Fake Dating: When It Works (And When It’s Clickbait)

A craft breakdown of romance’s favorite shenanigan, with examples from The Love Hypothesis and more

I love a shenanigan. It’s one of the best parts of the romance genre, that we can add a layer of chaos into an ordinary scenario to make even the most straightforward-seeming couple memorable and dynamic. One of the best shenanigans in romance, in my un-humble opinion, and also the easiest to get totally wrong, is fake dating/fake engagement. So let’s break down what works about this trope in romance, and what the issue might be if yours just isn’t working yet.

When Fake Dating works

If they’re discovered, there’s a concrete consequence

We’ve talked at length about stakes – why something that happens in your book matters. What happens if a plan fails… or succeeds. This is where fake dating lives or dies, because a shenanigan is only as strong as the reason behind it; people doing insane things for no reason without consequence is frustrating and kind of boring, despite the insane things themselves being, technically, interesting. That’s plot. But people doing insane things (like pretending to date someone) with a very clear purpose for doing so is more than just interesting… it’s tense, because we’re constantly worried that being discovered will ruin more than just the current farce, but perhaps their lives??

A good example: Reluctantly Yours by Erin Hawkins*

In one corner of this enemies to lovers tale, we have Chloe, an aspiring editor and current editorial assistant to the queen of book publishing. She’s so close to getting a shot at the career she’s always dreamed of if she can just pay her dues a bit longer. But all that becomes endangered when she fails to confirm the reservation for her best friend’s bachelorette party and makes a last minute pivot… to her out of town boss’s penthouse apartment. No one will ever know!

Except… in the other corner, we have Barrett, Chloe’s boss’s son and the businessman trying to keep the whole media empire he inherited from his father afloat, who catches Chloe in the act. He makes her a deal- he’ll keep this indiscretion quiet from his mother so as not to blow her shot at a promotion, if she’ll pretend to be his girlfriend in order to woo a business deal into reality. It’s that classic “well how can I sell my business to a young single guy rather than a stable family man” set up, which I actually employed in my own debut romance.

The consequences: If Chloe doesn’t agree to fake date Barrett, she’ll get fired, or at minimum not get the promotion she’s seeking for a while more (if ever). If Barrett doesn’t convince Chloe to fake date him, he’ll have to do a ton more work to MAYBE get a different cooperative fake girlfriend who won’t real-fall-for-him (yuck, feelings!) and will possibly lose the massive business deal that will have radiating economic effects, not to mention effects on his pride.

And if they fail to convince people they’re really dating, the business deal is kaput anyways, and Chloe’s boss will be betrayed by the deception and she’ll lose her job anyways. A real lose-lose, unless this fake dating situation pans out!

If it’s on someone else’s behalf

A fun inversion of fake dating is when the relationship benefits other characters rather than the ones within the fake relationship. The stakes of successfully selling the relationship being externalized creates a whole extra layer that can’t be easily talked out of. You might be able to accept consequences if you’re the only one who suffers… but to commit to the suffering of someone else?

A good example: The Love Hypothesis by Ali Hazelwood*

With the movie adaptation just having hit screens, you know we had to mention this classic. Grad student Olive enters into a fake dating arrangement with Adam, everyone’s least favorite professor in an adjacent department, to ensure her friend doesn’t feel awkward about dating her ex. Olive is an awkward orphan scientist who finally found a smidge of community and when she sees how much her ex and her best friend seem to like each other, but how they’re not pursuing it because they don’t want to hurt her, she takes drastic action and surprise-kisses Dr. Kylo Ren Adam Carlsen in full view of her BFF to prove she’s totally moved on from her ex and that they should get together. Once the couple is together, though, Adam suggests they continue to fake date for his own reasons, which are similar to Reluctantly Yours because he is an archetypal romance hero misanthrope.

