By
the time Bewildered Heart had struggled through the initial one hundred pages
of Under the Millionaire's Influence we finally found the good stuff, where the
hero and heroine, despite constantly vowing not to sleep with each other for
the good of themselves and their relationship, could no longer resist the
temptation of a quickie in the passenger seat of a rental car. What the scene
lacked in eroticism it more than made up for with phallicism, overwrought
emotional epiphanies and a succinct conclusion. With The Millionaire's Indecent
Proposal the reader need only wait seventy pages before Franco is reaching for
the condoms and nonchalantly accusing his latest conquest of carrying a
sexually-transmitted disease, the charmer. In the many Harlequin Mills & Boons
we have endured only a small minority, The Playboy of Pengarroth Hall and The Dad Next Door, featured no sex scenes, while many, including Wild Child and The
Millionaire's Indecent Proposal, seemed to contain nothing but.
Which
leads us to ask the necessary question, what makes for an enjoyable, enticing
literary sex scene and can Mills & Boon themselves offer up a list of
helpful ideas to guide us through it, as we nervously fumble for the right
words and how they are supposed to fit together? Why yes, and who better than
Flo Nicoll to let the gals at Romance HQ in on all the dirty secrets. 'Mills
& Boon books promise readers the ultimate in female fantasies – from
marrying your childhood sweetheart to a night of multiple simultaneous orgasms
with a gorgeous stranger.' It is either or, romance readers, so choose wisely.
'A great love scene is unputdownable – emotional, sexy, and exciting. But a
bad sex scene can be the kiss of death for your story, and your characters –
how can we fall in love with your hero if his between-the-sheets behaviour
fails to satisfy?' Perhaps he was exhausted from making billions of pounds, being kind to children
and respecting and adoring the only woman for him. There sure is a lot of
pressure on the modern heroic man, the last thing he needs is a heroine
constantly wondering if prostitution is somehow sullying her principles and
refusing him the opportunity to work his magic, and then once he forces himself
upon her using magnetic eye contact and height she finds the nerve to criticise
his performance...
So,
when it comes to throwing together a firework display in a bedroom, what are
the proverbial rockets and Catherine wheels? To continue this already strained
analogy a sparkler would be emotionality. 'Good love scenes happen within the
emotional development of the relationship, and can be a key turning point for
the couple. Use sensual encounters as an opportunity to delve into the
emotional reactions of your characters, particularly the heroine.' As with any
other element of your novel therefore make sure what you write has meaning and
value. Sex for the sake of sex is unnecessary, according to Nicoll and the
general consensus of women in the real world. Lust has no depth and mental
connection must be developed through an appropriate amount of intimate
conversations and meals. Thus, fornication should only be used to advance the
story, as a couple moves from a man and a woman who were not having sex to a
couple who now are, or a former couple who used to have sex and stopped
transition back to the couple they were once again. The latter structure sounds
more complex than it actually is.
Thus
we learn to use love scenes for their narrative necessity, while being careful
to avoid pornographic gratuity that derails the pacing of the drama. What other
suggestions does Nicoll offer for penning sex scenes that actually apply to all
elements of writing? 'Don’t be afraid to leave details to the imagination: in
some of the hottest books, the actual consummation scene is only a paragraph.'
See, good sex does not always have to last thirty pages. There is nothing
embarrassing about only lasting a paragraph and then ending the chapter by
writing, 'Goodnight.' A pithy footnote will suffice, as no one wants to read a
meticulous description of every thrust. Just as satisfying is the simple use of
phrases such as repeatedly, or until he was finished. 'Remember, nothing you
write on the page will be nearly as erotic as what your readers can dream up…
particularly if they read a lot of romance!' You know what your audience wants
and why they want it, but bear in mind they are only after skilful touches,
sultry insinuations, not full-blown explicitness, because they can take care of
themselves once you have set the mood. They're not perverts.
