Romantic Subplots are Fun

 

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I don't write romance novels, but most of my mystery and suspense books have romantic subplots. This shouldn't be surprising since I love Jane Austen's novels, which always centre on romance. A few years ago, while visiting my friend Barb in the UK, we went to Jane Austen's home in Chawton and dressed in costumes of the times. 

Jane Austen had the romance formula down pat - keep the lovers in conflict and separated through the story until the end, when they realize they are right for each other. Their conflict and separation can be caused by external problems (family objections, war, geography) and/or internal flaws.  

In my first novel, A Deadly Fall, my heroine/sleuth Paula struggles with both types of problems. She falls for a man who is a suspect and she's committed to a boyfriend (two external impediments). Internally, she's burned from her recent divorce. As the story progresses, Paula learns she must take risks to find love again. 

In book # 4 of the series, Paula and her current boyfriend are stranded on different continents due to the COVID-19 world shutdown. Their separation challenges their relationship. But the novel's greater romantic subplot belongs to Detective Mike Vincelli, a secondary narrator. Mike is attracted to a coworker, but his fear of failure and reluctance to shake up his comfortable life conflict with his desire to make their involvement personal.

Typically the romantic subplot reflects the protagonist's personal journey in stories that are primarily about other things--finding the treasure, defeating an enemy army, solving a murder. While navigating romantic entanglements, heroes and heroines learn the lessons they need to resolve their problems.    

My current mystery-novel-in-progress, A Killer Whisky, has two romantic subplots. The main one features my two story narrators, Katharine, who witnesses a suspicious death, and Bertram, the detective investigating the case. The story is set in 1918, during the last days of WWI. Katharine's loyalty to her husband fighting in France clashes with her attraction to the attentive detective. Bertram's obstacles are largely internal--he can't move past the deaths of his wife and son. Through the story events, Katharine and Bertram must discover what they want in life and from each other after the war is over.  

A Killer Whisky's second romantic subplot involves two suspects, who are non-viewpoint narrators. Their romance fuels the murder investigation plotline. I find their relationship fun and am curious to see how their romantic subplot works out.

Or doesn't work out.  

When romance is merely a subplot, it doesn't have to follow the romance novel tradition of bringing the lovers together in the end. Actually, my impression is that romance novels today don't require this either. I can't think of book example that breaks the rule but a successful romantic comedy movie springs to mind ** spoiler alert ** My Best Friend's Wedding.

Whatever your current real-life romantic journey -- Happy Valentine's Day! 

 

         Me in Puerto Vallarta with Richard Burton and Elizabeth Taylor. Their grand romance had numerous ups and downs that captured the world's imagination.  

             

Winter Walking by Karla Stover

 

 FIND KARLA'S BOOKS HERE

By the Same Author:

A Line to Murder

Murder: When One Isn't Enough

Wynter's Way

Parlor Girls

 

 

The roast is in the oven, the potatoes are peeled, and the dog and I are hiking in the woods. Winter-woods walking is different from summer hiking. For one thing, it’s easier to see the dead leaves, twigs, plant stalks, and animal droppings which nature is gradually turning into rich, forest compost. Unexpectedly I spot a lone oak leaf carried by the wind clear from the other end of the county where they’re native. However, mostly our trail is covered with maple leaves, many still retaining their color. As a child, I ironed maple leaves with wax paper to help them retain their beauty. Four years ago, University of Washington scientists got a grant to check the possibility of tapping big leaf maples here for syrup. Two good reasons to love them. Watch out Vermont.

After drying up in summer heat, moss has returned, thanks to recent rain. Moss has been used for everything from surgical dressings by World War 1 doctors, to diapers by Native Americans. It’s a lovely contrast to gray-green bits of fallen lichen. I’m worried, though, because where I walk, moss is losing a competition to a ground cover I’ve been unable to identify.

The dog chases a squirrel into a cluster of Oregon Grape. Both the Indians and the pioneers used it for medicine, food, and dye. But where we’re walking, there’s more salal than Oregon grape. Salal has sticky berries which, when very young, I used to put on my earlobes. The Indians were more practical, turning the berries into cakes, or drying them to treat indigestion, colic and diarrhea, and respiratory diseases such as colds or tuberculosis. I’ve had salal berry pie; it’s very dense. Not to ignore the Oregon grape, though. It also had its uses, mainly to fight parasites and viruses.

