Confession time. Before I joined an online writing community, I assumed everyone who loved romance books loved second-chance stories as much as I did. The realization they didn't fascinated me so much that when I wrote August Lane, the book became my argument for why this trope is so unique and special. I added the longing, the history, and the impossible task of moving forward when the past refuses to let you, everything I could think of. It’s my love letter to what this trope has meant to me over the years.
I know why so many of you don’t care for it. I genuinely get it. The past breakup can ruin it for a lot of readers. The heart of romance is the HEA or HFN (Happy Ever After or Happy For Now), and if a couple has broken up once, it means they can again. It's harder to believe these two will get it right the second time. But I love a messy romance. I particularly love stories that make me cry. Second-chance romances are about relationships with scars and cracks. Knowing something is fragile enough to break makes me appreciate the mending even more.
Breaking It Down
Second chances are ubiquitous in media. They're the favorite trope of country songs (something I confirmed during my extensive book research) and the foundation of 90s R&B (aka begging songs, because if you know, you know).
My understanding of tropes started in fandom, where I've been analyzing them since my LiveJournal days. In fandom, every story you write is grounded in trope, and the key to executing them well isn't just understanding the common beats - it's understanding why those beats work. This influences how I develop stories now. Whether it's a trope, a plot twist, or a particular type of character, I dig into the why, not merely the what and how. The what of a second chance romance is that it is about two people who were in a previous relationship and are given another opportunity to reunite, ideally for good. But that clinical definition doesn't capture what makes these stories so compelling. It's about longing and pining, yes, but more than that, it's about how the past lives in the present. Old moments echo new ones, and history resurfaces in seemingly innocuous gestures until every interaction carries the weight of what came before.1
Examples in Practice
Much of what I know about writing romance came from two sources: the 1995 film adaptation of Persuasion and summers spent watching The Young and the Restless. Soap operas taught me the how of second chance. Couples break up and reunite over decades, and you'd think watching the same pair find and lose each other multiple times would make you cynical. But soaps mastered the art of two things that I’m convinced are necessary to execute the trope well: a) allowing a significant amount of time to pass before reuniting two former lovers and b) putting characters in entirely different circumstances that made the story feel like a new beginning. Both of these factors consistently convinced me this time would be different. The characters I’d grown to love would make it work.
Persuasion (1995) taught me the why of the trope. Film is different from novels for obvious reasons; it’s a visual medium that relies on dialogue and subtext. In one of the first scenes, Anne Elliot, our protagonist, sits amid a swirl of conversation that eventually settles on Frederick Wentworth, the man she rejected eight years ago. She’s been sitting still, likely praying they won’t mention him. When someone blithely asks his name, she can only whisper it. Everything she's holding inside, all the history, is in that tortured whisper.
What makes this film special is its restraint. The feelings are all subtext, looks, breathing patterns, and eye contact. When Federick’s initial attempts to appear ambivalent to Anne start to crumble, he struggles to meet her eyes. Every word they say to each other is loaded with double meaning. And I still cry at the end, when he finally confesses his love to her in the most romantic letter ever written.
I am half agony, half hope. Tell me not that I am too late, that such precious feelings are gone forever. I offer myself to you again with a heart even more your own than when you almost broke it eight years and a half ago.
It’s easy to be convinced that these two were always destined to find each other again. The recent film Past Lives explores the element fate in second chance through the Korean concept of inyeon - the idea that people can have a connection formed in previous lives. As the film's protagonist explains, "It's an inyeon if two strangers even walk by each other on the street and their clothes accidentally brush. It means there must be something between them in their past lives."
The film opens with a question posed by an off-screen stranger watching the trio of main characters: "Who do you think they are to each other?" Think about this in the context of fate and second chance romance. This is the story question that’s always posed by this trope. Not only what happened, but who are they to each other? Who were they before? What has it meant that these two people loved and lost each other? What has it done to them?
