Why I don’t write romance…

I didn’t think I was going to post tonight because I was feeling especially quiet tonight, but then after some tea, a little Timbaland “Morning after Dark” and some online writing research, I found I have plenty to say. 

I don’t know who has been writing romance novels these days (outside of Danielle Steele, she’s old school awesome) but you’d think it wouldn’t take a genius, at least not for those paperback versions, housewife porn, or whatever they’re passing for these days.  Unless you’re a few things: awkward, a prude or are your jage has been collecting dust, or the horror, all three combined.  I would assume that if you can screw, you can write about it. 

So I’m working on a new piece that is supposed to involve some sort of love story and some sexy time and so I’m in the middle of writing it and I get stuck.  I’ve got the essentials down…guy falls for girl, tension ensues, cue the cold rain scene, time stops, toss in some vodka,  a dark alley, and twisted sheets with the rising sun and fuck, you’d think I’d have it all but then jeeez,  I’m stuck.  I have to get the wet naked people to the hotel bed and make them look sexy and I don’t suppose I’ve ever pulled that trick off and so how the hell am I going to make fake people master something I’m sure I’ve never done myself?  My episodes would probably be more comic book appropriate because I am so very awkward sometimes.  Like laughable awkward.   I like to think it’s cute. 

  So, the funny, dysfunctional, sad…I think I can do those.  Make others hot in the pants?  Don’t  know, never tried.  Figured there had to be an expert out there somewhere and ugh, I haven’t found one.   The things I did find?  That are really entertaining….

1.  Don’t make organs sound too clinical.  Organs?  I feel like I’m in biology class.  I suppose in real life I stick with dick, cock, and anteater, all depending on who I’m talking to and what I’m talking about.  I think from what I’m reading, I’m being told those are too clinical.  What is suggested instead is manroot, velvet sheath, hot rod, throbbing flesh and anything that starts with the word “bulging”.  WHAT?  What the hell?  When would I ever use any of those in a sexy conversation? There isn’t enough gin in this world to make me grab or talk about anyone’s manroot.  Ekkkkkkkkk (that’s me gagging)

2. Do have sexual tension.  I’m confused.  I thought this was a given. Remind me if I’m wrong or out of practice but isn’t that called The Chase?  Isn’t this why most people end up bedding each other?  (I love the phrase ‘bedding someone’  lately, who knows why)  Oh, I bet I can do sexual tension.  I’ve given the sex eye a time or two in my life.  Can’t wink, but sex eye, sure.  Game on.

3.  Use Dialogue.  Ok, this is something I’ll admit that I”m not great at.  I don’t ever do this in my regular writing, unless I have to.  I prefer to just narrate things and stream of consciousness it.  Not so great and the back and forth chit-chat.  Take the example I found online below….I’m not judging this book or the actual exchange, really, but oh good god.  This isn’t something I’d write.  Is this what people say to each other behind closed doors? 

(disclaimer:It’s not the author below that’s I’m judging, It’s the character…keep that in mind so someone doesn’t get all pissy with me and sue me)

“You wanna get together?” he asked in a low voice that had her wanting to melt on the floor until she became nothing more than a puddle at his feet.

Managing to swallow past the baseball lump in her throat, she choked out, “To do what?”

He shrugged. She wanted to reach back, carefully unlace the leather strap holding his hair in place and touch him.

“I don’t know. Bake cookies. Read Arabian Nights. Watch old movies.”

Maybe it was foolish or childish, but she couldn’t help asking, “Are you serious?”

“Why not?” he said on a roguish grin that made her dizzy with her own desire. “I haven’t had a good cookie in a long time.”

She was reading into it. His tone wasn’t downright lewd. Was it? God, she was so excited, she was afraid her heart would beat right out of her chest…or she’d do something stupid like throw herself into his arms and scream, “I love you, I love you, I love you!!!”

“You know how to bake, don’t you?”

Wendy laughed slightly. “I make a mean chocolate chip,” she told him, breathlessly bold.

“Mhm. My favorite. The whole bag of chips, right?”

His arm slid down and then his fingers tangled with a strand of her hair.

Oh now! Just take me now. Pick me up in your arms and take me to your cave. I surrender.

“But of course.”  (taken from Reluctant Hearts by Karen Wiesner )

THE WHOLE BAG OF CHIPS, RIGHT????????? WHAT?  Did he say that? Oh, wow.  I tried to picture me in that situation, which is what I like to do during sexy scenes in movies or books-picture myself as the heroine, of course.  First of all, she knows “to do what?”  We always know what “to do what” means.  Does “do” have a new meaning?  Bake cookies?  Meaning cookie is code for snatch?  Ugh.  If someone offered to bake cookies with me, my first thought would not be, I love you, I love you, I love you.  It would be, I’m not a Keebler Elf.  Make your own goddamned cookies and take off your pants while you’re at it. 

 I can’t even finish this post.  The bag of chips thing was too much.