FYI

Check back in on Monday for a continuation of the six relationship archetypes. I just couldn’t pass up a holiday without a little turn from the usual.

Friday Feature: Happy Halloween

Happy Halloween, everybody! I’m ready for the event with my bowl of candy (for trick-or-treaters only, of course) and collection of non-scary Halloween movies.

As I am the biggest chicken when it comes to scary stuff, I thought the braver souls might enjoy a laugh at my expense with this list of my scariest things:

Scariest Book: Relic by Douglas Preston and Lincoln Child

Scariest Movie: War of the Worlds (Like I said, I’m a chicken. I can’t go anymore hardcore than Steven Spielberg. I might have a heart attack.)

Scariest Animal: Komodo Dragon (Not only is it a scary dinosaur throwback, but it walks funny.)

Scariest Color: Puce (The name says it all.)

Scariest Moment of my Day: Driving on the freeway flyovers.

Scariest Moment of my Life: When I was about eight or so, I scared my father. It may have been funny except he went into the “Intruder! Must save family!” mode and came close to punching me before recognition set in. Well, that or the time we lost Baby Sister when she was two. It’s a toss-up.

Scariest Possibility: Finding myself swimming in the middle of the ocean, by myself, at night, surrounded by sharks. And komodo dragons. I’m assuming it’s an unlikely situation, though.

Scariest Nightmare: I have way too many post-apololyptic type nightmares to pick just one. (What can I say? I’m a freak.) The most recent was inspired by I Am Legend. Yeah, thanks Will Smith.

Scariest Monster: Aliens

Scariest Place: See that whole middle-of-the-ocean-at-night thing.

Scariest Candy: Baby Ruths (Thanks, Mom.)

Scariest Pizza Topping: Anchovies

Scariest Weapon: Chainsaw

Scariest Board Game: Life (I once ended up with three carloads of kids.)

Scariest Person to be Stuck With on a Desert Island: Dr. Hannibal Lecter or, if we’re going with real people here, Pat Robertson.

Cheers!

The Six Relationship Archetypes: #4

The fourth relationship archetype is the Friends No More. In stories featuring this particular archetype, the hero and heroine have been in some form of platonic relationship for an extended period of time. The characters have set boundaries and expectations right from the start. They’re in a rut, if you will, and early within the story this routine is somehow broken, forcing the characters to reevaluate their relationship and thus discover their deeper feelings.

This archetype is built in with a nice, subtle tension as the audience or reader tends to realize that the hero and heroine are meant for each other before they do, and this tension is further exaggerated when one character recognizes his or her feelings before the other. These stories are suited for any genre, but tend more toward the traditional romances as the relationship usually develops along a softer slope. These characters already get along well and have already learned to live with any major differences between them, otherwise they wouldn’t be friends. The arc of this relationship follows the deepening feelings between these characters and explores the evolution of a friendship to a romance.

Almost all character types fit well within this archetype, but the writer must remember that this story is beginning within a preexisting relationship. The hero and heroine already have a working friendship and a shared history, and their interactions must reflect not only their enjoyment of each other, but the underlying dissatisfaction that must exist for the relationship to later blossom.

A good literary example of this relationship archetype is Jennifer Crusie’s Crazy for You, in which the heroine, Quinn, falls in love with a man who’s not only her friend, but who’s also her sister’s ex-husband. Despite this double dose of platonic entrenchment, the two overcome misunderstandings, family strife, a crazy ex-boyfriend, and an awkward couch scene to ultimately find their happily ever after.

Perhaps the most recognizable and iconic of the Friends No More archetype is the movie When Harry Met Sally. A running argument in the film is even the question of whether or not men and women can be just friends, and the two title characters in this film spend years defining and redefining their relationship.

The Six Relationship Archetypes: #3

Next is the relationship so well adapted to comedy, The Hate to Love. This is perhaps the most well-known and easily recognizable of the archetypes because the H/H relationship always starts at the fuzzy end of the lollipop. In this archetype, the hero and heroine begin the story as enemies and end, naturally, as lovers. The arc is a clear delination in which the characters learn to overcome their differences and to see beyond the superficial. While all romances should have a dynamic hero and heroine, this archetype, like The Hubba-Hubba, focuses equally on the emotional growth of both characters.

