So I was doing what I typically do in my cabin all day: surfing on the internet. Instead of looking for guided tours to Ireland or scenic pictures of waterfalls, preferably with a naked Jack Sparrow posed in them, I focused instead on improving my writing by looking for online courses that might be beneficial to me. There was one called, “The Natural History of the Romance Novel”, and it listed the eight essential elements of a romance novel as: Society Defined; The Meeting; The Barrier; The Attraction; The Declaration; The Point of Ritual Death; The Recognition; and The Betrothal.

Which I recognized most, except the Declaration and the Recognition, and it took me a while to figure out what they were. Then I realized they’re only the two most important aspects of the eight. They’re central to the novel—without them, you wouldn’t have your arc. And if you have a story without an arc, you have a book that’s completely flatlined.

Now granted, I didn’t take the class, but here are my theories on the two.

The Declaration and The Recognition are based on the inner conflict of your characters. The Declaration hinges on whatever fatal flaw your character is in possession of. The Recognition is when your character realizes this flaw—then chooses to do something about it. Failure to fix the flaw results in an non-happily-ever-after.

The Declaration is the point where the character’s Fatal Flaw becomes obvious to everyone. Except the character itself. And it’s the point of the book where we know if this characteristic doesn’t change, the character won’t grow…and he/she will not get their happily ever after. The big dummies.

Take Pride & Prejudice. Mr. Darcy makes his proposal (the worst in the history of proposals) and basically declares himself as a complete stuffed shirt prig of the highest order. It is abundantly clear to all of us, Dear Readers, that if he doesn’t get enlightened soon, he will be doomed to be a stuffed shirt prig of the highest order for the rest of his life, with no Elizabeth to buffer the slings and arrows of boring society with him. Elizabeth, meanwhile, makes her declaration that she is absolutely right in her perceptions of people; her instincts are never wrong; and he is a complete stuffed shirt prig of the highest order.

Strangely, our Fatal Flaws are usually our strengths: Elizabeth’s perception of being able to read people helps her from taking the world so seriously. She is a lot happier that way; and it’s only when Mr. Darcy finds her wanting that her usual perceptive nature is blocked by prejudice. It doesn’t matter if she finds out Mr. Darcy saves orphaned kittens, he’s clearly a jerk and she wants nothing to do with him. And yes, she’s well aware her family is far from perfect, she may even be the first to mock them—but if someone else mocks them, look out! She’s fiercely protective of Jane, who she knows doesn’t displace her emotions lightly and can be misunderstood.

Mr. Darcy’s strength: he’s a perceptive guy too, but he doesn’t perceive people with an ironic smile and a sense of the absurd like Lizzie. He too makes knee-jerk decisions about people and doesn’t second-guess if he might have misjudged. And he too is a protector: as is revealed when he protects his sister from Wickham and his friend Bingley from a lukewarm marriage.

Elizabeth and Darcy are so caught up in being right about their perceptions, there is no chance of them falling in love…not without a major catalyst that makes them re-evaluate their positions. The major catalyst would be the “Ritual Death”, by the way.

The major catalyst is followed by character rebirth: The Recognition. The point where your character realizes the problem, and their part in it. This is a two-fold recognition, because not only do you have recognize you’re doing it, you have to do something about it. The character makes a concerted effort to mend his ways. After Elizabeth bawls out Darcy for the worst proposal in the history of proposals, Darcy learns from Elizabeth just exactly the extent of how badly she thinks of him. “So this is what you think of me?”—and he leaves, rather hurt and pole-axed. He goes home, then writes her that letter that explains why he did the things he did…leaving Elizabeth to realize she knee-jerked as well.

And then Darcy goes about rectifying his mistakes, because he cares what Elizabeth thinks of him. He doesn’t send out a parade when he does these things; Elizabeth finds out Darcy’s the man behind the scenes, the man who’s singlehandedly saving her family from complete ruin…and her sister from being separated from the man she loves. [Insert *swoon* here.] When Mr. Darcy’s aunt comes to confront Eliza and make her promise not to become engaged to him, she refuses. (Granted, her rectification isn’t quite on the same scale, but it can be forgiven. Darcy had a lot more to make up for.) Then there is this magnificent meadow reunion scene…and, well, you’ve seen the movie.

Summary:

Your central conflict of your book is the inner conflict of your characters. Because all action taken by your characters, even though that action propels the plot, is based off whatever neuroses your characters are suffering. Whether they’re suffering from trust issues or daddy issues—it creates the external plot.

The inner conflict of your characters comes from the Fatal Flaw, which is usually the dark-side of the character’s strength. The Declaration is the recognition of this flaw, the realization that if this flaw is not overcome that the Happily Ever After will not come. The Recognition is the place where the character figures out the flaw herself and makes a change to overcome it. It usually involves some grovelling. And an awesome meadow scene.

Okay, so those are my theories. What do you guys think? What do you think the Declaration and the Recognition are? Where does your external conflict come from? Circumstances or neuroses? Who’s with me in thinking all books should end with an awesome meadow scene? Who just caught on that the hotties have nothing to do with this post and are only here in an effort to keep everyone awake?