Tag Archives: YA

Book Recipes: How to Write a YA Paranormal Romance

Time for another book recipe – the last one of 2017. This time I’ll be looking at YA paranormal romances, so grab the nearest mythological creature and get ready to fall in love.

 

Ingredients:

  • One aggressively average teenage girl
  • A totally mysterious hottie
  • A handful of bastardised folk beliefs and legends
  • High school
  • A slightly-less-hot third wheel
  • An incompetent, sneery villain
  • One spooky but still cool setting
  • Assorted mix of high school students, mythological creatures and authority figures, all to be ignored

 

Method:

  1. Introduce your aggressively average main character to the rest of the cast, and to the reader. She’s new in town, like always.
  2. Mention the bastardised folk beliefs/legends you’ll be ripping off inspired by, but do it quickly because –
  3. It’s time to meet our hottie! Make sure the reader knows how dreamy he is by describing him with the most over-the-top language you can muster, having literally everybody fancy him, and by having one mysterious yet still-totally-hot feature.
  4. Ooh, he’s so mysterious!
  5. Oh, and the third wheel is here.
  6. But never mind that! The hottie has finally noticed the main character! Talk about his eyes some more. He’s so tall…
  7. One of the background characters mentions the spooky legends some more. Maybe you should pay attention, once you’ve finished deciphering the hottie’s latest text.
  8. The main character and the hottie are getting closer, but something is mysteriously coming between them! Oh no, what could it be? Definitely not those legends we’re ignoring!
  9. Angst.
giphy angst
No-one understands. (image: giphy.com)
    1. The hottie is so mysterious. The main character just wants to be with him, but he’s dangerous. But he’s also hot. But he’s dangerous! But he’s hot! Go and cry about it on the third wheel’s shoulder.
    2. Spooky happenings are in the background, but they’re not quite interesting enough to distract the main character from the thought of abs.
    3. The hottie’s terrible secret is finally revealed! Turns out all those glaringly obvious clues about supernatural creatures were pointing to him all along! Oh, but how could any girl love such a hideously attractive monster? Surely the main character shall faint now she knows the awful truth!
    4. She doesn’t. They make out.
    5. More spooky stuff is going on the background, but the main character understands it now. Feel superior to all the normies for a bit.
    6. Well we’ve still got five more steps to go and the last third of the book hasn’t been written. Time to add a pointless villain into the mix.
    7. The villain emerges, sneeringly. In a shocking display of competence he kidnaps the main character, probably because of a prophecy or something. This is the only time he ever does anything right.
    8. The main character is about to die. Oh no. Who will rescue her from this terrible predicament.
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I’m really cut up about this. (reactiongifs.com)
  1. It’s the hottie, of course! They have a fight, during which he is attractively but not seriously wounded, and the sneery villain is defeated…
  2. …just in time for the big dance! High school sure is fun now we know that paranormal beings are real.
  3. Drop a spooky hint at the end that lets you spin this out into a series.

THE END. Serve on a bed of shirtless, supernatural hotties.

 

Tips:

  • Even though your main character is in high school, she must never have any actual learning or homework to do. Lessons should be reserved for moping, significant stares, and summarising stuff that’s already happened in the character’s internal monologue.
  • Make sure you have a really good aesthetic. It doesn’t matter what actually happens as long as you could make a Pinterest board out of it.
  • Always use first-person, but make sure to say as little about the main character as possible. It’s not like we’re here to read a sensitive and nuanced portrayal of a teenage girl, don’t be silly!
  • Include shirtless scenes. These are entirely necessary to the plot and your readers will thank you.
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It is. (image: giphy.com)
  • Don’t worry about accurate representations of the myths and legends you’re ripping off inspired by. No-one’s going to care about that when there are hotties nearby!
  • Everyone over the age of twenty-five is wrong, stupid or dead.
  • Never, ever, ever resolve the inevitable conflict of a human dating a supernatural being. You want this to be a series, don’t you?
  • Don’t forget the stupid names! Make sure they are the least subtle names you can possibly come up with. If you think Wolfgang Wolfson might be a bit on-the-nose for a werewolf, you need to lower your standards.

 

And here’s one I prepared earlier…

 

The clifftop hotel had obviously been abandoned for a while now. I knew that just by looking at it – the big stone steps leading up to the front door were chipped, and all the windows were stained – but I still went inside. Bay had asked me to meet him here, and I didn’t want to seem like a baby in front of him.

