How To Choose a Secondary Plot When a Relationship is the Primary Plot in Your Story?
When your story’s heart is a relationship—romantic or otherwise—it’s easy to pour all your creative energy into those two people. You want readers to fall in love with their chemistry, their tension, their journey. But here’s the thing: even the strongest emotional connection can start to feel one-dimensional if it isn’t balanced with something else.
That’s where a secondary plot comes in.
A good secondary plot gives your story depth, rhythm, and realism. It creates space for your characters to grow outside of the relationship, to face challenges that test their love in unexpected ways.
Think of it like adding harmony to a melody—it doesn’t steal the show, but it makes the whole thing richer. Whether it’s a career ambition, a family conflict, or a mystery unfolding in the background, that extra thread can keep readers invested when the main romance quiets down.
Understanding the Role of a Secondary Plot
Let’s be honest—relationship-centered stories can be emotionally intense. They’re about connection, miscommunication, longing, and vulnerability. But even the most passionate stories need contrast to stay dynamic. A secondary plot gives your readers something else to hold onto—a way to see your characters through a different lens.
It’s About Balance, Not Distraction
I’ve seen a lot of writers (myself included, once upon a time) treat subplots like side quests—something to fill the quiet moments between romantic milestones. But the best secondary plots don’t just fill space. They balance the emotional highs and lows of the main story.
Think about it: in Pride and Prejudice, the romance between Elizabeth Bennet and Mr. Darcy is the center. But the backdrop of class and social expectations creates constant friction that gives their interactions more meaning. Without that world pressing down on them, their witty banter might just feel like clever flirting instead of a rebellion against rigid society.
The secondary plot doesn’t distract; it deepens the context. It answers the question, “Why does this relationship matter right now, in this world, under these pressures?”
How Subplots Add Texture
A well-chosen subplot can make your story feel alive, like there’s a whole world moving around your main couple. Maybe one of them is chasing a personal goal—getting into art school, saving a family business, or exposing a corporate secret. That plot thread isn’t about the relationship, but it shapes how the relationship unfolds.
In La La Land, for example, Mia and Sebastian’s romance is wrapped around their creative ambitions. The career subplot is what pulls them together at first (mutual admiration for each other’s passion), and what eventually tears them apart. That’s the sweet spot for a secondary plot—it amplifies the main story instead of competing with it.
Sometimes the secondary plot acts as a mirror, showing us another version of love or ambition. Other times, it’s a contrast, highlighting what’s missing in the main relationship. In The Notebook, the war and family disapproval form external subplots that both separate and test the lovers’ devotion. In contrast, a story like 500 Days of Summer uses career struggles as a kind of emotional mirror, reflecting the characters’ differing beliefs about purpose and fulfillment.
Parallelism and Intersection
If your primary story is emotional, the subplot can offer intellectual or moral tension. And when they intersect—oh, that’s storytelling magic. The trick is to find echoes between the two plots. For instance, if your main relationship explores trust, maybe the secondary plot deals with a professional betrayal. Readers will start to feel a satisfying connection between the two arcs, even if you never spell it out.
One of my favorite examples of this is in The Hunger Games. Sure, there’s a romantic thread between Katniss and Peeta, but the rebellion subplot is what truly defines the emotional stakes. The love story doesn’t exist in a vacuum—it’s constantly influenced by the moral and political battles happening around them.
That intersection keeps the story fresh. When one thread slows down, the other steps in to keep the energy alive. It’s like breathing—inhale with the romance, exhale with the subplot.
Emotional Variety and Reader Engagement
There’s also a practical reason to build a solid secondary plot: pacing. Readers need emotional variety. If every chapter is two people arguing, reconciling, or pining, the tension plateaus. But throw in a subplot—say, a looming deadline, a hidden secret, or a family issue—and suddenly, the emotional rhythm shifts.
Think about your favorite shows. In Gilmore Girls, the relationships (romantic and familial) are the core, but the subplots—Rory’s education, Lorelai’s business struggles, small-town politics—make the story breathe. Those smaller arcs give the main relationship time to evolve off-screen while still keeping the viewer emotionally engaged.
Subplots as a Source of Contrast
Another neat trick is using the subplot as a foil. For example, if your main story is about two people learning to communicate, your secondary plot might show a friendship that’s fallen apart because of poor communication. It reinforces your theme through contrast.
