THE TROUBLE WITH TROPES

The romance genre is all about tropes. Voracious readers can spot their favorites in a thumbnail image half the size of a postage stamp on a cell phone screen. I admit, I have my favorites. Give me a good old enemies-to-lovers, confined-space, ticking-clock romance and you’ve hooked me.

Tropes let readers know what they’re in for. They aren’t a bad thing.

You know, until they are.

(Say, if the story you’re writing isn’t a straight-up romance. Or if the trope you appear to be using—in Spiked it was the “alphahole”—is the trope you eventually intend to turn on its head. )

Even within the constraints of an established trope, characters should be as multi-layered as a serving of baklava. Light layers, stuck together with the gooey deliciousness of experience and pain and underlying morality. There should be impossible choices and mistakes and misunderstandings baked into it. There should be honeyed nuance, sugary hints of something more bubbling beneath the surface of the text, a tasty little morsel that makes you pause and think, “Hey, now, wait a minute. This isn’t the usual delicious, Middle Eastern and Southeastern European pastry. This has cashews in it.”

I would like to reiterate here that I’m not slamming tropes. Tropes exist in all genre fiction and they can be fun. (Who doesn’t love a good brain-chomping zombie story? An antisocial detective who solves crimes with his/her/their best pal?) I’m merely suggesting the idea that not every romance is strictly trope-based. And that a story, or a series, may start off as one thing and end up as something else entirely.

That not every romance is a “typical romance.” (Whatever that is.)

I’d like to thank everyone who gave my urban fantasy romance, Spiked, a chance. Even if you found it wasn’t your cup of tea. Thanks for taking a look.

For those of you who did enjoy it, I hope you also like Summoned.

I also hope you are all craving baklava as much as I am right now.

Book 3 releases soon.

C. P. Rider