Kissing. I mean writing about kissing.
Here's the problem for every self-respecting writer trying to craft a decent love scene: the English language, as glorious as it is, has very few words for "kiss." Or to be specific, very few words that I'm willing to or interested in using in place of the word "kiss." It's a serious problem. What is out there, really, other than that four letter word that begins with "k?"I have searched on-line and in my old hardback thesaurus and have come up with nothing satisfactory. The choices are dreadful.
For example, I refuse to even consider the word "osculate." It sounds more like something a doctor would do in a yearly physical. It's clinical. Cold. Sterile. It calls up images of metal examining tables and paper gowns. Not the warmth of a candle-lit room with Barry White singing in the background. Even a doctor in the throes of a passionate embrace with the woman he's proposing to doesn't osculate. (Don't ask how I know. Let's just say I've been there and done that.)
No, the only way "osculate" would get into something I was writing would be if I were to describe two people bringing into contact the flesh covering their orbicular oris muscles. Then it might work. But I'm not aware of a great demand for that type of anatomically descriptive love scenes.
"Neck," which Mr. Gates's prompt tells me is a synonym, gives me a different image--a warm summer night, a car and the gearshift getting in the way. Or, if one is writing for a younger audience, with the whole vampire thing that's going around, it calls up images of fangs and blood. Neither is what I write.
"Canoodle" is what celebrities do in the back booth of a restaurant in Beverly Hills so they can get caught by some reporter and make it on the entertainment shows on TV. "Peck" is what one does on the cheek of a friend to greet her. "Smooch" is loud and rude. "Smack" has too many other meanings, none of them good.
And "buss?" This is truly the worst of the lot--well, after "osculate." How in the world did a word that sounds like public transportation become synonymous with something emotional, passionate, loving, sweet, tender, sexy? I mean, "he bussed her." Really? Was she part of a school desegregation program? Run over by a Greyhound vehicle? Ridden out of town on a Trailways?
Janet Evanovich is supposed to have switched from romance writing to mysteries because she ran out of ways to describe the love scenes. I'm beginning to have some idea of what she meant and I'm just on the kissing. Maybe I'll use my translation program to find out what the word is in other languages. I bet the French have a ton of words for "kiss." I mean, they're French, after all.
Do you suppose they call it French kissing?
Wednesday, March 28, 2012
Thursday, March 22, 2012
Writing Romance
As I said last week, romance novels weren't what I thought I'd write. But now that I've settled on this genre, I'm loving it. I get to hang out on-line with a lot of other terrific writers who share my interest. I will have my first novel published in June (I've mentioned that before, have I? Sorry.) I get to download a ton of cool stuff onto my iPad and count as research reading which would, under other circumstances, be my entertainment.
In the hundred or so novels I have on my magic machine I have found a wide range of books. Some of them are so-so, many of them fun and funny, all of them have something to teach me as I hone my skills.
But none of them prepared me for the reactions people have when I tell them what I'm writing.
The folks who look oddly at me and ask "Why would you want to write that?" are easy to deal with. I just tell them I'm following the first rule of writing--write what you know. That usually shuts them up. It also makes them look speculatively at my husband.
The next group is easier. They're the women who would never, even if water-boarded, confess to most people that they read romance novels. They're usually lawyers or accountants or something like that, women with serious day jobs who escape into the fiction of romance. They get it. I love talking to them about what I'm writing.
But perhaps the most fun I've had is discussing my romance writing with other writers. I've been involved in critique groups both formal and informal for more than 15 years. I've had long and detailed discussions about point of view, scene vs. summary, the beats in dialogue, how to describe a room without sounding like Architectural Digest. Only since I've been writing romance, however, have my conversations with other writers been funny.
There was the writer who read one of my first drafts of my first novel. She made the usual comments about the arc of the story and the development of the characters. But then she went off in another direction. "One thing, that scene in her hotel room. Have you been kissing my husband?"
I said no, other than the peck on the cheek when we'd come into their house, I had not. Was that what she meant? No," she said. "I mean KISSED my husband. The way you describe your character kissing is exactly like the way (my husband) kisses. I didn't think anyone else kissed like that."
"Well," I said. "Aren't you lucky?"
Then there was the writer/friend who had proofed a novel about to head off to my Crimson Romance editor. She was happy with most of it except for one question. "That thing you said he does with his tongue. I thought they did that with their teeth. But I'm not sure. I don't think I was really paying much attention when it happened to me."
I was at a loss for words.
