I deserve the time it takes to write a novel. I take this time for me. The time I take away from others, from other actions, and from the outside world I use well.
Today I write:
Every story is made up of subplots that are thematically tied to the primary plot about whether the protagonist will achieve his goal… or not. One major subplot in stories is often a romance plot. Depending on what type of story you are writing, this romance plot can be themed around friendship, a partnership, or love. Determine the romantic subplot in your story.
In BMCR: Boot Camp, Daryl is my main protagonist. He is a young man, and as he is flung into this scenario of serving his government, he is attracted to another monster, by the name of Olivia. She is the loch ness monster. The attraction is not mutual, but by the end of the novel she changes her mind about him.
Two characters meet who represent the romantic plot. Write a front story scene between the two that is uncluttered with back story information about either one of them. Make every word choice emphasize only the information the reader needs to make sense of the protagonist as he interacts with the other character while striving toward his goal. Push to the background all nonessential information.
Keep the reader ever alert as to why the characters are taking action and how that action advances each toward his or her own competing goals.
No matter how at odds the two characters may be or whatever the lack of sexual tension between them when first introduced, show the romantic subplot’s capacity for creating longing and love in the protagonist.
It is still early in the story and your reader is still determining who is important to the story and whose story this is. Provide clues to support the reader in his or her determination.
‘This isn’t a vacation, Daryl,’ said Kinder as they walked over to the table. ‘You’re both here to serve, against your will I might add. Just because things went South with Samantha doesn’t mean you need to be looking for a girlfriend. You should be looking for a way to escape.’
‘Kinder, you said there was no escaping, and I couldn’t agree more. We’re on an island facility. I’m just trying to make the best out of this situation.’
Daryl sat his tray down at the remaining empty spot at the so-called monster table. To his left sat a surly, young man with brown hair and dark eyes, which were cast into his tray. His jaw ground the corn in his cheek, until he swallowed.
To his right was a pale, young lady with short, pale hair. She stared at him wanly, her eyes inconspicuous as she lifted her fork to her mouth. She bit into her chicken with the voracity of a lion that just tackled and killed an antelope.
And in front of him, probably the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, with blue hair tied back in a bun and sea foam eyes that he imagined Aphrodite herself possessed. She looked at him indifferently, however, with the slightest hint of contempt as she bit into her apple. He ignored it as he sat down.
“Hi everyone!” Daryl said. “It’s a pleasure to meet you all. I kind of thought I was the only one–I mean, I didn’t think there were other monsters like me around.”
“How many have you killed?” the blue-haired girl asked.
Daryl lost his train of thought as he pondered her question. The man to his left looked to Daryl’s face and back to his tray. The other girl sat quietly and eerily still, almost as if she stopped breathing.
“Killed?” said Daryl. “I’m a hero, I haven’t killed anyone.” He laughed. The others were silent.
“You’re a monster like us, but you haven’t killed anyone?” she said. “I mean, I thought you looked pathetic, but seriously?”
Daryl’s face faltered.
The other girl chimed in. “I’ve killed 17. Several were highly trained assassins.”
She smiled, and looked at Daryl daring him to top that.
“Killing people isn’t something to brag about,” said the young man. “I’m Henry Gaines. I was captured, drugged, and brought here against my will. And now I’m going to be trained to fight other monsters… What a circus.”
“I was brought here against my will too,” said the blue-haired girl, smiling at him. “My name is Olivia Poseidon. Can I call you Henry?”
“Gaines, please.” He placed his elbows on the table and folded his hands into his face, so they could barely hear. “Regrettably, I’ve killed 3.”
Daryl tried to stifle a gulp, but couldn’t. It was obvious he was a different sort of monster compared to his peers. But surely, this Olivia wasn’t a mass murderer.”
She looked up, as if hearing his thoughts. “I’ve slaughtered a village.”
“Wow…” said Daryl. “That’s, um, pretty intense. Can I ask why?”
“You can ask,” she said, coyly, “But I won’t tell you.”