Dial it Back, Folks

I’m a sucker for a good story.  It’s an occupational hazard for fiction writers, but a great story line wins me over easily. Two of my favorite movies are Moonstruck and As Good as it Gets, both unusual rom-coms, both with Oscars for best scripts. I love a good story in other genres as well.

Designated Survivor seemed like a natural and I loved it—for the first two seasons. Did the show get new writers in Season 3? Or did the producers, seeing their ratings in decline, simply decide it was time to up the ante with saltier language? I put up with it for a couple of episodes. Then, when the F-bomb was dropped four times in the first three minutes, I was done.

Some apologists explained such language was “realistic” in the pressure cooker of the real-life White House. Although I’d love to deny it, I suspect that’s the truth. Who cares? If I wish to be assaulted with obscenity, I’ll take a walk on the campus of our local university. Besides, don’t we all want the people who hold the fate of the world in their hands to be better than that?

To be clear, it isn’t just the language that got me. Characters I had come to care about, even love, were suddenly behaving in uncharacteristic ways, using language we hadn’t heard before, but also changing job titles and love interests, and in one case, moving into a completely new story arc.

Suddenly, instead of watching “people” I cared about, I saw actors reading lines and being moved around on a set. The suspension of disbelief that lets us slide into fictional worlds went out the window. That transition started for me when their version of the White House began sounding like an NFL locker room.

In my first career as an academic, I learned to use ten-penny words when two-penny ones work fine. As a writer of romantic fiction, I’m sometimes tempted to use those words, since they now come fairly naturally. When I catch myself, I deliberately dial it back—not to dumb it down, and not because I don’t respect my readers. I do, very much.

I choose not to use words that draw attention to themselves, words that pull my readers out of the story. I want my characters (and even my narration) to use language that moves the story forward. In effect I’m saying: “Dear Reader, please love my story, not my impressive vocabulary.”

As a consumer of other writers’ fiction, I ask the same when it comes to obscenity. If that’s the natural speech for your characters, I’m not your audience anyway. If you suddenly need to up your ratings, please do so with a fascinating twist in your story line, not with verbal assaults or manipulating your characters. You’ll win me over easily when you do.
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Susan Aylworth is the author of 18 novels currently available as e-books. PARIS IN THE SPRINGTIME and SUNNY'S SUMMER, the first two books in the "Seasons of Destiny" series, are also available in paperback. Book Two chronicles the aftermath of the deadly Camp Fire. She lives in northern California with Roger, her husband of 49 years. She loves hearing from readers. Find her at www.susanaylworth.com, @SusanAylworth, on Pinterest and Instagram, and at www.facebook.com/Susan.Aylworth.Author. Watch for AMBER IN AUTUMN and WINTER SKYE, both due by year's end. 

Romance and Television

by Sierra Donovan

I'm not a weekly-TV-series type of viewer. My husband and I are much more likely to pop in a movie when we settle in on the couch at night. But with the growth of Netflix and the phenomenon of “binge watching” – largely by my two kids who live at home – I've gotten familiar with some recent series.

I've found that situation comedies have changed a lot since the days of “The Mary Tyler Moore Show,” when the situations and characters changed very slowly over the course of seasons, if they changed at all. Now there's a lot more story progress over the course of even a single season. It's a great opportunity for character and relationship development.

Surprise! Romance figures into this, because a lot of central plots have to do with romantic relationships. Will this couple end up together … or not?

SPOILER ALERT for Netflix viewers: shield your eyes if you haven't seen all of “The Office” or the first six seasons of “Parks and Recreation.”

These two series get it right. There's a lot of anticipation and expectation built on key relationships. Then the writers go on to affirm what they've made us believe in our bones: Jim and Pam belong together. Ben and Leslie belong together. The characters are written consistently and believably, even through moments of doubt. And ultimately, and the writers deliver on our expectations.

Now, let's talk for a minute about “How I Met Your Mother,” and why I think this one gets it wrong.

I haven't seen how this series ends. But I do know last year's season finale had viewers screaming. Even without having seen it, I'm pretty sure I can tell you why.

If ever a series was built on expectation, it's this one. It's in the very title. We're teased from Day One that we're building toward the revelation of Ted finding his true love.

Writers, you set your audience up for disappointment.

You promised a payoff, but we keep being told Mom is NOT any of the characters we're watching now. She's going to be someone we haven't invested in. What are the odds that the viewers are NOT going to be disappointed in the outcome?

An even worse sin, in my opinion: time and again, the series set us up to anticipate a relationship between one couple or another. Usually the buildup is very well done. The characters spend months out of a season yearning for each other, longing for each other, just missing each other. And then, when the two people do get together, it's usually – PFFFT! – over within a couple of episodes. After that, the much-anticipated couple goes back to interacting pretty much the same way they did before all that longing ever started. What is this, partial amnesia?

No, it's inconsistency. I think the series tried to break ground by flying in the face of viewers' expectations. I think what it did, instead, was tease the viewers, then contradict what it had told us about the characters. I can't address the finale, but from season to season, the series repeatedly went back on its promises.

Romance fiction is often criticized for being predictable. Yes, the couple gets together, as promised. Just as, in a murder mystery, the killer is discovered. As promised.

In real life, we're not promised happy resolutions. In fact, we're not promised resolutions at all. This is where fiction is different. We go in expecting that the story will reach a satisfying resolution. Depending on the genre, that ending may or may not be happy, but it needs to satisfy. It needs to be consistent with the author has told us. It needs to keep its promise.