The woods have lots of green, my favorite color. Sword ferns snuggle against Douglas firs which the Salish Indians used to ward off ghosts. When we bought our house, there was a copse of all these natives but it lacked two types of trees: cedars, which I brought in, and madrona which are notoriously difficult to propagate. My family had a number of elderly Indian friends who told me their women used madrona’s orange berries to make necklaces and various decorations. I recently learned that once dried, the berries have hooked barbs which latch onto animals for migration. How cool is that? Along our forest trail, the madrona’s peely-ochre trunks stand out among the green.

Eventually, my dog and I break out of the trees and into a clearing where we pass a spread of the ground cover, kinnikinnick. Before tobacco became the go-to plant for Old World smokers, they sought out the nearest patch of kinnikinnick, a word that actually means “smoking mixture. Some articles I’ve read claim it’s becoming endangered. And my hike is endangered, too. Sadly, the sight of it means our walk in the woods is over. So, back to the kitchen I go.

When the Polar Vortex Hit Alberta - By Barbara Baker

Day 1 - My thermometer reads minus 37 Celsius. I can’t complain though. Global News warned us for a week that a Polar Vortex was about to hit Alberta. Initially, I doubted them, but they were pretty insistent, so yesterday I did a grocery run just in case they got it right this time.

Don’t get me wrong. I don’t hate winter. In fact one of the aspects I enjoy is being able to put on layers of clothing to stay warm, whereas in summer, if it gets too hot there are only so many layers I can take off before it gets offensive to those around me.

In the afternoon I watch Bruce Springsteen, Neil Diamond and Johnny Reid music videos while I get 10,000 steps on the elliptical. The evening news stresses the dangers of frostbite, lists the closed ski resorts and posts a city map of all the warming shelters set up for both people and pets.

Day 2 - I marvel at the accuracy of the forecast. Highs of minus 33. After regular tasks are done, I organize miscellaneous drawers. Glancing out the living room window where chickadees and nuthatches take turns at the feeder, I wonder when and how we managed to accumulate this much clutter.

I add Meatloaf’s “Bat Out of Hell” and “Hot Summer Night” to my music videos and do a cardio workout in the basement.

Friends vacationing or living in warmer places send pictures of large iguanas, green grass and sandy beach sunsets. I reply with frozen emojis.

Day 3 – The afternoon high will get to minus 31.  I check the tidy drawers before I tackle a day of housecleaning. I want to be ready for the ski hills when they reopen. Because of active cleaning I only need 4,650 steps on the elliptical. I add Jelly Roll’s “Save Me” to my music videos.

Day 4 – It’s minus 34. I need to get out of the house. And we’re out of coffee. Since the store is only eight blocks away, I dress in my warmest gear – snow pants, thick scarf, down mitts, long parka, fuzzy toque, unattractive winter boots and goggles. I put my wallet on the chair and turn to take a quick check in the mirror. No exposed skin. Perfect.

I take off on my coffee run.

When I step outside, even with the scarf over my mouth and nose, I gasp and hunch my shoulders forward against the brisk breeze. My goggles fog up instantly forcing me to exhale into my collar.

Snow squeaks with each step. Crosswalks glazed with white ice require penguin-style walking. There is no one on the street or sidewalk. When I crest the hill, the wind increases. I scrape frost off my goggles as tires screech to a stop next to me. 

“Do you need a ride?” someone shouts.

“No, I’m good,” I holler back.

“It’s really cold,” they caution me.

I wave them on. What a friendly soul and possibly a rocket scientist.

Almost there.

The automatic door screeches open slowly. Once inside, I shake hard to let warm air circulate through to my skin. There is no coffee on sale so I grab the cheapest box.

At the till the clerk scans it as I search for my wallet. So many layers. So many pockets. None of which hide my wallet. I stare at the clerk like maybe she knows where I put it. She smiles and waits. I search again and pull out my phone.

“I’m sorry. I forgot my wallet.” I look at my phone and back to her. “Can I pay with an e-transfer?”

She shakes her head. “You can tap it with a credit or debit card.”

“Yeah, I don’t have that set-up.”

She puts the box of coffee on the shelf behind her and I head back outside. How could I forget my wallet? On the way home, I stay warm by chastising myself for being forgetful. I blame it on aging. Oh well. It was a gallant effort on my part, and I got aired. Maybe I can drink tea. No. That will never happen.

The house door squeals when I open it. And there sits my wallet. Right where I left it - on the chair by the mirror.

“I found coffee and toilet paper in the basement in our tornado-COVID stash,” my husband calls out. “It’s past the best-before-date.”

