Scene Crit 3--Critted

First, my sincere apologies for the delay. I started this one a little late, then made dinner, and just after I finished Mr. Super Agent Man called, so it was a while before I got back to it. So I'm very sorry, everyone.

This was a really interesting scene to crit. The writer is obviously skilled; the main thing I felt from this, though, was that in attempting to make the piece show how deeply the characters love each other, the writer forgot to show us anything else. Like the writer believed if s/he got too graphic or descriptive or detailed at all we wouldn't find it romantic anymore.

So as much as I do have comments to make (and I fear I got a little irreverent in my critique; please accept my comments in the light-hearted and fun way I intended them. Especially as heavily romantic scenes tend to bring out the goofball in me) there were definitely some things to like here. The writing was technically very nice; there were some good images and language choices here.

Overall, though, it was more tell than show, and so felt superficial.

Jack listened actively, his eyes never leaving hers. I don’t think you need “actively”; his eyes never leaving hers shows us he’s paying close attention. The room grew dark, until everything dimmed and blurred around them and she could see only him. Nice image. At last, she fell silent and stared into his drowny deep eyes. Again, nice. Hers filled up and she dropped her gaze as a tear rolled down her face. Maybe two sentences? “Hers filled up” or “Her own eyes filled. She dropped her gaze, not wanting him to see, but she couldn’t stop the tear that rolled down her face.” Just a thought.

Jack placed a tender finger on her cheek to block the tear's path, and they stared at each other. First bit very nice. Again, though, I’d like a little more impact. Their eyes meet again here. The next line shows us her reaction but this moment, when their eyes meet, is when they both realize. So maybe “…the tear’s path. Their eyes met. For a moment/for an eternity/it felt like an eternity/they stared at each other. Into each other.” I know you’ve already got eyes in the last paragraph—there’s a lot of eyes, a lot of staring and gazing in this piece—but it feels like we need their gazes to hit with a physical impact, you know? Jill's heart pounded in her throat, her whole body thrilling at his touch. I think I’d like her entire body to be focused on his touch better, or the impact of his touch sending shock waves through her whole body, but this is fine. She couldn't speak. She didn't think she could even breathe. Nice.

He removed his finger and waited, searching her eyes for a sign of… what? Resistance? Was he mad? No, she knew he wasn't mad. He was just allowing her space and time to make her decision. You could take “her eyes” out of that first line.

She leaned into him and they kissed, and she felt his entire being in the sweet contact. He smelled of sunny skin and wood smoke. His breath was fresh, sweet and warm. She loved him. This is nice, but I’d like a little more description of the kiss than simply “and they kissed”. Without thinking she leaned into him, a slow movement like falling through a dream, and their lips met. Soft at first, tentative and questioning. Exploring. He smelled of sunny skin and woodsmoke, tasted of sweetness and the warmth of his soul. You used “sweet” 2x in this paragraph. I like the simple declarative "She lived him" though.

With a rush of truth she realised that take out “that” she really did love this man; she wanted this man; she wanted nothing on earth right now except to have this lovely, precious, wonderful man inside her. I am a huge fan of the semicolon, but I’d consider changing the first one to a period: …love this man. She wanted this man; she wanted nothing on earth… Also I’m not crazy about the “lovely, precious, wonderful”, but that’s a voice/personal taste issue.

They stared into each other's souls. Nice. The more souls you can cram into sex scenes the better.

"I love you."

They said it at the same time; felt the laughter ripple inside at the same time; felt the love and the truth. If they’re saying they love each other, we know they feel the love. Isn’t there anything else they can be feeling here? Wonder, delight, awe? Since the net exists, couldn’t we get a sense of them both feeling what the other feels, of the love intensifying and becoming a solid thing?

"My love." Who is speaking here?

They thought and heard each other's thoughts, "Oh, you are my love," Is this all they’re thinking? I’m not crazy about the sentence structure there but can’t think of a way to fix it, save putting a period after thoughts and starting a new sentence with “They walked upstairs.” and walked upstairs, still entwined, to stand bathed in moonlight in Jill's bedroom. How did they walk upstairs entwined? Also, this feels abrupt. They have one small kiss, they say their I love yous, then just walk upstairs? This is an important moment; where’s the passion? Where’s the need? This is a huge moment for them, but it feels ho-hum; you could probably do another page here in the living room, kissing and touching and getting lost in each other, before they decide they can’t wait another minute to head upstairs. Or they could do it on the couch, there’s no reason why we have to break the action to walk up the stairs. The net hummed and glowed in harmony as they undressed each other slowly, gently, with tenderness and open admiration. This should be expanded hugely. They’re undressing each other for the first time; again, show us the love and passion. Show them kissing each newly exposed inch of skin, show us the reverence (yes, Bernard, lol) with which they touch each other and look at each other, show us how they feel the love between them with every touch and look and soft sound. Turn us on; show us his broad manly chest, let us smell the warm musky scent of his skin and taste how it’s a little salty. Show us his hands gliding over her hard nipples and how that feels for her. Show us the contrast between the smooth cotton of their clothing and the textures of their skin.

He stood motionless, naked before her, beautiful in the blue light, watching carefully and listening to her thoughts. Whose POV are we in here? He’s just standing there watching her? There’s no sense of desire there; it feels like afterglow, not eager anticipation. Also if he’s listening to her thoughts and feels what she feels, why is he asking if she’s sure?

"Are you sure, Jill?"

"Jack, I've never felt surer about anything in my life." They’re the only people there, would they really use each others’s names? It feels a little stilted. A thought occurred to her. I don’t think we need this line. "Are you okay with this?"

"Okay?" He smiled. "Yes, love. I'm okay with it." This is a great opportunity to have him say how much he wants her, or “Are you kidding, I want you so bad I think I’m going to explode” or anything at all.

They lay on the bed and kissed; caressing each other; exploring each other; holding, stroking, cupping and kissing and stroking, you have kissing and stroking twice. Also, again, expand this, it’s all TELL. Where are they kissing and caressing and stroking? Are her hands sliding over his back, his bottom? Does she feel his hard chest against hers, feel her breasts crush against him? Does he take her nipples into his mouth while she tangles her fingers into his hair? Where are they exploring? Are they aroused by any of this? Show us how hard he is, show us how wet she is. You don’t have to use explicit language if you’re uncomfortable with it, but even without it you can say something like “They lay on the bed and kissed, their tongues tangling, and the kiss grew into touching, exploring. Jill’s entire life was captured in this moment, while Jack’s mouth whispered sweet words against her fevered skin, while his tongue tasted her gentle sweat. She was dizzy, she no longer existed as herself but was something else, someone else, a new person who belonged to Jack and to whom he belonged in turn”, blah blah blah that sort of thing. Give us some emotion here, something to engage us and all the time gazing intently into each other's eyes they’re staring into each others eyes while kissing? Have you ever tried that? Because it’s really weird thinking each other's thoughts and feeling each other's emotions. But what are those thoughts and emotions? “She felt his adoration of her, a warm golden glow around her”, something like that.

Jill lay back and opened to him: trusting; trembling; watching. Replace semicolons with commas, and take out the colon. A colon is not a sexy piece of punctuation. Also, she just lay down flat on her back (I thought they were already lying down) and opened her legs? Perhaps it’s the lack of dialogue or emotion but that feels kind of porny to me. He knelt between her legs and slid gentle fingers inside. Inside where? Inside her? You could say “inside her”. Also, “He knelt between her legs” feels awkward. I picture him just kneeling there, staring at her, then moving one hand forward and poking her with it. Like a kid poking a bug with a stick, you know? And how did she feel when he inserted his finger? There’s no reaction from her at all here, which makes it seem even more like a sort of experiment on an inanimate object rather than a man making love to a woman. Electric shocks shot through her. Literally? Also, the sentences in this paragraph all feel rather bald. You had a good rhythm before, even if it was telly; the rhythm disappears here. These sentences are too short and declarative for a tender and hot moment. Also, when a shock shoots through her, it’s a little rhymey; a shock shot, shock shot, shock shot. Not a huge deal but something to be aware of. She was so wet. Show us this, don’t tell us. “His thick fingers slipped inside her, stretching her, gliding over her incredibly sensitive skin” or “spreading the creamy evidence of her arousal over her delicate skin”, something like that. He moved over her, holding his weight on his forearms for a few seconds while they kissed, and slid into her. So, wait a minute. He knelt between her legs, prodded her once with his finger, then pulled out, lay on top of her, gave her a seconds-long kiss, and slid inside? That’s not really very romantic or hot. Why did he kneel between her legs if he didn’t plan to actually do anything while he was there? Why didn’t he explore her a little more? It sounds more like he gave her a gynecological exam than that he did anything romantic or arousing. We have lots of stuff down there to play around with; things to stroke and roll between your fingers and tug and rub and pet and explore, and all of those things should produce a reaction from her, even if it’s just a vague and euphemistic one.

She was in heaven, with hot, hard velvet filling her completely. She felt his sensation, too; felt her soft, firm flesh moulding to him, holding him, clenching him tightly for long moments, felt his shiver from both inside him and inside her. See, this concept is really nice; I used it myself in Blood Will Tell. But this again is telling us what she feels, not showing us, although this is more showy than most; the second line is quite good. But you could do half a page at least on what she feels through him, how he notices all the little fissures and folds inside her massaging him with every stroke, how he’s experiencing her pleasure and it’s so intense for him, like they’re on this endless pleasure loop that just builds and builds and builds. I’m not crazy about “She was in heaven” though; it’s kind of telly, kind of cliché.

It was nearly over quickly, and that was no surprise. They stared deep into each other's eyes again? There must be some other way to show their connection throughout, blinking slowly, sharing breath, sharing every sensation, sharing a pulse, and Jack came very close to coming after only a few minutes. Whose POV is that? Like the bit about sharing a pulse though, and there’s a nice rhythm here.

She took him in her arms and drew him down beside her. Beside her? But is he still inside her? They held on lightly, feeling the trembling subside, why is the trembling subsiding? What trembling is that? murmuring tender love. He kissed her breasts and sucked her nipple while he stroked her belly see, this should be really hot, but because we’re not feeling the heat elsewhere this just sounds awkward and down into her hot wetness, slid fingers inside her again, and she was pouring, pouring? Like a fountain around his cock? How did he get his fingers in there, isn’t he still inside her? and he spent gentle time loving her, and she jumped I get what you’re saying here, and it’s good that you’re showing her reaction, but “jumped” is a little strong; maybe gasped or jerked or twitched or something like that would work better when he found her clit and stroked it, circled it lightly, then faster and firmer and faster and firmer until she came, shuddering and gasping, her eyes wide with joy and wonder. “Clit” totally throw me out of the scene here. You’ve been so vague and euphemistic throughout, so to suddenly have clit, not even clitoris, is jarring. I don’t mind the run-on sentence at all, because sometimes you just need a run-on. This has a nice sense of urgency even if I’m not crazy about some of the wording. But her eyes are wide with joy and wonder? I don’t think I’ve ever kept my eyes wide open during an orgasm in my life. That may be just me and I’m a big freak, but it feels odd to me and doesn’t ring true.

