happy?

Here’s my problem with writing romance. The book I’m currently working on I wrote to find out if I could write a romance. I don’t know if I’ve succeeded in writing a “good” romance or not, but as I rewrite and edit, I find I’m increasingly disturbed by the idea of the happy ending.

I read romances myself. I’m pretty picky about the authors I like, but when I do find a romance author I like, I read everything they’ve written. When I like the author I enjoy the genre, and part of the reason I enjoy the genre is because I know a happy ending is waiting for me when I finish a romance. A happy ending is not necessarily an easy thing to do well; to be satisfying, a happy ending has to seem possible and realistic, or at least make sense in terms of how the book is laid out.

But with my own writing, I’m having trouble with the idea of the happy ending. Maybe it’s my own life. A lot of happy endings in romance, if you think about it, involve not just a happy couple, but a couple becoming part of a certain social setup: people who get married, have kids, and live a middle class life. (Unless you’re reading in the billionaire romance subgenre, of course. Then it’s all about finding that oligarch with a heart of gold.)  I grew up as a middle class kid. My own parents’ happy ending (marriage, with child) ended in divorce. But beyond that: I’m not married, and I’ve always been mostly averse to the idea. I could speculate about the reasons why I’m not married, and I could also think of all the mean things a person judging me from the outside might say about why I’m not married. But by and large I’m happy the way I am. (If you don’t believe me, that’s fine; I can’t convince you so I won’t try.)

As a non-married person, it seems the people I meet and make friends with are also people who are not traditionally coupled. Single moms, or women who married late and aren’t going to have kids, or odd ducks like me. When I think about writing a romance, I’m asking myself: why is this happy couple thing the only working definition of a happy ending? What about me? What about my life? What about the lives of my friends who aren’t socially defined as part of a “happy couple?”

I have always dreaded the idea of being a “literary” writer, as if “literary” is somehow a loftier endeavor than writing genre fiction (in any genre.) Yet it seems the freedom of heading in a more literary direction (or at least not heading in the direction of romance) is that you aren’t tied to a happy ending. Because I’m finding it stifling, having to make a “happy couple” the ultimate aim of the end of a book. Then again, I want this couple I’m writing about to be happy. Then again, I don’t know if I believe in happiness based on a relationship. I believe there are benefits to being in a relationship, and that those things can bring people in the relationship happiness. But there are other things that bring happiness, too, and those things may or may not be things one finds in a relationship.

I am also troubled by the “happy ending” requirement because I feel it continues to insist–in a sweet, quiet way–that a woman’s ultimate purpose in life is to get married and have children. A lot of women do that, and it’s certainly a natural thing to want and to do. But what if you’re a woman who doesn’t want that? Or what if you’re a woman who does want that, but for one reason or another, never gets that? Somehow, the idea of the “happy ending” seems to exclude any woman who either doesn’t want a more conventional relationship, or who wants one, but can’t find one.

The “happy ending” makes me feel like I shouldn’t be happy with my life as it is. The “happy ending” makes me feel as if it somehow excludes my friends who are single moms, as if their lives won’t be worthwhile or complete until they find the “right man” and can officially declare themselves happy.

I do like writing about the initial attraction between people. It’s fun. Writing about sex is something else. There are a lot of opinions out there regarding how people ought to write about sex. I think they’re all bullshit. Writing about sex, like sex itself, is not a one-size-fits-all endeavor. I gave the first complete rough draft of my book to a number of different readers. For the parts that involved sex, I got reactions ranging from not liking it much to “this is steamy!” I know I like a variety of ways other authors write sex scenes, and I definitely know when I don’t like an author’s approach to sex writing. It’s a subjective thing. And huge case in point: I read the Fifty Shades books and cringed through every sex scene. But E.L. James had a ton of success with that series. So, obviously, a lot of people liked the way James wrote about sex in the books.

I think what I’m discovering is the initial hook that gets me excited to write about a couple opens up a world of discovery that asks to not be constrained by a particular type of ending. I love the hook and I love the discovery. I love exploring what draws people together and what pushes them apart. I don’t love feeling obligated to create a happy couple. I don’t really believe in happy couples. I believe there are people who know how to keep a partnered relationship together and to stay happy within it. But the whole idea of a happy couple in a complex world where people themselves are just as complex is perhaps not something I can do.

So I’m not sure where that leaves my book. I guess I’ll find out.