Romance Writing Problem: Squandering Power Imbalances

Separating the couple in a romance is nearly a given. The reason for the separation varies. One common reason is a power imbalance. Boss and intern. Boss and employee. King and courtier. Professor and student. Homeowner and handy man. And so on.

In many cases, despite some initial hesitation, the power gap can be ignored or easily overcome, in large part (most of the time) because the relationship is accepted by society (to a degree). 42% of people have dated a co-worker while 16% of couples met each other at work. Likewise, though far more negatively viewed these days, a college professor and student is fairly common fodder. And hey, for king and courtier, there's always Elizabeth I and Robert Dudley. 

I recently encountered such a relationship in a novel that I just couldn't defend. The relationship was a parolee and the equivalent of a parole officer--actually, the supervisor of an early release program. 

IT working relationship--quite believable!

The same writer created a similar earlier book with a relationship that I could endorse, namely, the parolee was sent to the ranch to work but the immediate parolee's supervisor was not running the program.

With the more recent book, however, I kept thinking, "Man, they are so going to lose their funding." 

The program gets state money, and no one at the state level is going to fund a program where the person in charge slept with one of the parolees before the program ended. Absolutely, no way. 

The writer makes a fundamental mistake, which I address elsewhere, including here. Because we readers see inside the protagonists' heads, we know that there is no power imbalance, nobody is taking advantage, and everybody truly loves everybody else. Consequently, when one of the other parolees makes a sarcastic remark about the relationship, the reader is supposed to view the sarcasm as misplaced--an obstacle for the lovers rather than a red flag. 

Nope. It's a red flag. No way would anyone in the program be able to trust the supervisor from that point on--any more than students can trust teachers who play favorites or sleep with students in the same program/course (which is why that relationship, though relatively more common, still raises eyebrows). 

And no way would the state--the bureaucrats who require documentation for everything--ever fold in the face of "but we feel so strongly!" reasoning. I have an image of completely unimpressed inspectors nodding away sympathetically right before they walk off with all the money and equipment. 

Basic professional behavior is expected, folks. The money can go elsewhere.

The sad thing to me is that the writer respecting boundaries here would have created more tension. In our increasingly democratic age (whatever doomsdayers like to believe), it is more and more difficult to create external barriers for lovers. In the charming Thai series, The Boss and the Babe, the barrier of boss and intern is little more than a temporary snag. The greater barrier, intelligently, is Cher's tendency to take the weight of the world on his shoulders while showing a smiling face to the people around him. Psychology has to be the fall-back position.

Which means that if an actual barrier exists, don't squander it! Use it in some way. 

In the aforementioned book, the parolee could leave the program, then return as a civilian. The supervisor could step down. The parolee could move to a different team. They could both wait until the program ends. Ramp up sexual tension and solve the problem creatively!