I could never manage to write romance novels. But I could tell you stories.

by Amy Turn Sharp


I am currently writing a love scene for a fiction project and it is making me laugh out loud. I am pretty sure that I am capable of creating this event, laying it down and pushing up on it.  I know that I can do it but I am just not sure of how to make it not sound forced.

Because I think the unsexy thing is trying too hard.

I like it when it just drips.

Even before the movie "Titanic" stole my teenage backseat moan and put Kate Winslet in a steamed up car with her hand print in condensation, I wrote that scene. 

I mean, I like it that hot. So hot to make condensation. That's the ticket. Just easy. Breezy perhaps. I like my sex scene to happen like sneezes, like hiccups.

But do you call her breasts "tits" because it sounds better?

Do you have him put his hands all over her? Like a carwash. Like a spider web.

Do you say something like, “He leaned over me and put his mouth on my body. He licked at my belly and then put his face to my breasts. He was urgent and young with his actions and I was coming undone.

Do you say that?

Do you have her in control or out? Does he lose himself in the moment or think the entire time about the other woman he loves somewhere, someplace. Does he pull at her hair and bend her back. Is she free with her body or does she hold back like we all do until we find that other person that teaches us to forget?

Do you have to be all beautiful with the prose? Or is it better to put it down in small glances?

Sometimes sexy means just a touch.  Right?

A tiny gesture towards a place you never thought you might live.

A little echo.

The length of a body like a relief map.

Pull your finger across me.

Bumps and breaks and valleys.

Valleys are sexy.

Dips. Friction. Moan.

There are so many ways to start the small pulse.

Write your name in the wet fog of the backseat window.

Mark it.

What turns you on?

I mean I really want to know.