The consequences: her friends’ happiness and not losing her community (there’s definitely an angle in here about how Olive worries if she is the reason her friend doesn’t pursue her romantic interest, it’ll turn into quiet resentment against Olive, who cannot bear to lose said community). The consequence: if their fake dating is found out at the wrong time, the original stakes come into play. If their fake dating is found out later on, it makes them seem shady which will affect their personal and professional ambitions.

If it has to be a fake relationship rather than a non-romantic shenanigan

We’re talking romance tropes here, right? So by design, these tropes have to facilitate or complicate, specifically, a romantic/love set up. If the plot that leads to a fake dating agreement could be solved by a different set of hijinks, that’s a less compelling construction.

A good example: Go Fake Yourself by Elle Maxwell*

Successful romance author Victoria Trulette is out of ideas, so she does what any eccentric rich romance author would do and starts a human experiment. She hires Audrey, a down-on-her-luck fan, and Walker, an aspiring entrepreneur, to fake date while she observes from a distance in the hopes it’ll spark some inspiration. There’s $20k in it if they can make it the full two months of the experiment, and no pressure to actually fall for one another (which is what Victoria is testing). There’s just, you know, an apartment wired to the gills with listening devices and cameras and a grueling schedule of outings they must participate in with the express purpose of getting them to fall in love.

This is a bit of a meta-example, but it’s also explicitly romantic. There’s no solution to Audrey and Walker’s problems (tfw no money) that will be as efficient as doing this weird experiment, which is a romantic test by a romance author. They can’t tell her that they’ll do the Stanford Prison Experiment while she watches in exchange for cash. They can’t propose they clean her house and do her laundry instead. Their prospects elsewhere will take too long to get this infusion of cash. She is a romance author with a romance problem, so the only solution is MORE ROMANCE!

Take Barrett and Chloe for instance as well… Barrett’s issue is that he’s trying to do a merger with an old-fashioned businessman who has specifically called him out for being unattached and therefore possibly not serious about his business. Old-fashioned and misguided? Sure. But he’s been told specifically that a lack of a stable romantic life is a red flag for this business deal that Barrett really needs to work out, so he invents a fiancé on a whim and then has to find one that’ll go along with it. Barrett can’t just make a better argument (how boring of a book would that be) or increase sales or whatever- the thing standing in the way of his goal (successful business deal) is his lack of a serious romantic partner. So a romantic shenanigan is the only thing that’ll fix it!

When Fake Dating doesn’t work

If they weren’t doing it, it would change nothing

I’m not going to name names, but I read a fake dating book recently, by an author I usually love, that was absolutely maddening. Broadly speaking, it was a book where the hero lied to his mother when he thought she was dying that he’d gotten engaged, because she was stressing on her literal deathbed that he’d be alone once she passed. Then, she got better, and was like “hey where’s that fiancé, let’s plan you a wedding!”

The original lie makes sense- his mom worried about him and it was causing her additional pain, so he lied to bring her peace, thinking there would be no consequences. But now she’s fit and fancy free [of sickness] and he continues to lie to her… but the stakes of the original lie are gone. Not to mention, the plan, as he tells it eventually to the heroine he ropes into this, is that he’ll let his mom throw them some parties or whatever and then they’ll dramatically fake break up a few months later and everything will be fine and dandy.

But… if he’s already planning to break up with the fake fiancé and isn’t concerned it will harm his mother… then why do a whole farce to begin with? Why not fake break up with the fake fiancé now? There is literally no textual reason, no stakes, to this decision.

How to fix: It all goes back to stakes and concrete consequences (and I don’t count having to have an awkward “oops I lied haha how random” conversation to be a real consequence) if they’re discovered, such as loss of a job or opportunity, loss of a different relationship, etc. Better yet, if there are consequences for both halves of the fake relationship, and the blame/consequences aren’t all piled on just one of them.

If they’re the wrong couple… because they’re too right

For a fake relationship to hit, there needs to be a compelling reason that it’s fake. If they want to be together already, if they’re both already totally ready for a relationship, if no one cares if they’re together or not… they are not right for this trope!