The characters begin the “hate” portion of their relationship because of either internal or external forces. The internal forces that cause strong and immediate dislike are personality differences between then hero and heroine, either in the form of complete opposites on a subject of importance to both characters or too similiar in a strong, almost abrasive manner. Internal opposites (IO) find themselves on the opposite sides of the same street; they both want to attain the same goal, but differ in their opinions of how that goal should be reached, and the strength of their different opinions keeps them apart. Internal similars (IS), when presented with the same goal, are kept apart not necessarily by a strong obligation to achieving that goal, but in the style of how they reach it.

For example, let’s say that two sets of characters all want to rescue a kitten stuck in a tree. (Bear with me, folks.) The IO hero may want to chop down the entire tree since it’d be dangerous for anyone to climb, and it’s an apparent hazard for kittens anyway. The IO heroine, however, may vehemently oppose the cutting down of such a beautiful oak and insist on climbing the tree herself since she was a gymnast, after all. The IS hero and heroine have both agreed that calling the fire department would be the best solution for rescuing the kitten, but as they’re both strong-willed perfectionists, they argue over who gets to call because each thinks s/he can dial the phone more effienciently than the other.

The couple forced into an initial hate relationship because of external reasons recognize that, under other circumstances, they’d get along fabulously. Because of this, any external forces keeping the hero and heroine apart must be strong. The best example of this is the movie You’ve Got Mail where the big, bad chain drive the small, independent bookstore out of business.

The overlaying theme of this archetype is compromise, and the arc is completed when the hero and heroine are able to overcome their differences. This, naturally, tends to require extensive change and growth in both the individual characters, but the writer must display the hero and heroine’s compatability from the very beginning of the story, even during the “hate” phase of the relationship, otherwise the eventual romance may not ring true.

Other good examples of this archetype: Beauty and the Beast, Shrek, and French Kiss. (Hmm… I’m beginning to see a pattern of Meg Ryan in these examples.)

The Six Relationship Archetypes: #2

The Nightingale is the “You Complete Me” relationship, identifiable in the way one character emotionally heals the other. Although the heroine is most often the “healer”, I tweaked the Florence Nightingale reference to coincide with our more modern sensibilities despite the fact that I haven’t been able to come up with an example of a male “healer”. I’m assuming stories of men who help their counterparts deal with the past trauma of an abusive relationship would be prime examples.**

This is the most unbalanced archetype of the six, and the story requires care to avoid becoming an epic to codependency. In these relationships, one character has a stable emotional life. Usually the heroine, this character is able to move through life on an even keel and can be satisfied caring and providing for others on a platonic or familial level. The lack of love life, or the lackluster one she does have, may concern her in a distracted sort of way, but she’s able, for the most part, to provide for her own emotional wellbeing. This is, of course, barring any susceptibility she may have to become temporarily involved in an abusive relationship.

The disconnected character, often the hero, has an undeveloped emotional life. These characters are often displayed as having rigid, controlling, and/or unusually neat outer lives that act as the foil to their lacking or chaotic inner lives. Many of the tycoons, billionaires, moguls, vampires, and sheiks populating our romance novels tend to fit this character type, and the arc of the relationship is the restoration of balance between the person who needs healing and the person who needs to heal. This makes the Nightingale Relationship unique in that it almost always requires either the hero or the heroine to fit the “Nurturer” character archetype.

While it’s crucial that both characters find fulfillment, this relationship archetype is different in that emotional needs of the characters is notably skewed. Often, what one person is able to provide in terms of outward fulfillment such as financial security, the other is able to provide equal measure in emotional security. Books such as The Secret Passion of Simon Blackwell, The Raven Prince, and Alyssa Day’s The Warriors of Poseidon series are all good examples of this relationship archetype. 

The best film example is, naturally, Jerry Maguire, where the hard-edged title character loses everything he thought important to him and is forced to reevaluate his priorities. As he increasingly grows aware of the emotional emptiness inside him, the heroine steps in to help him find his way. For the majority of the movie, the balance of power is skewed strongly in Tom Crusie’s favor until he finally acknowledges his love for the heroine and thus restores the balance by admitting his need for her.

 

** I’m adding an amendment here, as I’ve remembered a hero Nightingale. Richard Dreyfuss’s character in The Goodbye Girl.