She climbed astride and sat down on him and, oh, he was hard and deep inside her. Nice. I’d like more elaboration. How does the sensation in this position differ? Does she like the sense of being in control? Does she lean forward or back? Anything like that. She rode him slowly, then building faster and grinding harder. And how did that feel? Why did she increase her pace and pressure? They never broke their intense gaze, and it was beautiful. See, to me the staring feels creepy at this point. Is it sex or a staring contest? Plus, again, telling.

They made love all night and Jill lost count of how many times she came. She'd never imagined sex could be so wonderful, so magical, so all embracing and exquisite. This is a bit much but it’s okay. I think it would be good to have something about how she feels physically too, like she’s exhausted but more at peace than she’s ever been in her life, that sort of thing.

They lay together and watched dawn wash the shadows away, and she knew they would be together forever. I sense dark foreshadowing! Nice. Nice ending even if I'm wrong about the dark foreshadowing.

Scene Crit 3

Okay, scene 3, and a bit of a change of pace; this is a "first love" scene (by which I mean it's the all-important first time after "Jack" and "Jill" realize they love each other).

I've been keeping the plot info, blurbs etc. to myself, but I feel compelled to mention for the sake of clarity that the "net" referred to in this scene is a psychic bond, not an actual physical net.



Jack listened actively, his eyes never leaving hers. The room grew dark, until everything dimmed and blurred around them and she could see only him. At last, she fell silent and stared into his drowny deep eyes. Hers filled up and she dropped her gaze as a tear rolled down her face.

Jack placed a tender finger on her cheek to block the tear's path, and they stared at each other. Jill's heart pounded in her throat, her whole body thrilling at his touch. She couldn't speak. She didn't think she could even breathe.

He removed his finger and waited, searching her eyes for a sign of… what? Resistance? Was he mad? No, she knew he wasn't mad. He was just allowing her space and time to make her decision.

She leaned into him and they kissed, and she felt his entire being in the sweet contact. He smelled of sunny skin and wood smoke. His breath was fresh, sweet and warm. She loved him.

With a rush of truth she realised that she really did love this man; she wanted this man; she wanted nothing on earth right now except to have this lovely, precious, wonderful man inside her.

They stared into each other's souls.

"I love you."

They said it at the same time; felt the laughter ripple inside at the same time; felt the love and the truth.

"My love."

They thought and heard each other's thoughts, "Oh, you are my love," and walked upstairs, still entwined, to stand bathed in moonlight in Jill's bedroom. The net hummed and glowed in harmony as they undressed each other slowly, gently, with tenderness and open admiration.

He stood motionless, naked before her, beautiful in the blue light, watching carefully and listening to her thoughts.

"Are you sure, Jill?"

"Jack, I've never felt surer about anything in my life." A thought occurred to her. "Are you okay with this?"

"Okay?" He smiled. "Yes, love. I'm okay with it."

They lay on the bed and kissed; caressing each other; exploring each other; holding, stroking, cupping and kissing and stroking, and all the time gazing intently into each other's eyes; thinking each other's thoughts and feeling each other's emotions.

Jill lay back and opened to him: trusting; trembling; watching. He knelt between her legs and slid gentle fingers inside. Electric shocks shot through her. She was so wet. He moved over her, holding his weight on his forearms for a few seconds while they kissed, and slid into her.

She was in heaven, with hot, hard velvet filling her completely. She felt his sensation, too; felt her soft, firm flesh moulding to him, holding him, clenching him tightly for long moments, felt his shiver from both inside him and inside her.

It was nearly over quickly, and that was no surprise. They stared deep into each other's eyes throughout, blinking slowly, sharing breath, sharing every sensation, sharing a pulse, and Jack came very close to coming after only a few minutes.

She took him in her arms and drew him down beside her. They held on lightly, feeling the trembling subside, murmuring tender love. He kissed her breasts and sucked her nipple while he stroked her belly and down into her hot wetness, slid fingers inside her again, and she was pouring, and he spent gentle time loving her, and she jumped when he found her clit and stroked it, circled it lightly, then faster and firmer and faster and firmer until she came, shuddering and gasping, her eyes wide with joy and wonder.

She climbed astride and sat down on him and, oh, he was hard and deep inside her. She rode him slowly, then building faster and grinding harder. They never broke their intense gaze, and it was beautiful.

They made love all night and Jill lost count of how many times she came. She'd never imagined sex could be so wonderful, so magical, so all embracing and exquisite.
They lay together and watched dawn wash the shadows away, and she knew they would be together forever.

Scene Crit 2--Critted

Once again, thank you to the author of the following piece. It takes a lot of courage to allow your work to be publicly critiqued; I hope you think my comments are helpful, as they are intended to be.

There are some technical issues with this piece, I won’t lie. In particular there seems to be an aversion to the use of the comma (which really is a very helpful little piece of punctuation) and some confusion regarding dialogue tags. I’m also seeing a lot of that same sentence structure we noticed in yesterday’s piece, the “Kicking the ball, he ran down the street” sort of construction which I dislike. It often feels sing-songy, which is an issue, but the biggest one is that this structure indicates simultaneous movement, even when the words themselves do not. An example I’ve seen used elsewhere is “Closing the door, she made a cup of coffee.” On the surface it sounds okay, but how did closing the door make a cup of coffee? How did she make coffee while closing the door? It’s simply not a polished sentence structure, and we’re all about polish here.

Now the writer indicated this piece is YA, which is why it’s more of a kissing scene than an actual sex scene. But that’s okay, because the emotions/conflict-as-physical-acts is the same, really.


Her heart started to beat faster as he brushed his lips against her neck then her lips. Slowly he pressed his lips against hers gently kissing her. Lips, lips, lips. Try to avoid using the same word so many times—it jumps out at the reader and makes the piece feel awkward. Also, when you say “slowly he pressed his lips against hers”, not only have you just told us that in the previous sentence, you’re also telling us that he’s gently kissing her. So in those first three sentences you’ve told us three times that he’s kissing her. I’d leave the first sentence—add some more tingles and stuff from her; she’s a teenager, is this her first kiss? How does it feel when his lips brush her neck?—and then skip the second entirely. When she responded with a slight "mmm" he parted her lips, brushing his tongue against her teeth until they also opened. He brushed his tongue against her teeth? This is the sort of thing I often see in books; to be frank, it sends a shiver of Yuck up my spine every time. Perhaps there are people who like this, in which case this is simply a quirk of mine, but in my opinion tongues do not belong in the crannies between my teeth or on my lips (I had a boyfriend once who insisted on running the tip of his tongue over my lips. God I hated that. He thought it was sexy. He was incorrect.) And he brushed his tongue against her teeth until they opened? If I picture this in my head, exactly as you’ve described it, the image I get is of his lips now an inch or so away from hers while he uses his tongue like a paintbrush over her teeth. Very Mr. Myagi. I get what you’re saying here, I do. And like I said, I’ve seen a LOT of erotic romance and romance where people use their tongues in this manner, so clearly there are some people who like it or whom it doesn’t bother. But if everyone else jumped off a bridge, would you? Also, rather than telling us what sound she made, I’d just have her gasp or moan or make a small sound in her throat. It’s one of the few instances where telling is better than showing, because spelling out sound effects almost never works for me. Again, though, that’s just me. Pulling her body tighter against his, he explored her mouth. “Pulling her body tighter against his” is a bit telly (and there’s that structure again). How about something like, “His fingers dugs into her hips as he pulled her closer, pressing her against the solid heat of his body while he explored her mouth”? Or “He explored her mouth, slowly, carefully, and she pressed herself closer to him, desperate for more”? That sort of thing. Calloused hands pushed under her T-shirt trailing up her spine, feeling as though little arcs of electricity emitted from his fingertips. What exactly is feeling those little arcs of electricity? Because the subject of this sentence are those calloused hands. There should be a comma after t-shirt, as well; but the first half of the sentence is pretty good. Nice use of “calloused” to indicate not only what the hands are doing but what they feel like on her skin. Angling his body against hers he pushed himself against her. Did he push, or did he angle? And he’s already pulled her close, so we don’t really need this. I think what you’re trying to indicate here is the kiss is deepening, so say that. “The kiss deepened. His hips pressed against hers, impossibly close, so close she thought she might physically sink into him”, something like that? See how that moves us deeper into her POV and gives us a sense of the desperation she’s feeling? Jill pulled tightly at his shoulders as she felt the length of him hard against her stomach. She wanted him, so bad it she felt as if she was on fire. From the tips of her toes all the way to her mouth her body felt as if it would consume itself. The last sentence there is a tad awkward, but not bad. The others are the same (it’s all the “felt”s; try to reconstruct the sentences to get rid of those, because it puts the reader at a distance). I’m not crazy about “pulled tightly” at his shoulders; grasped his shoulders or clutched or clung to his shoulders/him might be a bit smoother. The imagery works fine, though. My only other concern is her wanting him, but that’s simply because I don’t know how sexually aware or experienced she is. I know from what you said that she’s an older teen, so this could work if there’s an indication elsewhere that she has some sexual experience, but I don’t generally think of virgins as wanting someone right off the bat. They’d be more likely to want more of what they’re feeling, do you know what I mean? Again, it depends on her level of experience, so it’s not necessarily wrong, I’m just mentioning it here because it’s a good place to bring it up, not because it necessarily has to do with this piece.

