Captors and Duellers
Jan. 18th, 2009 12:26 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
morrigirlOkay, if I read the following words one more time I'm going to find a blow torch and start lighting shit up all along Allerton Avenue.
He captured her lips.
Contrary to popular belief, couples in romance novels don't actually kiss. No, they take each others lips hostage. Actually, that's not entirely correct. The men take the women's lips hostage, never the other way around. The phrase makes me imagine roving bands of alpha males invading small towns, ripping the lips off the faces of all the women, and depositing them all in a dungeon.
"How many did you capture today, Sawyer?"
"About twenty pair. And you, Dante?"
Again, I flip through my mental repository of sensual and erotic memory and can't find a single instance in which my lips were "captured" by anyone. My lips have been kissed, licked, sucked, bitten, slobbered on, but never captured, and you know why? Because real people just kiss.
After a romance hero "captures" the heroines lips, their tongues usually proceed to "duel." No, I am not shitting you. I could cite at least a dozen examples if I felt like getting up and retrieving my notebook. I would never think to call what tongues do in the midst of a french kiss "dueling." Makes me imagine each tongue armed with its own little neon colored plastic sword like the kind you get in fruity alcoholic drinks, stabbing at each other like conquistadors. Not really the stuff of romance. More the stuff of a very bad acid trip.
I think smoking a large blunt must be a prerequisite to sitting down and writing romance. It should probably be required before sitting down and reading it, too.
He captured her lips.
Contrary to popular belief, couples in romance novels don't actually kiss. No, they take each others lips hostage. Actually, that's not entirely correct. The men take the women's lips hostage, never the other way around. The phrase makes me imagine roving bands of alpha males invading small towns, ripping the lips off the faces of all the women, and depositing them all in a dungeon.
"How many did you capture today, Sawyer?"
"About twenty pair. And you, Dante?"
Again, I flip through my mental repository of sensual and erotic memory and can't find a single instance in which my lips were "captured" by anyone. My lips have been kissed, licked, sucked, bitten, slobbered on, but never captured, and you know why? Because real people just kiss.
After a romance hero "captures" the heroines lips, their tongues usually proceed to "duel." No, I am not shitting you. I could cite at least a dozen examples if I felt like getting up and retrieving my notebook. I would never think to call what tongues do in the midst of a french kiss "dueling." Makes me imagine each tongue armed with its own little neon colored plastic sword like the kind you get in fruity alcoholic drinks, stabbing at each other like conquistadors. Not really the stuff of romance. More the stuff of a very bad acid trip.
I think smoking a large blunt must be a prerequisite to sitting down and writing romance. It should probably be required before sitting down and reading it, too.
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no subject
Date: 2009-01-19 02:58 am (UTC)I can see us now...
After rescuing me from certain death in alien ravaged New York City, an experience that forced me to become a blunt-smoking, blowtorch-wielding megalomaniacal force of Chaos and Destruction, we set off for Wisconsin to hole up in your Aunt's bunker. We race across the country and against time hoping to get there without being eaten by aliens or shot down by your arch nemesis, Jose.
We take refuge in an abandoned house somewhere in Ohio. We smoke some dope, talk about our feelings, and get it on like jack rabbitts.
See? I've just turned your awesome dream into a ROMANCE dream! So now, when I finally get around to writing the fantasy series based on that dream, it'll sell better because it'll include sex. Readers dig sex.
YES! I mean, Hello!
Date: 2009-01-19 08:00 pm (UTC)