There’s something about a walk that makes my brain kick into another gear. Today’s thought? Readers don’t buy plots. They buy promises.
Think about it. Why do we make such a big deal out of tropes? Because they’re promises.
When someone picks up a romance novel labeled forced proximity, they aren’t buying an apartment, a cabin in the woods, or one hotel room with only one bed. They’re buying the promise that two people who probably wouldn’t choose each other will have no choice but to truly see one another.
When a reader sees friends to lovers, they aren’t buying years of shared history. They’re buying the promise that love has been quietly growing beneath the surface all along.
Even enemies to lovers isn’t really about enemies. It’s the promise that first impressions don’t always tell the whole story.
Plots are what happen. Promises are why we care.
Every genre has them.
A mystery promises answers. A thriller promises danger. Fantasy promises discovery. Romance promises emotional satisfaction—not necessarily an easy journey, but one worth taking.
As writers, we spend so much time worrying about twists, world-building, and clever dialogue that it’s easy to forget the question every reader is asking before they even open Chapter One:
“What are you promising me?”
That promise begins long before the first page. It starts with the cover. The title. The blurb. The tropes. Even the way an author talks about their work.
Everything subtly tells a reader, “Here’s the experience you’re about to have.”
And here’s the beautiful part: A promise doesn’t spoil a story. It gives readers confidence to begin one.
For me, Emergency Contacts promises hope, healing, found family. It’s a slow-burn romance. It’s also a love letter to the people behind medicine.
The details of how Adam and Sofie get there? That’s the story. The promise is simply why I hope you’ll want to take the journey with them.
What’s your favorite trope—and what promise does it make to you?