Jack knew this was dangerous but in the moment he didn't care, whatever the consequences they would be dealt with in time. POV switch! It's not badly done, but as this bit ends in her POV this switch is unecessary. I'm critting it anyway though. :-) Lose “in the moment”; you could say “at that moment” but you could just remove it. Also, something more like “If there were consequences he’d deal with them later.” This girl was so fragile she needed him and his protection. At least that’s what he would tell himself. Very nice. A bit of character, a sense of how much he wants her, how he sees her, what his feelings are. “At least that’s what he told himself” would probably work better tense-wise. Slipping his hand inside the cup of her bra, he lifted it up to expose hard nipples. Rubbing his thumb over them made Jill feel like she was going to fall, legs becoming jelly. Awkward POV switch! On a technical level the switch to Jack’s POV was okay, but this one doesn’t work. We also have that structure again. You have several options here; you could simply go with “He slipped his hand under the soft, satiny cup of her bra, almost moaning out loud when her hard nipple brushed his palm” or something like “He slid his hand around her ribcage, feeling her heart pounding beneath the soft skin, the delicate bones. All the way around, and up, easing their way under the band of her cotton bra and further up still, until he trapped her hard nipple between his fingers” or “under his palm”. Also, this is an excellent opportunity to really turn him on; what does he feel when he finds that hard nipple? How does she react, and how does he experience that reaction (an important point)? Does finding her hard nipple excite him, make him feel powerful? Proud? Is it the first confirmation he gets that she wants this too, and that’s tremendously exciting? Does he feel her shake, feel her gasp into his mouth (which would be written simply as “She gasped” or “Her gasp of surprised pleasure sent a shiver through him” or something similar)? In the next line he starts pulling up her shirt; what is he thinking? Is he thinking at all? Is he desperate to see her bare chest? All that should go here, when he feels her nipple; we should see from his reaction and POV that he wants to take this further. Is dying to take this further.

When Jack started to pull Jill's shirt up over her shoulders, an explosive bang came from the entryway. This isn’t bad, but I’m not crazy about sentences that start with “When” like this. How about “The explosion happened just as he started to pull up her shirt” or “He’d just started pulling her shirt up when the explosion happened/when something exploded/when the sound of an explosion reverberated through the corridor”? And whose POV is this in?

Jack jumped from Jill with so much speed she lost her balance falling backwards on to the hardwood floor. Jack jumped back from Jill, sending her tumbling to the hardwood floor. They both jumped. Jill fell backward, hitting the hardwood floor with a painful thud or with a thud that made Jack wince. Jack jumping like that, and her falling, and him not helping her up, makes him seem kind of jerky.

She turned to see Bob in the hallway with a mix of anger and fear on his face. POV Switch! I’d like a comma after hallway, too; then you can get rid of “with”. Also, what does that mix look like? Don’t tell us, show us; is Bob gripping the doorway with white knuckles? Are his eyes wide, his jaw set, his face red? Are his lips curled in a snarl or sneer? Is he staring at her in such a way that she feels small, dirty? Does his face look angry but the feeling she gets from him is pure fear? Does he look like he’s about to have a heart attack, with his open mouth and staring eyes?

Slowly shaking his head as if he was afraid for own safety he whispered "no hot water". Punctuation goes inside quotes. I don’t get the “hot water” thing but I assume it’s explained elsewhere. Shaking his head as if afraid for his own safety? What does that look like? Is he shaking his head in disbelief, putting his hands in front of him as if denying what he sees?

He took a step forward and breathed into the air "Master you must not." “Breathed into the air” is melodramatic and unnecessary. Comma needed after "air" and after "Master.” You don’t actually need a tag here at all: He took a step forward/He took a single step toward them/He moved as if to step forward, then stopped himself. “Master, you must not.”

Turning from Bob to Jack she saw utter confusion on his face, his eyes were dilated to reveal huge black pupils. Jill turned from Bob to Jack. His expression was utterly confused/Jack’s eyes were nothing but huge black pupils, hard against the whites/Jill turned from Bob to Jack. The utter confusion on his face, the stark black holes of his pupils, made her heart skip a beat/Jill turned to Jack, looking for some explanation, but the blackness of his eyes, so wide and confused in his face, stopped her cold. That sort of thing.

"I am so sorry, please excuse me," he said not looking at her as he disappeared down the hallway, Bob close behind. Commas needed if you’re going to keep this as is, but I don’t recommend it. We can make it much more descriptive and add some polish in a few ways: “…excuse me,” he said, but he didn’t look at her. What had she done wrong? She opened her mouth to ask, but he’d already left her, striding down the hallway with Bob at his heels/”…me.” He didn’t look at her as he spoke, didn’t look at her as he and Bob walked away, leaving her alone in more ways than one/”…me.” She tried to speak, to tell him he had nothing to apologize for, when she realized he wasn’t apologizing for the kiss. He was apologizing for walking away from her, leaving her alone on the floor with her heart pounding and her lips still tingling. Remember, they were having a pretty passionate moment there; she would still be feeling some kind of aftereffect of that, most likely, and it lends the scene cohesiveness to mention those aftereffects.

The bathroom door slammed with such force Jill was sure he would tear it from his hinges. …with such force Jill expected it to tear from its hinges. The door is the subject of this sentence, not Jack. She sat on the floor replaying what just happened when she heard someone approaching. Awkwardly she straightened her clothes as she stood up, turning to see Bob standing in the entryway. She sat on the floor, totally confused. What just happened? What had she done wrong? She shivered, and realized her shirt was still bunched up over her bra. Nice. At least she was alone, he wasn’t standing there watching… Except of course he was, right in the entryway, the disapproval in his gaze making her skin burn in a totally different way than it had a few minutes before. In Jack’s arms/The way Jack made it burn. Now that’s my voice, not yours, but you see the point. You can expand all of this. Let us see what she’s thinking. Let us feel her embarrassment, cringe with her when she realizes she’s showing this disapproving old guy her bra. It’s such a good contrast with the total lusty acceptance she got a few minutes before; use it to its full effect!


"Come I will take you to the guest room" he said with absolutely no emotion his voice or friendly demeanor. Punctuation belongs inside quotes, and this tag is awkward and unnecessary; you indicate his demeanor in the next sentence. He walked stiffly down the hall sneaking a peak peek at the bathroom as if it would explode any moment. Nice simile there. She couldn't figure out why he was angry so she quietly followed behind him. As a means of reassuring herself she rubbed the garnet ring on her left finger. It made her relax, the ring lulling her into a false sense of security. Also, you don’t really need to tell us here that she couldn’t figure out why he was angry, because you should have already shown us her confusion. Nice bit of business with the ring, but again, it can be streamlined: She followed him, rubbing the garnet ring on her left ring finger to reassure herself or rubbing the garnet ring on her left ring finger. Its smooth surface soothed her, lulled her into a false sense of security.

Bob scowled at her as he looked down towards the ring. "Don't," he pleaded. He scowled and pleaded? One or the other please. Bob looked down at her hands, saw her twisting the ring or Bob saw her twisting the ring. He scowled. “Don’t.” She hid her hands behind her back as she entered the guest room. Rich woods and bright colors filled the room. Nice bit of description; brief yet effective. Jill wondered if she was still in the same home as it felt like she suddenly she had been transported to a completely different location. “For a second she wondered if this was even the same house, the room was so warm and welcoming.” When she wonders if she’s still in the same house, we understand that that means she feels like she’d been transported to a completely different location. The closing of the door jarred her back to reality, what the hell had just happened? The bang of the door as it closed/slammed shut/The bang of the door slamming shut/The echoing thud of the door slamming shut brought her back to reality. What the hell had just happened?

As a few commenters have pointed out on Blogger and Livejournal both, there's plenty of interest and intrigue here. Who or what exactly is Jack? Why is Bob such a dick? Why is the ring comforting? Where are they? What kind of place is it, when an explosion causes such a blase sort of reaction? What was Jack apologizing for? So in that sense this is very successful; it simply needs some work on the technical aspects.

Scene Crit 2

Okay, folks. Here's our second scene. Just a note on this one--technically it's not a sex scene, it's a kissing scene, but as the writer of this piece has indicated it's a YA project, and as kissing still counts as sexual interaction, we're going to go for it.

Again, remember that an actual person submitted this piece, okay?

All names have been changed.


Her heart started to beat faster as he brushed his lips against her neck then her lips. Slowly he pressed his lips against hers gently kissing her. When she responded with a slight "mmm" he parted her lips, brushing his tongue against her teeth until they also opened. Pulling her body tighter against his, he explored her mouth. Calloused hands pushed under her T-shirt trailing up her spine, feeling as though little arcs of electricity emitted from his fingertips. Angling his body against hers he pushed himself against her. Jill pulled tightly at his shoulders as she felt the length of him hard against her stomach. She wanted him, so bad it she felt as if she was on fire. From the tips of her toes all the way to her mouth her body felt as if it would consume itself.

Jack knew this was dangerous but in the moment he didn't care, whatever the consequences they would be dealt with in time. This girl was so fragile she needed him and his protection. At least that what he would tell himself. Slipping his hand inside the cup of her bra, he lifted it up to expose hard nipples. Rubbing his thumb over them made Jill feel like she was going to fall, legs becoming jelly.

When Jack started to pull Jill's shirt up over her shoulders, an explosive bang came from the entryway.

Jack jumped from Jill with so much speed she lost her balance falling backwards on to the hardwood floor.

She turned to see Bob in the hallway with a mix of anger and fear on his face. Slowly shaking his head as if he was afraid for own safety he whispered" no hot water".

He took a step forward and breathed into the air "master you must not."

Turning from Bob to Jack she saw utter confusion on his face, his eyes were dilated to reveal huge black pupils.

"I am so sorry, please excuse me," he said not looking at her as he disappeared down the hallway, Bob close behind. The bathroom door slammed with such force Jill was sure he would tear it from his hinges. She sat on the floor replaying what just happened when she heard someone approaching. Awkwardly she straightened her clothes as she stood up, turning to see Bob standing in the entryway.

"Come I will take you to the guest room" he said with absolutely no emotion his voice or friendly demeanor. He walked stiffly down the hall sneaking a peak at the bathroom as if it would explode any moment. She couldn't figure out why he was angry so she quietly followed behind him. As a means of reassuring herself she rubbed the garnet ring on her left finger. It made her relax, the ring lulling her into a false sense of security.

Bob scowled at her as he looked down towards the ring. "Don't," he pleaded. She hid her hands behind her back as she entered the guest room. Rich woods and bright colors filled the room. Jill wondered if she was still in the same home as it felt like she suddenly she had been transported to a completely different location. The closing of the door jarred her back to reality, what the hell had just happened?

Scene Crit 1--critted

First, I want to say a big, HUGE thank-you to the author of this piece (and all of those who submitted. It's never easy to have your work picked apart by a bunch of strangers; you're very brave to do this in order to help others, and I really, really appreciate it. I hope my comments aren't too harsh, and that they prove helpful to you, as that's the whole point. Please keep in mind this is only MY opinion. Don't make any changes you're not comfortable with, and if you feel something isn't helpful or doesn't work for you, ignore it. In a few places I've suggested some rewordings; feel free to ignore those, too, they're just suggestions.