Best, maybe, was a recent lunch with a friend who is a writer, a romance fan and a PR whiz. She works for a construction company. After I regaled her with my stories of writing, she said, "I've been working all day on the most boring writing imaginable--an application to renew our permits to put up steel structures. All I can say is, after this lunch, steel erection will have a whole different meaning."
Always glad to be of assistance to my friends.
In the hundred or so novels I have on my magic machine I have found a wide range of books. Some of them are so-so, many of them fun and funny, all of them have something to teach me as I hone my skills.
But none of them prepared me for the reactions people have when I tell them what I'm writing.
The folks who look oddly at me and ask "Why would you want to write that?" are easy to deal with. I just tell them I'm following the first rule of writing--write what you know. That usually shuts them up. It also makes them look speculatively at my husband.
The next group is easier. They're the women who would never, even if water-boarded, confess to most people that they read romance novels. They're usually lawyers or accountants or something like that, women with serious day jobs who escape into the fiction of romance. They get it. I love talking to them about what I'm writing.
But perhaps the most fun I've had is discussing my romance writing with other writers. I've been involved in critique groups both formal and informal for more than 15 years. I've had long and detailed discussions about point of view, scene vs. summary, the beats in dialogue, how to describe a room without sounding like Architectural Digest. Only since I've been writing romance, however, have my conversations with other writers been funny.
There was the writer who read one of my first drafts of my first novel. She made the usual comments about the arc of the story and the development of the characters. But then she went off in another direction. "One thing, that scene in her hotel room. Have you been kissing my husband?"
I said no, other than the peck on the cheek when we'd come into their house, I had not. Was that what she meant? No," she said. "I mean KISSED my husband. The way you describe your character kissing is exactly like the way (my husband) kisses. I didn't think anyone else kissed like that."
"Well," I said. "Aren't you lucky?"
Then there was the writer/friend who had proofed a novel about to head off to my Crimson Romance editor. She was happy with most of it except for one question. "That thing you said he does with his tongue. I thought they did that with their teeth. But I'm not sure. I don't think I was really paying much attention when it happened to me."
I was at a loss for words.
Best, maybe, was a recent lunch with a friend who is a writer, a romance fan and a PR whiz. She works for a construction company. After I regaled her with my stories of writing, she said, "I've been working all day on the most boring writing imaginable--an application to renew our permits to put up steel structures. All I can say is, after this lunch, steel erection will have a whole different meaning."
Always glad to be of assistance to my friends.
Wednesday, March 14, 2012
The Lure of Romance (novels, that is)
The Wall Street Journal has a piece today on the surge in sales of romance novels, particularly the more spicy ones, due to the popularity of electronic readers. Women, it seems, like to read the books, they just don't like strangers to know what they're reading because of the cheesy covers many of the books seem to have. (I've always thought there was a market for fake covers with headlines proclaiming the book inside was a finalist for the Pulitzer or Booker prizes to solve the problem. Who would have thought the answer was a reading machine?)
This is of great interest to me because I am about to have my first romance novel published. I wouldn't have predicted this would be where my writing would lead me. I started out writing a couple mystery novels both of which got flattering rejections--that was back in the day when rejections came by mail and were personalized. You know, five years ago.
Anyway, I always assumed I'd follow in the footsteps of my favorite mystery writers. I've been reading in this genre since I was very young--starting with Nancy Drew like a billion other females. As an adult I've enjoyed Sue Grafton's alphabet, Elizabeth George's handsome hero, Tony Hillerman's knowledge of SW Native American culture, Diane Mott Davidson's recipes and Janet Evanovich's cupcake (okay, okay, okay. Not the cupcake heroine. Morelli and Ranger. There. Are you satisfied?)
Of course I've read romances, too. The ones by the Brontes and Jane Austen that masquerade as literature, the ones my mother read by Nora Roberts, the ones my mother would never read by Sandra Brown. But write one? Nah, not my thing.
Then something interesting happened. Two people began to live in my head, a beautiful woman and a drop-dead gorgeous man. I started writing character sketches about them, began to collect magazine and catalog pictures of what they would wear, what their homes would look like. In other words, they obsessed me. So I wrote about them. And, since they were young and beautiful/gorgeous, it became a romance.
That's when I realized what I like about romances. It's not just the "happily-ever-after." With mysteries you get much the same thing only it's justice being done. What I like about romances, at least the good ones, is the characters. The quirks, qualities and problems of humanity. The way we relate to each other, screw it up and then, with luck and a little effort, make it all work out in the end.
That's the lure of romance novels for me. That and a love scene that reads as if the writer actually understands anatomy. But that's a topic for another day.
