How to Write a Love Story

by Katy Cannon

  So, planning. I figured if I knew my characters better, they’d be easier to write. I’d start with working out what needed to happen to them over the course of the story. If the Meet Cute was the start of the romance, I figured there must be steps that came next. Just like Mum always talked about the stages of falling in love – attraction, infatuation and all that.

  Of course, the first question was: what were the fictional steps to falling in love?

  Opening the notebook Gran gave me on my lap under the desk, and completely ignoring a discussion on the importance of money in Pride and Prejudice, I started a list.

  1. The Meet Cute

  2.

  What happened next? I thought back over the many, many romances I’d read. They all had one thing in common, as far as I could see: something happened to make the hero and heroine have to spend time together. So…

  2. Forced proximity

  3.

  “Miss Frost?” Mr Evans said, for what was quite obviously not the first time.

  “Yes, sir?”

  “Perhaps now you’ve decided to mentally join us for the lesson, you’d like to read the section of the book I’ve highlighted for discussion?”

  “Absolutely,” I said, smiling brightly to hide the fact I had no idea what section he meant.

  Beside me, Drew rolled his eyes, and handed me his copy of Pride and Prejudice. I knew from earlier classes that he disliked the book (he thought it was too insular, never showing any of the lives of the servants or other characters, which was true, I supposed, but kind of missing the point of Austen. And it did have a happy ending) but you wouldn’t have known it from the number of notes he’d scribbled in the margins of the pages.

  “Top of the page, Frost,” he murmured to me, pointing to the line in question as I took the book from him.

  “Thanks,” I mumbled back. Scanning over the page to get an idea of where we were in the story, I started to read at the beginning of Chapter Thirty-Four.

  We were halfway through the book now, so the section I’d been asked to read was (spoilers!) Darcy telling Elizabeth he loves her – in the worst way possible. I tried to put all the character and warmth I could find in the text into my reading – especially as I reached my most favourite line.

  “‘After a silence of several minutes he came towards her in an agitated manner, and thus began.’” I dropped my voice to speak Darcy’s lines. “‘In vain have I struggled. It will not do. My feelings will not be repressed…’”

  Suddenly the classroom door opened and all thoughts of Jane Austen flew from my mind.

  Everyone in the class looked up, obviously eager for any distraction from the lesson. I could tell that I wasn’t the only one affected by the sight of our newcomer. Maisey Swain behind me actually squealed, as if some film star had walked into the room.

  To be fair to Maisey (who was always a bit overexcitable, ever since we were little) the guy who stood in the doorway did look like he belonged up there on the silver screen, rather than down here in the classroom with us. His dark blond hair was slicked back from his face – perfectly proportioned, of course – and his eyes were blue and bright. His clothes seemed to be made to measure for him, hanging on his flawless frame as if they were just grateful to be there. Our school uniform suits basically nobody – that’s sort of the point of it. But on him, the school blazer looked designer, like someone had loaned him the outfit for the catwalk.

  This, then, was the new boy. Now I got a proper look at him, I could understand why everyone had been talking about him.

  “Don’t stop because of me,” he said, his voice warm and low. His gaze was fixed on mine and I knew, however much Maisey squealed, he was only talking to me. “It’s been a while, but I think it goes, ‘You must allow me to tell you how ardently I admire and love you.’” My mouth went dry as he spoke, as if he were saying the words to me, Tilly Frost, instead of acting the part of Darcy to Elizabeth. But even though he wasn’t, my heart still raced. That good-looking and he could quote Jane Austen?

  “Bravo.” Mr Evans gave the newcomer a small clap (which was more than I had got for my reading). “Mr Gates, I presume? So glad you could finally join us.”

  “Apologies, I had more paperwork to fill in at the school office.” He smiled warmly. “Apparently moving schools is kind of a big deal.”

  “Of course.” Mr Evans turned back to the rest of us, as we all sat staring. Even people I knew must have already met him seemed captivated. Was it just his looks, I wondered? Or something to do with him being some sort of TV star?