The wildly popular Seven Days in June by Tia Williams embodies this predestined feeling beautifully. Eva and Shane write about each other the entire time they are apart. This constant presence, even in absence, is a form of haunting. That’s what I tried to capture in August Lane through a stolen song:
"She used to think this would get better. Eventually, she'd hear that song and listen to it like Bill did, as a familiar piece of fluffy nothing that drifted in and out of her life on the whims of a DJ. But now she knew it would never feel that way. Each time would be a new haunting."
Making It Work
When I write second chance romance, I think of the past and present as a single story rather than two timelines. The most challenging part isn't writing the breakup—it's conveying what was lost. The obvious answer is love. But we've all lost love. Some of us have lost it and found it again. In second chance, I try to convince readers that this love is different. These two people could never be their fully realized selves without finding each other again.
I could tell readers these two are destined for each other, but I’d probably get my hand slapped for telling and not showing. I think the answer lies in the subtext of Persuasion and the pull of destiny from Past Lives. It’s in the heart of the trope: haunting followed by healing and forgiveness. Wound your characters in a very specific way for which they blame themselves. Make this an irreversible choice that caused real damage. Let them carry that regret to the present storyline. Have it mold them. Make their shared journey towards love about forgiving themselves as much as it is about forgiving each other. This creates such a close relationship between their romance and self-healing that it convinces readers they could never be whole with anyone else. Without this fated love, that wound would still be there. They’d be forever haunted.
Words Worth Keeping
Forgiveness is this act of love where you say to someone, "You're an imperfect being and I still love you." You want to have this energy of "We're not giving up on each other; we're in this for the long haul. You hurt me. And, yes, I hurt you. And I'm sorry, but you're still mine."
From What My Bones Know by Stephanie Foo2
What moves me about this quote is how perfectly it captures the essence of second-chance romance and the deeper truth these stories explore. It's not just about two people finding their way back to each other. It’s about the profound act of choosing someone again, with full knowledge of their capacity to hurt you. This intersection of vulnerability and strength, of past wounds and future hopes, is what makes second-chance romance so compelling.
Second Chance Playlist
These songs capture the sense of haunting and forgiveness I've explored in this newsletter:
Four Seasons of Loneliness by Boyz II Men
When I get the courage up to love somebody new / It always falls apart 'cause they just can't compare to you
When We Were Young by Adele
I was so scared to face my fears / Nobody told me that you'd be here
I Fall to Pieces by Patsy Cline
But each time I go out with someone new / You walk by and I fall to pieces
Gold by Penny and Sparrow
You're a difficult love / I'm a narrow escape
Duet by Rachel Yamagata feat. Ray LaMontagne
And I will find you down the road / And will return back home to where we're meant to be
I Have Loved You Wrong by The Swell Season
Forgive me, lover, for I have sinned / For I have loved you wrong
Looking Ahead
I plan to release a newsletter on the third Monday of each month, with additional posts when I have time. Next time, I'll be exploring point of view and why I'm convinced that the book I'm currently drafting is the only one I'll ever write in the first person. I have a lot of thoughts, so it should be a good time.
If you've enjoyed this deep dive into second chance romance, you might be interested in how I explore these themes in August Lane. Preorders mean everything to authors, as they signal to publishers that readers are excited about our stories. I've recently finished drafting a special preorder incentive. I can’t wait to share that with you when it’s ready.
Let's Talk
I've shared why I think we keep coming back to these stories of lost and found love. Now, I want to hear from you: What draws you to (or pushes you away from) second-chance romance? What makes these stories worth the heartache? Tell me about a book, film, or song that perfectly captures that particular blend of hope and heartbreak.
Until next time,
Regina
1
This complexity might be why the trope is discussed alongside marriage-in-trouble. While they overlap thematically, there's a crucial difference. Marriage-in-trouble combines forced proximity with a second chance in a very specific way. It’s a topic I plan to explore in a future newsletter.
2
I highlight beautiful writing while I read. This section is where I plan to share beautiful writing that I've come across. Sometimes, it will relate to a theme. Sometimes, it'll be something that just blew me away.