Four Scenes I’ve Read a Lot and Four I’d Like To Read More Often

It is a truth universally acknowledged that it is impossible to tell how striking a particular piece of writing is until you’ve read several dozen examples of that genre. This applies to genres of novel as much as it applies to essays and cover letters. Purely in the interests of science, of course, I have read several dozen YA and adult novels with dynamic female protagonists. And I come bearing patterns.

Specifically, I come bearing four scenes I’ve now seen surprisingly often, and four scenes I’d like to see/write a lot more.

1. Female professional in a suspense novel makes pasta and wine for dinner.

I don’t know what the deal is with this, but I’ve lost count of the number of scenes in which the female viewpoint character of a suspense novel comes home and makes an easy but sophisticated pasta dish for dinner while sipping on a glass of wine. Alone. The pasta-wine scene usually sees the protagonist reflecting on whatever trauma or troubles occurred in the plot part of the novel and may include a scary interruption when the murderer barges in just as the pasta-and-wine-loving woman has assembled her ingredients. (Helpfully, they don’t seem to like kidnapping/serial-murdering people when doing so would leave the stove on.)

Honestly, I get why this is a thing — pasta is my go-to fancy and indulgent dinner from simple ingredients too — but it happens so often.

What I’d Like To Read More Often:

Maybe fictional detectives/medical examiners/victims can also like making themselves pancakes. Or slow-cooker stew. Or frozen perogies.

2. Female protagonist stops to reflect on feeling unattractive to others.

Like the above, I get why this is a thing. I don’t think it would be unfair to suggest that in the culture in which I live, at least, most women and girls, most of the time, feel unattractive to others. I also think it’s totally fair that a female protagonist in a male-dominated world (as so many female protagonists are) would be hyper-aware of seeming unattractive not necessarily for sexual reasons but because it can make dealing with some guys that much harder. So I’m not trying to say these scenes are bad or unrealistic or unneeded. Quite the opposite — it’s important for readers, including me, to have characters who succeed professionally and/or romantically (depending on the kind of book) despite feeling unattractive to others.

What I’d Like To Read More Often:

Instead, I want to point out that female characters do not necessarily need to think about their own attractiveness to others or even at all. If they do, they don’t need to feel bad about it. You can look not conventionally feminine and like the way you look even when you know it’s not what society considers beautiful. You can be disappointed that you don’t look the way you feel in your head. You can solve a mystery without casting a critical gaze at your face in a mirror.

The theme I’m interested in isn’t “If it’s real love, you will be attractive to him/her/them!” it’s “You don’t need to care how attractive you are to others; what’s important is being attractive to yourself.”

3. Female protagonist reacts to romantic overtures by stating she does not want marriage/a family.

This is great in contrast to the trope it replaces, which is “female protagonist wants to get married and be a mother as soon as possible because all women/girls want that.” Some women want a family. Others want a partner. Others just want sex. And still others don’t want anything like that at all. Each of those — and all the awesome variations that make people themselves — are cool.

But… why do I always need to know how the protagonist feels about having kids and getting married? Guy characters don’t seem to make stands on this.

It’s true that many fictional worlds, speculative or realistic, reflect the real-life pressures on women to start a family and to think of the long-term consequences when faced with romantic proposals, and it’s great that authors use these real-life stressors to show some of the problems inherent in being a woman.

What I’d Like To Read More Often:

Alongside this trope, I wish there were some works of fiction that balanced this realism with women who don’t think about it. Or don’t want to think about it. Or just don’t care.

4. Female protagonist in a fantasy world uses magical birth control pills.

I love the rise of female action heroes in YA speculative fiction. Tamora Pierce’s Alanna of Trebond used to be a rarity; these days, we’re seeing more and more young women like Katniss, Tris, Katsa, Saba… etc. And I love that just as action stories with young male heroes often document the protagonist’s first sexual and/or romantic experiences, so do these stories.

But I’ve noticed a pattern: when a female fantasy protagonist has (heterosexual) sex for the first time, she often points out to the guy that she has some means of preventing pregnancy. Sometimes, it’s magic, and sometime’s it’s a special herb, but it’s almost always 100% effective (at least, the narrative treats it as such), and it’s almost always something she’s taken care of — an amulet she possesses, or a medicine she’s taken.

Again, I like this trope in contrast to “We don’t need to plan! It’s not like one of us could get pregnant!”

What I’d Like To Read More Often:

But why is it always the female partner in these hetero pairs who brings birth control to the table? And why is the birth control always a magical equivalent to the pill: something a woman has to remember and a man can just assume his partner has dealt with? And what about STIs? How come even protagonists who know their lovers have been with other partners don’t care about those?

Don’t get me wrong: I understand that all this is fiction, and the awkwardness of negotiating how to stay safe during a first sexual encounter is one of those things that stories like to gloss over, the same way none of these characters ever goes to the bathroom or has to pick her nose. But, gosh, where are the fictional gentlemen who worry about getting their partners pregnant or spreading infections? It’s kind of insulting to men that none of the guys cares enough about his own health or his partner’s to provide, say, magical condoms.