Saturday, September 16, 2006

Sample Saturday on time

The class I’m taking this month via Kiss of Death, Deep Editing, taught by Margie Lawson, MS is fantastic. The material is all about empowering your writing.

For those wanting to know more about Margie and her light bulb shining classes

Genre writing is a snowflake problem. Flakes can only be this color, this shape, this size and yet no two are alike and each is wonderful and delightful to the snowflake fan.

In romance writing certain scenes, the first meeting, the first kiss, the first sex are fraught with peril. Reader expectations run high. These scenes are the good parts your reader eagerly anticipates. Disappoint her and your book hits the wall. How can any writer make scenes written a million times before fresh?

Every romance is a love story. Each love story is as individual as its couple. Therein lies the secret of empowering those all important hallmark scenes.

Warning: For anyone offended by sex stop reading right now. Today we’re going to tackle the love scene. It’s not about body parts. It is about intimacy. It is about emotion. It is about vulnerability.

What makes your scene unique? Your characters and detail. Forget every love scene you’ve read. Your couple is alone. They’re attracted or they’re in love. They’re shy or adventurous. They’re experienced or innocent. They’re making love because that is what needs to happen to advance your story.


He couldn’t do it. It was against his personal code. This was a woman who was made for marriage and babies and the gift of her virginity belonged to the man who was married her, a very lucky man. He wanted her so much; he could’ve howled with frustration.

“You’re waiting for Mr. Right and the ring and all that?”

She shook her head again. “No.” Her voice was huskier, almost croaky. “I’m never getting married.”

“The hell you’re not.” The words erupted from his mouth of their own volition. He hadn’t planned this and he was a man who planned everything. She was too lovely, he’d have to steel his heart against her or he’d wind up being a fool for her but he couldn’t let her go, he had to have her. She’d been made for him.

Quickly he freed himself from his jeans. Though she was still slick from her climax, she was still so tight he had to push the head of his shaft into her, he felt her inner muscles, surprisingly strong, tight and silky clamp around him. He couldn’t hold back for another second. He thrust into her; he felt her maidenhead tear as he buried himself inside her and held himself perfectly still.
She froze beneath him instantly tense with pain; tightly clenched around him. It hurt so much. She tried to get away but she was pinned underneath him.

“Don’t move.” He growled. He was furious at himself, what had happened to his control? He should have stopped the moment he felt that fragile barrier, but the animal he knew lived inside him was thrilled to be the first. She was trying to push him off, and he knew he should release her but he didn’t think he could and if she didn’t stop squirming he was going to climax inside her. “I said don’t move.”

“It hurts.” Pain and betrayal straining her voice.

Oh lord she had known kissing this man was a mistake. At least he wouldn’t call her a tease. She felt stretched beyond bearing, she tried to find an easier position but he was in her and on her and she had no choice but to lie there and wait for it to end.

He pulled back slightly but when he moved, her feminine passage caressed him. He rocked into her as she eased slightly. He rocked in a fraction more and she clamped down on him again. His body screamed for release and he pushed deeper, if she would just relax a little. How could he make her understand, when the last strand of his control had snapped? She shifted trying to ease the pain and he lost control and thrust into her, this time so deeply he nudged the mouth of her womb as he exploded.

For a few minutes, he was beyond awareness, as reality seeped in he forced himself up on his elbows. She laid perfectly still, her face turned away from the soft light, her eyes were closed but a glistening tear trailed down her cheek. She was hurt. He’d have a hell of time talking her into this again if he didn’t give her some kindness to offset the pain.

He pulled himself from her completely she curled into a ball and he knew he was in for an uphill battle if he wanted to be with her again. And he wanted to be with her again. Even though he’d just had her, he felt himself grow heavy with a desire that was as strong as if it had never been sated. He ignored his own wants and stroked her back.

She turned a tear-streaked face toward him. “I thought I’d like it.” Her disappointment was obvious and humbling. Derrick knew a dozens ways to pleasure a woman and what had he just done? Thrust into her like a horny teenager. Where was his finesse? It had disappeared about the same time he’d unbuttoned her top and awoken an irresistible urge to taste her followed by an impossible-to-deny-need to bury himself inside her.


Derrick knew making love with her was wrong. Bella deserved love, marriage and babies. Desire pulsed through him tightening every muscle and settling with cruel weight in his groin.

“You’re waiting for Mr. Right and the ring and all that?”

She shook her head. “No.” Her voice huskier, almost croaky. “I’m never marrying.”

“Why the hell not?”

The words erupted from his mouth. He hadn’t planned any of this and he was a man who planned everything.

“I’m a Williams.”

She said it like that was a complete explanation.

“Not good enough.”

An impossibly soft shoulder shrugged. Her eyes moved between his face and his groin. Every glance a lick thickening his cock and thinning his control.

She toyed. Touching him with wary fascination.

He unbuttoned his jeans. Shucked them.

Lowered slowly covering her body with his. Nudged her thighs apart. Settled.

Though slick from her climax, she was tight. He pushed the head of his cock into her. Her inner muscles, surprisingly strong and silky, clamped around him. He couldn’t wait. He thrust into her. Stilled.

She froze beneath him. Struggled. He pinned her.

“Don’t move.” He warned through clenched teeth.

Bella bucked her hips trying to unseat him. God help him, every moment brought him closer to climax. .

“I said don’t move.”

“It hurts.” Her voice was small - apologetic.

He felt like an animal. He was an animal. The animal’s balls tightened.

She wriggled.

Animal sounds roared from his throat.

He lost control thrusting. Once. Twice. Heart pounding, muscles knotting, cock spurting.

He levered his torso off her enough to see her averted face. Tear tracks stained the cheek he could see.

He pushed off her severing their intimate connection. Bella curled into a ball. He ignored his wants stroking her back.

She shuddered. “I thought I’d like it.”

Her disappointment was humbling. Derrick knew a dozens ways to pleasure a woman. What had he done? Thrust into her like a rutting bull.

Where was his code of conduct? Cracked with first kiss. Shattered with an irresistible urge to taste her. The shards scattered with his honor. Everything he believed blown away in few minutes of unimagined-impossible-to-deny desire.

What’s still missing? Lots. This is less than a scene – a snippet like the kiss sample. An illustration of editing a work in progress. .


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