I was taken aback by something this past week and I just need to let out some steam. And I do that through writing. So here it is…
My book is a contemporary romance novel. Which means it tells the story of two people and their love for each other. We all know what love entails – meeting someone, letting them into our lives, trusting them with our heart and soul, giving them our body and being intimate. That’s what I was trying to explore through the plot – the development and the sustainability of a romance (between two equally independent individuals, but that’s a whole other post). I’m very proud of my achievement (most of the days) and I’m in love with the story I managed to develop and write down.
The story – like a new, fresh, passionate relationship – is intense, steamy and spicy. I didn’t shy away from the sex scenes. And why should I?? Sex is not something to be hidden or ashamed. It’s been a weapon of demise just because we are still not too comfortable with it. And just because one describes it in a story, does not mean that person should be mortified by it.
A person in my life has shocked me by allowing themselves to insinuate (of course, not to my face) that I should be embarrassed by people around me reading it. As if that is not my intention. As though that is not why I’ve published my novel. As if that somehow makes me less of a person and unfit to be around children and teenagers.
Equinox is not about sex. And there’s no one getting beaten for the sake of pleasure. Nobody is strangled during orgasm. Or any other things people do willingly and find it pleasurable. Who am I or you to judge? Whatever makes people happy!
I wanted to tell the entire story of a romance, so I had to describe the physical intimacy. Or at least I wanted to do it. I didn’t want to shy away from it. It is a huge part of the plot. And it is a significant element in every relationship.