❝ …It was two people who remained together, day after day, bound not by sex or physical attraction or money or children or property, but only by the shared agreement to keep going, the mutual dedication to a union that could never be codified. ❞ – Hanya Yanagihara
Hello lovelies. Let’s talk.
~ Relationships ~
Something that irks me about them- or rather how they’re represented & perceived by a lot of mainstream contemporaries & The very rigid labelled boxes these characters seem to be folded into.
How each character is puppeteered into these fine strategic lines, how preconceived the extent of a characters growth curve seems to be.
When you slide into the folds of a contemporary novel with all its synoptic promise, You want to get lost, you want to welcome the words that are weaving past you, building up its gossamer wall, sealing you in. You want to get full body immersed into the artistry of the words, feel the tingly build up of the serendipity of the story – feel it sting you from your curling toes to the squeal rising upward your throat.
You want to be romanced by the words.
The best of contemporaries I’ve read, deliver this pointblank.
The rest? I feel cheated upon by.
Breaking down the fundamentals-
You get 1 character.
This character will be the romance & all the romance.
This character is so romantic ( with comma’s of douche-canoeist burps & general emotional constipation) he- predominately it is a “he”– is romance incarnate.
Maybe it’ll be 2 he’s! Thus spreading what little space for discovery & supplementary character evolution, half as thin & slathering on twice the proportions on the protagonist Moronic-Monologue factor.
& then. The friend.
This friend will be female.
This friend will be fun & supportive, & have a very very specific time slot.
This friend, is, the ultimate filler.
Friendship just doesn’t seem to be as valued or pivotally perceived by so many authors.
No, it is all about Mr. Romance.
Why I am reading Romance novels then? Isn’t that what it should be all about?
I read this genre because I love love stories.
All kinds of love. & there are so many.
I yearn for those velvety moments, the most erotic & barest of a good romance. That inexplicit moment of being understood by another.
I don’t see anymore wholesome belly-up banter, I don’t see the lion heart loyalty & the steely trust or the camaraderie that springs from friendship in romance that dresses itself as love.
The flimsiness of these “grand romances” … It just seems like veneer to me.
Yet. Yet you claim this to be love ardently so?
I don’t feel it in my belly or in my gut or in my heart or in my head.
I want to see more fluidity & spontaneity, crafting characters which have self-purpose. I want to see these characters put through the grinder, I want to see their chunks tear off & their core scab over, I want to see uncertainty & a heart that’s not thumping solely for a plot, I want to see growth.
To witness these characters interact & stumble into each other & even stride away if consequence calls for.
I want to see real relationships-
Taste it’s fleshy complexity of flavour, feel it’s grit between my teeth.
Unhemmed at the seams, Free formed relationships.
These are the most intriguing & explicitly comfortable relationships I like to see developing in stories.
They may be friends, lovers, solely platonic or perhaps, most clearly, they have an inexplicable, undeniable bond. A bond that’s beyond immediate, preplanned labelling.
I want to see more of that.
& to see less of ease & comfortability in a relationship slashed as synonymous to “boring” & unsavoury.
I cannot comprehend the amount of times I’ve read sentences like,
Dot-Dot-Dash was fire & brimstone, But I was most comfortable with So-&-So-Poor-Schmuck.
( Cause to be labelled comfortable, pretty much means you have been doomed unto the unbreachable, insurmountable -but very well defined- “friend zone” *gasp* )
To me, To be comfortable– absolutely uninhibitedly so- you have to be trusting enough. To so effortlessly rally this fragile yet heavy wrapped bundle of trust to another? You have to be comfortable enough.
So that slipping into vulnerability feels just like that.
That breathing space it gives to your spirit & to your mind.
To be so comfortable, so trusting, so unabashed with another.
Few people will harbour & cherish & challenge this trust, with a purity of intent. & to me, these characters, these people, are the most important.
Yet these are the characters that are least developed- but fill up so many paltry pages.
They are not even given a chance, because their sole purpose of existence is to fill a requiem slot & aid the plot forth.
Dog-earring this rambling, with a few final words.
Give me more.
Give me blurred lines & bonds that are beyond.
Do your characters justice. Write so that your pages breathe & your characters surprise even yourself.
Tear out the living, writhing words from within you & give them flight-