Did you read choose your own adventures as a kid?
I remember loving the idea of them more than the execution, possibly because I've always been more interested in how characters spark off each other than a rip-roaring plot alone. (I may have just read the wrong CYOAs. I have a vague recollection of spaceships with explosions.)
But I never stopped loving the idea of a story that could unfurl in all sorts of ways.
And then I started thinking about telling one.
The thing is, the typical choose-your-own-adventure I read as a kid had a lot of unhappy endings, some meh ones and only a few you could classify as a success.
But romance must have a happy ending. Otherwise, it's not a romance.
So how do you square that circle?
Easy: Write all the endings as happy ones.
Well, easy, except for the hard part where the story needs to have enough layers to sustain multiple paths to happiness. Because as a reader you ought to be able to work your way through every single one of those paths and feel like they build on each other.
I was deep into this before I quite realized what I'd signed myself up for.
And it's so much fun. I can't wait to show you so you can chart your own way through it.
I'm not yet done polishing the happy endings, but here's the start of the story that grabbed me and wouldn't let go:
You probably shouldn’t have banged on Omnimancer Diaz’s door in a rage—and, having done so, you really should have left before he opened it. But you did the first and omitted the second, so here you are, looking at his unfairly handsome face, those dramatic eyebrows raised in an unreasonably innocent expression.
“Miss Zamora,” he says, tilting his head. “Is something wrong? Do you require … assistance?”
“What I require,” you say through gritted teeth, “is for you to keep your blasted dirty tricks away from my rallies.”
“I’m sure I don’t know what you mean, and what astonishing language from the president of the Women’s League for the Prohibition of Magic, Wyoming chapter,” he replies, leaning against the doorframe like a man with utterly no worries that his blasted dirty tricks would rebound upon him. “Do your members know you address people in such a way?”
This was trying, but you could have left there and then. He knows you have him dead to rights. Best to stride away in silent (if quite damp) dignity.
Except then his lips curve in that oho, I’ve bested you smirk that has driven you spare for years.
What would you, Miss Zamora, do in this moment? Stay tuned for the whole adventure. (Or if you literally can't wait for a story with these sorts of vibes, there's always this one.)
Meanwhile, I need your help: Both main characters are originally from California's Central Valley, and both are Mexican American. I don't want to mess up their childhood recollections or cultural experiences (or anything else, obviously).
If you have lived experience and would like to weigh in on the draft, please hit reply to this email. I've got a thank-you gift waiting for you.
📚🌟📚🌟📚
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