The Six Relationship Archetypes

Just as archetypes for the hero and heroine exist (The Complete Writer’s Guide to Heroes and Heroines, for example), relationships can be divided into basic archetypes as well. The romance genre’s requisite HEA especially widdles down the relationship possibilities, as it requires the removal of all unbalanced love relationships. The story won’t be, for example, about a woman who settles for someone she doesn’t love because “The One” got away. 

Let’s begin, shall we, with one of the most predominant: The Hubba-Hubba. This is the case of love (or lust) at first sight. It’s the “ah-ha” moment of recognition between the two characters, and the reaction can vary anywhere between the borderline spiritual to the earthy Whoa, Mama!

This format appears quite often in romantic comedies, where that immediate kick-in-the-gut reaction lends itself well to both humor and conflict depending on the character’s reactions. One of the best literary examples of this relationship is Jennifer Crusie’s beloved Bet Me. Here, the Hubba-Hubba moment takes on an almost mystical element, as the heroine, Min, meets the hero and is repeatedly advised by unseen forces to take “this one”, a fact she chalks up to nothing more than hormones. Anyone with a uterus, she figures as she looks at the hero across the bar where they first meet, would look at him and think, “This one“. The strong attraction between them both is a running theme throughout the book, more so than in other romances.

The Hubba-Hubba relationship, despite it’s flippant name, is actually based on an immediate, deep-rooted connection between two characters that they themselves don’t often understand. Fundamentally, this relationship is built on the recognition between soulmates that’s usually cushioned by strong physical attraction, which is easier for the characters to both recognize and handle. To achieve balance, the characters must learn to see beyond the physical and learn to accept their connection as something lasting and deep, and the arc is fulfilled when both have accepted their destiny.

This story works especially well with strong, independent characters who’d see this strong connection and need (both physical and emotional) for someone else as a weakness, but idealist characters who’d embrace the idea of a true love can find homes in this relationship if outside forces are strong enough to keep them apart.

Good examples of The Hubba-Hubba Relationship in movies: West Side Story/Romeo and Juliet, Titanic, and Moonstruck. One of my favorites of all time, An Affair to Remember, belongs here, too. Cary Grant, Deborah Kerr, and that haunting song.

Sigh.

Good Mood Saturday

I have a lot of things to be thankful for this year, and today should be a nice extention of that. So, as I’m off and about today, here’s a recap of why I should be in a good mood all this weekend:

1. I get to check out a two bedroom, two bath apartment in my current complex, which I love. I should (hopefully) be moving into one of them in June. Why am I so thrilled about the possibility of moving yet again? Well, if you don’t mind me channeling Sophia Petrillo, picture it: wrap-around porch, view of the Texas greenbelt, quiet evenings, and a rocking chair.

2. This afternoon, I’ll be at a nearby “Write-in” with some fabulous friends from my local chapter of the RWA. I extended a general invitation, so I’m looking forward to finding out who gets to make it. And, if no one shows up, I still have the promise of caffeinated mocha goodness and three fulls hours of laptop-tapping.

3. It is, after all, a Saturday. No day job!

4. Tomorrow promises Sunday breakfast, lounging in pajamas, reading, writing, and watching movies. In no particular order.

5. The weather has finally cooled down. I think we may even be hitting the 70’s during the day. While I’m not partial to the cold of winter, I adore everything winter-related like fireplace blazes, holidays, hot chocolate, and an excuse to bake up that random, unusual recipe you’ve been wanting to try.

So I’m off! I hope your day is as fun as mine is promising to be.

Friday Feature: Jack the Bear

A friend came over to borrow the washer and dryer last night, and as her clothes went through the proper wash, rinse, and repeat cycles, we flipped channels and happened upon the beginning of a movie. I don’t know what it is about opening credits, but I always stop to find out what’s playing, even if I can tell by the music rolling during credits that I won’t hang around for the main feature. The creepy intro music of a horror, for example, will send me scrambling for the remote right after the name of the movie flashes across the screen.

I blame the basest of curiosities on my title-determination. Titles are hazy things for writers. I know so many of my fellow penners who struggle over a title for their manuscripts, and it’s that very title that so often is the first thing tossed by a publishing company. That, coupled with the need to know what, exactly, I may be missing, keeps me waiting through that long list of credits.

On Thursday, those credits included Danny DeVito, Julia Louis-Dreyfus, Gary Sinise, and Reece Witherspoon. My friend and I looked at each other.

