Tomorrow’s writing exercise is my take on the phrase
“love scene”. Love comes in so many varieties that if it was entered in a
flower show, it would have a category all its own.
The most torrid examples come to mind: budding
romance, blooming passion, deflowering the virgin. They take place in burnished
candlelight or sultry shadow, in a grand sleigh bed or on a carpet of moss in
the forest. I can’t get into love on the beach, though. Too practical. Sand in
delicate places? Please.
That said, must a love scene feature lovers? The
expectation is certainly there, aided and abetted by my tendency to write
about, er, romance in as airbrushed-yet-intense detail as I can conjure.
There’s magic in the moment when he finally kisses her, the music soars and the
next time we see them, the sheets are trashed and the clothes are strewn across
the floor. Now, that’s a love scene.
Imagine my surprise when, in considering my approach
to the theme, a familiar character stepped up to have her say. I have worked
with her for years, though never in a POV capacity. She may be the least
romantic character in my vast collection of characters, but I have a special
fondness for her, as I do for all the difficult ones, and so I have given her
the moment.
Enjoy.
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