Or imagine your central couple is trapped in a luxurious but emotionally cold life. A subplot involving a side character’s humble but fulfilling existence could highlight what your leads are missing. Readers love when they can spot these contrasts—it feels like discovering a hidden message woven into the fabric of the story.
Why It All Matters
At the end of the day, a secondary plot isn’t just “extra.” It’s the thing that keeps your story multi-dimensional. It helps your characters exist as more than lovers—they’re individuals with goals, fears, and external challenges. When their personal struggles collide with their relationship journey, we see who they truly are under pressure.
So, when you’re planning your story, don’t think of the subplot as an afterthought. Think of it as the shadow that defines the light of your main relationship. Without it, you’ve got passion, sure—but with it, you’ve got meaning.
How to Choose the Right Secondary Plot
Choosing a secondary plot is a bit like choosing the right outfit for a big event—you don’t want it to outshine the main attraction, but you also don’t want it to fade into the background. The goal is harmony. The secondary plot should amplify your main relationship story, not compete with it. Let’s look at how to pick one that really works.
Make It Thematically Connected
The easiest way to start is by asking: What is my story really about? If your main relationship explores trust, the secondary plot could revolve around a betrayal at work. If it’s about vulnerability, maybe one of the characters is dealing with a family secret. The two don’t have to be identical—but they should speak to each other.
Take Crazy, Stupid, Love. The main relationship arc follows Cal and his estranged wife Emily, but the subplot—Jacob (the ladies’ man) mentoring Cal—echoes the same theme: learning what love actually means. The two storylines play off each other beautifully. One shows love lost and rediscovered, while the other shows love discovered for the first time.
When your subplot and main plot share a heartbeat, every scene feels purposeful. Readers subconsciously pick up on the harmony between them.
Ensure It Contributes to Character Growth
A subplot isn’t just extra entertainment—it’s a tool for transformation. Ask yourself how it will change your characters. Will it expose a flaw? Force a tough choice? Reveal hidden strength?
In A Star Is Born, the main relationship between Ally and Jackson explores fame, love, and loss. But the music-industry subplot—her rise and his decline—is what drives their emotional evolution. Without that professional contrast, their love story wouldn’t carry the same tragic weight.
Think of your subplot as a mirror that reflects who your characters are becoming. If it doesn’t push them to grow, it’s probably just taking up space.
Balance Internal and External Conflict
Relationship stories often thrive on internal conflict—jealousy, insecurity, emotional distance. A well-crafted subplot can bring in external conflict to balance the emotional load.
For instance, in The Notebook, the main story is intensely emotional, but the external conflicts—family disapproval, war, class differences—give the romance something tangible to fight against. Without those, the story might feel claustrophobic, too trapped inside the lovers’ heads.
On the flip side, if your relationship plot already involves a ton of external drama (say, a love story unfolding during a heist or apocalypse), your secondary plot could focus inward—on a character’s personal transformation or moral dilemma. That contrast keeps readers emotionally grounded.
Think About Timing and Integration
A common mistake is dropping a subplot in too early or too late. The best subplots are woven in gradually, like threads in a tapestry.
Early in the story, it might just appear as a background detail—your protagonist’s job stress, a friend’s mysterious behavior, or a goal they’ve put on hold. As the main relationship heats up, the subplot grows, intersecting with the emotional arc until the two collide.
For example, in To All the Boys I’ve Loved Before, the fake-dating subplot doesn’t just exist for fun; it becomes the emotional engine of the romance. The “pretend” plot slowly blurs into reality, and that intersection is what makes the story irresistible.
Keep the Scale Right
A good secondary plot doesn’t need to be epic—it just needs to matter. If it’s too big, it’ll swallow your main plot; too small, and it won’t carry enough emotional weight.
Let’s say your main plot is an intense love story. A subplot about saving the world might feel like it belongs in another genre. But a subplot about saving a family business? That’s personal, relatable, and thematically compatible.
When the scale fits, your story feels cohesive. You’re not juggling two different novels—you’re telling one layered, believable one.
Use the Subplot to Raise the Stakes
Sometimes the secondary plot is what raises the emotional stakes of the main one. Maybe one character’s success in the subplot could cost them the relationship. Maybe failure in the subplot forces a difficult choice in love.