  “Class, this is Zach Gates, a new student who has started at St Stephen’s this week – conveniently just in time for the half-term holiday. I’m sure everyone will be very welcoming. Zach, I see you are familiar with Pride and Prejudice?”

  “Isn’t everyone?” he said, with a smile that made my skin feel warm.

  I gazed at him. I knew what it was that piqued my interest, anyway – and it had nothing to do with TV.

  Zach Gates didn’t look – or act – like the rest of the boys here at St Stephen’s. And that made him very interesting indeed. Even his name – Zach – sounded like the perfect romance hero’s name.

  Beside me, Drew was glowering – but whether that was because someone else had disagreed with his feelings on a book or because he didn’t like the look of our newcomer, I couldn’t tell. And, more importantly, I didn’t really care.

  “Good, very good. Now, let’s find you a seat…” Mr Evans scanned the room, smiling as he reached the empty chair next to me. My heart tightened in my chest.

  “Ah, perfect. Zach, if you’d like to take that spare seat next to Tilly – yes, that’s the one…”

  Zach shouldered his bag – nonchalantly, like it weighed nothing – and weaved his way between the tables to reach my row. I was so busy watching him move, all grace and none of the gangly clumsiness that Rohan and the other boys still showed, that I barely noticed when my elbow bumped into Gran’s notebook and sent it flying to the ground.

  Zach did, though.

  As he reached my table, he crouched down and retrieved the notebook, holding it out to me with a smile. I tried to smile coolly in reply but from Drew’s expression when I looked away, I wasn’t entirely successful.

  But then my fingers brushed against Zach’s as I took the notebook, and our gazes flew to meet each other, and I felt an unfamiliar warmth spread through my whole body, making my heart race faster. This – this feeling of excitement and terror as he smiled at me – this was what had been missing from my writing that morning.

  “Thanks,” I said, my throat dry. “I’m Tilly.” I cursed myself the moment I said it – he already knew that. Mr Evans had told him.

  “Zach,” he replied, equally redundantly, and I decided it didn’t matter. He nodded towards the notebook. “You don’t want to lose this. Bet it has all your secrets in it.”

  “Something like that,” I said, with what I hoped was a mysterious smile.

  On my other side, I heard Drew mutter something uncomplimentary under his breath. Zach didn’t seem to notice and I simply ignored him.

  Because, as Zach sat down beside me, his shoulder almost brushing mine, the only thing I could think was that it had happened at last, just when I needed it to.

  I’d had my first Meet Cute.

  And now I knew exactly how to write it.

  “If you stay,” he said, looking out over the river before us, “you will have the chance to learn everything you need to know.”

  “And if I don’t?” I asked.

  He smiled at me, his eyes flat. “Why even pretend that not staying is an option?”

  Unless You Stay (2011), Juanita Cabrera

  “Think you could show a new boy how to get to the canteen from here?” Zach asked as the bell rang for the end of the lesson. “Really, they should hand out maps to newbies. This school is a lot bigger than my last one.”

  Drew rolled his eyes, then pushed past us – heading, no doubt,
towards the library – a scowl on his face.

  I smiled at Zach, ready to offer to show him around the whole school campus over lunch. For the first time in six years at St Stephen’s, here was a guy I was interested in getting to know – and not just because he could quote Pride and Prejudice. I had plenty of friends I could talk books with (and Drew to argue with about them, if I really felt the need) or music or TV or clothes or whatever. I had Anja and Rohan for discussing the stuff that really mattered.

  But Zach made me want to talk about anything and nothing, for as long as he wanted.

  Except…

  Except I couldn’t. I’d promised Rachel I’d take the lower school Book Club in the library this lunchtime.

  Normally, I’d have got out of it. But this was the first time Rachel had ever trusted me to run the group on my own and, dull as it sounds, I really didn’t want to let her down.

