Writing Authentic LGBTQ+ Romance
Let’s get something straight right off the bat (pun fully intended): LGBTQ+ romance isn’t a niche. It’s not an edgy subplot. And it’s certainly not just a rainbow-tinted twist on the usual will-they-won’t-they formula. It’s love. Glorious, complicated, heartbreaking, hilarious, vulnerable, kiss-me-under-the-rain love.
And it deserves to be written that way.
Whether you’re penning your first queer love story or you’ve been at this longer than RuPaul’s been sassy, these ten pointers will help you write LGBTQ+ romance that resonates like a George Michael ballad and hits harder than your first heartbreak.
1. Start with Fully Formed Characters, Not Just Identities
Your characters are not checklists. Queer, sure. But also funny, anxious, brilliant at making risotto, bad at answering texts, obsessed with sea otters. Think Fleabag meets Heartstopper. Your protagonists should be messy and marvellous.
Case in point: Shannon in The Third Act by Kathleen Brehony. She’s a sixty-five-year-old woman with a broken heart, a sharp wit, and a golden retriever named Molly who steals scenes like she’s gunning for an Oscar. She is not defined by her sexuality—but it’s also not erased. She’s gloriously human.
2. Understand Queer Culture and Context
This one’s crucial. Don’t write queer characters in a vacuum. We live in a world shaped by politics, prejudice, joy, celebration, grief, and pride. If you’re not part of the community, do the work. Read books. Watch queer cinema. Follow queer creators. Hire a sensitivity reader. Get the context right.
Start with:
3. Use Tropes with Intention
Tropes are tropes for a reason. Second-chance romance? Delicious. Friends to lovers? Sign me up. But in queer fiction, tropes carry historical baggage. “Bury your gays” is not just a sad TV episode. It’s a pattern.
So yes, use the tropes. But wield them like a queer sword of justice. In The Third Act, Brehony uses the second-chance trope, but with an age-positive twist: Shannon and Elizabeth are older, wiser, and still absolutely swoon-worthy.
4. Build Chemistry with Emotional Realism
Sparks are great. But emotional electricity? That’s the gold standard.
Don’t just write sexy glances and witty banter. Give us the emotional freight train of real connection. What makes these two people crack open for each other? Where are the scars they don’t show anyone else?
A simple touch, an unfinished sentence, the moment one character makes tea exactly how the other likes it—those are the beats that build romance that sticks.
5. Write Love Scenes with Purpose
Look, we’re not here to tell you how steamy your scenes should be. That’s between you and your browser history. But every kiss, every sigh, every tumble into bed (or against the kitchen counter, we’re not judging) should reveal something about the characters.
Are they hesitant? Hungry? Afraid? Bold? Sex is dialogue. Use it.
And yes, consent is sexy. Always.
6. Create Meaningful Conflict Without Villainizing Identity
Avoid the trap of making queerness the problem. If the central conflict is “I’m gay and that’s bad,” we’re not progressing, we’re regressing. Your characters can struggle with identity, sure, but give them other things to wrestle with too.
Work stress. Family drama. The existential dread of turning 40. (Just me?) In The Third Act, Shannon isn’t battling her queerness; she’s navigating grief, aging, and a new shot at love.
7. Center Chosen Family and Community
Let’s shout it from the queer rooftops: community is everything. Show the friend groups, the found families, the exes who still show up with wine when it all falls apart.
This is part of what makes LGBTQ+ storytelling rich. Don’t isolate your characters. Give them people who know them deeply and love them unconditionally—even when they’re a hot mess.
8. Include Joy as Resistance
Queer joy is revolutionary. We’ve had enough tragedy. Let your characters laugh. Let them flirt, dance, make bad puns, take bubble baths, and snuggle their pets.
Let them fall in love without apology.
The Third Act is infused with this: dinners at the family-run pub, porch swings and wine, a community that celebrates every win.
9. Remember Intersectionality
Queer people aren’t a monolith. Your characters might be Black, disabled, fat, neurodivergent, trans, Muslim, or all of the above. Representation matters—authentic representation. Don’t just insert diversity for points. Write it with care, respect, and nuance.
Read:
10. Trust That Queer Love is Universal
Don’t write like you’re explaining queer love to a straight audience. Trust the emotional truth of your story. Write with heart. Let love be messy, real, and relatable.
Because love—in all its forms—is universal.
Final Thoughts (and One More Book Rec)
You don’t have to be queer to write authentic LGBTQ+ romance. But you do have to care. Deeply. That care should be in every sentence.
Books like The Third Act remind us that queer love stories aren’t just valid—they’re vital. And they don’t stop being beautiful after 30. Or 40. Or 65. So write with courage, write with joy, and write like it matters.
Because it does.