This doesn’t mean you don’t have a compelling romance on your hands… it just means perhaps you’ve chosen the wrong trope. The fun and tension of fake dating comes from the fact that it can’t be real at first… until.

In Reluctantly Yours, Erin and Barrett make no sense together on a personality or class level, not to mention Barrett starts their relationship by literally blackmailing her.

In The Love Hypothesis, Adam and Olive don’t even know each other at the start of the book, and all of Olive’s friends lowkey hate Adam because he’s kinda harsh with his students (and she accidentally chose him, because he happened to be nearby when she needed to make her move, which makes having to stay with him and fake it all the harder).

In Go Fake Yourself, similarly, Audrey and Walker are strangers. They aren’t doing this as a convoluted way to meet a fellow eligible single person- they need cash, and there happens to be some other person there also vying for this reward.

How to fix: you have a few options here.

  1. At least one of the fakers is uninterested either in love (period) or in their faker-in-crime. Better if this is true for both characters- two love haters faking being in love! Can you even imagine!
  2. At least one of the fakers is faking to get the attention of another potential love interest. Howdy, Off Campus on Amazon Prime! It doesn’t matter if our fakers seem perfect for each other at the start if their true pursuit is (at first) someone entirely different.
  3. If both characters are pining… there has to be a compelling reason why they can’t admit that they’d like this to be for real. Obviously this will be something that occurs by the end of any fake dating book, but if you want to lead with pining… something’s gotta be in the way (they overheard the other person once saying they had no interest in them, they have low self esteem and don’t think their feelings can possibly be reciprocated, one is already in a relationship, etc etc etc)
  4. An external party does NOT want them together… and they’ve got a point. Their family or friends disapprove, the other faker has wronged someone they care about, marriage or a relationship would complicate a different partnership/relationship (think workplace romances where it’s against company policy), or there’s some other taboo at play. An age gap or power differential, for instance.

What’s fun about romance is that while we have the soft landing of the guaranteed HEA, what sets each story using the same beloved stakes apart is how they do their darndest to convince us there’s simply no way this can reach a happy ending. If there’s a clear path to success from the start… why bother reading? Throw as many roadblocks as you can, because a happy ending is only as satisfying as its rough starts.


*This is an affiliate link with Bookshop.org, which means we may receive compensation if you click on it and make a purchase. This comes at no additional cost to you, and no financial support of Jeff Bezos

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To Epilogue or Not to Epilogue

That’s the question we’ll be answering today.

I think an epilogue works against us most of the time. It’s not because I don’t want to know what happens later, it’s because I think the author is so in love with these characters that they’re having a hell of a time letting them go. And you might be in that same boat.

It makes sense. A book takes YEARS to make it to the shelf. That’s a lot of time to spend with a group of besties, and if you’re like me, it’s also been at least a million drafts. Those characters have been through things that no one but your writing group will read. It can be hard to let go of them, but at some point you’ve got to.

What’s the point of the epilogue anyway?

The point is to let the reader know what happened to the characters after the main conflict/connection resolves. In Romance writing, there’s usually a time jump to a year or two down the road, and now maybe the intrepid lovebirds are starting a family, or a long held dream of theirs that was outlined in the novel is coming true. We get a glimpse into that. In Historical fiction is can be a follow up on how the character who went missing ended up dying in a Siberian gulag and it’s not discovered for ten years but it gives the reader closure, or that the main character was finally recognized for their role in history and awarded a medal.

An epilogue answers a different set of questions from the actual ending of the book. It works when we get to see the world after the dust has settled. It doesn’t work if it’s giving us a bunch of information that no one really cares about, or it’s solving a central conflict to the story. That’s the job of the actual ending.

That’s why when the epilogue includes a time jump, it feels so satisfying. We can see into the future and how the characters have created a lovely new paradigm for themselves. It makes the ending feel even more earned.

How does genre play a role?