  “I could but I can’t. I mean, I would except…” I took a breath. Honestly, how hard was it to say no? “The thing is, I’d like to—” Wait, did that sound too desperate? Like I thought this was more than just helping him with directions? “I mean, I always like to help new students. Not that we’ve had any for a few years. But the point is—” Yes, Tilly, for the love of everything good, get to the point! “I can’t. I have to help out in the library this lunchtime. Sorry.” I gave him an apologetic smile, and hoped he’d just ignore the last few minutes of weirdly disjointed monologue.

  Zach had a confused look about him. He smiled faintly and took a step back, as if not wanting to draw any more attention to the crazy girl. Great. Just the first impression I was going for.

  “No worries,” he said, still backing away. “I’m sure someone else can help me.”

  “Maybe another time,” I said, which was stupid because why would he need showing to the same place twice? Luckily, he probably didn’t hear me over Maisey loudly offering to give him the tour as she grabbed his arm and spun him round to face her.

  I watched them head off towards the canteen together, a sinking feeling in my stomach. My first Meet Cute, and my first disastrous attempt at conversation with a boy I might actually stand a chance of liking, all in one morning. Perfect.

  Sorry, I can’t today – I have to work. Maybe we could grab lunch another day, though? How hard was it to say that? Or even just, Sorry, I’m busy this lunchtime. Then he could have said, That’s a shame. How about tomorrow? And I’d have said, Sure, sounds great. Then we could have had lunch tomorrow and talked Jane Austen or whatever and it would have been perfect.

  But instead I just developed verbal diarrhoea and babbled at him until he backed away.

  I sighed. Why were the conversations I had in my head so much easier than the ones I had in the real world?

  Maybe I just wasn’t cut out for romance.

  I spent the lunch break trying to focus on the lower school Book Club’s discussion, rather than rehashing my disaster of a conversation with Zach. (I was only partially successful.)

  The Book Club were reading Juanita Cabrera’s first book for teenagers, Unless You Stay (one of my favourites), and as usual, they had a lot to say about it. Generally, Rachel assigned them two books each half term, and they met on a Thursday lunchtime to discuss them when they’d finished.

  “The thing I don’t get … well, one of the things I don’t get,” Tyler said, his brow deeply furrowed, “is the thing where you think you’re in the normal, real world, but then there’s this crazy magic stuff that just comes out of nowhere. Like, jumping to other realities. That’s, like, not exactly realistic, is it?”

  From the next table, I heard an amused snort. Drew sat with his back to us and his headphones on but clearly he wasn’t listening to anything, or else he wouldn’t be interrupting my Book Club with his amusement.

  I sighed, shifting in my seat on the library front desk. The easiest thing would be to just explain the premise of the book – and the concept of magical realism – to Tyler myself but Rachel had very firm ideas about letting students work things out for themselves. Unfortunately.

  I reminded myself that I was doing this so that Rachel could work on persuading the Literary Festival Committee to get Juanita Cabrera over to Westerbury. If that happened, I could end up brushing shoulders with her at a reception or something, and Tyler’s lack of understanding could be a funny story to tell. Plus, listening to her talk would probably be a masterclass in magical realism for the whole of the lower school.

  “Well, what does everyone else think? Did anyone else wonder about that?” I asked.

  Eight pairs of eyes stared at me blankly from their circle of chairs around the table. Maybe Rachel should have chosen a slightly easier book for just before the holidays.

  I leaned back a little, resting my hands on the desk, and glanced over at the next table again. Drew was still smirking.

  He’d read the book, of course. He’d read everything Cabrera had ever written, as far as I could tell.

  “Well, perhaps we can ask someone else who’s clearly read the book. Drew?” I raised my voice towards the end and smiled as Drew’s head jerked round as I called his name.

  “What?”

  “I thought you might help us in our discussion of the magic and multiple realities Cabrera uses in Unless You Stay,” I said sweetly. “I mean, since you obviously have opinions on the subject.”

