“Falling in love with love is falling for make believe,” the old Rodgers and Hart song goes. It’s true in romance; falling for the idea of love rather than a person has broken many a heart. It’s also true in writing when the writer falls in love with a word, a character, or just a concept.

Of the millions of people who think that they may someday write a book, very few will ever begin, and fewer still will succeed. There are many reasons why this is so, but today I want to look at just one: the way that falling in love with your story can hinder your progress.

The Concept

Some would-be writers dally with the a germ of an idea. They can hold on to it for years, keeping it safe and warm in their hearts, never letting it breathe in the sometimes hostile air. Over time it becomes more like a fantasy than a story idea, but don’t you dare tell them that, or there will be hell to pay.

The problem with becoming deeply enamoured with an idea is that you don’t want anything to touch it lest it becomes tainted. If this image were to become part of a novel, it might lose its power. Worse, the very act of creating a logical structure around the idea might reveal how untenable it actually is.

You see this sometimes in two-part TV episodes. Part one ends with a cliff-hanger, but the writers don’t know how to fix it, so they wimp out. Remember Sherlock jumping off the roof of St Bart’s Hospital? Accomplished writers Moffat and Gatiss couldn’t figure out how it was done, so they offered a bunch of increasingly silly ideas, and moved on, hoping no one would notice.

Some people will start to write a story based on their magical concept, but they quickly become stuck. I’ve had many writers (actual, or would-be) ask me for advice, and I make suggestions as to how they might proceed, but in many cases, they don’t want to know. They’ll listen, they’ll nod, and they say that they’ll think about it, but when you ask them in a few months how they’re getting along, they will change the subject. In some way, I’ve tainted the romance by treating it as a mere story idea. Or worse, showing them that the concept as they have imagined it isn’t viable.

Sadly, this is not only the way that love can savage a story.

Prince Charming is not a Character

Falling in love with your characters can be a problem too. After all, you’re supposed to put them through their paces, even kill them off if the story requires it. Hard to do if they are based upon the love of your life — unless you have some strange relationships with real people. And, honestly, it isn’t much better if they are purely a figment of your imagination. It may be worse because these characters are idealised. That means you cannot bear to see them as fully human. Think Prince Charming: it’s his job to rescue Cinderella (or Snow White, or whoever), be handsome, charming, and brave. He never catches a cold. He doesn’t hog the blankets. And he would never, ever lie. As if!

Prince Charming might work in fairy tales, or as a trope, but readers expect more from their fictional characters.

The Perfect Syntax

Let’s say you have an idea and you start writing it. It’s going well. OK, not perfect, but you’re pleased so far. Then you write a sentence that is a joy to behold. Seriously. It makes your mouth water to think that you, yes, you! have crafted such a perfect line. Wow. But, wait, there’s a problem. Perhaps the sentence doesn’t really accomplish anything in the story. Or it doesn’t really lead anywhere. Still, it’s so perfect, why would you cut it?

You may end up with a book full of wonderful sentences that fail to tell a story. Some people may even celebrate your prose, but eloquence isn’t the reason most of us read. We want a story, Mummy!

Another way a perfect sentence can destroy your work is you are determined you will not write another line until you can match it. This, friend, is called making a rod for your own back. One great sentence does not a bestseller make. Nor does a plotless book full of great, but meaningless, sentences. I hate to break it to you, but even classics are full of bad sentences and droning paragraphs. Have you read Henry James? Great stories, but oh my, the man could go on!

The story comes first. Always.

Tough Love

Any decent parent knows the importance of tough love. You give a child, be he ever so adored, everything he wants, and you end up with a spoiled child. Just ask Willy Wonka. In the same way, you will spoil your writing if you don’t take a firm hand with it. That sounded a little perverse. Oops. Moving on…

So my advice to you, my friends, is this: You can be as fond of your writing as an ancient relative is of romance novels, you can be proud of your accomplishments. Indeed, you should be — crafting a story is praiseworthy! But save the love for you paramour and your family, and never be afraid to kill your darlings.

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