It matters in a big way because readers of certain genres, like romance, often expect one. Just a little glimpse into that life we spent a 300 page rollercoaster ride to get to. Another little hit of the delicious connection between these characters and some kind of reassurance that the HEA stuck. That it was real.

But in some genres, like literary fiction, it can feel like the author didn’t quite trust the ending of the book or wasn’t sure how to handle it. Almost like a choose your own ending, and it can often be more frustrating than interesting. Historical fiction can fall into this same trap sometimes.

So when an epilogue is tacked onto a book that has a rushed or touchy ending, it feels like it’s trying to plaster over it rather than enhance the characters’ journeys. A shit ending is still going to be a shit ending, only now it’s wrapped in holiday paper and spritzed with lily of the valley granny perfume.

But I’m not ready to let go of my characters

I know! They’re awesome, and it’s important to get real with yourself about your role, as the author and mother to this cast of miscreants/lovers/hooligans/thieves, if you’re putting off the inevitable. There’s a reason why some authors create an entire fictional world and just keep writing tale after tale in it with the same characters. When the characters are amazing, stay with them.

However, the decision to add an epilogue has to actually serve the book and not just your separation anxiety. If you’re not ready to say goodbye, that’s OK. Totally normal, even. Just plan book 2 in your head, but end this book where it needs to end.

The Tale of Two Epilogues

First, we’ll get into two very different books, their epilogues, and why it worked or didn’t.

Atonement by Ian McEwan*

The epilogue in Atonement is a masterclass in using a time jump, and the perspective that only time can bring.

In Atonement, the POV character and narrator, Briony, starts as a precocious six year old who writes a play to be performed at a family reunion. Over the course of the day, she witnesses a crime (grape), and accuses her sister Celia’s lover, Robbie, of committing it. Only she got it wrong, and the book explores the aftermath of that accusation for Robbie, Celia, and Briony. The ensuing prison sentence, World War II, the evacuation at Dunkirk, Briony and Celia become nurses to help the war effort, and finally at the end, her confession to both her sister and Robbie that she got it wrong. The book ends with Briony leaving Robbie and Celia’s flat, determined to write a letter to her parents explaining what happened in order to restore the family. And then she plans to write the retraction of her testimony to the court so that Robbie’s name can be cleared. Atonement would be achieved.

Over the course of the book, we come to understand exactly who the perpetrator was, how he got away with it for decades and how he would go to the grave never having paid the consequences. But in the epilogue, Briony looks back on the incident, 50+ years later. Back in her childhood home, now converted to a hotel, where it all happened. And she describes the changes to the grounds, and we see the scenes that were so vividly rendered in the book almost like apparitions, and also with new eyes this time. We’re shown her regrets, and she explains how she changed a few details in the novel so her sister and Robbie could be lovers forever, when in truth they both died in the war. How she did everything she possibly could to make it right. Her second Atonement.

Does the book need the epilogue? Not at all. The ending of book felt complete because Briony’s character had set off to make things right and fulfill the promise of the book and its apt title. This epilogue lands like a gift. A few more explanations, more empathy toward Briony and her regrets and remorse, and an even deeper understanding of what happened that’s seals itself into our bones.

The Chaperone by Laura Moriarty*

This book follows a housewife as she chaperones future silent film star Louise Brooks, then 15, across country from Wichita to NYC in 1922. Cora, our chaperone wants to return to NYC to visit the orphanage where she was raised to learn about her family, but that means wrangling Louise the whole way. And she’s a handful. Flirting with men twice her age and already drinking like a fish.

We learn that Cora’s husband is a closeted gay man, and about her sexless marriage, and as the train chugs across the midwest her sexual frustration mounts. Once in NYC with Louise finally ensconced in the dance school, she goes to the orphanage and meets Joseph, the handyman, who she has an affair with. And everything about her life starts to make far more sense.

Then she brings Joseph back to Wichita, along with his young daughter. The book could’ve ended there, and we could’ve said Ah, OK. This is where it’s going to be an HEA for not only Cora, but her husband as well. Wonderful.

