Failure IS an Option

Missy Tippens, here. And I wanted to share a moment with you today. An ah-ha! moment I had recently after reading a document from Natasha Kern (my FABULOUS new agent, by the way!). What she said was like a knock upside the head for me.

And I’m sharing this, knowing good and well that some of you may think, well, duh, Missy, you should have known that. So be kind, okay (Ruthy)? :-) Because haven’t we all had those moments where you hear something over and over, and finally it sinks in? Like the third time I had calculus. And no, I didn’t fail the class twice! I just had units of calculus in other classes until one teacher in college spent some extra time explaining it, and the light bulb came on.

So here’s hoping what Natasha said is light bulb moment for you, too.

Failure is an option. And she’s not talking about us as writers. She’s talking about our hero and/or heroine. The hero must be in an “I can’t but I have to" situation. I must save the maiden but I can’t because I’m afraid of dragons (burning desire vs. inner obstacle or vice). Keep the outcome in doubt. Failure is an option.

I love that! Can’t you just see a hero who knows he has to save the heroine, yet he’s deathly afraid of dragons? You have instant conflict! And it’s not easily solved. It can’t be solved by a conversation or clearing up a misunderstanding. It can’t be solved by sharing a secret. It can only be solved by this hero overcoming his fear/obstacle/vice—either that or giving up on his burning desire.

And if the outcome is in doubt, what do you have? You have a reader who’s going to keep plowing through the pages to find out what that poor hero is going to do. And the reader will be cheering for your hero the whole time—rooting for him to overcome his fear and win the hand of the maiden.

In my first book, Her Unlikely Family, Michael’s statement would have looked something like this: I must find my runaway niece, take her home, and act as a proper guardian for her. But I can’t, because this annoying waitress is acting like a protective mama bear, all because I’m unequipped for dealing with a rebellious teenager who’s refusing to go and who needs love I’m not capable of giving.

In His Forever Love, Bill might have said: I must go get my beloved, aging Granny, sell her house, and move her to Boston so I can take care of her. But I can’t, because I don’t want to spend time in the hometown I escaped, forced to face the woman I once loved and thought I would marry.

In A Forever Christmas, Sarah might say: I must help Gregory find the true meaning of Christmas so he’ll give his sons the gift they most want: time with their dad. But to do so, I’m going to have to spend time with him—the man who betrayed me—and risk falling in love with him again.

Okay, so what about your work in progress? Can you boil it down to a statement? I realized in doing this exercise for my completed books after-the-fact, I tended to do a statement that had nothing to do with the romance interest. (For example, my first stab at His Forever Love was: Bill must move his Granny, but she has a vibrant life (and romance!) and doesn’t want to move.) So I think if you’re writing a romance, the statement, and thus conflict, should include the other main character so that the hero is causing conflict for the heroine and vice versa. And the outcome needs to be in doubt. Failure IS an option.

Will you share your statement? Or maybe figure out the statement for one of your favorite books you’ve read?

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Missy wants to thank Natasha for being like that calculus teacher--and putting this info in just the right words to create the lightbulb moment. And for allowing her to share this tip with Seekerville!