This is an interesting experience for me; I’m not a fan of first-person sex scenes and have never written one, so…

First a few general comments. The writing here isn't bad at all on a technical level, although I'm not a fan of the "Doing a thing, he then did the thing" structure, and the scenario is fairly interesting. But I feel disconnected here; I'm getting some physical action, but there's very little sense of how these people feel physically or emotionally. I don't feel like I'm experiencing this with the characters, I feel like I'm watching it from a distance, like I'm watching them through a telephoto lens as they race through the sex act. I know I had a word limit, so you might have deleted some things, but on the whole this just skims the surface; it could be much, much longer.

He stretched my arms over my head and yanked my tunic off. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he brought up one hand to fondle my breast, massaging it, running the flat of his hand lightly over my firm nipple, then tugging on it until I arched my back. He lowered his head and took the other nipple in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue.

But how does that all feel? When he yanks off her tunic, does she feel air hit her skin? Do her already-hard nipples (hard, not firm) grow even harder? Painfully hard? Is his hand warm or hot on her skin? How about his breath?

I’m not crazy about the sentence beginning with “A smile”. “Hand” is used in it twice; instead of “the flat of his hand” why not use palm? How about instead of a smile tugging at the corners of his mouth as he brings up his hand, his lips twitch?
Everything he’s doing to her should evoke some sensation, but we’re not getting that here. The only indication that she even likes what he’s doing is her back arches. Why does she arch her back? Does it arch on its own? How about something like:
I watched his eyes as they scanned my body, trailing heat the way his hand did when he stroked my breast, sliding his palm over my tight, hard nipple before tugging it gently with hot fingers. I gasped. It had been so long, I’d wanted him for so long. Now it was happening and I could barely think, could barely do anything but feel. My back arched, my body taking over, begging him to pull my nipple into the warm, wet cavern of his mouth and responding with a shudder when he did.

I held his head, entwining my fingers in his thick hair. How does that hair feel? Soft, slippery? Does it smell like cut grass or smoke or musk? Is she holding his head gently or pulling him closer, forcing his head onto her breast, begging him not to stop? My groin ached from wanting him so badly. What else does it do, just ache? Is it swollen? Can she feel wetness against her panties/pants? Can she feel pressure building between her legs? I rocked my hips against his and he groaned. Does she feel his erection when she rocks her hips up? Is it hard under his pants, does it radiate heat through the fabric? Is she dying to see it, touch it? Moving my hands to his pants once more, I tugged on them, but Jack grabbed my wrists, pinning them over my head as he once again found my mouth. I’m not crazy about this sentence. I see you don’t want to start another sentence with “I” but how about starting with his pants? “The ties holding his pants shut teased my fingers, just out of reach, but when I finally caught one he grabbed my wrists…” Or “My fingers found the soft skin/hair/whatever or his abdomen, found the ties holding his pants, but he grabbed my wrists…” After kissing me ravenously, he moved his lips to my neck then my breasts, then my abdomen, at last running his tongue under the edge of my pants. How does that feel? Does she want his mouth everywhere on her body? Does her skin leap to his touch? Is he making her so hot she realizes she’s moaning? Writhing? Is he just kissing, or is he nibbling too, scraping his teeth on her delicate skin, letting his tongue play over her collarbones? Is he turning her to jelly, is she losing herself to blinding need?

Plus I do dislike the word “groin”; I usually use “pelvis” (personal choice, of course). I like the way you show us her desperation a bit more here, tugging on his pants. I also like Jack pinning her hands over her head, but I’m a little confused as to how he does that when his mouth is at her waistband?
I also feel “kissed me ravenously” is a bit awkward.

He had made it clear he didn’t want me to take off his pants quite yet, but I hoped an invitation to remove mine would not be ignored. This is a little clinical. How about, “He wouldn’t let me take his pants off, but hopefully he’d let me take off my own” or “maybe he’d take off mine”? Something along those lines. Bracing my feet, I lifted my hips off the bed. Much as I dislike a lot of dialogue, this could be a good place to put some in. Just a simple “Take my pants off” would be nice from her here. He reached under and placed his hands firmly on my ass, squeezing it, as he used his teeth to untie the leather strip holding my breeches closed. How about “He used his teeth. His strong hands cupped my ass, holding it up, squeezing it, and he grabbed the leather strip holding my breeches closed in his teeth and tugged until it came free”? Also, how about mentioning his broad shoulders stretching her thighs apart, or something similar? Something to put us in the scene, to get the sense that there are whole bodies involved, not just whatever part is being mentioned at the time.

Just feeling the heat of his breath through the leather was almost enough to push me over the edge. The heat of his breath through the leather almost pushed me over the edge, or was almost enough to push me over the edge.

Once he had finished, his hands moved inside the pants and slid them over my rear and down my legs, as Jack followed their path closely with his mouth. His long, strong fingers slipped beneath the waistband, slid over my rear and down my legs, pushing the pants before them, until I was completely bare, exposed to him. I watched him from beneath heavy eyelids as she finished removing them, then slid his hands back up my thighs, to my waist, following the movement with his hungry mouth. Again, give us more, give us something to picture, show us what she's thinking and feeling.When they were off, he reversed the course of both his hands and lips until they had both returned to my waist. Dipping his head between my legs, his tongue found my clitoris, flicking at it playfully. He nibbled the tops of my thighs, kissed the place where they met my hips. A second heart beat between my legs, I couldn’t breath, couldn’t think anything but please, please, please… I watched his head dip between my legs and saw no more, because his tongue found my clit. I don't think "playfully" really works here; they're not joking around, you know? They're having some fairly serious sex, and he's being nicely dominant. So to suddenly be playful feels a little off.

I gripped the rough wood of the bed frame and bit my lip to keep from crying out. The rough wood of the bed frame dug into my palms. A cry tried to escape from between my tight-pressed lips.

His hands squeezed my ass as his tongue delved into the cleft between my legs, exploring me, teasing me, tasting every inch of me. He explored every inch of me with his mouth and tongue. When I thought I couldn’t handle any more, he slowly trailed kisses up my belly until he found my breasts and gently kissed each firm nipple So did she come, or what? It's kind of lousy of him to pull away when she's just about to, IMO, but it can work if he gives her a deadly smile, or says something like "Not yet. Not until I'm inside you" or whatever. The gentle touch sent shivers down my spine. Playing his fingers across my stomach, he kissed me passionately. See, there's that structure again; it feels sing-songy. How about something like: My breath came faster, faster still. Sweat broke out on my body, I could feel pressure building, my muscles tightening, my thighs shaking. Not just from Jack’s tongue, but from the knowledge that it was Jack, that he was really there, we were really doing this, and just when I thought I couldn’t handle any more, just when I was about to explode, he stopped. His lips touched my belly, blazed a trail of heat over my heaving ribs, over my firm breasts and hard nipples. So gentle, so delicate. I shivered, opened my mouth to say something, but he covered it with his own, explored it with the same thorough passion as he had the rest of me.

I tried for his pants again, but he stopped my hands. “Please, Jack,” I begged.

“Are you certain you want this, Jill?” The look in his blue eyes was full of pain, as if he expected me to say no. But why? He hasn't been at all hesitant throughout the rest of the scene, so why is he doubting now? Doubt is nice, but I would expect to see a hint of it earlier in the scene. Also, I would try something like: Doubt flashed in his eyes, doubt and pain. Did he really think I was going to say no?/After all that, he still thought I might say no. My heart ached for him. My body ached for a different reason.

My fingers traced the line of his jaw, How does that feel? Is his jaw hard? Stubbly? Soft? and he turned his head, kissing the palm of my hand. I closed my eyes, allowing the sensation to tingle all the way down my arm. When I opened them again, I locked gazes with him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more certain of anything.” I closed my eyes or my eyes shut, reveling in the sensation tingling up my arm and out through the rest of my body. When I opened them again he was watching me. Tension made the silence loud. "I don't think I've ever been more certain of anything," I said, and locked gazes with him so he knew I meant it.

At last he stood and let me untie his pants and push them past his hips. His thick hard cock stood ready and willing. My mouth went dry, maybe, or something? I'd like a little more about his cock here. Cock is the main event, really, so when we first get a mention of it we want it to count. Maybe it sprang free from his pants, or brust from them, or something? I started to kneel, wanting to taste him as he had me, but Jack pulled me up. Stopped me, his hands hard on my arms? “It has been too long for me, Jill; I will not last through that.” Where would she kneel? Isn’t she on a bed? How low is the bed?

Sadly, I ran my palm along the tight smooth skin of his shaft and watched him tremble. Be nice to have something here about said shaft; big? Beautiful? A teardrop of clear fluid at the tip? How about his balls? Heavy, virile, hairy? She’s looking at him naked; let us look too! As he lowered me to the bed, I whispered, “Maybe next time.”

A sexy, knowing, very male smile crossed his face then, totally at odds with the words he spoke, Should be a period not a comma “If you would do me the honor of a next time.” How did that smile make her feel? Did it send a shiver of very female pleasure through her? Did it remind her what a big swingin' MAN he is? Did the smile promise her something?

Without waiting for a response, he pressed his lips to mine and slid his hard length inside me. Filling me. Making me feel as if I couldn’t breathe. This would be a good place to mention how the entire length of his naked body is against hers too, and how that feels. The bit about feeling like she can’t breathe is nice, but it would be great if you detailed it a little more: "...like I couldn't breathe, like my lungs were too full of pleasure to get any air". Which is hokey but you see what I mean. I sometimes have the heroine so focused on that it takes her a second to start really feeling his thrusts, something like that, because “He pulled back and re-entered me” is a little awkward. He pulled back and re-entered me with long gentle strokes. I arched my back and his hand found my nipple, rolling it between his fingers. And he thought he wouldn’t last. His teeth scraped along my lip and I moaned in pleasure and longing. “Please… please…” I murmured into his mouth. Okay. Now they’re really having sex! How does it feel? Is she stunned, amazed? Can she feel every inch of his big cock stretching her? Pressure building? Heat and friction? Can she feel his hot breath on her skin, how is her breathing? Does his face look peaceful, absorbed? Are his eyes closed or open? Did he gasp or make any sound when he entered her? How about now? Is she stroking his strong shoulders or back, letting her hands roam over his warm bare skin? We should be experiencing some *very* intense emotions and sensations here; this definitely needs expansion.

He must have heard me. Either that or he felt the need for release as strongly as I did. His thrusts quickened and his kisses became rougher and more feral. His thrusts quickened, each quick, hard stroking sending me higher and higher. His kisses grew rougher, more feral, our tongues dancing together, his lips taking mine again and again as we strained and fought to reach the peak together.

