On Writing Romance_ How to Craft a Novel That Sells - Leigh Michaels [69]
It's a challenge to keep this character in her proper place—at the edge of the main story, not in the middle. It's easy to get careless and drift away from the main characters toward the significant third, particularly when this extra character is a child. We're almost programmed to put a child's needs before those of adults, and that carries through in odd ways when writing about a child. The result—anything from a textbook on child raising to a dictionary of baby talk—isn't a romance.
Many a romance novel has been destroyed by a significant third who became too important. The romance must remain firmly fixed on the two main characters.
Even if the most troublesome problem between them revolves around the significant third, it is the tension between the two main characters that is important.
In the first chapter of Penny McCusker's long contemporary Noah and the Stork, the significant third character appears just as the hero, Noah, and the heroine, Janey, are about to say good-bye after their first meeting in nearly a decade:
"I guess I should head out," he said, but instead of leaving he had the audacity to step up to the fence and offer his hand.
Janey was going to take it, too. There was no way she'd back down from the challenge she saw in his eyes, no matter what it might cost her to actually put her hand in his. She took a step forward, then stopped short at the sound of her daughter's voice.
"Mom," Jessie called, racketing out the front door and down the steps, jumping the last three as had become her habit. ... "Mrs. Devlin called. They're riding out to bring in the spring calves this weekend, and she asked if I want to go along. ..."
"Mom?" Noah said, his jaw dropping. Not that he couldn't see her as a mom; he couldn't think of anyone who loved children more or would be better at raising them than Janey. It was only that, in his mind, she was still seventeen, still carefree and single, not a grown woman with a kid eight or nine years old. ...
Jessie turned around then and Noah found himself looking into a pair of green eyes, the kind of green eyes he'd seen every morning of his life, staring back at him from his own mirror. ...
They stood that way for a moment, eyes locked, nerves strained, enough emotional baggage between them to make Sigmund Freud feel overworked.
The kid came to everyone's rescue. She glanced up at her mom, then confidently stepped out of the shelter of Janey's arms. She stopped halfway between the two adults, fixed Noah with a stare that was almost too direct to return, and said, "I'm Jessie. Are you my dad?"
Once Noah knows about his daughter, he's no longer in a mood to shake hands and walk away; he's furious, and he's determined to have a part in raising his child. The rest of the story happens only because of Jessie. Yet, though we see Jessie interacting with each parent, the majority of the story is about Noah and Janey, with their daughter remaining on the edges of the action.
The Villain
Not all romance novels have villains, and in the ones that do, the villain may be important enough to be considered a significant third character or he may be a secondary character, less crucial and less well developed. The villain's goal is usually not directly connected to the romance. He isn't trying to break up the couple; they're just standing in his way as he's trying to get revenge, acquire money, or eliminate a threat. So the classic villain is much more likely to appear in single-title or mainstream books, historicals, or long contemporary
category romances—all of which have more room for complex subplots, mysteries, or intrigue.
A truly powerful and effective villain must have something sympathetic about him or he will be interchangeable with dozens of other forgettable bad guys. The readers don't have to approve of his breaking in to the bank vault, but if they understand—and maybe even respect—his reasons, he'll be a much more effective foil for the hero and heroine.
A villain always has a reason for doing what he does—and he's always convinced it's an excellent