You’ll see this in a lot of YA fiction, TV series, etc – it’s easy and effective.
It’s the “hunt for the missing family member.”
One of the main characters has missing parents, or a mother or father, or a big brother or sister, or younger sibling that has gone missing. Maybe even an uncle (although uncles generally turn out to be the bad guy).
It’s easy to introduce and explain, and justifies having good, smart characters make stupid decisions. You need conflict, and the plot should be character driven, which means your characters sometimes need to do stupid, desperate things that aren’t very safe.
Why would they risk it?
Why would they press on when their friends tell them to stop?
Why would they throw their life and current relationships away?
To find the truth.
This is Mulder chasing his abducted sister.
It not only helps us understand the character’s devotion to the cause, it also helps give the character a motivation to take deliberate, if reckless, action, without losing the sympathy of the reader, which makes it very effective.
Why a missing person works better than a dead one
A dead parent gives a character grief. A missing one gives them a job. Grief is something your hero carries; a search is something your hero does, and doing is what moves a plot. That is the whole trick in one line: the missing relative turns an emotion into a task with a direction.
It also buys you sympathy for free. Readers forgive a lot of bad decisions when the character is looking for a brother. They forgive almost nothing when the character is just curious.
A YA book that runs on this trick
You can see the device working in a book your readers already know:
The Mortal Instruments: Clary’s mother disappears in the first act and the search for her is the engine that drags Clary into a world she did not know existed. Note how the search gives her permission to do reckless things in a city she does not understand.
How to plant it and pay it off
The trick only works if the reader believes the search matters before the character does something stupid. Plant it early, then pay it off. Five questions to check your draft against:
Who is missing, and does the reader meet them (or the hole they left) before the search starts?
What does the character lose by searching, and does the reader see that cost?
Does the search push the character into a choice they would never make at home?
Is there a moment where the character could stop, and chooses not to?
Does the payoff answer the question the search asked, even if the answer is bad?
If you can answer all five, the trick is doing its job. If you can only answer the first, you have a missing person and no plot.
If the first chapter still feels quiet, this guide to conflict in the first chapter shows where to put the pressure.
The limit: when it turns into an excuse
The device fails when the missing person is only there to justify bad decisions the writer wanted anyway. Readers notice. If every reckless choice in the book can be explained with “because my sister is missing,” the search stops feeling like a wound and starts feeling like a permission slip.
The fix is to make the search cost something the character cannot get back. Time, trust, a friendship, a place at home. A search with a price is a plot. A search with no price is a reason to keep turning pages, and not much more.
Using it on a side character
Strangely, so far in most of my fiction, I haven’t used this technique, which is a mistake. Most of my characters are only children. Nobody goes missing. They don’t have a burning quest to find them. My characters are usually motivated by external opposition and trying to protect loved ones.
But this doesn’t have to be used by a main character – maybe you need a marginal character or friend to do something to jumpstart the plot into action at the right time… the “missing relative” gives them a reason to do so which is honorable, without turning them into a bad guy.
For a bigger plot that needs a quest engine, the fantasy novel guide covers how to build one.
FAQ About the Missing Family Member Trick
Q: Does the missing person have to be a parent? A: No. A sibling, a grandparent or an uncle all work.
Q: What if I do not want to write a search plot? A: You do not have to. The missing person can be the reason your hero is already on the road when the book starts.
Q: Can it work in a standalone? A: Yes, as long as the payoff lands inside the book. A search that never resolves reads as a loose thread, not a trick.
I’ve written several posts about how to write YA, but let’s just talk about the intro. In the majority of YA books (maybe half), the protagonist has to move and start a new school.
The first day goes like this:
New friend explains the rules
Hot guy who she’s warned to stay away from
Embarrassing moment
Probably a bully who makes fun of her
Something mysterious or unexplained happens
Easy right?
After the first day
She probably feels overwhelmed or all alone, someone shows her kindness, later she infiltrates the “cool crowd” – those standoffish, secretive kids who all look like supermodels.
She learns she has secret powers, that her parents were probably ass-kicking members of a secret, supernatural group, and that she is the key to everything – if she can learn to control her powers.
There’s another guy, who’s probably blonde, who is nice and funny but she’s just not into him. She obsesses about the other guy, the hot guy with shaggy dark hair, who is always brooding or looking at her like a puzzle he needs to solve. She finally hooks up with him (even if he starts with a girlfriend) after they have a few arguments.
There’s a bad guy, who wants something she has (or something she can find; or something her parents stole… or he just wants her for her abilities) and he’s probably trying to take over the world.
He offers her the one thing she wants more than anything, but she would have to betray her new friends so she turns him down.
Short answer: mermaids are creatures of myth, so nobody can say for certain, but there are three workable theories: external fertilization like fish, internal fertilization like mammals, or a hybrid of the two that starts with a courtship ritual. They are compared below, along with the crustacean answer I used in my own mermaid novel.
Like many people, been curious about mermaid intercourse since watching Disney’s The Little Mermaid. Now that I’m writing my first mermaid romance, I had to figure it out with science.
I don’t like paranormal romance books where you can’t understand the physics of love-making, and mermaid sex is a biological challenge.
It’s not like with minotaurs or centaurs, or other shifters, where you assume they have working genitalia between their legs somewhere. Mermen and women are shown with a fish tail up to their waist, leaving little room for spare parts.
The obvious solution is to have them breed with eggs: the female lays them, the man does his thing after. But that’s not very sexy or passionate. So how do merpeople hook up when they like each other?
