What’s the Worst that Could Happen Is a Misguided Story Question
What to ask instead
I’ve made no secret of being stuck on my rom-com novel for a few months now, and I’ve been happy easing my way back into it without trying to force anything. Today, I realized a huge issue with how I was telling the story: rom-coms (and any sort of Buddy Love plot) require two protagonists. They have to learn from one another lessons they couldn’t have otherwise.
I’d been writing my rom-com with one point of view character. The love interest? Barely knew her at all. Someone wonderful in a writing group I’m in asked me what the love interest’s Lie was. And I scoffed — mostly because she was asking the right question to get me thinking about this book. I didn’t have an answer.
So I started brainstorming. I knew a bit of her backstory — that there was a serious relationship, and how it ended made her pursue one-night stands over a real relationship with someone else. Another writing friend was helping me figure out the ending and asked, “Tragic car accident trope?”
I seriously considered it. A tragic ending like that would definitely explain her penchant for not getting involved now. It’s also probably the worst thing that can happen to someone you love. But part of a romance plot is how the characters help one another overcome their lies, and I couldn’t figure out what my lead could do about a tragic accident. I know my lead’s story, and a car accident has nothing to do with it.
I’ve been reading a craft book on how to write a page-turner. I plan to share a full review soon, but one issue I’ve had with it is that it will say things like, “Don’t let your characters get a breath. What’s the worst thing that could happen to them in this moment?” without specifying that the most important part of that sentence is in this moment, not the worst thing.
Sure, I could have a tragically killed ex. But that isn’t a wound that either the main character or the love interest could grow from. Drama for the sake of drama doesn’t create a page-turner. The drama — whether in the backstory or in the day to day life — needs to be relevant to what they’re learning.
Here’s an incomplete list of better questions:
- What’s the best way to break my character of their unhelpful life patterns?
- What bad thing could I do to them that could nudge them in the right direction?
- What crutch is my character relying on that I can take away from them?
Characters start their arc with a lie they believe, a worldview they’re beginning to outgrow. Maybe it served them before, but it isn’t anymore. They have to shed it, like a snake sheds its skin. Our job is to create friction that will start to peel that outdated armor away.
So the Lie my love interest believes? The bad thing that happened in her past? Not a car accident — instead, her ex broke up with her when she was ready to be married. Now she runs from anything that edges too close to commitment.
Oh, and the main character opens the book doing exactly what the ex did to the love interest. That is what makes this the worst thing that could have happened. That is what makes it a Lie she will need to learn to outgrow.




