Being a romance writer is not for the shy and faint hearted. In my line of work you don’t get to be naive and modest. That’s just how it is, you’ve either read books titled Tickle His Pickle or you haven’t. Readers don’t want to be in the moment and then instantly bamboozled by your lack of razzle dazzle. You wouldn’t want to be watching the Avengers and suddenly see the CGI on the Incredible Hulk crap out would you? (Spoiler alert that’s not all Mark Ruffalo.)
Not that I’d ever say this in front of my grandmother but, I am quite knowledgeable on the many different ways to describe a man’s disco stick without actually calling it what it is. As well as describing all the dirty, nasty deeds my characters encounter without shame or fail. It comes with the romantic aspect of writing about people falling in love over and over again.
A person like me has to have the balls to describe things as they are and the tact to know when to be vulgar and when to be a lady. We all know there is a big reason why trashy romance novels are what they are and smut is what it is. It’s all about the language! Knowing when to say his shaft was enlarge with want under her touch, rather than his hard cock pulse in her palm. Wording is everything and making the moment is only half the battle for a romance writer.
It’s like a blind date. You have to foreplay it up like no bodies business, make the reader want it. Light the candles, make the path of roses to the bedroom door way and be able to unhook a bra single handily while you begin to massage her womanly folds. Writing a love scene is no joke. It’s serious. It’s dirty and it’s a skill that one has to master. Like I said before, razzle dazzle baby.
However, not all the time is my talent a great thing. For example my little sister, who makes me proud, is writing a sex column for her college paper. In the most recent article about the choice to spit or shallow, we had a disagreement about the description of semen, she wanted to describe it as cough medicine and I, as someone else’s hacked loogie.
I was always taught to never assume, but on this one I’m going to go ahead and assume that anyone who has ever had the displeasure of being surprised during oral sex with a mouth full can agree with me. I rather take the cough medicine. I mean, I understand hacked loogie sounds disgusting but the act of swallowing semen is … well we’re not talking about afternoon tea, now are we?
So what can we say about the male seed? That warm liquid that pours over us in times of passionate release? We could say that it’s similar to a hacked loogie or you could go with the politically polite cough medicine theory. My sister can have her column in the paper, I’ll stick to my smutty, dirty love scenes. Just know that there will be no sinus pressure relief or cough suppressant repercussions from swallowing the baby gravy!