TO TAME A HERO

It was a grey, drizzly January afternoon and Susan Carlton Vance was late for her writing circle meeting. Today the group members were having a luncheon at the Royal Savoy. Was it going to rain? Susan wondered, pulling her faux mink coat about her as she walked hastily down the pavement. She looked for a taxi but did not find any and she signed as her nerves started to kick in. Today her work was up for critiquing. Her writing circle met once a month and it had a formal structure whereby the writer whose work has been critiqued sits and listens as the other writers discuss it. About a week ago, an editor from Dreame reached out to her with an invitation to enter one of their writing contests. But before Susan submitted her romance novel to Dreame, she consulted her writing circle to have her work critiqued.  She had found the feedback on her romance novels an important step in the writing process. It helped her improve her writing. The sky turned a darker shade of grey as the clouds gathered in battle formation whilst the winds began to murmur viciously. "Oh, no," Susan moaned as she quickened her pace. She had to find a place to shelter from the rain. She looked up as the first diamond drops of rain fell upon her face. Susan started running while clutching onto her purse and pulling her mink coat more tightly about her. The pavement soon became covered with sheets of rain. Finally, Susan signed with relief when she saw a shade at the entrance of a large building. And she started laughing when she was safely under it and away from the beads of raindrops drumming down from the sky. With her white gloved fingers, she dabbed raindrops off her face. Then she saw a gentleman had joined her. He was also seeking shelter from the rain. Susan glanced at him with a welcoming smile, while noting his calm handsome face and broad shoulders. His tall frame was clad in a black topcoat over a grey suit, black dress shoes, dark brown leather gloves and a grey and blue woolen scarf around his neck.  Susan and the stranger stood in silence, watching people run for cover as the clouds continued to spat out beads of water. "Do you like the rain? I do. Susan laughed. The stranger remained silent. "I find the rain very romantic, and I like how the grass sparkles after it rains." Then the rainfall became more intense, hitting the roofs of buildings and tapping against window panes. "In romantic dramas the lovers always get caught up in the rain. I think I might put a scene like this in my romance novel." The stranger suddenly walked away without any reply, leaving a stunned Susan stirring after him. With that fiasco behind her and the rains finally over, Susan was happy to be finally seated at the hotel restaurant with members of her writing circle. The customary Chardonnay was ordered.  And as the light yellow liquid was poured into the wine glasses by a waiter, Susan watched as the other writers took out a leather bound journal or tablet, where they had their critique notes drafted. Her romance novel was about to be discussed, she would have to sit and listen. "How did you begin this story?" Rosalind Edwards started the discussion. Rosalind worked as an editor at the International Latin America Institute, where she edited anthropological journals. She was unceremoniously dumped by her publishers after publishing three successful books. Currently, she was on the hunt for a new publisher while dating a university professor and at the same time secretly entertaining the affections of his gorgeous younger nephew. "I started with the characters and then I came up with the story idea and finally I drafted out the plotline for the story." Susan could not help feeling discouraged. "I did not like your hero, he is a little…. bland to put it mildly."  Fabrice Montand added. "The story idea is brilliant but your characters are poorly done." Susan felt her stomach pinch painfully. "I did not enjoy the tone of the novel and your way of storytelling. It felt a bit rushed and quite chaotic at times." Susan groaned inwardly. Fabrice Montand mostly wrote essays and short stories that were published in magazines and newspapers. He was also a social climber and, though he was a brilliant writer, his aspirations were hampered by his lack of self-discipline. Fabrice never openly admitted his sexuality; his close friends suspected his relationship with a decorated Olympic swimmer. "I must say that I found the plot of the story very interesting," Rosalind went on, "it just needs a little rewriting." "So what are you suggesting that she does?" Fabrice asked while looking at Rosalind. "Like I said, she needs to rewrite the entire story again." "That I agree with you." Fabrice nodded. "I would advise you to read romance novels by your favourite authors and note carefully how they present the hero." Brigitte Landis spoke for the first time. "You need to find a model for inspiration on which to base the hero of your story on and so that he can drive the plotline." Brigitte mainly wrote e*****a but she had recently been trying her hand at writing a screenplay. "As I read your story I felt that there was too much backstory in the first chapter. What you need to do is let the characters come together for something to happen and then let the backstory evolve as the chapters unfold." Now Brigitte turned to Pip Good, who was yet to say a word. "What do you think?" "Characters," Pip said as he looked directly at Susan. "Your story has too many characters. It is a romance, right?" "Yes." Susan nodded. "So there shouldn't be room for a lot of characters. They are basically there to provide colour for the main characters." "So that means some of the characters need to be cut out." "Exactly," Pip pressed. "If it does not play a major part of the story, give it a chop. Don't be too precious about your words." "I agree with all that has been said and I have decided to rewrite the story again," Susan mused aloud. "Good, rewrite it two or three times if necessary. And always trust your instincts. If you are bored writing it then the reader will be bored reading it." Rosalind insisted. Brigitte picked up her menu and said, "My final advice is that if you want to become a writer then you will have to treat it like a job. The more you refine your writing skills, the more exciting the story becomes."