My hands gripped his buttocks, bottom? Ass? Behind? fingernails digging into his skin as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge. When I was certain I couldn’t contain myself any longer, Just as I hit the edge, he growled against my lips and gave one final deep thrust. Together we exploded in ecstasy. Are they silent? Still? Shaking? Crying out into each others’s mouths? What does exploding in ecstasy feel like? Are they clinging to each other while their mutual orgasm rolls over them, crushed them under its glorious weight, leaves them shaking and shaken, together on the rumpled sheets? This just seems so abrupt; it feels like they only had sex or a minute or so and then came and they're done. Then, exhausted, trembling, limbs entwined, we held each other as if afraid the other would disappear if we let go.

Smiling gently at Jack, I saw an aura around us of writhing colors shot through with sparks of bright, almost blinding light. As I closed my eyes and snuggled tighter into Jack’s embrace, I realized Bob had been right. An aura of writhing colors embraced us. Jack's face stood out from it, illuminated by sparks of bright, blinding light. I closed my eyes and snuggled tighter into his embrace, reveling in the feel of his body next to mine. Bob was right/had been right. What Jack and I had was a different sort of magic entirely. GREAT last line.

Scene Crit 1

Okay, today is our first crit!

I'm going to post the scene below, and encourage everyone to comment! I'm not moderating comments, because I have faith in all of you, so please prove that I'm correct in believing my readers are the rockinest.

I haven't made any comments here; I'm going to post my crit later today.

Also, I have changed the H/h names in all the scenes to Jack and Jill. Any secondary character mentioned will be Bob or Betty.

So here we go...have fun!

He stretched my arms over my head and yanked my tunic off. A smile tugged at the corners of his mouth as he brought up one hand to fondle my breast, massaging it, running the flat of his hand lightly over my firm nipple, then tugging on it until I arched my back. He lowered his head and took the other nipple in his mouth, rolling it around with his tongue.

I held his head, entwining my fingers in his thick hair. My groin ached from wanting him so badly. I rocked my hips against his and he groaned. Moving my hands to his pants once more, I tugged on them, but Jack grabbed my wrists, pinning them over my head as he once again found my mouth. After kissing me ravenously, he moved his lips to my neck then my breasts, then my abdomen, at last running his tongue under the edge of my pants.

He had made it clear he didn’t want me to take off his pants quite yet, but I hoped an invitation to remove mine would not be ignored. Bracing my feet, I lifted my hips off the bed. He reached under and placed his hands firmly on my ass, squeezing it, as he used his teeth to untie the leather strip holding my breeches closed.

Just feeling the heat of his breath through the leather was almost enough to push me over the edge.

Once he had finished, his hands moved inside the pants and slid them over my rear and down my legs, as Jack followed their path closely with his mouth. When they were off, he reversed the course of both his hands and lips until they had both returned to my waist. Dipping his head between my legs, his tongue found my clitoris, flicking at it playfully.

I gripped the rough wood of the bed frame and bit my lip to keep from crying out.

His hands squeezed my ass as his tongue delved into the cleft between my legs. He explored every inch of me with his mouth and tongue. When I thought I couldn’t handle any more, he slowly trailed kisses up my belly until he found my breasts and gently kissed each firm nipple. The gentle touch sent shivers down my spine. Playing his fingers across my stomach, he kissed me passionately.

I tried for his pants again, but he stopped my hands. “Please, Jack,” I begged.

“Are you certain you want this, Jill?” The look in his blue eyes was full of pain, as if he expected me to say no.

My fingers traced the line of his jaw, and he turned his head, kissing the palm of my hand. I closed my eyes, allowing the sensation to tingle all the way down my arm. When I opened them again, I locked gazes with him. “I don’t think I’ve ever been more certain of anything.”

At last he stood and let me untie his pants and push them past his hips. His thick hard cock stood ready and willing. I started to kneel, wanting to taste him as he had me, but Jack pulled me up. “It has been too long for me, Jill; I will not last through that.”

Sadly, I ran my palm along the tight smooth skin of his shaft and watched him tremble. As he lowered me to the bed, I whispered, “Maybe next time.”

A sexy, knowing, very male smile crossed his face then, totally at odds with the words he spoke, “If you would do me the honor of a next time.”

Without waiting for a response, he pressed his lips to mine and slid his hard length inside me. Filling me. Making me feel as if I couldn’t breathe. He pulled back and re-entered me with long gentle strokes. I arched my back and his hand found my nipple, rolling it between his fingers. And he thought he wouldn’t last. His teeth scraped along my lip and I moaned in pleasure and longing. “Please… please…” I murmured into his mouth.

He must have heard me. Either that or he felt the need for release as strongly as I did. His thrusts quickened and his kisses became rougher and more feral.

My hands gripped his buttocks, fingernails digging into his skin as he pushed me closer and closer to the edge. When I was certain I couldn’t contain myself any longer, he growled against my lips and gave one final deep thrust. Together we exploded in ecstasy. Then, exhausted, trembling, limbs entwined, we held each other as if afraid the other would disappear if we let go.

Smiling gently at Jack, I saw an aura around us of writhing colors shot through with sparks of bright, almost blinding light. As I closed my eyes and snuggled tighter into Jack’s embrace, I realized Bob had been right. What Jack and I had was a different sort of magic entirely.

Release Date & Cover for Accustomed to his Fangs

Yes, I know I'm not supposed to be blogging today, because I'm a loser and nobody could think of any questions to ask me. But I just got the cover art for my My Fair Lady vampire spoof Accustomed to his Fangs, which will be released October 1st from Ellora's Cave!



When image consultant Rebecca Fowler meets Sebastian Blodenska, a vampire from a small Eastern European country, her first thought is how much better he'd look without that mullet. Her second thought is that no matter how silly his hairdo is, he's incredibly hot—the perfect one-night stand.
And he is perfect, in more ways than one. Not only is it the most amazing sex she's ever had, Sebastian is rich and needs some serious help with his lame, old-fashioned image. It's the perfect job for Becky, and she's so confident she can make Sebastian cool she bets her ex-husband a weekend of hot sex that Sebastian will charm the snootiest social lions at the next charity ball.
But Sebastian wants to be more than just a client. He wants Becky to be his, forever, and he'll do anything to win her.
Getting into her bed was easy. Getting into her heart is the biggest challenge he's ever faced.

And here's a little excerpt:

"Take off your dress."

Becky obeyed, a shiver of excitement running through her. Once you got Sebastian's mind on the right track, he didn't disappoint.

She stood before him now in her bra, panties, and garter belt with stockings. She reached down to take off her shoes but he stopped her. "Leave them on."

Kinky too. That was good. The arousal that had simmered in her body all night came to a boil. Her panties were already wet, but when she looked up and saw Sebastian watching her, saw the obvious and thankfully large bulge in his pants, she got even hotter. Dampness trickled between her legs as the space between them swelled and opened. She was aware of every inch of that most intimate part of her, desperate to be touched.

Sebastian took a step toward her, and suddenly Becky did not see the slightly goofy, ridiculous man she'd seen earlier. The look in his eyes was pure predator, and the force of his kiss came back to her in a rush that turned her insides as liquid as the evidence of her arousal.

Their eyes met. His were dark and inscrutable. Something had changed between them, but Becky was not sure what it was. She only knew that it was different, that she no longer had the upper hand, and for some reason that knowledge turned her on even more.

He reached out for her. She stayed perfectly still, goose bumps breaking out on her flesh in what seemed like the interminable time between the beginning of his movement and the moment when he touched her, his hot flesh against hers sending shock waves through her entire body. Her eyes closed involuntarily.

"Look at me," he commanded. Surprised, Becky did. He placed one hand under her chin, tilting her head up, forcing her to look in his eyes. "I want to see in your eyes how you feel as I touch you," he said. "Do not close them again."

Part of her wanted to argue, the part of her that had fought back all of her life. The rest of her found his dominance of her strangely, incredibly arousing. She trusted him, even though she knew she shouldn't. He was a virtual stranger, but as she looked into his blue eyes she knew he would not hurt her.

Unless she asked him to. The thought sent a shiver down her spine.

He moved his hands slowly over her shoulders, as if memorizing the feel of them. His palms were a little rough and very warm. She shivered and forced her eyes to stay open, because he was still looking into them, looking into her, with a concentration that made her head spin.

The light stroke of his palms over her erect nipples made her gasp. Her eyes fluttered shut.

"Open," he said lightly. She did, heat rushing to her face. His was blank, expressionless. Only the intensity in his eyes gave away what he was thinking, what he was feeling, as he slipped one warm hand into her left bra cup to caress her, rolling her nipple between his thumb and index finger and forcing a sigh from her lips.

All night her body had been waiting for this. Excitement ran through her veins, all the way down to the tips of her toes. She was alight with desire, a silvery flame in the middle of her cool, peaceful bedroom.

Somehow her bra came off. She wasn't really aware of him removing it, only that it was removed. His hands covered her breasts and slid down her ribcage to her waist and the soft swell of her hips, then inward to touch her belly. His fingertips trailed along the top of her garter belt, slipping just under it. Becky thought he might continue moving downwards to dip between her legs, but he did not, and she groaned in frustration. How she had gone from thinking she might get some pleasure from Sebastian's body for the night, to being desperate for his simplest touch, she was not sure. This had gone so far beyond her normal sexual experiences she wasn't even sure she would know what to do when the time came.

She had never been ordered around in bed before. She'd never been ordered around outside of it, either, and if someone had told her she would be standing here like a living statue while some man had his way with her and forced her to watch, she would never have believed it. She probably would have been a little scared too…just as she was now. The fear added an extra frisson of excitement to her already fevered mind and body.

The top of his head brushed her belly as he knelt in front of her and started sliding her panties down. His hair was incredibly soft. Whatever hair products the man used to keep that mullet in place, they were amazing. Becky hadn't touched a man's hair without having her palm sticky from wax or mousse or texturizer in years. She did so now, running her fingers through the thick, dark mass, delighting in the feel of it cool and smooth against her skin. It was the first time she had touched him since they got here. The first time she touched him, and he was still fully clothed while she wore only garter belt, stockings and heels.

"You're still dressed," she said, surprised at the huskiness of her voice. She almost didn't recognize it.

"Yes." He stood up, running his fingertips up the backs of her legs and over her behind before bringing them to rest in the small of her back.

"Why?"

He looked surprised. "It is no fun to undress myself," he said.

"It might be fun for me."