“Have you ever heard of a movie that has all of those actors in it?” I asked her.

“Uh-huh.”

Then the title: Jack the Bear.

“You ever hear of this movie at all?” she asked me.

“Uh-huh.”

So we settled in to watch as the washing machine rumbled in the background. The voice-over had us cringing, especially when the main character, a young boy named Jack, reminisced about how maybe this is what led to what happened. I remembered groaning aloud at the third, “maybe this…” as nothing significant had happened. Half an hour in, and we still waited for whatever was suppose to happen to actually happen.

The choppy flashbacks shot, for some reason, in a red tint, changed point of view.

Construction workers appeared on the street in front of their house, tearing up the road. “What are they doing?” Reece Witherspoon’s character asks the young Jack at one point.

“I dunno. They just showed up one day.”

That’s it. That was the only explanation in the entire movie for why so many of the characters had to maneuver around large machinery.

We were expected, apparently, to maintain sympathy for poor, poor Jack because his mother had died, despite his various overly angst rants, ravings, and occasional physical abuse of a younger neighbor and emotional abuse of his younger brother.

And yet we watched. We’d wonder aloud every once in a while about why we watched, but we did. The story had enough injections of actual plot to carry us over just as the remote started to look pretty darn good, and the odd ramshackle of this movie caught us in a morbid fascination.

The lesson: whatever happens has to happen for a reason. Don’t throw in a couple of bulldozers and expect people to connect the dots.

Do give your main character something that keeps people from wanting to shake him and tell him to stop whining for cripes’ sakes.

And when all else fails, hire Danny DeVito. He’s no Matt Damon, but most of the time his odd charm can win you over.

The Flip Side of the Coin

Romance writers tend to have an advantage in the whole “two sides to every story” adage as our stories are built in with a ready split between the hero and the heroine. While conflict is not automatic, and should not be confused with differences of opinion, the he said/she said aspect allows for a nice slide into the potential for conflict. The goal of the romance, however, is to bring these two sides together. Depending on when and how this happens in the story leaves room for more than just the two sides, and in some circumstances, it’s a necessity.

This multi-faceted coin, for example, is always needed in romantic suspense and often used in paranormals and SF/F; stories in which the main characters are pitted against various nemeses. An argument could be made, I suppose, that these stories still stay true to the adage, as the individual story lines contain two main sides. The H/H relationship, for example, is really only between the hero and heroine. And it’s rare in a romance for the hero (or the heroine) and the villain be one and the same, thus effectively negating the need for a third character altogether. Not to mention that, depending on the type of villian the hero/ine is, the likelihood of an HEA may be nil.

Then again, you may have the villian setting himself up as a potential suitor, not only creating a nice little rife-with-conflict love triangle, but now the story no longer is just the two sides of the H/H. And the villian turning out to be the hero/heroine is just as rare as the stories where the villain doesn’t ultimately target both individuals. At some point, the villian often realizes that to get rid of main character, s/he will have to get rid of the other.

What’s the point to all this? Even the old adage “there are two sides to every story” has an opposing viewpoint. Our black-and-white world is colored by shades of gray.

Happy Hallowistmas

While at the same store referred to in my previous post (I’m a creature of habit) in which I learned a lesson about setting, I was reminded this time of a couple more educational tidbits.

First, I came across a mother and young son equally taken with the strange sight of Halloween decorations on one side and Christmas decorations on the other. “Happy Hallowistmas!” they’d say to each other as they wove between the aisles. While their attempted rendition of “Jingle Pumpkins” was off a beat, they nonetheless did an admirable job ad-libbing.

Smiling to myself, I carried on down the lane to the pet department, where I came across another little boy, this time carrying a squeaky newspaper toy while following his father. “If we had a dog, Daddy,” he said, “THIS is what we’d get him.”

“Daddy. If we had a dog, THIS is what we’d get him.”

“If we had a dog, THIS is what we’d get him, Daddy.”

“Daddy. Daddy. If we had a dog–Daddy, listen. If we had a dog, THIS is what we’d get him, Daddy.”

The lessons these two children offered:

1.) Never lose your sense of humor or an appreciation of the ridiculous. Both come in handy when confronted with a situation of polar opposites.

2.) Persistence can pay off. “No” isn’t always the final answer.