I dropped a book off at my mother-in-law’s house this morning. We chatted for a little while, then I gave her a hug before leaving. She said, “Thanks for the hug. I know it’s how you say you love me.”
I laughed, nodding toward the book I had brought for an upcoming event. “I know it’s ironic, since I write romance, but I know I’m not good at saying the words themselves. I have to make a point of remembering to have my characters say it at least once, because I know my readers will expect it.”
We had a good laugh about that, especially when she told me, “It’s spelled L-O-V-E.” But it highlighted for me once again the importance of recognizing how different people communicate the concept even if it’s not natural for them to say it.
I know, I know. It’s important to say it anyway. For the people who don’t recognize the alternative ways. To make it absolutely clear for the people who need to hear it, to confirm what they think they know.
I laugh about needing to remember to make my characters declare it to each other – and make sure it doesn’t sound cheesy when they do. But part of the reason I forget is because I try to make a point of having them show it through their actions before they ever get around to voicing it. In one of my current WIPs, a spurious character is trying to convince the FMC that the MMC is stringing her along. The FMC weakly says, “He told me he loves me.”
The other character replies, “Words are cheap.”
For some of us, the words are very hard to actually say. But at the same time, it is much easier to say that I love someone than it is to prove that I do.
If I tell my daughter I love her, but I never have time to listen to her tell me about her day, refuse to read to her before bed, constantly criticize her, and never give her anything she wants – even if there’s nothing wrong with her request – she probably won’t feel very loved.
If I tell my husband I love him, but then I plan meals I know he hates, fail to do the little things he asks of me, and sidestep his attempts to be affectionate, he’s not going to believe me.
If I tell my son I love him, but I’m too busy to make his football games, play a game of horse on our drive, or at least try to understand when he chatters about on about lego ninjago, he’ll be able to tell himself his mother says she cares, but my words will have a hollow ring that can’t fill the empty space in his heart.
Words without action is like faith without deeds – it’s dead.
So what does that look like for my characters?
A former servant, now princess, who straightens her husband’s bookshelf and alphabetizes the books so he can easily find the right one.
A miller’s daughter who encourages a prince in his love of singing when he tries to hide it because he thinks it makes him look weak.
A prince who chooses to free the young woman he loves from his father’s whims, even if it means he might lose her.
A baron’s son who doesn’t hold back when he fights his princess because he wants to ensure she has the skill to defend herself.
A reluctant outlaw who offers a place in his camp to anyone who needs a refuge.
A princess who offers to put an arrow in a nobleman belittling her brother.
A weaponsmith who takes the time to notice the kind-hearted princess behind the arrogant mask she wears.
Love doesn’t always have to look like sweeping, dramatic gestures, a bold declaration, or being willing to end someone who looks at your girl wrong. It could be little acts of service, done over and over even when unnoticed, a simple gift full of meaning, a hug, or a listening ear. It never hurts to say the words. But the people you care about should know it through your actions as well.
If that’s the kind of love you like to see in the no-spice fantasy books you read, I hope you’ll give mine a try if you haven’t already. It’s what I write, because it’s like what I like to read, too!
Until next time,
Erin
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