On Love in Fiction

I realize that most popular works of fiction these days are imbued with romantic themes to accompany whatever story the author chooses to tell. And rightfully so! Love (or the desire for it, at any rate) is a relatively universal quality. Following a heartless character is difficult, but following one during his or her reckless pursuit of another human being? We can often relate to that. And in doing so, we come to care for these characters even more. Under the proper circumstances.

One could argue that any great story worth telling involves some elements of love. If this is indeed the case, why not implement a love arc in every story written? As an author, would it not help place your story that much closer to being one of the greats? Would it not instantly gain that much more of an audience and thus produce more sales? Probably. So then why is love, a crucial hook and determining factor for a novel's success, something I downplay in my own writing? The answer, much like love itself, is simple . . . and it is not.

I have thought long and hard on love in fiction, its uses, advantages and drawbacks. One of my best friends, perhaps the most die-hard fan of love and hopeless romantic to a fault, often laments my methods. While I can understand his disappointment by taking a look at my own life, I also have to consider a broader perspective of the world itself. There are many great stories to tell right here, in present day, on our own planet--none of which involve romance. Heroic deeds are committed daily by perfectly average people for reasons other than love, reasons like altruism, stupidity, misguided pride, or simply because it is their job. When we read about these heroes in the paper or see them interviewed on the evening news, rarely will he or she say, "I went through this incredibly courageous act in the name of love!" It just does not happen, and that probably plays a part in why fiction is ridden with romantic heroes.

Taking a slightly less realistic perspective, consider all the fictitious heroes who are driven by love. Perhaps more often than it grants determination or motivation, love in many ways hinders their abilities. Desire for their object of affection serves as a distraction, spawns faulty and reckless logic, and gives the antagonist an obscene amount of emotional leverage. These sorts of elements pave the way to overly generic conflicts. And conclusions. Plots and endings become predictable to the point that our capacity to care about the hero's fate becomes stifled because we have already guessed it! Simply put, in my opinion, a character so intensely driven by love in any genre other than romance is a character equipped with more weaknesses than strengths.

This is not to say that I admonish love in literature completely, for it is nevertheless a vital part of our humanity. Failing to incorporate it at all would be akin to committing an ultimate literary blasphemy and do most works a grave injustice! I embrace love and the humanity it bestows upon fictitious characters, but I choose to remain subtle in doing so:

• Xearo's love for Aeria is strong enough to redeem his soul from eternal darkness and grant humanity a final chance to right itself, yet he never breathes a word of it to her. He pushes his emotions aside, for love takes a back seat to defending his homeworld, allowing himself to focus without distraction.
• Yamini comes to care a great deal for Henrik, the one guildmate who shows her compassion, but in being so young and inexperienced she constantly dismisses her feelings. Her love for a mere boy is easily overshadowed by her dedication to her work and her cause, and its positive aura is negated by a lifetime of dissonance.
• Jadera slowly falls for Tristan, her benefactor and Soulcrafter. But due to circumstances, the two must work together to dethrone the master of dreams before plans of a worldwide spiritual domination can take hold. By the time their mutual affections become realized, irreparable tragedy has already befallen the star-crossed couple.

These are three of my biggest characters, and in all cases life wins out over love. One might say that I take an unfortunate, cynical and subdued approach to love in fiction. But in that regard, have I not also taken a small step toward realism? My characters feel as we feel, and are thus similarly denied or else forced to relegate their feelings to a degree of lesser importance in order to tackle whatever adversity their respective universes throw at them. We often find ourselves at a crossroads of sorts where we must decide between emotional pursuits and dire circumstances; why should they get off easy?

As authors, we govern the choices of our characters in order to tell a story. And share a piece of ourselves. Many authors take a very whimsical approach to romance, commonly making it both the conflict and the resolution in a "love conquers all" motif. My hardly revolutionary philosophy is to show that love, while an interesting dynamic between characters, does not always cut it, and that when the consequences of life push hard enough, it must sometimes be disregarded altogether for the greater good. Fate chooses who is worthy, and she chooses who is not. Like a delicate flower, love is not meant to bloom eternal in all places. Or within all people, for that matter.

My characters and myself . . . we are no exception.

Character Sketch: Azsherade Altairus

After adopting her at the age of ten, Azsherade trains Yamini in the arts of reading and writing so that she may become a righteous scribe and guide Rhevise into revolution. But just after her first year of apprenticeship, Councilman Shahid declares any and all handwritten communication to be a direct act of treason against the Rhevisean Empire. Scribes across the territories are ordered to cease and desist their practices. With his profession destroyed and his own daughter presumed dead, Azsherade shifts his focus to political affairs.

Using his knowledge of the territories to his advantage, Azsherade's reputation spreads quickly as he ascends the political ladder. After three years he achieves the rank of Alderman and gains significant influence within Rhevise. Though his public statements and decrees appear fair (almost too fair) for the majority of the population, his true motives remain unknown. While largely operating behind the scenes in recent months, leaving his associates to do most of his public work, several of Azsherade's decisions are questioned by the Council. Some believe that the former scribe went mad with the loss of his daughter, and now intends to assume control of the territory by circumventing or eliminating the Council altogether in order to employ his own philosophies of order.

When his name finally appears on the ballot for councilman, Azsherade earns more attention than he bargained for. Fearing what he could do with such power, the Aikon Brothers commission an infamous rogue, Soliessen, to assassinate the former scribe. Sensing that some would be out to claim his life, Azsherade holes himself up in his estate, biding time until the election. The ploy might have worked, if not for Soliessen's unsuspecting protege...