'A
beautiful sex scene can easily be ruined by the less sexy aspects of sex –
disposal of condom, wiping down the heroine, even (I can’t quite believe I’m
typing these words) the dreaded wet spot. It may be realistic, but it’s also a
massive mood killer.' Yes, as with in reality realism destroys the beauty of
everything. Still, an author is better off simply ending the scene at a
civilized point, rather than pretending that these things just do not happen to
gorgeous Greek tycoons and their spellbound virginal mistresses. Of course, do
not allow Nicoll's shallow logic to stop you from attempting to make the
disposal of a condom, the wiping down of the heroine or the wet spot romantic,
sexy or a combination of the two. Just because everyone else has failed it does
not mean you couldn't be the first to make post-coitus the must-read part of
the Mills & Boon experience. Soon enough Harlequin fans will be demanding
every Modern Romance contains an erotic wiping down of the heroine sequence.
Typically
of a female journalist Flo Nicoll waits until after we have dealt with condom
disposal before explaining the significance of foreplay. 'Don't forget the
importance of kissing and touching! Lips, neck and ears, lower back, inner
thighs and forearms etc. Because, not to get too personal, but isn’t it the men
who move in straight for the grope – boobs and below – that are the biggest
turn-off?' Anticipation is key for getting both heroine and reader in the right
mind for literary loving. Keep your characters exchanging provocative,
innuendo-based dialogue before they get down to the nitty-gritty of
forearm-touching, and below-boob-groping. Readers prefer to experience the
passion of the encounter, believing hero and heroine have taken a giant step
towards their eventual happy ending and have furthered their eternal devotion
through a paragraph's worth of physical unity.
While
it is all well and good being told what makes for marvellous sex, and
Bewildered Heart has learnt an awful lot admittedly, there is little in the way
of technical advice in Nicoll's column. For example, when word-painting a
romantic boob-grope, or a tender, moonlit condom-disposal should we, the
author, censor the more colourful words and search the internet for
suitable synonyms? 'The less flowery the descriptions, the better. Sometimes
you just need to be able to call an erection an erection – not always a
throbbing member/hard shaft etc! We’re not talking graphic descriptions of the
porno variety but don’t shy away from being direct – after all, what’s the
point in writing about something you’re not comfortable describing?' There you
have it, gentle reader, no more euphemisms such as 'boobs and below' when the
writer is referring to a lady's heavenly warmth. From now on, use depictions
you are relaxed about using, and never again will a reader giggle, blushing
because she knows when you wrote throbbing and hard you really meant erect.
'Let’s
spare a thought for the hero who can’t control near-constant hard-ons… Everyone
loves a virile hero, but this lack of control over his body risks making him
seem juvenile, not jaw-droppingly hot! A little manly restraint can go a long
way, ladies.' Writers should know well enough already not to base their heroes
on fourteen year old boys, internet bloggers, or men in general, instead
drawing the fine line between sexual prepotency and erectile dysfunction. A
doting smile, or a fleeting, electrically-charged touch of the hands, a brief
bout of gentle neck-nuzzling, the heroine's parade across the Olympic-sized
swimming pool in a risqué bikini, or hearing a tragic sob-story concerning
unresolved father issues should not result in a twitch in the trousers or a
guttural feeling of arousal. No, the hero should react to these events with
disdain and indifference, thus garnering the favour of women even further.
Finally,
let us pretend there was an award for most annoying cliché found in a literary
sex scene, what would that be, Flo Nicoll? 'The booby prize goes to the heroine’s
instant nipple hardening/ tightening/ peaking/ pebbling on seeing the hero!
(After two years at Romance HQ, I am well on my way to developing a complex
because this doesn’t happen to me on a regular basis).' Now, either Nicoll has
a severe lack of sensitivity in her nipples, her brain emotionally connects to
elsewhere on her body, or the pebbling of nipples is something that does not
happen to the world's women. If so, what other options are open to an author
when wishing to demonstrate her heroine's stimulation, besides
eyelid-fluttering or accepting money in exchange for sexual compliance? Nicoll
has no ideas, but perhaps aspiring female writers could use this opening to
invent a new language for sensuality, creating compelling euphemisms, more
imaginative acts for their couples, discovering more realistic ways to portray
desire and no longer viewing sex as a contractual requirement for Harlequin
novels, instead properly lacing intimacy into their narratives. For those
wanting less sex try Cherish, more sex there is Spice and for the same amount,
but with the added benefit of Nicoll's unhelpful demonstration of how it has
always been there remains Mills & Boon.
