Humor in Romance
I would like to offer my thanks to the creative talent behind Adriana Kraft for inviting me to be here today, not only are they generous, but also exceedingly brave to allow me to ramble on.
Selecting a derivative blog topic is like masturbating with a cheese grater, curiously amusing at first, but ultimately painful.
However, I think I chose a topic I’d be most comfortable discussing, so no need to chafe my manly parts.
Humor in romance.
Now, to be frank, (I’m Lola on Saturday nights, after the late show at the Velvet Anvil, but hey, that’s another blog post) I hadn’t read romance until I became professionally published in July 2010.
I figured I’d better bone up.
-Resists urge to elaborate on bad pun-
I’ve read a fair amount of stories that captivated my imagination, quickened my pulse and made me want to turn the page.
And I’ve read some books that made me want to gouge out my eyes with rusted sewing needles.
Disclaimer: I know romance is escapism entertainment. Not necessary to inform the rom -gendarmes and clap me in irons. Please, allow me a brief indulgence.
The Alpha male hero: Hot, chiseled and supremely well endowed. Wanna read a love scene about a not-so- fit middle-aged guy who is under endowed? No? I get it, ladies, I’m with ya, some of you live it.
However, it is rather amusing to read sex scenes where the main characters are getting it on and she (or he, don’t want to discriminate) can barely close her fingers around the mammoth love tool because of its extraordinary (or for that matter, extraterrestrial) girth. Where are these women of such petite grasp? I’d like to date one, soon as I’m done hanging the fun house mirrors in my bedroom.
Speaking of those scorching hot love scenes, there is humor in the purple prose.
I don’t know how many times I’ve done the head scratch, chin rub and face palm trying to come up with readable, yet titillating euphuisms for sexual congress.
He guided his throbbing granite like edifice of rigidity into her tight, undulating molten love sheath.
I know, the above is bad, but you get my drift. Don’t tell me you coinsurers of romance haven’t smirked once or twice reading a love scene that unintentionally ticked your funny bone rather than your naughty bits.
(and a few holes in my reputation)
What works and does not work. Humor is very subjective, it takes as much skill and care in execution as do the love scenes in a romance story. They say trying to be funny is hard work. I agree. It is easy to become wrapped up in the story, to be so deadly serious and painfully earnest in your narrative voices that when it comes time to lighten the moment, it comes out forced, stilted and awkward, like Betty White emceeing a dildo convention in Las Vegas.
Hey, on second thought, she might like that . . .
If the humor is presented naturally, in the ebb and flow of the character’s POV and especially in dialog, it makes reading a much more textured, richer experience.
What is also quite humorous is that I am a married, het erotic romance author who happened to write a nifty little sexual lesbian tale and I’m a police officer.
Quite the dichotomy, eh?
I’ve included a link to Summer Heat and the sequel, Love Revisited. Please enjoy the HOT excerpts to illustrate my point in this blog post -o-mine.
I’ve also included a link to my blog-Half Past Midnight for a free read. It’s a quirky, sexy tale- a mix of Terry Gilliam’s Brazil meets The Office via George Orwell’s 1984. Entitled: The Dildo Salesman. Its not your average romance read!
Please visit www.kbcutter.com to peek into my world of erotic romance work, coming novels and to view my horror stories for those who enjoy darker fare.
Thanks for being patient with my view-askew diatribe and I offer a thousand expressions of gratitude to Adriana Kraft.
A Little Spanking is a Good Thing…
For today’s Six Sentence Sunday, a snippet from our next release, coming in a month to Whiskey Creek Press Torrid.
Ripening Passion is the sequel to Smoldering Passion ~ here’s a peek at how the over-fifty crowd gets it done:
Max tried to remember what she’d said about spanking: firm, rhythmic, methodical. He bit his tongue as he worked on one buttock until it reddened from his attention.
“That stings nicely,” Claire moaned. “Don’t leave out the other cheek.”
He nodded, paying equal attention to both. Once it matched the color of the first, he began alternating strokes.
Claire Johnson’s dedication to sex—the cornerstone of her career—led her to found the Center for Sexuality and Sex Practices. Now in her fifties, she knows the Center must keep pace with the rapidly growing Baby Boomer market, so she agrees to go back on camera for a series on sex and aging. But work with her nemesis?
Former English Professor Max Wilson has championed the cause of the Center ever since his deceased wife sought the Center’s help to rekindle the nearly extinguished sexual flames of their relationship. He loves working on camera and welcomes the challenge to perform with the svelte but feisty temptress.
Sparks fly immediately on and off camera. Can either Claire or Max transform those sparks into a fire of sexual desire for their viewers? And if they succeed, what will happen when the movie’s over?
Coming from Torquere Wednesday June 15!
Janet Baxter keeps her post-divorce life neatly compartmentalized: Secure job, spacious Westchester County home, successful adult children, dependable community volunteer activities. Why is she drawn – for the first time ever – to attend her twenty-year college reunion in New York City?
Always a free spirit, Brenda Cassidy is comfortably bisexual and has no plans to ever settle down. But a fling? The reappearance of svelte, reserved Janet Baxter in Brenda’s life is nothing less than a gift, worthy of every enticement Brenda can conjure up. Can Brenda seduce Janet into an endless night of the lovemaking they enjoyed too briefly as college roommates? What if the lady wants more?
Here’s a peek at their first encounter – Brenda talks Janet into leaving the reunion and heading to one of their old hangouts where there’s a live band. The beat of the music has just shifted from fast to slow…
Gradually, Brenda’s hands slid down over Janet’s tiny rump. She felt Janet’s thong through the skirt fabric. She was surprised to discover her former lover had chosen such a risqué undergarment. Brenda closed her eyes and nestled closer as Janet’s hands moved to rest on her rump. Although they never traveled lower, Brenda was thrilled to think Janet wasn’t totally uninterested. She wet her lips and peeked again at the rise of Janet’s breasts.
Here’s a link to another (spicer) excerpt and more about the book: The Lady Wants More