Like mermaid romance?Of Song and Tide (the first Shearwater book) is my mermaid romance novel. Read it on Kindle.
The Shellfish Solution
To solve this problem, I just made my merpeople crustaceans. They have an exoskeleton over their lower body, which they molt.
He reached across the table and squeezed my hand. There was another question I was dying to ask, but I was a little afraid of the answer.
I finally worked up the courage and blurted out, “How do you… mate?”
I blushed.
His grin widened, he was enjoying himself.
“We come on land and remove our exoskeletons. Under our shells our organs are… nearly identical to humans. I’m sure you’ve heard the birds and the bees speech. If we want children, the females will stay in caves near shore until the eggs are ready, then go into the ocean and give birth. Young merrow are defenseless for the first few years, and need to be guarded and watched by the mother and father. After a few months, they’ll grow their first exo, but then they’ll need a new one every year for about twenty years. After that, they will stay virtually unchanged for decades.”
That solves the mating issue, and also gives them some uniquely awesome powers and abilities.
“In the ocean, with our exos on, we’re nearly invincible,” he smiled. “Hardly anything can puncture our shell, even our fists are protected by almost a centimeter of cartilage. We use them to break shells of other crustaceans, or fight off large ocean predators. Have you ever heard of the Mantis shrimp?”
I shook my head.
“We keep them as pets, they’re beautiful. Its punch is as strong as a gunshot; it’s so powerful and fast it boils the water around it. And their skin is so resilient, the military has been studying their cell structure to make advanced body armor.”
“So what you’re saying, basically, is that you’re a giant shrimp?” I couldn’t help teasing him. He smiled back at me.
“A very charming, handsome shrimp,” he replied.
Fun, right?
How Mermaids Might Have Sex: A Hypothetical Exploration
Alright, mermaid enthusiasts, let’s dive into the more curious side of mermaid mythology—how might these enchanting creatures reproduce? While this is purely speculative and blends a bit of biology with fantasy, it’s fun to imagine how these mystical beings might engage in intimate relationships.
Anatomy Considerations
First, let’s consider the anatomy. Traditional mermaid lore depicts these beings with the upper body of a human and the lower body of a fish. This unique combination would suggest that mermaids might have reproductive systems adapted to their underwater lifestyle.
Hypothetical Scenarios
1. External Fertilization
In many fish species, reproduction occurs through external fertilization. Female fish release eggs into the water, which are then fertilized by male fish. Applying this to mermaids, it’s possible that they might engage in a similar process. The female mermaid could release eggs into the water, and the male mermaid could release sperm to fertilize them. This method would align with their aquatic nature.
2. Internal Fertilization
Alternatively, if we consider the human aspects of mermaids, they might engage in internal fertilization similar to mammals. This scenario would involve more traditional copulation, with mermaids possessing reproductive organs adapted for underwater coupling. Given their hybrid nature, these organs might be located where their human and fish anatomies intersect.
3. Hybrid Approach
Another possibility is a hybrid approach that combines elements of both human and fish reproduction. Mermaids might engage in a courtship ritual, using songs or dances to attract mates. Once a pair bonds, they could find a secluded underwater grotto where the female lays eggs, which the male then fertilizes. This combines the romantic elements often associated with mermaids and the practical aspects of aquatic reproduction.
The three theories side by side
Theory
How it would work
Borrowed from
1. External fertilization
The female releases eggs into the water and the male releases sperm to fertilize them.
Fish
2. Internal fertilization
More traditional copulation, with reproductive organs adapted for underwater coupling, possibly where the human and fish anatomies meet.
Mammals
3. Hybrid approach
A courtship ritual of songs or dances, a pair bond, then a secluded grotto where the female lays eggs and the male fertilizes them.
Both
Courtship and Romance
In mermaid lore, romance often plays a significant role. Courtship rituals might involve intricate dances, mesmerizing songs, or the exchange of beautiful shells and treasures from the sea. These rituals would not only serve as a way to attract mates but also to form strong bonds that are crucial for raising their young in the often perilous underwater world.
Raising the Young
Once the eggs are fertilized, mermaid parents might guard them until they hatch. Given their human intelligence, mermaids could exhibit complex parenting behaviors, teaching their young to swim, hunt, and sing their enchanting songs. The young mermaids, or merlings, would learn the ways of the sea from their parents, blending survival skills with the mystical traditions of their kind.
Quick answers about mermaid reproduction
How do mermaids have babies?
It depends on the theory. In the fish-style and hybrid versions the female lays eggs, and the parents might guard them until they hatch and then teach their young to swim, hunt and sing. In the crustacean version from my novel, the females stay in caves near shore until the eggs are ready, then go into the ocean and give birth, and the young merrow are defenseless for the first few years.
Can a mermaid mate with a human?
Mermaids are mythical, so it is up to whoever is writing them. In the crustacean version I used, the merfolk come on land and remove their exoskeletons, and underneath their organs are nearly identical to humans. In the internal fertilization theory above, the organs would sit where the human and fish anatomies meet.
For more myths, lore and books about merfolk, see all the mermaid lore and mermaid books on this site.
While we may never know for sure how mermaids might reproduce, imagining these possibilities adds another layer of fascination to their mythos. Whether through mystical courtship or practical underwater adaptation, the allure of mermaids continues to capture our imaginations. So, next time you’re near the sea, let your mind wander and dream about the secrets these enchanting creatures might hold. 🧜♀️🧜♂️💙
Would you sleep with a mermaid?
If you did, what would you be worried about?
PS) If you want to read my novel, Shearwater (now titled Of Song and Tide), you can get it on Amazon.