  “Oh, I’m sure you’re doing just fine,” Drew drawled, still smirking. “I’d hate to steal your thunder at your first solo Book Club by explaining for you.”

  “Ah, but Book Club isn’t about telling others the answers,” I said. “It’s about the whole group learning and exploring the story through discussion. So, Drew, why do you think Cabrera structured the story the way she did? And what did you make of the multiple realities thing?”

  Drew sighed, a resigned expression on his face, and closed his laptop screen. Turning round, he straddled his seat, resting his arms along the back of the chair and faced the Book Club.

  The Book Club, in return, stared at him hopefully, like he might save them from having to think about any of the answers at all. I guess everyone was feeling the almost-half-term apathy.

  “Cabrera writes magical realism.” Tyler looked baffled. Drew sighed and continued. “She sets her stories in a familiar world but then twists it with impossible details.”

  “Like the magic. And the multiple realities,” I added.

  Drew shot me a look. “The point is she uses those fantastical elements to highlight problems in our own world – to make us look more closely at our own society.”

  “Oh.” Yeah, Tyler hadn’t followed any of that. But Drew knew what he was talking about. He usually did when it came to books – even if I often didn’t agree with his opinions. This time, he’d just stuck to the facts, though. And that was what the Book Club needed.

  Drew looked up at me. “Am I done here?”

  “Not nearly,” I said with an evil smile. “Does anyone else have any questions for Drew about the book?”

  Six hands went up. Drew’s expression grew dark. I bet he was regretting helping me out in English right then. I’d take pity on him but this was really funny.

  “Rosie, then Marcus, then Riley,” I said, pointing to each of the students in turn. And then I sat back and let them interrogate Drew.

  In fairness to him, he took it in good part. And he had some great answers, too. Maybe I could sneak off and leave him to run the group. See if Zach was still in the canteen with Maisey…

  “But I don’t get how the magic helps us understand the real world,” Rosie said, frowning at Drew. “Besides, Mr Evans always tells us to ‘write what we know’. And no one really knows magic, do they. So what’s the point?”

  Drew looked like he was about to start in on a fantasy rant, so I figured it was probably time to intervene.

  “Write what you know is standard advice to new writers,” I said. Heaven knew I’d read it enough times in articles on websites. “I guess the theory is that
it’s easier than making stuff up or doing a lot of research.”

  “But it’s not why people read books!” Drew burst out.

  I raised an eyebrow at him. “Just couldn’t keep that one inside, huh?”

  “The whole point of fiction is to explore new ideas, new worlds. That’s what Cabrera does so well – she shows us our own world through moments that could never exist in it.”

  “I wouldn’t say that’s the whole point,” I said, frowning.

  Drew rolled his eyes. “Of course you wouldn’t. Let me guess – it has to have a happy ending.”

  “No.” Although it helped. “I just think that people read books for more than ideas. They read them to bond with the characters. To experience the relationships and human connections. And that’s something that we all experience in the real world, one way or another. The ultimate write what you know.”

  Even as I said the words, I knew Drew would disagree with me. But I didn’t care. Because suddenly the pieces were falling into place in my head.

  I’d struggled to write a Meet Cute, even with all the ones I’d read, and the stories Mum and Gran had told me about theirs. I hadn’t understood the feeling behind them, why they changed everything enough to set the story in motion.

  Until I experienced my own with Zach.

  I knew, now, I could sit down and give that scene the emotion and tension it needed. Because I knew how it felt at last.

  I could write what I knew.

  Which meant, I needed to know a lot more about romance to write this book.

  I needed to experience it for myself.

  I needed to fall in love.

  “OK, so I have a problem.” I threw myself into the chair opposite Anja and Rohan in the common room, thankful we all had a free period together that afternoon. I needed advice.

  “Another one?” Rohan asked, eyebrows raised.

  “But also possibly a solution,” I added, my idea still turning over and over in my mind. Could I do it?