The Secret to Writing Great Chemistry

How To Create Sizzling Characters Using One Writing Trick

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I write YA. Typically paranormal/supernatural with a cross-genre twist of sci-fantasy. Ok, yeah, I write ‘mash-up.’ And I always sprinkle a little romance in there as well. I mean, who doesn’t enjoy a good heart-flutter now and then? What I love most about seasoning my writing with (and reading) a good, slow-burning tease is just that. I enjoy the tease. The come-hither without the raunch.

I could write raunch, don’t get me wrong, but we all know that once the characters ‘get there’ (have that first kiss, or say the L word, or have a rowdy shag, if you will) the tension we’ve been building all this time is instantly done. Whoomp! There it is. So, the trick is to keep the angst and desire building until the climax. And to build it organically. (I said, organically not orgasmically. C’mon, get your head outa there…sheesh).

To keep up the sizzle you may have to rid yourself of any biases against using romantic tropes as a writer. For real. You know what I mean about romantic tropes — the infamous love-triangle; or the good ol’ (albeit often overused) Shakespearian forbidden love; or my personal favorite, the enemy-turned-lover. Don’t be afraid to use tropes, just use them well. Use them with a twist. Keep the reader guessing. Or use two tropes cleverly melded into one.

Okay, so now we’ve chosen our trope, but how do we create a chemical romance and keep it burning? By building the tension s-l-o-w-l-y. It feels unrealistic to have two characters steal away into the night to do God-knows-what when, in the previous chapter, they’ve just met and two seconds later, doled out sultry looks to each other. Having them leap at each other too quickly will only lead to reader let-down. It’s a limp biscuit, peeps!

Try this simple trick to ignite a spark between your characters.

The Secret of Using Subtext

I recently had a conversation with a writer friend about using subtext in dialogue (he’s a screenwriter, so our views vary). I’m a people-watcher/eavesdropper by nature, so I’ve picked up on the variety of nuances that we all use in every day speech. When I suggested to my screenwriter friend that he use subtext in his dialogue to couch a deeper meaning than what his characters were saying, he thought I was nuts! Mike uses dialogue in his screenplays to ‘get there.’ He refuses to use any “fluff” (his word), and will use only the necessary dialogue to further the story along.

I don’t disagree.

However. People IRL never say what they actually mean (with few exceptions. Me, being one. I don’t sugar coat or beat around the bush), but their body language will often betray them. That’s called subtext. Use a combination of hidden-dialogue/revealed-body-language to fan a flame in your novel and keep your readers turning pages.

Need an example of regular subtext in an every day situation? Imagine you’re pissed off about something, but don’t want to talk about it. Then in strolls your significant other and — after watching you slam your coffee mug on the counter — asks, “is everything ok? You seem upset about something.” You narrow your eyes, shoot him a scathing look, and reply (with plenty of ice), “I’m fine!” That’s subtext.

Now, what if we used subtext to create some sizzle between two characters? Don’t let them say what they mean. Let their thoughts convey to the reader what they mean, and let their body language give some subtle hints. But keep the truth out of their dialogue.

Here’s an example from my recent YA paranormal thriller, The Genesis (Coalition #3).

(To set up the scene: Shai is the guardian of light, and Samael, a shape-shifter, is the lord of death and darkness. She captured him and put him behind bars, but has stolen away in the middle of the night to see him. Drawn by an inexplicable connection to him that goes deeper than just physical attraction. Classic enemy-turned-lover trope)

Samael stood with his hands wrapped around the bars of his cell, his lean body pressed against the iron as he peered into the half-light. This time he wore Lael’s shapeless gray trousers and tunic, but his feet were clad in the Complex’s white, soft-soled shoes. His blood-encrusted face looked freshly washed. His eyes clear. Someone had already been here. Had given him these clothes. Tended to his needs.

She pushed the tray through an opening in the cell door. Samael watched with wary eyes as she shoved the meal toward him. His fingers twitched as though his body was taut with tension, like a wolf stalking its prey, waiting for the right moment to spring.

Shadows eddied around him and created a tenebrous cloak. They spiralled down his arm to surge around his wrist as he reached for the meal. She hadn’t seen him like this before. It was as though the very darkness rushed to protect him.

His hand grazed hers. The shadows moved from him to pulse at her fingertips, cool and black. She reeled back, the tiny hairs on every knuckle standing at attention as though a current had gone through her. Samael carried the bowl to a spot against the wall, where he crouched and ate, every lithe movement of his body a dichotomy to his watchful eyes.

“Do you like my ring? I saw you looking at it.” He pushed the tray away and licked each finger — slowly — from knuckle to tip with his eyes fastened on her. The dark mist twisted around him in an ethereal dance. Why should she answer when it wasn’t really a question? More of a pointed statement meant to get a reaction from her.

I don’t care about your ring. I want to know if you had anything to do with that boy’s death. Or that ghost in the kitchen.

“What you saw wasn’t a ghost,” he said. “Not really.”

She startled. Had he just read her thoughts? Every nerve rang, alive with tension as she looked at him.

“She’s simply a remnant of your guilt,” he said. “But let’s not talk about your guilt. A secret is a secret.”

Her throat became a grave and swallowed her voice, but she refused to take her eyes from his.

“I felt you the moment you saw the girl. I felt your confusion. Your fear.”

The hairs on the back of her neck rose. That wasn’t true. He couldn’t feel her. He was toying with her. She was a guardian. A member of the Coalition. He was…something else.

“Right. Why should I believe you? You can’t even be honest about who you are. You change faces as often as I change my socks.” She gripped the bars.

Samael smiled at her, and she sucked in an involuntary breath.

“You’re afraid,” Samael said as he leaned against the wall and stretched his legs out, “of our connection.”

Shai shook her head. They didn’t have a connection. How could they?

“Even now you feel it. But you’re fighting it.”

“I feel nothing.” She gritted her teeth.

Samael turned his face to the light, revealing his neck. The shadows slinked down his skin and disappeared into his collar. “Can you see it? The Darkness?”

Yes. “No. I don’t see anything.”

Excerpt From: Aria J. Wolfe. “The Genesis (The Coalition, #3)

Shai is wrestling with feelings for someone she should hate and she doesn’t want him to know it, so she uses subtext to try and throw him off. She doesn’t say what she means, but her body language and even her thoughts betray her. All of which will eventually get her into trouble.

For the reader, it amps up a juicy kind of tension that promises, at some point, it will pay off.

Try using subtext in your writing to create sizzle that will last until the scene when you finally crank that spark into a full flame. I double-dog-dare you.