He smiled, showing her those perfect teeth again. "Vadushkia Becky, do not worry. We will both have fun. That I promise."


I think this is the funniest book I've written, well, certainly the funniest erotic romance. So I'm looking forward to getting it out there and seeing how it does!


Oh. And a couple of things.

The other day Faerie made me accompany her to the potty. When she'd finished she looked up at me with this huge grin and said proudly, "I'm a poop machine!"

Nothing feels better than finally solving a problem with a book that's been bugging you for months. It is the awesome.

We're having rain and galeforce winds today. Just like every other day this week. And, um, every other day this summer, pretty much. Or every day this year. Or for the last two years. I cannot remember the last time I saw the sun for more than two or three days in a row. And I love rain, but even I am getting a bit sick of it.

Okay...

I am officially registered for next year's RT convention.


Ack! *bounce bounce bounce*

I'm going to a convention, whee!

Be a sex-writing strumpet Pt 24

***Insert generic disclaimer***

Why isn’t it working?

So you sit down to write your sex scene. You’re confident. You’ve been reading my little lessons and thinking about what they mean to you, what you agree with or don’t agree with, how they inspire or don’t inspire you, whatever. (Remember, the point of the series wasn’t to make you write a sex scene the way I do; it was to inspire you to dig into yourself and think about what you want your sex scenes to say, what you think is sexy, how you like to write them and what you like about them.)

So you’ve got Bob and Jane kissing in the bedroom. They’re getting pretty passionate. The time is right; you start taking their clothes off. Woo-hoo! Bob slide his hand over Jane’s bottom; Jane moans; they fall to the bed, and…

The scene dies.

Huh?

Why isn’t it working? You’ve got emotion in there, you’ve got some hot trigger words, you’re all excited, but the words are flat. It’s awkward. Rather than thrusting smoothly into Jane, you keep picturing Bob losing his erection. Or the doorbell ringing and it’s Bob’s long-lost wife with a shotgun. Or Jane suddenly really has to pee. The heat, the urgency, just isn’t there, and Bob and Jane feel like cardboard cut-outs pressing their sexless forms against each other, rather than two fully-fleshed people being intimate with each other.

Calm down. This happens to all of us at one point or another. (Relax, it happens to other guys too.) And it’s absolutely fixable.

First, are you sure you’re in the right mood? I’m not generally an advocate of the “You have to be in the mood/have the right atmosphere to write” shit, not at all. In my mind, if you can’t sit down and put decent words on paper no matter what when you have to, you still have work to do before you can call yourself a writer.

But sex scenes are a bit different, they are. Another erotic writer (unfortunately I can’t recall who) once said that if your panties aren’t wet when you’re writing a sex scene, you’re doing it wrong (substitute the appropriate corresponding metaphor for men). You should be at least somewhat aroused; you should be into the scene. The scene should turn you on. So if you’re mad at everyone in the world and the kids are running around screaming (and kids are the one thing that will distract me while writing a sex scene; it’s difficult to write enthusiastically about cocks when my little princesses are trying to get my attention to sing a Barbie song for me) maybe it’s best to hold off on the sex scene. It’s the one and only time I give myself permission to wait a few hours, or until the next day.

So that’s a possibility, if the scene isn’t working. Try getting yourself more in the mood. Have a glass of wine. Put some sexy music on the iPod. Watch a hot movie, maybe, or read a hot book, or, well, whatever gets you in the mood, up to and including actual physical action.

In my experience, I think a good 75% of the problem is lack of chemistry. Remember, the time to write a sex scene is when your characters cannot wait any longer. If you’re feeling tepid, if they’re feeling tepid, it’s not going to work.

An example: My sex scene in Personal Demons just was not coming off right. Because I’d gotten horribly stuck, for two weeks, I’d skipped the entire aftermath of what happened in the park and gone directly to the ball; the kitchen kiss wasn’t in there. Perhaps I felt a little disconnected from Megan and Greyson, too, but to me they just didn’t feel quite desperate enough yet.

So I went back, and wrote the kitchen kiss. In their first kiss, they stopped themselves; basically ignored that it had happened, and moved on. But the kitchen… I think (hope) it’s fairly clear that had Tera not walked in, that would have gone a lot further. They were completely carried away. They didn’t want to stop (and I didn’t either; I had to make them and myself quit writing, and that’s where you want to be. Again, the time to write a sex scene is when it’s too hard not to write it; the action simply flows, and you have to force yourself to stop it). And it was from that moment that Greyson’s behaviour grew more possessive, or rather, that he started behaving as though sex was a foregone conclusion (“When I’m in your bed,” etc.), and although Megan wasn’t as bold as he was, she sure didn’t argue.

The kitchen kiss did, for me (and again hopefully for the readers) what I needed it to do; it amped the chemistry, it put them in a position where they were actively seeking physical satisfaction from each other. Once that was in place, the sex scene flowed; it remains one of my absolute favorite sex scenes I’ve ever written.

It doesn’t have to be a kissing or foreplay scene, though. I’ve gone back and added more dialogue, a touch, a look, a thought. Anything, to put sex a little more firmly in the characters’s minds and make them spark. A little shared joke, an inadvertent compliment, anything.

So if the scene isn’t working, that’s the second thing to try. Go back and reread all the interaction between those characters. Is it everything it should be? Perhaps it is, but you’ve simply fallen out of the swing of it. Rereading may help you get back into it. Maybe you need to write another kissing scene; maybe it doesn’t need to go into the book (I can’t imagine why, but it’s worth a try, if you really think you have all you can use.)

Okay, so it’s neither of those things. Are you simply uncomfortable with writing sex? This is where some of the exercises we’ve done come in. Remember when you wrote a dialogue scene where the characters expressed their feelings, then translated that to action? Dig that scene you wrote out, or write a new one. That’s your roadmap for this scene; use it!

That “roadmap” will also be helpful if your problem is that the characters aren’t behaving the way those characters would. A hard-boiled cop hero may get mushy, but he probably won’t be entirely comfortable with it; are you giving him dialogue that doesn’t fit him? A woman afraid of being vulnerable isn’t going to react the same way as a woman who’s never been hurt, are you making sure we see her fear?

Try changing the location, too. Nothing says they have to be in bed. Maybe they’re so desperate they do it on the couch. Or in the car. Maybe they’re in bed but instead of him on top, she gets on top. Or they fall on the floor. Don’t be afraid to mix things up; it may unlock the problem and save the scene.

And if all else fails, remember you can always rewrite it. You can always fix it in edits, that’s what they’re for!

A sex scene is a microcosm of the entire relationship. It is the biggest and best opportunity you have to SHOW, not tell the readers what these people feel for each other, how they feel about themselves, and what makes their relationship works. Don’t be afraid of it; embrace it, let yourself go crazy with it. You’ll feel good about it and your readers will love it.

So here’s some final assignments. Go back and reread everything you’ve done so far (if you’ve kept them.) Can you tell which scene was written for which lesson?

Merge all those scenes together, taking a line from one, a line from another, a bit here and there. Reread your new scene. What do you think of it? How does it work for you?

Go to the bookstore and buy a book that interests you, one where you know there will be a sex scene (or grab a book from your TBR pile). Now read the sex scene, and only the sex scene. Make some notes. What does the sex scene show you about the characters, their relationship, the story itself? Who is the dominant one? Are they reckless go-getters, or are they more cautious? Are they in love or do they just really like/want each other? Record every impression you have.

Now read the book. Were you right?

This is our last installment, sort of. Next week we start doing the scene crits; I’d love to see a lot of comments participation for that one!

But what I’d like to do now is open up to questions. Is there anything you think I didn’t cover? Anything you want to know more about? Anything you didn’t quite get? Anything at all. Please ask away. If I get some good questions I’ll post them with answers on Friday. If nobody asks me anything, aside from looking like a big loser, I’ll take Friday off.

Be a sex-writing strumpet Pt 23

***Insert generic disclaimer***

When it’s not supposed to be sexy

What I should have done here is asked Mark Henry to do a guest post on this. I didn’t though, so you’re stuck with me, flying by the seat of my pants. I'm warning you in advance; I'm not at all pleased with this one, so I'm sorry.

I’ve never really written a sex scene that wasn’t supposed to be sexy. I have thought about it though. And I admit, there have been times where the evil little imp in me takes over and, in the middle of hot foreplay, I’ve been tempted to write some premature ejaculation in there, or a woman’s frustration at not being able to reach orgasm, or a dog bite, or whatever. I’ve resisted the urges, but it is tempting.

The way I see it, there are two type of funny or unsexy sex scenes. There’s the always-funny kind, meaning the whole thing is a joke from start to finish; and the gotcha kind, with a surprise humorous ending.

I believe there’s a trick with Gotchas, and I believe the info in the rest of the series will help you. (Actually I believe the info in the rest of the series will help you write both.) The trick with a Gotcha is, the hotter the foreplay, the stronger the chemistry, the funnier the gotcha will be.

Here’s a snippet from a sex scene in As the Lady Wishes. I’ve rewritten it a tad to include a Gotcha:

“I do. I am. I can barely keep from pushing you back on that bed and driving my cock between your legs, regardless of what you have to say about it,” he said through gritted teeth, his eyes wandering to her slightly spread legs with a need that shook her to her core.
“Then don’t keep yourself.” Lila spread her legs just a little wider, a thrill of desire pounding through her bloodstream as she revealed her slick center to his hungry gaze. “That’s what I have to say about it.”
With a sound of surrender, Arthur was suddenly on top of her, his hot, powerful body pressing her into the bed. His mouth found her lips hungrily, this kiss different than any they’d shared so far. His movements were more demanding, forcing her to abandon herself to the strokes of his tongue, the bruising caress of his lips. Lila squirmed beneath him, her legs dangling off the edge of the bed, knowing she should be intimidated by the force of his need. His control was obviously slipping away, but the increasing rawness of his possession thrilled her. She found herself reveling in the sensation, intoxicated by the knowledge that she was driving him into this frenzy of desire.
“We have to slow down.” He pulled back from her lips with obvious effort.
“I don’t want to slow down, I want you inside me.” Lila lifted her hips into his, snuggling his cock against her clit and moaning at how wild the feeling made her.
“No, we have to—aaaah!”
His body shuddered above hers, great violent jerks that shook the bed. Hot, sticky liquid spilled over her stomach, her thighs.
She looked up. His face was red, his eyes downcast. “Arthur?”
“Oh, damn…shit, Lila, I’m sorry, I—I was hoping that wouldn’t happen again, I thought the medication would help, I—I’ll get you a towel.”
“It’s—” she started to say, but he was gone, scampering out of the room before she had a chance to get the word out.
Lila fell back on the bed, waiting for her breath to return. Great. She hadn’t been with a man in so long, and now she’d found a heart-pounding stud who couldn’t keep it up long enough to finish the job.
She really was in hell.

