be open sooner, to have the sale that YOU CAN'T MISS or you'll be throwing money away. Put down that eggnog!

I'm not into crowds. I usually stay home. But even here, with the blinds drawn, it's hard to escape the persistent feeling that if I'm not shopping RIGHT NOW, it's costing me a fortune.

This year, I'm not only drawing my blinds, I'm thinking of caulking my windows.

I'm neurotic enough without retailers telling me it's do or die and DON'T MISS OUT.

So this year, more than ever, I'm determined to make Christmas what I always promise myself it will be. A time to curl up with that eggnog, listen to the music and, by golly, read some of those Christmas books I've been looking forward to all year.

Yeah, I'll go shopping, too. When I'm good and ready.

Peace on Earth is there for us -- if we allow ourselves to slow down long enough to grasp it.

Don't miss out.

Romance, Television-Style

I'm not a weekly-TV-series type of viewer. My husband and I are much more likely to pop in a movie when we settle in on the couch at night. But with the growth of Netflix and the phenomenon of “binge watching” – largely by my two kids who live at home – I've gotten familiar with some recent series.

I've found that situation comedies have changed a lot since the days of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” when the situations and characters changed very slowly over the course of seasons, if they changed at all. Now there's a lot more story progress over the course of even a single season. It's a great opportunity for character and relationship development.

Surprise! Romance figures into this, because a lot of central plots have to do with romantic relationships. Will this couple end up together … or not?

SPOILER ALERT for Netflix viewers: shield your eyes if you haven't seen all of “The Office” or the first six seasons of “Parks and Recreation.”

These two series get it right (in my humble opinion). There's a lot of anticipation and expectation built on key relationships. Then the writers go on to affirm what they've made us believe in our bones: Jim and Pam belong together. Ben and Leslie belong together. The characters are written consistently and believably, even through moments of doubt. And ultimately, and the writers deliver on our expectations.

Now, let's talk for a minute about “How I Met Your Mother,” and where I think this one gets it wrong.

I haven't seen how this series ends. But I do know last year's season finale had viewers screaming. Even without having seen it, I'm pretty sure I can tell you why.

If ever a series was built on expectation, it's this one. It's in the very title. We're teased from Day One that we're building toward the revelation of Ted finding his true love.

Writers, you set your audience up for disappointment.

You promised a payoff, but we keep being told Mom is NOT any of the characters we're watching now. She's going to be someone we haven't invested in. What are the odds that the viewers are NOT going to be disappointed in the outcome?

An even worse sin (in my humble opinion): time and again, the series set us up to anticipate a relationship between one couple or another. Usually the buildup is very well done. The characters spend months out of a season yearning for each other, longing for each other, just missing each other. And then, when the two people do get together, it's usually – PFFFT! – over within a couple of episodes. After that, the much-anticipated couple goes back to interacting pretty much the same way they did before all that longing ever started. What is this, partial amnesia?

No, it's inconsistency. I think the series tried to break ground by flying in the face of viewers' expectations. I think what it did, instead, was tease the viewers, then contradict what it had told us about the characters. I can't address the finale, but from season to season, the series repeatedly went back on its promises.

Romance fiction is often criticized for being predictable. Yes, the couple gets together, as promised. Just as, in a murder mystery, the killer is discovered. As promised.

In real life, we're not promised happy resolutions. In fact, we're not promised resolutions at all. This is where fiction is different. We go in expecting that the story will reach a satisfying resolution. Depending on the genre, that ending may or may not be happy, but it needs to satisfy. It needs to be consistent with the author has told us. It needs to keep its promise.

Love: The Prime Motivator

“Oh, I don’t care much for romance.”

Those are words that romance writers – and readers – often hear. The funny thing is, it’s hard to find a good story without it.

Last night my husband and I watched a classic ghost story, “The Uninvited.” A man and his sister move into a haunted house. Sort of an unusual domestic arrangement. Why are they brother and sister? So the brother is able to become romantically involved with Stella, the young woman who’s the target of the spirits in the house.

Why is that? Because storytellers recognize that most of us are driven by the need for romantic love. A story may not be billed as a “romance,” but you’ll find romance at the heart of most stories.

Think of the classics, and you’ll find that the desire for romantic love is usually a prime motivator for the characters, even if that pursuit is misguided. In “The Great Gatsby,” the title character builds a new life for, and is finally destroyed by, the pursuit of love. In “Casablanca,” the story hinges on the lost love between Rick and Ilsa. “Gone with the Wind” without the passion of Scarlett and Rhett? I don’t think so.