“How far past?” I hang up all my layers.

“January 2020. Google says it might taste a bit weaker, but it shouldn’t kill us.”

“Good to know.”

How sweet is he that he knows I’m anal about expiry dates? A healthy helping of expired alfalfa sprouts did it to me forty-five years ago.

Day 5 – Google was right. We didn’t die from the expired coffee and the news promises the Arctic Vortex will pass in a few days. Ski hills are still on standby or closed.

A brisk walk outside and then more time on the elliptical. I add “The Sound of Silence” by Disturbed to my music collection. Totally stepping out of my comfort zone, but damn he does an amazing job with the song.

I pull out a puzzle from Christmas and we assemble the border. I organize the pieces into colour trays. 500 pieces. Wow. The cold snap can’t end soon enough.

Alberta Alert announces rotating power outages. We bring in firewood and find flashlights.

Relatives in Germany message to see if we are okay.

Day 6 – A repeat of Day 5 with minimal puzzle progress.

Day 7 – I wake up to a balmy minus 15. Hallelujah. There is now a snowfall warning in our forecast. I put the puzzle away for the next cold snap and pull our ski bag closer to the door.

Take that Polar Vortex.

See you next time.

 

You can contact me at: bbaker.write@gmail.com

Summer of Lies: Baker, Barbara:9780228615774: Books - Amazon.ca

What About Me?: Sequel to Summer of Lies : Baker, Barbara: Amazon.ca: Books

 

 

 

Twice Hungover. 1000 Words a Day by Vanessa C. Hawkins

 

 

 Vanessa Hawkins Author Page

    

    So tonight I am hosting a workshop called Ink and Intimacy through the Writer's Federation of New Brunswick. I'm pretty pumped. To keep everything PG however, I won't say much about it, other than it should be a fun time. Sometimes I wonder if workshops are the writing equivalent to Onlyfans. I guess they sound better on a resume than username SexyNess699. 

I do like holding workshops. I've two this week, as well as a radio interview, a book club, a writer's retreat and a reading. I'm not sure how I am still able to string together words, but I'm getting by. I've also committed to writing 1000 words a day until my next book: Twice Hung, is finished. 

 See it? Isn't it a spiffy cover? I've not talked about it much, mostly because I am still in the process of writing it, but now that its nearing completion I figure throwing a hint or two each month isn't a bad idea. 

If you haven't heard, Books We Love Publishing has been releasing their Canadian Historical Mysteries for the past several months. This is my contribution, or... it will be, once I'm finished with it. Since this is a bit out of my typical genre, it's been challenging at times, but I am really starting to enjoy it. I find a glass of wine or two really helps to lubricate my writing prowess, though I do have to be careful that I'm not 'Twice Hungover' once its completed. 

Has anyone else ever written something out of their comfort zone? If so, I'd love to hear about it.     

Valentine by J.S. Marlo

  

 

The Red Quilt 

Sweet Christmas Story

 Click here to buy

 

 

  

J. S. Marlo's BWL Books

I have lunch at my local Sr. Centre once a week to visit with my friends. This week is Valentine's Day, and ahead of that Special Day, someone shared surprising facts about that day. I don't know how accurate these facts are, but they are nonetheless interesting.

- Valentine's Day became a holiday associated with love and romance in the 1300s. Prior to that, it was celebrated by sacrificing animals and smacking women with animal hides to encourage fertility.

- First valentine was sent in 1415 by a 21-year-old medieval Duke named Charles who was imprisoned in the Tower of London. This is one of the lines of the note he sent to his wife. "I am already sick of love, My very gentle Valentine."

- Giving flowers only became a popular gesture in the late 17th century. It started with King Charles II of Sweden when he learned red roses symbolize deep love.

- Nearly 250 millions of roses are grown in preparation of Valentine's Day every year.

- In 2023, Americans spent $26 billions on Valentine's Day gifts. Candy is the most popular gift.

- Americans send 145 million Valentine's Day cards each year.

- First heart-shaped box was introduced in 1861 by Cadbury.

- February 14th is one of the most popular days for mariage proposals after Christmas and New Year.

- Apparently, Valentine's Day horror movies are a thing... though definitely not on my personal list of things to do on Valentine's Day, or any other day.

- Lovebirds are actual birds. A lovebird is a type of parrot found in the eastern and southern regions of Africa. The lovebirds typically travel in pairs. Aren't they adorable?

Hugs,

J. S.

 

 

J. S. Marlo's Website