Now, I know it’s not uproariously funny—and you men are probably sniffing right about now that there’s nothing funny about premature ejaculation, ever—but you see the point. The bigger the build-up, the harder the fall (that snippet is actually from about the third page of foreplay between these two.)

And it might not be premature ejaculation, either. Perhaps it could be something like this:

“Do you want me to take everything off, Cecelia?” His voice was still low, teasing her, enticing her with the promise of what he would do to her when he removed his pants.
She nodded, unable to look him in the eye. She knew that if he looked in her eyes he would see how desperately she wanted him, and how vulnerable that would make her.
“I didn’t hear you, Cecelia,” he said. “I asked if you want me to take off all of my clothing. Do you want me to do that?”
“Yes,” she whispered.
“I’m afraid you’ll have to speak a little louder,” he said. His hands moved to his belt and removed it, then undid the top button of his pants.
“Yes,” she said, a little louder. God, he was making her beg…and she loved it. It was turning her on in a way she’d never expected, never experienced before in her life.
He didn’t reply, but tugged down his zipper and slipped out of his pants. He wore nothing underneath, she saw the top of a thick patch of dark hair, surrounding… She lifted her upper body from the bed, propped herself up on her elbows. His cock—was that even a cock?
This had to be a joke. She could barely see it. As big around as her pinky finger, not quite as long. She looked up to see him grinning wickedly at her.
“Here I come, Cecelia,” he said. “Are you ready for me?”

Now, either of those would have still been amusing, made their points, without the big build-up. But I think the build-up adds to it, makes it more of a surprise.

Now the other type is harder, at least for me. But again, what you’re aiming for is turning the tropes on their head. It may be funny or just unsexy; how far you want to go is up to you.

Think of those trigger words, all those evocative verbs and nouns. Now substitute things like “bony” for “broad” or “soft” for “hard”. Think of silly things, unsexy things. So instead of this:

Her words were stopped by the warm pressure of his lips on hers.
There was nothing tentative about Daemon or his kiss. He obviously took for granted that she wanted this, despite what she’d said, and she realized he was right as she found herself returning the kiss with equal passion.
Her lips parted and his tongue found hers, teasing her with light strokes, diving in and out of her mouth. She followed it back into the warmth of his mouth, and gasped when he caught it with his teeth, biting just hard enough to send a shiver through her.
He freed her hair from the clasp that contained it at the back of her neck, running his fingers through it, tugging gently. The sensation made shivers down her spine.
She leaned into him, pressing herself against him. Her breasts crushed against his chest, her nipples so hard and tight she was certain he could feel them through the layers of clothing that separated their skin.
As if confirming this, he removed one hand from her hair and brought it down to cup her breast through her shirt, the thick pad of his thumb rubbing across the peak. She gasped against his mouth and shifted position a little to give him better access.
In response he pulled away completely. She started to protest, to reach for him, when he let go of her. His eyes gleamed.
“Tell me again,” he said, his normally cool tones rough with need. “Tell me how you don’t want me.”


We have this:

Her words were stopped by the warm pressure of his lips on hers.
Too much pressure. Her head bent back; she tried to shift her mouth, get a better angle, but his hand in her hair held her fast. Her teeth cut into the delicate skin inside her lips. It hurt, but he wouldn’t let her pull away, his unschooled mouth forcing itself onto hers, his fingers like iron bars digging into her neck. His pelvis moved against hers, fast, like a dog humping her leg, while he pressed what he obviously thought was an impressive erection into her stomach. It felt more like a mini gherkin. She grabbed at his shirt to keep from falling over. That was a mistake. He seemed to take it as encouragement, and pressed even harder, faster, his head unmoving, little throaty growling sounds coming from deep in his throat.
She opened her mouth, desperate for air, but instead of the breath she needed his tongue invaded her, probing like a dentist’s drill. Something wet ran down her chin and trickled down her neck. Was that…spit? Was he slobbering on her?
She tried to push back with her own tongue, only to have his teeth clamp down on it. Tears stung her eyes. That hurt, fuck, what was he doing? Was this some kind of joke?
“Elizabeth,” he moaned. At least he had to release her tongue to do it, but before she could pull away he tugged at the clasp holding her hair. His watchband, heavy silver links, caught; pain shot through her skull as he pulled both the clasp and at least a dozen strands of her long blonde hair off her head. The clasp fell to the glass-topped table behind her with a clank. She cried out, raised her hand to the bald spot.
He dove in for another kiss, licking her chin like it was a fucking ice-cream cone, up over her mouth to her nostrils.
She put her hands on his shoulders, meaning to push him away, but he was too fast for her. His palm covered her right breast and squeezed like it was a bag of sand he needed to test for weight.
The final straw came when he reached around, grabbed her ass, and yanked her toward him. Her forehead smashed into his chin, so hard she saw stars. She heard what she thought was a strangled moan of pain, but when she looked up, his eyes were shining.
“If you think this is good, wait until I get you in bed,” he said.
She sighed. This was going to be a long night.

I know these aren’t the world’s best examples. Like I said, this really isn’t my forte; humor isn’t something that can be taught the way basics can be. But hopefully this gives a basic idea, something else to think about when you’re trying to write an unconventional sex scene.

So here's the exercises. Go back to one of the published sex scenes you picked for an earlier exercise. Now imagine what would happen if:

1. Premature ejaculation
2. Bed breaks.
3. Someone walks in on them
4. A priest walks in on them
5. One of their mothers walks in on them
6. Dog bite
7. Insect on someone’s chest
8. Unfortunate bodily functions
9. Vaginal dryness
10. Can’t get it up
11. Stuffed bra
12. Stuffed trousers
13. Sneezing fit
14. Small rodent in the bed
15. Pipe bursts in ceiling

Or whatever you like. Rewrite the scene yourself (it’s not plagiarism or copyright infringement, it’s an exercise you’re doing for yourself and not showing it to anyone and all that stuff; use one of your own scenes if you prefer), using that list or anything else you can come up with.

Write your own scene, as silly as you can make it. Don’t worry about realism. Just be funny. Make aliens land. Give the hero a rash. Whatever you want.

Ugh, guys. I’m not at all happy with this particular segment. I’m sorry. Am I allowed one clunker? Maybe one day I’ll come back and redo it.

Be a sex-writing strumpet Pt 22

***Insert generic disclaimer***

What are you doing to me?

The heat inside her roared like a beast, rising up into her throat and escaping as cry of pure, wanton delight. She’d thought last night she could never experience anything as wonderful as him on top of her, thrusting inside her. Now she knew she could. In this position, his balls thudded softly against her clit with every thrust. She lifted her ass and spread her legs a little more, making it easier for his skin to touch hers.
He was so hot, the thickness of him searing her insides, his pelvis warm against her behind. Slowly he danced out of her, rolling his hips so his cock touched every inch of her walls, then just as slowly crept back in. She rocked her hips against him, circling in the opposite direction, and the tightening of his fingers on her hips told her how much he liked it.
Royd slid one hand up her spine and looked down to watch himself sink into her body and reemerge, slick with her moisture. He would never, could never grow tired of that sight. He leaned back a little, bending his legs further to get a better view. All the while, Prudence’s sighs and gentle moans egged him on, told him what he wanted to hear. Her cunt was tight and hot around him, welcoming him with every thrust. He thought of the way those walls had felt around his tongue the night before and almost exploded. He wanted to taste her again, wanted to feel and explore every inch of her body.

What did you notice about that excerpt? Anything? Anything you want to comment on?

Did you notice the POV switch?

I know conventional wisdom is to never, ever head-hop. And I agree, generally. It doesn’t always bother me but I do notice it, and generally find it too “telly”. It’s not fun if you don’t get to deduce things for yourself. (For example, in one of my books I have the heroine push the hair out of her face, close her eyes, and smile, feeling the breeze on her skin. When she opens her eyes the man she’s with quickly looks away and busies himself with something. Hopefully it’s obvious to the reader that he was watching her, probably open-mouthed with a stupid look of longing on his face [stupid to him, I mean] and that he’s now embarrassed at almost being caught. I could easily have slipped into his POV for that and told the reader he was watching her and thinking she was the prettiest girl he’d ever seen up close, and that she was smart and brave and all that stuff too—or whatever sappy thoughts he was having at the moment—but I don’t think that’s anywhere near as much fun, do you? Or as interesting. I like subtle clues, and I think readers like them too; it makes them feel smart, and I like to make readers feel smart, because it makes them feel engaged, and obviously that’s the main goal, right? I digress.)

So generally, POV switches should have a scene break, or at least a line break (a blank space) between them.

Except for sex scenes. Or rather, except for some sex scenes.

I know, you might not agree with me (ooh, I’m controversial!) But I think, if you’re writing a book from multiple POVs or from both characters’s POVs, you ought to have at least one sex scene where we get to see into both their heads. Generally that One Scene is the big “I love you” sex scene, because it’s such an important moment that frankly I think the reader deserves to see into both people’s heads. I also like to switch at some point during the First Sex scene, and one of the more emotionally charged ones in the middle—angry or frantic sex, say. Any sex scene that represents a huge leap or is emotionally fraught is a good place to let your reader see into both heads.

Like I said I know there are some who won’t agree with me. It’s also very possible your publisher will force you to put a line break in there to signify the switch. Personally I think if you do it right, the reader will hardly even notice; it will feel right and natural to them to see into both characters’s heads, and it’s for that reason I dislike the line break. I think it calls unnecessary attention to the switch and interrupts the flow of the scene. But it isn’t that bad and like I said, I know it’s a necessary evil at some houses, so there you go.

The point isn’t how it should happen, not really. That’s a matter of house style and what your editor wants. It’s a matter of whether it should happen, and why.

Oh, and. Only one POV switch per scene, please. I used to switch back and forth more, but once should really be enough (unless you’re writing a ménage, in which case you may want to dip into all of their POVs—they're generally longer scenes, so you have some room).

I like the switch, though. I like to show the reader that both characters are feeling the same thing, thinking the same thing. I like the reader to see how significant a moment this is for both characters. It gives the reader a more complete picture.

And it can really amp up the heat level, because, as in the example above, not only are we seeing/feeling what Prue feels, we feel it from Royd’s POV as well. In a different seen we might experience her orgasm with her, then switch so we can experience it with him—and then we get his as well. It can extend a scene and give us more room to play.