Inside was just as bad. The big front desk was all dusty and all the plaster was flaking off the walls. I dinged the brass bell on the counter and it cracked apart under my hand. Behind the receptionist’s desk was a dusty grid of pigeonholes, some with yellowing envelopes still inside them, and an old wall phone with a cone-shaped mouthpiece.

How could Bay – Bay Waterford Vodianoy, the hottest boy in school – be living here?

I shivered and pulled my jacket a little closer. Across the lobby was a wide staircase, carpeted in threadbare red, and a chandelier hung above it. It tinkled gently in the sea breeze, coming in sharp and salty through the broken windows. I could hear the crash of the waves on the rocks below.

“I didn’t think you’d make it this far,” said a voice.

I whirled around. Standing in a doorway was Bay, looking totally dark and mysterious in a black leather jacket. His obsidian eyes flashed like burning coals, and his brilliant, diamond-white hair caught the light as he walked towards me, attractively. I could see why every girl in school – even the head cheerleader, Angie, who was always so mean to me – wanted him so badly.

“I got your note. Do you really live here?”

He smouldered at me. “It suits my needs. I like to be close to the water.”

“But isn’t this where all those people who died in that terrible shipwreck were staying?”

Sam, my best friend, had told me all about it. Seventy years ago a group of guests staying at Coldwater’s best and most expensive hotel took their yacht out to sea, got caught in a mysterious storm and never came back. I was kind of interested in the town’s history, so he’d hunted down an incredibly rare first-edition volume of Coldwater’s local legends, had it professionally gift-wrapped, and gave it to me as a Tuesday gift. He’s such a good friend.

Bay shrugged, in a way that showed off all his muscles. “Doesn’t bother me. I like living in a place with secrets.”

“Secrets?”

He took my hand. I immediately lost all feeling in my legs and almost collapsed, but Bay held me upright. He’s so strong. And tall. But also mysterious, with the secret tattoo he always tries to hide…

“I’ll show you.”

Still holding hands, we went through a door tucked behind the front desk and down a rickety wooden staircase. I almost tripped three times, but Bay stopped me from falling. Eventually he just picked me up, bridal style, and carried me down the staircase, wheezing a bit. I didn’t mind. It was still really hot. The staircase was lit by candles all along the walls, and by their light I could see the tip of his tattoo – green wavy lines just touching the end of his collarbones. It sort of looked a bit like seaweed, but I don’t know why anyone would get that tattooed on them.

Eventually we came to an old stone passage, which opened up into a cave. There were candles everywhere and natural rock pools, and the sea rushed in and out somewhere at the other end of the tunnel. It was the most beautiful thing I’d ever seen – apart from Bay’s face, of course. Or his arms. Or his abs. I hadn’t seen those, but I bet they were great.

Bay put me down, rubbing his arms a bit. He leaned against the wall and looked away, his floppy hair hiding his face.

“How much do you know about the history of this place, Aurora?” he asked.

It was the first time he’s ever said my name. I wished I’d taped it.

“I know about the hotel guests, if that’s what you mean?”

“And before that?”

Sam had told me about some of that stuff too. Apparently there was this old local legend that Coldwater had first been founded when a shipwrecked family had been saved by a mysterious water-spirit. Sam had got his old grandmother to tell me all about it, and then taken me out for fresh lobster because it was Wednesday. He’s such a good friend.

“I’ve heard the stories.”

I was shivering. Bay took off his leather jacket and put it around my shoulders, his expression unreadable. It smelled like the sea. I stared into his dark eyes and for a second, he almost looked scared.

“Then it’s time for me to show you what I am.”

He stepped into the water. There was a bright light, a vaguely tinkling sound, and then Bay was standing in a rock pool, shirtless and wet. His abs were everything I had dreamed of and now, I knew I could die happy. I could finally see his tattoo clearly as well – it was of long, twisting ropes of seaweed going all the way up his arm. The bits on his bicep were very intricate and complicated, so I stared at them just to make sure I could picture it properly. Y’know, for later on.

Then, he went blue, took a great heaving breath and collapsed into the water.

“Bay!” I yelled, running forward. I tripped, and his hands shot out of the rock pool and caught me before I hit the floor.

“Sorry,” he said, still up to his neck in the water. “It’s a bit touch and go when the gills come in.”

I stared. He did have gills, and I was pretty sure that his hands and feet were webbed, too.

“I don’t understand.”

Bay took my face in his hands and stared into my eyes. “I’m saying that the legends are true, Aurora. Everything you’ve heard about the water-spirits is real. Until we turn twenty-one we take a human form, but when we’re in the water – we turn into this hideous monster!”

