Okay, SO. A brief disclaimer: I will not be naming titles or saying what a specific book did wrong, because at the end of the day, I know how much work it was regardless and there's also a non-zero chance I will sit next to that author on a panel someday. Now let's get into it!
Most of these novels introduced the love interest not just in the first chapter, not just in the first scene, but on page one. And it's smart, because the point is that these two people fall in love, so you're jumping right into the thick of things.
The romcoms that made me laugh the hardest utilized physical comedy the best. I love banter. I love banter. But it can't carry a romcom on its own.
Publishing meta gets publishing money. Books about booksellers, editors, publicists, etc sure seem to get above-average in-house support. Which is not to imply that it's undeserved! Just that it's landing with its targeted readers.
The (usually) contemporary setting means the reader's holding less setting-specific info in their head. This frees up some RAM, as it were, for things I would have to approach very carefully in fantasy, such as dropping a flashback smack in the middle of a scene, or nonlinear storytelling.
Compelling chemistry involves the traits the love interests uniquely bring out in each other. E.g. a stoic person's hidden sense of humor, or a pushover's ability to stand up for something. It's also key that they like these traits on some level, and tied to the person they want to be.
Negative character traits can be greatly mitigated by self-awareness. E.g. It's one thing if someone is consistently and needlessly blunt to the point of rudeness, and acts like that's not a problem; it's another if, internally, they are unhappily aware they're driving people away but don't know how to be any other way.
Escalation. The obvious choice is predictable (some may say boring), but the unexpected choice can feel over-engineered and inorganic. I feel like the balance here is to take the obvious choice and push it further. E.g. Horrible ex shows up at the bakery the narrator just started! Obvious choice is to kick him out. Engineered choice would be having him slip on fresh-waxed floors and land in a vat of custard that just happened to be the right size and sitting in the middle of the bakery. Hm. The escalated version is to have the narrator tell him to get out, and when he balks, start throwing day-olds until he goes. Another example: Our two jerks are going on their first date. An obvious complication: Someone's ex is also on a date at the same place. An over-engineered complication: The ex insists they leave, and when they don't, they go to the manager and try to have our jerks kicked out because their daddy owns the restaurant, and also they have the jerks' car towed. An escalated complication: The ex insists on sharing a table with the jerks, and it's clear they still have feelings.
Related: There's a lot of mileage to be had from people/things progressing a funny and covert goal while the non-narrator scene partner is distracted. E.g. a dog slowly stealing off its owner's plate while the owner is flirting and/or arguing with the narrator.
A lot of books used interstitials for flavor, like emails, transcripts, etc. These can also be used to do some heavy expository lifting by letting you set expectations—think an open mic night flyer that can convey the venue's vibe, or directions to a corn maze that get increasingly sketchy.
We all love competence porn. If we can see what a character is good at, we'll want to see it again. If we can see them be very, very good at it, but thwarted at the last moment—by their own character flaw, for maximum impact—then we will be desperate to see them pull it off in the future. IMHO the more you, the author, want the reader to like a character, the sooner we should see their competence.
RELATED: If a love interest is meant to be a snob, it is non-negotiable that we have to see their competence, in action, on the page. There was one romcom I bounced off like a basketball, and this was a major part of why. I'm altering occupations here, but in a nutshell:
Narrator, a pastry chef with struggling career, idolizes a famous and award-winning baker
Turns out the baker can't make pastries worth a damn because he thinks sweets are frivolous, but the bakery needs to expand its offerings, so she gets brought in to help him
He tells her what she does is meaningless, and she doesn't know how to do real baking, and overall is wildly condescending, but the narrator puts up with it because she idolizes him
We see many awards he's won as a baker, and many high-level professional connections he has
We never see him bake. And we never see her eat something he baked. Our narrator tells us he's just that good and we have to accept it.
Y'all, I was so mad. Give us a crumb, please.
12. Most books tackled a sense of loneliness or isolation in at least the narrator, and sometimes the love interest as well. Even if they had active social lives, there was a gap that only the love interest sees, and only they can fill.
13. There were really interesting uses of sensory and signature details to make a character stand out and/or stand in for physical intimacy early on. E.g. a character slowly rubbing a thumb over the chip in a mug's rim—to me, that gesture is close enough to evoke running a thumb over someone's bottom lip, and the chip gives it sensory oomph. Other characters would have a recurring signature nickname, appearance detail, or gesture; bonus if it had actual character significance.
14. On a slightly more downer note... I found one thing a bit unsettling. I'm threading a needle here, because no, fiction is not supposed to be a moral lecture, yes, there is room for all types of fantasies and explorations in romance. But I found it a tad grim how many books were specifically fantasies of enormous men and itty bitty women. How most of the heroes are supposed to be flawed but romantic, attractive, respectful... and yet in the physical intimacy scenes, a lot of the language falls back on evoking domination, possession, and control by a man. He "claims" lips, he "brands" with his touch, he's "marking [narrator] as his own." And none of it is an actual D/s relationship, it's all quite vanilla. I may just be too ace for that to sound appealing?
It does go hand-in-hand with an interesting recurring bias against cities, where they're scary places that people leave after their dreams are crushed, and find real happiness in a "sweet, traditional life" in a small town. With 80% of the US population living in urban areas, the framing of small towns as keepers of tradition was similarly dissonant to me.
All in all, it was a great study for character work, sensuality, and executing straightforward plots well. Highly recommend y'all pick up a romcom or several and take notes yourself!
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