Samhain Publishing Ltd. Weblog

Writing a Love Scene, Not as Much Fun as You Might Think!

I’ve been leading up to this for at least the last fifty pages. I’ve established mutual attraction, sexual tension, increased heart rates, heat, legs that turn to jelly. You get the idea. So the reader expects it, my characters demand it and I now have to write THE LOVE SCENE. You would think this would be the fun part.

BUT IT ISN’T. At least not always. It’s a struggle, should it be fumbling and endearing, total fantasy, very graphic, and from who’s point of view? Should the point of view change as the scene unfolds? And what about the setting? A bed, basic but maybe a little boring. Outside but where and did anybody remember to bring a blanket? In a car like horny teenagers? Or maybe up against a wall, awkward, but demonstrates that the couple is really hot for each other.

The length of the scene is important too. I know that this is somewhat of a stereotype, but love scenes written by male authors tend to be short and to the point. (No pun intended) Women authors, especially those in the romance genre, go on for pages and pages, sometimes dividing the love scene into chapters. (Talk about fantasy). They also spend more time on the afterglow, cuddling part. Male authors usually have the hero jumping up to go into battle, argue a case in front of the Supreme Court, or some other world saving task.

Then there is the question of how graphic to get. There is a fine line between describing lovemaking and porn. Should body parts be called by their proper names? I don’t have a problem using the words breast or butt. But should I call a penis a penis? Or maybe it’s better to use a slang word like dick? (Men love that word have no idea why) Or maybe its better to use a more indirect word that is descriptive, like erection or arousal. Then there is the question of what to call female parts. I won’t use the “c” word. Vagina and vulva sounds like you’re visiting the gynecologist instead of making love. That leaves words like mound, nether region, feminine core, velvet sheath, secret heart, and my favorite “feminine triangle”. Good grief!!!

There is also a danger of getting repetitive, how many ways can it be described really? This is especially dangerous when there are multiple love scenes planned. Also remembering where everybody’s hands and other parts are can be very challenging, especially when you’re switching points of view. .

How to finish the scene, does everybody climax? At the same time? Is the woman having multiples? (Remember its fiction) Is there an encore? Do you even call it a climax? Or orgasm? Or a more poetic word or phrase? Like shattering, becoming one, riding the wave, reaching the stars, tumbling into a white-hot abyss? Yowsa!

So after all this I still haven’t written the love scene. I still don’t know where it’s going to be or how graphic I’m going to get. But at the end I want it to be the kind of scene that the reader will go back and read again, maybe to their partner for inspiration. I want it earthy and fun, a natural expression of the character’s feelings for each other.

Tall order, but somebody’s got to do it.

Ellie's Dream

Did you ever want to live a different life? Or actually have a life?

The last thing Ellie Newman expected to see was her husband wrapped in the arms of a blonde. Talk about a wake-up call.
With her son almost grown, her job a bore and a husband whose hobbies don’t include her, she is ready for a change.

Out of the blue, Ellie gets a chance to live another life when she goes to New York City for the summer to escape her problems. She gets a job of sorts, pet-sitting for her friend’s cousin.

She loves New York. The parks, the food, the museums, the clubs all beckon. The only annoyance is Seth, the beast who unexpectedly shares the apartment.

Seth wants her to leave. Women are trouble and he needs to focus on his music. But she is hard to ignore, especially after they discover a mutual love of jazz. Ellie is up for a fling. After all, who can resist such a bad boy?

Ellie’s Dream is about finding your heart, finding your passion and letting go.

Confessions of a Former Fanfic Writer

I wish I could say that the defining moment that made me a writer came when I was a child. That I kept notebooks with stories written in pencil, or that I wrote in my diary every night or led the poetry club at school. But it didn’t happen that way. It took a television show to inspire me.

I didn’t even watch the show during its network run. My daughter was little then and I spent most evenings with her. If we watched television it was Nickelodeon, Disney or the Cartoon Network. Late one night I happened to catch the show in its syndication run. I liked the characters, and thought the writing was okay. And there was one particular actor on the show who well, “rang my bell.” Tall, blond, gorgeous, misunderstood, he was the true anti-hero. I was hooked.

