Wednesday, February 17, 2010
Guest Blog: Romance Author Kelli A. Wilkins
Do you "act out" the love scenes in your books? Is the sex in your books based on your real experiences? Is it hard to write love scenes?
Believe it or not, these are some of the most common things I’m asked when people find out I write romances. The questions mostly come from relatives or others who are trying to get under my skin.
When it first happened, I didn’t know how to respond. I didn’t want to be completely rude, but after they probed and pestered me, snickering to themselves, I decided to answer the questions. Being a creative writer, I came up with the following:
"No, I don’t act out the love scenes. Do you think mystery writers practice killing people for their books?"
"Nope, sorry. I made up all that sex. In fact, I even made up those characters…that’s what makes it fiction. (And no, the dinosaurs in Jurassic Park weren’t real either!)
"Love scenes aren’t hard to write. I just spy on my characters and write down what they do."
The short answers seem to work just fine. I don’t think the hecklers would sit still and listen long enough to hear some of the real answers.
Love scenes (or sex scenes, or whatever you want to call them) are fun to write. You get to let the characters run wild, experiment, and do whatever comes natural (pardon the pun). Writing love scenes is always a process of discovery. I base the intensity and actions in the scene on the particular story, plot, and characters. What’s going on in the bedroom (or study, or bathtub, or…wherever) has to flow naturally into the story and match the characters’ personalities.
Certain characters in my books (like Prince Allan from The Pauper Prince) are up (literally!) for anything, while other characters (Lauren, from The Sexy Stranger) are more conservative.
There are a lot of intense sexual scenes in my book, A Midsummer Night’s Delights, as Julian and Annabelle discover their hidden desires and become open to experimentation - but those scenes allow them to grow and learn about themselves over the course of the story. And, yes, it is a story. So here’s a short excerpt. Enjoy!
"Whose bedroom is this?" Julian asked. Like his own bedchamber, the room was elaborately decorated and had an enormous four-poster bed along one wall.
"Shh, keep your voice low." Vincent removed a painting from the far wall. He tossed the painting on the bed and gestured for him to come closer.
He was about to ask why they were here when he heard a woman moan.
"Oh, yes! Go deeper," she muttered.
His skin prickled. Was a woman having intimate relations in the next room? Vincent had his face pressed against the wall and was watching from a hole cut into the plaster. Had he no shame? Did he spy on all his guests in their private moments?
He crossed the room, curious, yet offended. "You shouldn’t watch--"
"Shh. Don’t be a prude. Take a look for yourself," Vincent replied, moving aside so he could look.
He peered through the small hole and saw a brightly-lit bedchamber. A naked, dark-haired woman was kneeling over another figure on the bed, groaning. He licked his lips at the sight of her tight, pale buttocks. Whoever she was, she was obviously enjoying herself.
"Yes…ooh! It’s so big!" After watching for another minute, he pulled away and frowned at Vincent. "It’s not right to peek in on people. That could be someone’s wife."
"It is. Mine. That’s Sabrina."
His heart skipped a beat. "Don’t you care that your wife is in there with another man?"
Vincent shook his head. "She’s not. She’s in there with a woman. Annabelle."
"What?" He pressed his eye to the peephole again. Sabrina had turned on the bed and now lay on her side. He saw her hand moving between another woman’s parted legs. He scowled. That woman couldn’t be Annabelle. Her muff was completely shaved!
He readjusted his position to get a better view. He heard a giggle, then saw a flash of light brown hair. A second later, Annabelle leaned forward and kissed Sabrina on the mouth. His mind reeled as he stared at the two women.
"Ohh, good, it feels so good. Don’t stop. I like it," Annabelle muttered, arching her buttocks off the mattress.
His mouth went dry and he turned away from the wall. "Are they…"
"Screwing? Yes. And from the sound of it, they’re enjoying themselves." He pulled the flask from his pocket and opened it. "You look like you need another drink."
Julian took the flask and swallowed down the liquor in four gulps. How could his innocent Annabelle be…naked? Shaved? Frolicking with another woman? Dear God, she was his wife and he’d never seen her completely naked himself!
"How…how did this happen?" he croaked out.
"It seems your delicate, repressed wife has learned to release her pent-up desires…with a little help, of course." Vincent grinned as Annabelle whimpered in delight. "Someone has to fuck her. Why should she wait for you when my wife can screw her?"
"But…how? They’re women, and--"
"Take a look," Vincent said. "You might learn something."
He returned to the peephole and gasped at the sight before him. Dear Lord, Vincent was right! Sabrina was thrusting a phallus in and out of Annabelle as she squirmed on the bed. Her cries of rapture echoed in his mind…
BUY Midsummer Night's Delights
Kelli Wilkins has published several erotic romances with Amber Quill Press and is working on a steamy sequel to A Midsummer Night’s Delights. In addition to her romances, Kelli has also published horror short stories and four non-fiction books. To learn more about Kelli and her writings, visit her website.