In The Devil Wears Prada, the romance isn’t the primary focus, but when it collides with Andy’s professional subplot, it creates tension that feels real. The more she grows in her career, the further she drifts from her boyfriend. That’s how you use a subplot to make love feel costly—and therefore meaningful.
Remember, It’s All About Emotion
No matter what kind of subplot you choose—career, mystery, friendship, family—it needs to carry emotional energy. Readers won’t care about the external events unless they tie back to something that matters emotionally.
That’s why the best subplots aren’t about “what happens,” but “what it means.” They make your main story resonate more deeply because they show your characters wrestling with the same emotional truths in different ways.
So, when you’re unsure what your secondary plot should be, start with one question: What emotion is my story missing right now? If your main relationship is all passion, maybe your subplot adds frustration. If it’s all tension, maybe it adds hope. You’re not just filling space—you’re balancing the emotional spectrum.
How to Weave Both Plots Together
Choosing your subplot is half the battle. The real trick is in how you weave it in so it feels seamless—like it belongs there from the very start.
Connect Them Through Cause and Effect
The strongest stories link the primary and secondary plots through consequences. Something that happens in one directly affects the other.
In The Fault in Our Stars, Hazel’s illness (the subplot) constantly influences her romance with Gus. Every decision they make as a couple is shaped by her health. There’s no clean separation between “main” and “secondary”—they’re two parts of one whole.
If your subplot doesn’t affect your main plot, it might feel decorative instead of necessary. So look for cause-and-effect bridges between them. How does one complicate the other? How do they feed off each other’s tension?
Alternate the Emotional Focus
Stories breathe better when the emotional focus shifts. Think of it like music—you need highs, lows, and pauses.
Let’s say your main plot just hit an emotional high point—your characters finally confess their feelings. That’s a perfect time to pivot back to the subplot. Maybe one of them gets a call about a looming crisis at work. The emotional contrast keeps the momentum alive and prevents the story from stalling.
Switching between emotional beats—love, fear, hope, conflict—creates a satisfying rhythm. Readers won’t even realize you’re managing their attention; they’ll just feel pulled along naturally.
Use Shared Symbols or Motifs
One of the sneakiest ways to connect your plots is through symbolism. Maybe both storylines involve a recurring object (a letter, a song, a photograph) that takes on new meaning as the story unfolds.
For example, in Titanic, the drawing of Rose connects the romance with the larger story of survival. It’s not just sentimental—it becomes proof of her existence and the depth of their bond.
Symbols like that act as invisible threads. They make separate storylines feel intertwined on a subconscious level.
Make Both Plotlines Resolve Together
A satisfying story usually wraps up both plots in a way that feels emotionally linked. One doesn’t have to “solve” the other, but they should reach closure that reflects shared growth.
If your characters reconcile in the romance, maybe they also achieve peace in the subplot—a personal victory, a long-awaited truth, or a symbolic moment of letting go. That connection gives your ending resonance.
Think of Silver Linings Playbook: the romantic reconciliation happens right alongside the subplot of emotional healing and family forgiveness. Both conclude together, and that harmony is what makes the ending so cathartic.
Keep Checking for Consistency
When revising, look at your two plots side by side. Ask yourself:
- Are both moving forward in every act?
- Does one fade out too long?
- Do they connect emotionally or thematically?
You can even map them—draw two lines on a chart and see where they intersect. If they never touch, your subplot might need more integration. If they overlap too much, you risk redundancy.
Remember, the best subplots feel like reflections, not replicas. They don’t repeat what the main story already says; they expand it.
Let the Subplot Carry Its Own Heartbeat
Finally, don’t treat your secondary plot like a sidekick. It deserves its own stakes, its own arc, and maybe even a small emotional payoff.
Readers might come for the romance, but they stay for the world around it—the friendships, ambitions, and choices that make it feel real. That’s what a great secondary plot does: it turns your story from a love song into a full symphony.
Before You Leave
If you’ve ever felt your relationship-driven story was missing something, chances are it wasn’t the romance—it was the balance. A strong secondary plot doesn’t steal attention; it gives your main story more to stand on. It adds contrast, rhythm, and a world beyond the couple’s gaze.
When you choose your subplot wisely and weave it with care, your story stops being just about two people in love. It becomes about what that love means—in a world that keeps testing it. And that’s the kind of storytelling that lingers long after the last page.