My Dad

I’ve been thinking about my dad lately. He’s been gone for 19 years. To say I miss him doesn’t convey what I really feel. He was a man who took care of his family and never shirked his responsibilities. He loved my mother to distraction and always treated her like a queen. And we knew that they loved each other a lot. As I’ve grown older I realize that he was more of a rarity than I thought.

He didn’t drink beyond the occasional beer in the summer or highball during the holidays. He never hit us except for a much-deserved swat on the rear. He demanded respect from his children and got it. He demanded that we love and respect our mother and we did.

He was an avid reader and a history buff. We got into long debates over politics. He listened to my brash teen-age convictions seriously. He went on camping trips with my brother’s Boy Scout Troop and came to all my recitals from violin, to piano, to voice. He never missed one of my brother’s football games either. He bragged about us to his friends.

He went to church every Sunday, even when my mom lost her faith and stopped going. It helped he said, talking to God about his troubles.

He had no hobbies, except for reading. No time, he was too busy taking care of his family. We didn’t have a lot of money, but we didn’t know that. He and Mom bought us a swimming pool because we couldn’t afford vacations. Dad took care of the pool, but rarely swam in it.

Daddy wasn’t perfect. He was overprotective and sometimes stubborn as a mule. I’m afraid I’ve inherited both of those traits.

He took care of things without being asked, changed the oil in my car when it needed to be done, and slipped me a twenty without me having to ask. He helped me paint my first apartment even though it killed him to see me leave home.

He had a wicked sense of humor and could always make me laugh. He welcomed my husband into our family with open arms. My husband says that my dad was more of a father to him than his own.

When my brother was killed, Daddy’s heart broke. He tried to go on, to keep taking care of everybody, but he just couldn’t. I guess there is only so much grief one person can stand in their life. I didn’t realize how lucky I was to have him for a father until after my daughter was born. He never knew her. Too bad, he would have been a terrific grandpa.

I’ve yet to write a character that resembles my dad. Most of the males in my writing start out as little boys who grow into men. Some of them never grow up and remain charming little boys.

Men like dad don’t need to grow up. Their lives are heroic, because they do the hard stuff, all the time. Everyday.

My Mother's Snapdragons

Spring starts slowly in Western New York. Some people think we move from the dead of winter to the heat of summer in the same week. Of course, everyone has their own way of marking the beginning of spring, a robin, crocuses, removal of the ice boom on Lake Erie. For me, the first sign of spring came in February. No, not the groundhog, but my mother carrying a big stack of seed catalogs into my house.

"Ellie's Dream" Releases Today

I’m thrilled to announce that my very first novel with Samhain is being released today. Ellie’s Dream is about finding your heart, finding your passion and letting go. I hope you’ll check it out.

The last thing Ellie Newman expected to see was her husband wrapped in the arms of a blonde. Talk about a wake-up call.

With her son almost grown, her job a bore and a husband whose hobbies don’t include her, she is ready for a change.

Out of the blue, Ellie gets a chance to live another life when she goes to New York City for the summer to escape her problems. She gets a job of sorts, pet-sitting for her friend’s cousin.

She loves New York. The parks, the food, the museums, the clubs all beckon. The only annoyance is Seth, the beast who unexpectedly shares the apartment.

Seth wants her to leave. Women are trouble and he needs to focus on his music. But she is hard to ignore, especially after they discover a mutual love of jazz. Ellie is up for a fling. After all, who can resist such a bad boy?

Read Excerpt

Stuff

I’ve been thinking about stuff lately. Emotional stuff, stuff shoved in my closets and drawers until they are bursting. Stuff in the basement that nobody has touched in years. Our two-car garage can only hold one car because the other half is full of stuff. When we moved into our home ten years ago, we doubled our square footage. Less than a year later it was full.

I make somewhat random attempts to clear out excess stuff. I cleaned out my closet and dresser last weekend. Three large bags to the Salvation Army. My daughter and I recently made our house a Barbie–free zone. That was a happy day. She had more clothes than I do along with two convertibles and three houses! Now all the Barbies that have spent the last two years upside down and naked in the toy box are at a women and children’s shelter.