Tropes, Chicago Med, and Romance Architecture

Teal Deer (TL; DR)

Tropes, Chicago Med, and Romance Architecture

Grumpy/sunshine. Age gap. Friends to lovers. If you’re in the genre romance community online, or adjacent to it, you’ve probably seen all those cute graphics with arrows around a book cover pointing to tropes the book contains. An unfortunate marketing tool of the past few years has been to sell your story—and, for some, to write it—based on “vibes.” But a good, engrossing, root-worthy romance can’t be built on vibes alone. (Or with ChatGPT, but that’s a whole different ramble.)

You don’t have to be the world’s best writer, with a PhD-level understanding of prose. What you do need is fully realized, fleshed-out characters who are more than just a sum of their tropes. Characters with a compelling, organic, connection can make even the flimsiest plot readable. (I read upwards of 200 books a year. I know from flimsy!) You just have to commit to who they are beyond broad generalities. A perfect example of this is one that I’m pulling from network TV: Dr. Hannah Asher and Dr. Dean Archer on NBC’s Chicago Med.  

I was a newcomer to the medical procedural, joining with the season eight premiere. So, we’re talking three years. Now, I’ve been a sucker for a good age-gap pairing for decades (again, fodder for another ramble), but when it comes to procedurals I’ve never actively ‘shipped anyone. The ever-revolving door cycles cast members through too frequently to really invest. And, of course, longtime Law & Order: SVU viewers know the will-they/won’t-they pain of Benson/Stabler. So, I had zero expectations—even though my romance Spidey senses went off the minute Steven Weber and Jessy Schram’s characters shared scenes. Sure, here was an arrogant, seasoned Chief of the ED and a passionate young OB/GYN in addiction recovery + two actors with great co-star chemistry. What an interesting dynamic! Still, I just turned to fanfic to work out my what-ifs.  

But then I started to question whether the Chicago Med writers were following the same path as my brain. Because Hannah and Dean are hot and I’m clearly biased? No. It was because the obvious character beats were there. They go from contentious co-workers to close friends over the course of several seasons—to the point where Asher fully involves herself in the saga of Archer’s kidney transplant and his rocky relationship with his son. I’ve gone back and watched some of their initial interactions in S7. They have all the makings of a nascent love story. The friction is intense from the start. The polar opposites clash while treating a pregnant patient in need of emergency surgery. Fast-forward to S10 and the once-overbearing Archer defers to Asher, supporting and trusting every decision she makes during another case involving uterine peril. That’s an arc, my friends. Even without a romance element.

Getting characters from mutual loathing to mutual understanding takes work. With TV and film, they have the advantage of a collaboration with actors who can make or break what the writers are doing. In books, it’s all on us.

With the burden of relationship-building on the author, it means we have to invest in more than just the tropes. I’m talking physicality, dialogue, motivation, backstory. All those pieces! In episode 10.14, written by Lauren Glover, Dean gets dosed with LSD and trips balls. Watching a grouchy character be silly never gets old. But it’s also where we get a significant amount of personal work. Because, if the writing team is actually crafting a romance, of course he’ll confess something to Hannah while high. That is a classic, tried-and-true move when a character is impaired. And sure enough… “You walk around not realizing you have this light inside you,” Archer says while barefoot and sitting on the floor. “You deserve more,” he adds moments later. “And you don’t see that. I do.” (GIFs of Trippin’ Dean actually exists, so I can’t resist illustrating.)

Could you read this scene as platonic? Sure. Should you? Nooooo. Because it is a blatant flag for emotional intimacy. Where is your “you have this light” moment amidst all the vibes? And it can’t come out of nowhere. They’ve already laid groundwork for Dean to wax poetic about Hannah’s shininess. In episode 10.8, the midseason finale written by Deanna Shumaker, Archer tells Asher that he’s contemplating quitting his job.

Dean: “But with Sean leaving Chicago and Margo and I ending things, why stay?”

Hannah: “Are you really saying that to me?”

Dean: “Of course you’re a reason to stay.”

The locker room (where they unlock feelings more than once!) is lit low, the music is soft. Everything around those words is crafted to support the bond they have. If you make poignant confessions to your bestie with mood music playing, I applaud your emotional maturity. But for romance purposes, that is a major bit of foreshadowing. And there are a dozen more examples just like that. (This formerly misanthropic asshole brings cranberry sauce in for Hannah’s holiday potluck and she even ropes him into officiating a wedding in the ED.) 

Episode 10.17, also written by Shumaker, is a key character-building episode for Dean, as well as for Hannah’s place in his life. They have a pivotal argument and, as I watched it play out, I live-tweeted that “the tension built so they could’ve kissed. Very ‘cross the space between them and pull her close.’” To me, a romance author, it looked like he’s fighting the urge. Especially when he asks “Where do I want to be?” and Hannah replies “That’s up to you.” She then shows up at his house at the end of the hour with a box of his favorite cereal. Anyone surprised at where the characters end up in episode 10.22—which, by the way, also has Hannah showing up at Dean’s house—hasn’t been paying attention.

You want your reader to pay attention—to pick up on all bricks and mortar you used for the foundation of a romance. And if you don’t have a foundation, the story has nothing to stand on. It’s a house of cards, easily blown apart. (How’s that for beating a metaphor into the ground?) Grumpy/sunshine. Age gap. Friends to lovers. Don’t relegate those elements to just tropes. Make sure they’re your building blocks.