This is of great interest to me because I am about to have my first romance novel published. I wouldn't have predicted this would be where my writing would lead me. I started out writing a couple mystery novels both of which got flattering rejections--that was back in the day when rejections came by mail and were personalized. You know, five years ago.
Anyway, I always assumed I'd follow in the footsteps of my favorite mystery writers. I've been reading in this genre since I was very young--starting with Nancy Drew like a billion other females. As an adult I've enjoyed Sue Grafton's alphabet, Elizabeth George's handsome hero, Tony Hillerman's knowledge of SW Native American culture, Diane Mott Davidson's recipes and Janet Evanovich's cupcake (okay, okay, okay. Not the cupcake heroine. Morelli and Ranger. There. Are you satisfied?)
Of course I've read romances, too. The ones by the Brontes and Jane Austen that masquerade as literature, the ones my mother read by Nora Roberts, the ones my mother would never read by Sandra Brown. But write one? Nah, not my thing.
Then something interesting happened. Two people began to live in my head, a beautiful woman and a drop-dead gorgeous man. I started writing character sketches about them, began to collect magazine and catalog pictures of what they would wear, what their homes would look like. In other words, they obsessed me. So I wrote about them. And, since they were young and beautiful/gorgeous, it became a romance.
That's when I realized what I like about romances. It's not just the "happily-ever-after." With mysteries you get much the same thing only it's justice being done. What I like about romances, at least the good ones, is the characters. The quirks, qualities and problems of humanity. The way we relate to each other, screw it up and then, with luck and a little effort, make it all work out in the end.
That's the lure of romance novels for me. That and a love scene that reads as if the writer actually understands anatomy. But that's a topic for another day.
Wednesday, March 7, 2012
Reimagineering
The folks who design the Disney theme parks are called "imagineers," engineers with imagination. I'm married to an engineer. From meeting many of his colleagues I have often wondered how long and far the Disney people had to look to find a full complement of such creatures. Most of the ones I know have math down cold and they're fabulous at A to B to C logic. Out of the box thinking? Not so much. (My husband, of course, is the exception. Maybe I should loan him to the Magic Kingdom.)
But I digress.
I have a contemporary romance about to be published, the first of a series of five I have planned, written, drafted, outlined, dreamed about, rewritten, passed around to writer friends to read--just about anything you can do to a manuscript, I have done to four of the five novels.
After the first one was accepted by Crimson Romance for publication, I asked about submitting the second one. Sure, the editor said. Send it any time. I went through it one more time for luck, re-spell checked it and off it went.
Less than a week later, while working on the third novel, in one of those light-bulb moments, the glitch in the one I'd already sent to the editor appeared. I don't like to read books about women who live in towers, sleep in glass coffins or need princes on white horses to swoop in and make their world right. I like women who make their way themselves and choose, rather than need, to have a man along with them. That's what I try to write.
But in the second book, not only had the hero rescued the heroine once, he did it twice, while she sat around waiting for it to happen. To make it worse, another woman helped. Not only was this not what I like to read, this was not who I believed my heroine to be.
So, I wrote an embarrassing email withdrawing the book from the editor's consideration. And I started the task of reimagineering the book. I know what I want her to do. Now I need to use the engineer side of my brains to figure out the structure so she does it in a way that makes the story arc work?
Wish me luck.
But I digress.
I have a contemporary romance about to be published, the first of a series of five I have planned, written, drafted, outlined, dreamed about, rewritten, passed around to writer friends to read--just about anything you can do to a manuscript, I have done to four of the five novels.
After the first one was accepted by Crimson Romance for publication, I asked about submitting the second one. Sure, the editor said. Send it any time. I went through it one more time for luck, re-spell checked it and off it went.
Less than a week later, while working on the third novel, in one of those light-bulb moments, the glitch in the one I'd already sent to the editor appeared. I don't like to read books about women who live in towers, sleep in glass coffins or need princes on white horses to swoop in and make their world right. I like women who make their way themselves and choose, rather than need, to have a man along with them. That's what I try to write.
But in the second book, not only had the hero rescued the heroine once, he did it twice, while she sat around waiting for it to happen. To make it worse, another woman helped. Not only was this not what I like to read, this was not who I believed my heroine to be.
So, I wrote an embarrassing email withdrawing the book from the editor's consideration. And I started the task of reimagineering the book. I know what I want her to do. Now I need to use the engineer side of my brains to figure out the structure so she does it in a way that makes the story arc work?
Wish me luck.
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