Based on a theme by Mike Godwin, and in my experience at least as valid: As any discussion about literature grows longer, the probability of a comment disparaging romance novels (especially Harlequin romances) approaches one. By Diana Peterfreund, and …

The Romance Law is most often invoked when body parts start to throb.

It goes something like this: a prim society girl notices electric shocks in her groin when a man she just met passes her at a crowded gallery opening. Two pages later, Ms. Future Junior Leaguer (who’s never been tainted by so much as a french kiss) is doin’ the nasty with the guy in the elevator.

Because she just can’t help herself.

Because he’s her soulmate, y’know.

And when I say, “Ick,” they say, “Yeah, I know, but this is the kind of thing that is REQUIRED in the genre I write.”

“Erotica?”

“No, romance.”

Really, I’d rather read about sea cows.

End of discussion.

I’m not familiar with that law, or at least, not as belonging strictly to writers of romance. I think any writer is capable of concocting wild defenses for things they don’t want to change for any variety of reasons.

What makes a romance to me is a story about two people falling in love. So I think that yeah, you have to do THAT or it’s not a romance. But if the story doesn’t do that and it’s intended to be a romance, there’s probably a bigger problem than a clunky plot or a weird characterization.

If one of my critique partners used that claptrap on me, regardless of genre, I’d probably recuse myself from further critiquing of their work. If they say, “No I like it and think it works fine,” well, that’s where author veto power comes in (and we’ve all used our rubber stamp at some time or another) but it’s a different argument.

So yeah, I’m totally for negating genre as a get out of jail free card.

At the same time, there should be a recognition of the standards of genre. So, for example, if the story is about two marine biologists falling in love while rereleasing a wounded manatee into the wild and the reader is like, hey, lets follow this manatee and maybe the evil boater who wounded him and wouldn’t that make a much cuter story? Then the writer can say, well, I’m focusing on the biologists because it’s a romance — but then the discussion should turn to how to make the love story more interesting so that the reader doesn’t WISH the whole story was about a giant sea cow instead.

“I don’t see it happening until there’s a whole lot less emotion and a whole lot more honest discussion about what works and what doesn’t.”

I write stories that have a romantic element to them. A lot of my writer friends do too. We seem to fall into two groups, those who call themselves Romance Writers and those who don’t. I’m all for reading (and writing) whatever one enjoys but if we’re talking about laws … What about the Romance Law?

Here’s how it works:
A Romance Writer will pen a short story or novel. She’ll ask for feedback and beg for brutal honesty. Yet when a non-Romance Writer uncovers a clunk in the plot or a disparity in characterization, the Romance Writer will claim:

I HAD TO DO THAT OR IT’S NOT A ROMANCE.

End of discussion.

You get rid of THAT law and I’ll support your Harlequin meme buster.

In 99 of 100 cases, the answer is “No”. The remaining one person read some ancient Harlequin romances at his grandma’s house some twenty years ago.

How are we supposed to identify the good ones if they DON’T put FABIO on the cover?

True ’nuff. A few months ago, I’d worked myself into a froth over something or other online and I shut my laptop in a huff and was all, “Ugh, the people on the internet!” And my fiance cracked up laughing and now we have a People on the Internet Law in our house.

Blood pressure’s gone waaaaaay down.

My hope would be that doing the same sort of thing with romance novels would work the same way, and save us some chest-beating.