I took a good look at him. The webbed hands and feet were a bit distracting, but the gills were hardly noticeable. Aside from that he looked exactly the same, and more importantly, his transformation had somehow got rid of his shirt.

“I don’t think you’re a monster.”

“You don’t understand. At La Laguna Negra we’re told there’s only one way to escape becoming gross, scaly fish-monsters and that is to earn the love of a human before we turn twenty-one. You’ve no idea what that can do to someone! My brother, Gill – well, he’s definitely not showing up in the last three chapters, there’s no point talking about him. But – Aurora, I love you. I can’t keep this secret from you any longer. I…I just wanted you to know the truth before I say goodbye.”

“You’re leaving?”

“Well, yeah.” He held up his webbed hands and waggled them at me. “Y’know, gross fish-monster. I couldn’t put you through that.”

“Do you still need to breathe through your mouth when you’ve got gills?”

“No, but –”

I kissed him. I was lying on a cave floor, my head dangling over a rock pool, but it was still the best kiss anyone has ever had ever.

“You might be a fish-monster,” I said, “but I don’t think you’re gross at all. Unless – you don’t have any tentacles, do you?”

He pulled a face. “No! It’s fish-monster, not octopus-monster.”

“Okay, we’re cool. Budge up, I’m coming in.”

 

And that’s it for 2017! Normal service will resume in the New Year. My full book-cookbook can be found here. Let me know what you’d like me to look at next – and as always, take this recipe with a pinch of salt.

Alice-In-Wonderland-I-See-What-You-Did-There
Heh heh heh. (image: replycandy.com)
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Book Recipes: How to Write a YA Dystopia

Time for another book recipe! This time I’ll be looking at YA dystopian fiction. Get ready to be Chosen and we’ll get started!

 

Ingredients:

  • One totally dark and edgy heroine
  • At least two tall and handsome love interests
  • One standard post-apocalyptic setting
  • One vague, shadowy organisation that runs everything
  • Token background characters to be killed off at will
  • The Prophecy
  • A social categorisation system that makes no sense
  • A bunch of futuristic-sounding names
  • Angst
giphy angst
No-one understands. (image: giphy.com)

 

Method:

  1. Use your post-apocalyptic setting and social categorisation system as a backdrop for our edgy heroine. Don’t explain too much, unless you’re describing what she looks like.
  2. She has been Chosen!
  3. Introduce your love interests. They must fit into one of the following categories:
    1. Overlooked childhood friend
    2. Dark and mysterious bad boy
    3. Plays guitar
  4. The Prophecy is revealed and it’s all about the heroine. It doesn’t have to make sense, it just needs lots of Impressive Capitals.
  5. Training montage!

  1. Our heroine finds out the shadowy organisation is plotting something! Better grab the love interests and investigate!
  2. FIGHTING!
  3. The heroine and one of the love interests are separated from the group! Better use the time wisely and make out.
  4. A Mysterious Secret is discovered. Don’t pay any attention to it until the final third of the book. We’ve still got chapters to fill.
  5. An authority figure tries to tell the heroine what to do, but they’re over twenty-five and can be safely ignored.
  6. Time for a deep and meaningful conversation with the other love interest!
  7. More training. This time there’s a love interest there, so it’s sexy training.
  8. The Prophecy is coming true, just like the Elders said!
  9. Angst. About everything. You wouldn’t understand.
  10. Time to go and destroy the evil organisation! Suit up. If there’s anyone you want to get rid of, make sure the heroine talks to them before she leaves. Then they’re a goner.
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Just two days until retirement! (image: tvtropes.com)
  1. Sneak into the organisation’s lair. While you’re there, make sure the heroine agonises over who she’s going to make out with.
  2. BETRAYAL! Kill off a few background characters to make it stick.
  3. Time for the final showdown! The heroine bravely goes off to sacrifice herself, but not before making out with someone. I mean, she might die.
  4. Our heroine confronts the main villain, who sneers. There’s a big fight and a few tense conversations but it all works out well in the end.
  5. OR DOES IT??? Prepare for the inevitable trilogy.

THE END. Serve steeped in teenage angst.

