Romance
Flirtation gets interesting when it stops being just wit and starts doing a bit of emotional shielding.
A couple can banter their way through half a book and still not be hiding the same thing. Sometimes the sharpness is chemistry. Sometimes it is armour. The trick is knowing when the line between the two gets crossed, because the same dialogue that makes them fun to read can also keep them safely out of reach.
That’s where romance gets properly good, I think. When the banter is still entertaining, but you can hear what it’s protecting.
A couple can banter their way through half a book and still not be hiding the same thing. Sometimes the sharpness is chemistry. Sometimes it is armour. The trick is knowing when the line between the two gets crossed, because the same dialogue that makes them fun to read can also keep them safely out of reach.
That’s where romance gets properly good, I think. When the banter is still entertaining, but you can hear what it’s protecting.
Sometimes the sharper dialogue is doing the opposite of shielding. It’s a test. People prod each other to see what gives, then call it chemistry when nobody flinches. Much more interesting when one of them is being funny because they’ve got nothing else left to say, and the other one notices.
Sometimes the problem is that the banter is doing a third job as well: keeping the reader entertained while the author avoids having to write an actual risk. Two people can trade neat lines for pages and still feel oddly static.
I’m more interested when one of them slips. Not a grand confession, just a crack in the routine. That usually tells you more than the polished sparring ever will.
I’m more interested when one of them slips. Not a grand confession, just a crack in the routine. That usually tells you more than the polished sparring ever will.