I just read an old romance novel, something my friend Gail found in a box in her garage. It was terribly dated, which is another way of saying that it was terrible. But it was also terribly interesting, because of the glimpses it gave into life only a few decades ago.
The hero was mean and rude, and was always complaining. He also had anger-management and control issues. I'm no psychologist, but this guy had some serious, diagnosable problems. I think he was supposed to seem sexy, powerful, masterful, and attractively remote. Yeah, right.
The heroine described herself as "liberated," because she attended college, and had friends who had chosen to sleep with their boyfriends. She had not, of course. Much was made of her innocence. Then she quit college to get married without the slightest hesitation.
In the course of the story, the hero treated the heroine very badly. She reacted by apologizing, and trying to learn to be better at accepting and loving him. Eventually, an improbable set of circumstances led them to get married, despite the fact that neither of them wanted to. And then, on their wedding night, they finally consummated the relationship, in a scene that takes place entirely on a blank line.
I was incredulous. The only sex in the book was implied. The ideals for male and female behavior have clearly changed in three decades. But so, apparently, has the appetite for sex scenes in romance novels. The characters were on the bed. They kissed. Then he parted her robe. Then there was a blank line. And then it was morning. They woke up happy. They kissed a little. Then there was a blank line. Then they ate a late breakfast.
I was so envious. It would be so easy to write a sex scene if the only thing I had to do was press the Enter key twice. It almost made me wish I were back in that decade. Not really.
Friday, October 22, 2010
Thursday, October 21, 2010
On Writing Love Scenes
Well, the writing is going well, which is a good thing. I've hit my stride with the novel I'm working on, and I've been steadily producing. But it means that sooner, rather than later, I'm going to have to write a sex scene. (Actually, we romance authors prefer to call them 'love scenes.') And that is terrifying.
My friend Shelly gave me a book called The Joy of Writing Sex. It's a wonderful read. The author interviewed a whole lot of authors of literary fiction to find out their approaches to writing sex scenes. One of the questions she asked was how they dealt with the thought of critics while they wrote, particularly critics that they know, such as their grandmothers, or parents, or lovers.
One author responded that he didn't produce most of his best work until after his parents died. Another said she asked her parents not to read one of her books. She said that her father agreed, but her mother didn't. But her mother did agree never to speak of it. Another said that his mother was devoutly religious, and offended by explicit sex scenes, but very supportive of him. She read his books, but when it looked like a sex scene was approaching, she just skipped ahead.
Another author said that you can't think about the reader when you write the scenes. You just have to write the scenes, and worry about the repercussions later. He was an English professor who wrote a book with a particularly graphic love scene. One day a student approached him to tell him how much she loved the book. His first horrified thought was, "Oh my God! She read that scene!"
My parents have sometimes been compared to Ward and June Cleaver, wonderful parents, but not people you'd easily imagine sitting down with for a frank talk about sex. But my mother cleared the air right away. She's excited that I'm writing a book, and she's very supportive. She told me, "I know your book will have to have sex scenes, so go ahead and write them. But just make sure that when the book is done, if you took those scenes out, you would still have a good story." And you know, it really does help not to have to worry about my parents. Now I only have to worry about the rest of the world.
My friend Shelly gave me a book called The Joy of Writing Sex. It's a wonderful read. The author interviewed a whole lot of authors of literary fiction to find out their approaches to writing sex scenes. One of the questions she asked was how they dealt with the thought of critics while they wrote, particularly critics that they know, such as their grandmothers, or parents, or lovers.
One author responded that he didn't produce most of his best work until after his parents died. Another said she asked her parents not to read one of her books. She said that her father agreed, but her mother didn't. But her mother did agree never to speak of it. Another said that his mother was devoutly religious, and offended by explicit sex scenes, but very supportive of him. She read his books, but when it looked like a sex scene was approaching, she just skipped ahead.
Another author said that you can't think about the reader when you write the scenes. You just have to write the scenes, and worry about the repercussions later. He was an English professor who wrote a book with a particularly graphic love scene. One day a student approached him to tell him how much she loved the book. His first horrified thought was, "Oh my God! She read that scene!"
My parents have sometimes been compared to Ward and June Cleaver, wonderful parents, but not people you'd easily imagine sitting down with for a frank talk about sex. But my mother cleared the air right away. She's excited that I'm writing a book, and she's very supportive. She told me, "I know your book will have to have sex scenes, so go ahead and write them. But just make sure that when the book is done, if you took those scenes out, you would still have a good story." And you know, it really does help not to have to worry about my parents. Now I only have to worry about the rest of the world.
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