Enter the epilogue that reads almost like a bullet-pointed list and stretches ahead into the 1950s, littered with stuff that doesn’t matter as far as the story’s concerned. I couldn’t figure out why I had to be with these characters until their final breath when I already understood the story. The most interesting shit happened on the train to NYC with Louise and then with Joseph once she got to the city.

Leaving it partially unresolved, but with a clear direction for where it was headed at the end, would’ve helped the book land in the sweetest spot. So if you’re tempted to add an epilogue, ask yourself who it’s really for. You or the story?

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So. You’re revising the first ten pages of your book.

Here’s what to look for in a first pass revision

And I would know. That was my catchphrase for years. And you know what? We are who we practice. Who we declare ourselves to be. Me, the writer of shitty beginnings. Since I didn’t want to be that writer, I had to learn how to not be that writer. First stop on that train was to cut out telling myself, and everyone who would listen, how terrible I am at starting stories. Second stop, get better at starting stories.

The moment you finish your manuscript, the next pressing question buzzes in your ear. How are you going polish the next draft? And what about those first ten pages? They all say the magic is in those first ten pages. If you lose your agent in the first ten pages, you’ll never make it to print, and then you’ll never be read and your life will be over and you’ll die of embarrassment. Before you know it, you’re sitting on the toilet and breathing into a paper sack.

Now, now. One thing at a time.

Yes, we’ve got to hone those first ten pages, but getting them right isn’t just for everyone else. It’s good for you and the story if you do. You won’t be writing a hundred drafts of the same book in order to figure it out. More like 50, but still!

Your first ten pages need the following

These pages are doing the heaviest lifting in the genre contract. Your reader should be able to tell what kind of book you’ve written, whose story it is, and what the emotional register will be. The stakes and the initial desire must also be present. And think about it. If you’re also a short story writer, you’re doing that in the first three paragraphs. You’ve got it in you.

Now if you break that contract, and cram those pages chock full of stuff that we don’t need to know right now (even though it sure is interesting), you’ll lose that reader before chapter two.

Which means, the first ten pages must answer the question: Should I keep reading? Oh, that sounds like such capitalist nonsense, until you start to think about the process of getting a story published or distributed beyond your writing group. Breathe into the bag and let’s keep going.

Not be a total buzzkill, but when you’re reading stories, you’re asking the same question. You might not know it consciously, but your brain is looking for reasons to stay. It takes a ton of brain energy to read, and our brains are lazy. They want the same ol predictable, boring, and safe stuff. You might not be scanning for a reason to ditch the story, but your brain is. Your job as a writer is to not give your readers’ brains a reason to whine to their person and check out.

Fix these common issues first

The order of information will hurt you more than terrible writing. Now, don’t get me wrong. Terrible writing should still be addressed, but shoving flashbacks and backstory into the first ten pages, cramming it to the seams with world building, and stuffing every sentence with character history will grind the machine to a halt.

Sometimes it’s hard to see that you’re doing that in your own work. After all, you can see it all so clearly in your own head. While I love that I can vividly imagine my scenes, it’s also proven to be my biggest blind spot. One way to combat this is to ask yourself:

  • Does this information need to be here, or does it just need to exist somewhere in this book?
  • Does it need to exist at all? ✂️ if it doesn’t even if you really love it and it’s your favorite bit.

Once you’ve determined the order of information, and moved backstory and character history to more intuitive places in your book, it’s time to do my favorite English teacher hack.

Read your first ten pages aloud. You’re not doing it to catch typos, although you may catch some. You’re doing it to hear the voice of the narrator.

  • Where does it actually come onto the page? Sentence one is best.
  • Does it flag anywhere? Where?
  • Is it congruent with the genre?

Of course, there are plot considerations and character motivation to reexamine, but if you’re taking a first pass at the first ten pages, these are things you can do to any manuscript to make it better.

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