 

Tips:

  • Stuck on coming up with futuristic names? Help is at hand. Just take a normal name and spell it badly.
  • Responsible parents should never, ever be a feature. Anything like bedtimes, eating vegetables, and insisting you don’t throw yourself into danger at every possible opportunity would just get in the way of your heroine’s adventures.
  • Never kill anyone off unless you’re absolutely sure you aren’t going to spin this out into a series.
  • Always, always, always use first person, present tense.
  • Don’t know how to organise your dystopian society? Take a random online quiz and base it off that. It doesn’t need to make sense – all it really needs to do is generate pointless tension.
giphy running
Quick! To Buzzfeed! (image: giphy.com)
  • Any opportunity to have a ~*Forbidden Romance*~ should be seized at all costs.
  • Don’t think too much about the whole apocalypse part. Hint at it in a mysterious sort of way, but don’t explain it. You don’t want your readers wondering how toothpaste survived a nuclear holocaust but electricity didn’t, you want them arguing over which cute boy the heroine should kiss!

 

And here’s one I prepared earlier…

 

For a second when I wake up I almost forget what Cycle it is. I’m back in The Dormitory with Khamm, Hollow, and Mareen, and any second now we’ll be shaken out of our bunks for Morning Nutrition.

But then I remember. I’m not in The Dormitory any more.

I get out of bed and pad over to the mirror. Elder Landseer’s house is so much nicer than The Dormitory. There are carpets, and a sink with brass taps – something that I haven’t seen before. Apparently there used to be all sorts of things like that, but they all got destroyed in The Cataclysm. Still, I don’t have time for such silly, girly things. I’d much rather be out hunting. I guess I’m not like other girls.

I examine my face in the mirror. Just an ordinary, everyday girl with aquamarine eyes, pure white hair and a scar shaped like a twisting vine on one cheekbone. Nothing special. I pull on my plain grey tunic and leggings and braid my hair. I wonder if they had braids before The Cataclysm.

There’s a knock at the door. Seconds later a guy comes in. I’d know those chartreuse eyes and obsidian hair anywhere. It’s Tretch Landseer, Elder Landseer’s only son. He raises his eyebrows at me, mockingly. “Come on, Freesia. Don’t keep us waiting.”

“It’s just Free, thanks,” I mutter. He wouldn’t understand.

He smirks and holds the door open for me. Stupidly, I trip over the carpet as I pass. I brace myself, ready for the fall, but before I hit the ground Tretch catches me around the waist.

“Careful,” he says, smirking.

I push him away, blushing. I don’t know why he’s being so nice all of a sudden. The Elders and their families hardly ever notice the Dormers. It’s only when we’ve been through The Ceremony that we actually become important.

My Ceremony was supposed to be yesterday, just like everyone else’s. It happens every year: when a Dormer turns sixteen, they are Chosen for their Echelon. There’s five, and once you’ve been Chosen you’re there for the rest of your life.

Khamm and I were both hoping for Venture. They at least get to have some fun – they’re the bravest out of everyone in The Colony, and they get to go beyond The Borderlands. But there’s also Bounty, who farm, Sinistra, who rule us, Meticule, who keep the records, and Pufflehuff, for the rest. Khamm was lucky – he got Venture after all. But when I went into the Room of Knowing, where the Ceremony takes place, nothing happened. I just stood there in the dark for ages, until Elder Landseer opened up the side door and told me I’d better follow him.

Tretch smirks at me again. He’s standing by a door with a twisting vine carved into it. Without thinking, my hand drifts up to my cheek. It looks just like my scar…

I go through the door. It’s pitch dark inside. I stand in the middle of the room and wait.

“Citizen Freesia Brightwater?” a voice asks.

“It’s Free, actually.”

“You are Citizen Freesia Brightwater?”

“Yes, but I go by –”

There’s a rush of whispering all around the room. I squint into the darkness.

“It’s true!” someone says, “she bears The Mark!”

“Her? She’s far too young.”

“She hasn’t even been Chosen! How can a Dormer stand against the Conclave?”

All at once the lights come on. The room is filled with people. I’m standing on a circular stage with rows and rows of seats rising up on every side. The Elders are sitting on a bench high above me, but it’s not them I look to. Khamm is in the front row, his chocolate-brown eyes wide with concern, his tawny hair rumpled, like always. For some reason I turn, and see Tretch looking at me too. There’s an expression on his face I’ve never seen before.

“Citizen Freesia Brightwater,” says Elder Landseer, getting to his feet, “you have been Chosen. Only you can save the world.”

 

Let me know what you’d like me to look at next – and as always, take this recipe with a pinch of salt.

Alice-In-Wonderland-I-See-What-You-Did-There
Heh heh heh. (image: replycandy.com)