What about action films? Let’s talk “Spiderman.” In the 2002 film, Peter Parker tells us in the opening narration: “Let me assure you, this, like any story worth telling, is all about a girl.” How about film noir? The leading man in “Double Indemnity” may be motivated by lust rather than love … but he’s built it up into something pretty important by the time he’s willing to kill a guy for it. In horror, the mummy is after his lost mate, and all the Frankenstein monster really wants is a bride. Comedy? Even in something as light, silly and just-for-fun as the “Anchorman” films, Ron Burgundy’s gotta get the girl (or get her back).

Love – the need for it or the lack of it – makes everything more important. It raises the stakes. It’s something we all want. Storytellers, readers and moviegoers are instinctively drawn to it, whether they realize it or not.

Most romance readers and writers simply recognize that need more consciously, so we go after it more directly. Someone may be getting killed, something may be getting stolen, a career may be at stake … but whatever our characters think they’re after, we can be darned sure there’s a happily-ever-after at the end of it.

And that’s a story worth telling.

Fact vs. Fiction

"Oh! So THAT's how you two met!"

When I told people that my first novel was a romance set at a radio station, I got that reaction a lot. Yes, my husband is a disc jockey; yes, we did work at the same radio station together for seven years. But that happened after we were married.

I borrow from my life. I freely admit it. My stories are filled with first and last names borrowed from family members and friends. The afghan my aunt crocheted for me is in the first chapter of "Love on the Air." And that radio station is filled with small items and incidents from the station where I worked. We really did have a CD player we had to stick a butter knife into to rescue a disc that got stuck. And a break room where there was always danger of coming around the corner and crashing into someone (a perfect accident for my hero and heroine!).

I plant pieces of myself into my stories, and I love it.

But if people were to assume that everything in my books really happened to me ... brrr! That could open a can of worms. If my next hero were an auto mechanic, what if people started thinking I had eyes for the guy who fixes my car? Come to think of it, we have been seeing a lot more of each other lately, as my car gets older.... See? Instant gossip!

I wonder if people who write murder mysteries run into the same reaction. Do people realize it's fiction, since there are no bodies turning up on the author's doorstep? Or do friends start eying them uneasily, wondering if a character who resembles them might turn up as a victim in the next book?

Of course, no one ever said writing fiction was for the faint of heart.

The beauty of writing, as with reading, is that we get to escape into another world and experience it vicariously. Writing can have a tremendous advantage because we control this universe. On the other hand, sometimes it sends us down blind alleys or requires us to cause pain for those characters we love so much.

When I'm doing my job right, I experience the story every bit as much as my readers do. There's great joy in taking just a pinch of my favorite things, a dash of personal experience, and stirring it into a great big bowl of fantasy.

So, if any of you notice a good-looking grocery checker in my next book, why, pay it no mind.

Keep Your Hands Off My Bodice

I'm blogging today at the Avalon Authors blog! Come share your thoughts on that inescapable phrase, "bodice ripper," at:

Avalon Authors: Keep Your Hands Off My Bodice

See you there!

What Are Fantasies Made Of?

This afternoon at Target, I cruised by the category romance lines ... and an overriding theme in the titles hit me upside the head.

Somehow, in this post-feminist world, it looks like we've become obsessed with wealthy heroes. And this trend didn't start with the recession -- it's been around for a while. Maybe it never went away?

But on the racks in front of me, I counted two tycoons, two princes, three millionaires, four billionaires and one C.O.O. (I'm not sure what C.O.O. stands for, but I bet he's rich.)

Holy E.R.A., Batman! What's happened to us?

I know we've come a long way, baby. And I'm sure for every one of those rich, powerful men, there's a strong heroine who's going to stand her ground and teach him a thing or two, rather than crumpling in front of his ruthless Italian loafers.

I know Gloria Steinem didn't have all the answers. Somehow we've reached a place where the two-income household has become the rule rather than the exception -- not always by choice, but often by financial necessity. Maybe that's what's got those rich dudes looking so good.

And I know these billionaires have their own set of issues to work out. A lot of 'em are pretty lovable guys. But in a pinch, he's the kind of guy who whips out the plastic and treats our heroine to a decadent shopping spree, a la Pretty Woman. (And how I love the heroine who says no thanks ... except for maybe that one really nice pair of shoes for her fatherless child.)

I KNOW it's all fantasy. But are those fantasies getting a wee bit greedy? Or do I just think small?

After all, I'm the type who tends to pick up the stories about PTA moms and single dads. If you want to talk fantasy, I'd be more likely to go for titles like The Bride Paid Off Her Car. Or, based on a recent plight, The Sexy Mechanic Who Fixed Her Engine For Free. Heck, I'm happy with The Dad Who Loved Movies. And while most of us would probably back away slowly from The Sensitive Accountant Who Made Tea, I might give him a shot. Especially if I was already on the couch with my feet up.

Of course it's all entertainment, and we surely don't need to apologize for our fantasies. But I'm curious. Am I the one who's out of step? Are rich heroes a hot-button for you?