There’s another point to the quoted scene, as well, and that’s detail. Detail is an important part of writing a good sex scene. We’ve touched on this quite a few times throughout the series; it’s one of those topics that’s too important to ignore but too big for its own topic, IMO.

Royd doesn’t just pull out and thrust back in. He doesn’t just look down. He looks down to watch himself sink into her body and reemerge, slick with her moisture. We’re giving the reader that image; a feeling and thought to go with the action, especially in the next line when we learn he would never, could never grow tired of that sight. And to drive it home (no pun intended) he lean[s] back a little, bending his legs further to get a better view.

I could have simply said Royd looked down to watch himself fucking her, or whatever. And in a different type of scene that might work. But it’s a little telly, and it’s simply not very detailed.

Details matter. Don’t just tell us or even show us what the characters are doing; show us why, and how they each feel about it. Every action has a reaction, yes, and you want to include that, but every action also has a reason.

Your hero doesn’t just thrust into the heroine, he thrusts into her, feeling her slick, hot walls grasp him. Or tighten around him. Or give under the pressure of his thrust. Your heroine doesn’t just feel him thrust into her, she feels every inch of him sliding against her wet, sensitive skin, feels her body welcome him, feels her tight walls being invaded. Just as Prudence, above feels how hot Royd is, the thickness of him searing her insides, his pelvis warm against her behind. He doesn’t just pull out of her; Slowly he danced out of her, rolling his hips so his cock touched every inch of her walls, then just as slowly crept back in. Later, as Prudence gives Royd a blow job, instead of simply touching herself, her other hand slid[es] down into her panties, onto her incredibly sensitive clit. She moved farther down, slipping a finger into her cunt, drawing her silky moisture out to spread over her aching flesh.

See? They don’t stroke each other; they stroke each other, their palms memorizing the planes and contours of the warm, living flesh beneath them. They don’t just kiss, their mouths dance, their tongues tangle, devouring each other, breathless.

The devil’s in the details. Heh heh.

This weekend’s assignment: First, check your own scenes. Have you used POV switches? How do you feel about them? Do you think they’re in the right place? (I believe there are two places ideally suited for POV switches; one, immediately before or after he enters her, and two, immediately before or after somebody comes.)

Take one scene you’re written solely from one POV, and add a switch (remember, when writing from the male POV, think about what this man would be thinking and what you want any man to be thinking during sex. It’s okay if it’s a little cheesy, this is just practice.) Now rewrite it with the switch in the other direction—if the scene starts with her and ends with him, switch those around. And as always, the POV should be with whichever character has the most to lose emotionally, or will be changed the most. Obviously, if you’re writing a historical and the heroine is losing her virginity, that moment should be hers. If your hero is breaking a vow of celibacy, that moment should be his.

Now, reread that scene, or any of your scenes. Have you described every action fully? Are we getting a complete picture? When he climbs on top of her, for example, is every his bare skin hot against hers, everywhere? Does she feel his erection against her thigh and shiver? Are either of them shocked, amazed, pleased, thrilled, to be so close to each other? How does she see him, when he does it? This sort of thing is especially important for movements that may otherwise be awkward; if you’re not going to brush over it (“he stripped off his clothes”) you need to go into detail (“His fingers couldn’t undo the buttons fast enough for her; she struggled to help him”, that sort of thing.)

Be a sex-writing strumpet Pt 21

***Insert generic disclaimer***

Sex: It’s not just for bed

Just as we describe every movement in a sex scene—or almost every movement—and just as every movement has its purpose, so does setting. Your characters aren’t just interacting with each other; they’re interacting with what’s around them, even if they’re not actively doing so.

For example, in a bed, sheets may be soft or rough. They may float on top of the mattress or sink into the featherbed. They may fist the sheets, push them out of the way, burrow under them.

All those are pretty elementary, really, because let’s face it. No matter how adventurous we may be, I think it’s a safe bet that the majority of our sexual encounters take place in bed. We’re all familiar with how pillows can be used to prop up bodyparts or bitten to muffle sounds. But what about other places? What do you grab when you’re in a car, say, or up against a wall in an alley?

In Day of the Dead, Santos and Yelina have sex for the first time in a cemetery—on a bench beside his dead love’s mausoleum, to be precise. And there were a few reasons why I chose this setting.

One, because the story is set on the eve of Dia de los Muertos, so I wanted to get as much graveyard imagery in as I could. Two, because by having Santos break his seventy-two years of celibacy by his love’s grave, I could add some guilt and thus emotional intensity and complication to the plot. Three, because I could use it symbolically; death of the old love and birth of a new one (this worked especially well—not to toot my own horn—because I left some ambiguous little hints there that Yelina might be the reincarnation of Esperanza. Just hints, and you can form your own opinion, but I liked that ambiguity and liked the extra depth it added to the story). Four, because it gave me a chance to introduce grave-robbing, and who doesn’t want grave-robbing in their erotic romance? Five, because given the plot and general setting, it was a good place for the characters to run into each other—Santos would naturally go to Esperanza’s grave on such an important holiday, and Yelina might reasonably choose to visit her father’s grave on that night as well. And six, because who doesn’t want to write public sex in a cemetery at night? Seriously, that’s hot.

But the point is, it wouldn’t have been as hot if I’d just stuck Santos and Yelina in a graveyard for no reason. Just like you can’t just stick your characters places for no reason.

We all know agents and editors dislike static settings. Why have endless pages of people sitting around in a living room or kitchen, drinking tea and chatting? (Yes, I know I’m guilty of overusing this in Personal Demons. Shut up.) Why not have that conversation on a rooftop (everything is better on a rooftop, trust me)? Or on a bridge? Or in a speeding car, on a beach, in an opium den, underground, in a dark alley, on a rusty fire escape?

You can’t always do that, of course. In the middle of the night, when the characters are home, it makes no sense that after someone tries to break into their house and they defeat them, that they would then get dressed and put on coats to go find a rainy, rat-filled alley in which to discuss the break-in. But try to find more active settings, and that goes for sex as well.

Off the top of my head, here is a partial list of places where my characters, in all of my books, have had sex. I’m not putting bed in here, but pretty much all of them have had sex in bed at least once. Often more than once, but in different positions etc. So:

Hot tub
Hotel room floor
Bathroom counter
Graveyard
Up against a lightpost on the street
In a public park, hidden behind pine trees
Hot, dusty attic
On a desk in an office
On rocks by a waterfall
Up against a tree
On the beach
In a field
On a front lawn
Poolside chaise lounge
Shower
Forest clearing
Couch
Bedroom floor
Up against a wall in an alley
Up against a wall in a living room
In a museum
Workout room
Balcony
Nightclub


I might very well have missed some, but those are the ones I remember. Now look at that list. Think about it. How do you imagine the sex up against the lightpost, on the public street, was different from a scene in bed? How might the hot, dusty attic be different from the forest clearing? The museum from the field? Picture those scenes as you imagine them. What are the difference?

See what I mean? Setting feeds action, and action feeds setting. When you’re planning for your characters to fight and have angry sex, what setting would be best for that? You can have them fight anywhere, right? You don’t have to start a fight in a bedroom just because there’s a bed handy there. How much better to have them fight in a nightclub, which is already hot and too-close in atmosphere, and get so overwrought they end up in the hall, not caring who sees, Maybe they can even get busted for it, and add a huge complication.

Maybe you want them to be tender and romantic. Bed is a good setting for that, but how about the public park? How about putting the tender scene in the nightclub—how will you use the atmosphere differently then? Rather than being so angry they don’t care who sees, they’re so wrapped up in each other it’s like no one else even exists. See?

You don’t need to veer into cliché here. You don’t want to do that. You don’t want all your tender scenes to happen in the forest while the little bunnies watch and the little birdies chirp sweetly, or on a wrought-iron four-poster bed with flowy white sheets and sunshine pouring in. You don’t want angry scenes to always take place during thunderstorms on fire escapes against rusty bars. But you can try those. Even better, mix them up, and let the reader feel the incongruity between action and setting.

And don’t just put them in a setting and forget about it. Just like you feel the bed beneath you or the wall cold against your back, so do they. You don’t want to go overboard with it, of course—the focus needs to be on the sex—but interacting with the setting adds depth and reality to the scene.

For example, from Day of the Dead:

“Yelenita,” he whispered, rolling her clit between his index finger and thumb until she wanted to sob out loud. “Yelenita, mi amor.”
The stone of the bench scraped against her back, but she didn’t care. Didn’t care at all, because her thighs rested in his iron grip and his mouth descended on her pussy. A low, gasping groan escaped his lips, vibrating against her as he sucked her clit into his mouth.
“Santos, oh God, Santos…” The tree branches above her swayed dizzily in the breeze, the night air cooling her fevered skin as she trembled under his talented onslaught. He pulled back, teasing her with his tongue, then slipped one thick finger inside her, twisting it easily in her soaking channel.

So here we have the bench and the trees. I don’t mention the setting again for a page or so, when we’re back in Santos’s POV and he’s looking at Yelina:

And here she was, her smooth curves gleaming in the dappled moonlight coming through the trees above, her body warm and alive and full of promise in his arms, and he trembled as he took off his trousers and cool air swirled around his swollen cock.


But the setting is there; it adds a little flavor to the scene, it grounds the scene in its setting, so Santos and Yelina are people having sex in a place and not bodies floating somewhere. The setting becomes part of the scene, albeit a very small part, and that’s what you want.

Your setting should be part of the scene; it should add to the emotion, heat, and intensity of the scene just like the words your characters say or the way they touch each other. It is a third, minor character in the scene. Don't neglect it.

I was going to do POV as well but this ended up being longer than I expected. So, here’s the assignment. Take one of your sex scenes and move it to a different setting. It doesn’t have to be sensible; this is just an exercise. But take the scene and remove all references to setting, adding a new one. This time, put the scene in any of the places I listed above.

How does the scene change? Does it at all? How does it feel working that new setting into the scene, does it gain or lose something? Is it more interesting or less?

Make your own list of places you’d like to write sex scenes, and keep it somewhere you’ll be able to find it. Go through some of your unpublished work; how many scenes take place in a bed? How many of those can you change? Even changing the weather outside can make a difference; is it hot and sunny so the sun makes bright golden rectangles on the sheets and caresses their skin like a warm hand? Rainy, so they need to light up the room on their own? Snowy? Does the wind whistle around the corners of the building? Do they hear it over the roaring of blood in their ears or their own gasps and moans?

Think of a setting you’ve seen used particularly well, or not well. What was done right or wrong? What would you do differently?