Making it click

MaveFave Keira Soleore and I were at Panera Bread last Sunday doing a little plotting for VHM, the novel. (Yes, even a book based on my super-sweet life needs a little plotting oomph occasionally. Sorry if that destroys any conceptions you had about me :-).

One of the discussions revolved around techniques an author of contemporary novels can use to show her characters falling into True Love. To explain: we feel like in historical novels, the men can be more macho (and sweeter) and the women can be more stubborn (and home-makery) without throwing your reader out of the story. In other words, the dichotomy potentially allows the author to show more growth in her characters. In addition (and sort of related), in a lot of contemporary novels, we feel authors often skip over opportunities for their characters to engage in deeper conversation. Dialogue is often glib and flirty without being meaningful, which can make it harder for the reader to know the characters are headed for a true HEA. Sure, it's fun now, but what will happen six years from now? Will the characters grow together? Do they want the same things out of life? How do we show this without hitting the reader over the head with the answers?

What do you think? Who should I read to get a better feel for the how? And what do you think makes a good contemporary 'let's fall in love' conversation?

What do you mean, there has to be a conflict?

When I wrote my first manuscript the first time (and the second, third, and even fouth times), one of the comments I persistently got from my critique partners and from contest judges was that there "wasn't enough conflict to sustain a full 100K-word novel." But since I'd actually written more than 100K to get to The End (the first completed first draft was a whopping 136K and that was after I chopped some stuff), I have admit, I kinda scratched my head over that.

I mean, I'd sustained a 100K novel with the conflict I had. What in the world were they talking about? Obviously, they didn't know what they were talking about and should be shanked with Erica's machete.

It took me two long, excruciating years to "get it." Oh, I talked a good game. I could say I knew what conflict was and admit that my story needed more of it, but the truth is, I wasn't sure what they meant. I mean, the hero's an Irish race horse trainer and the heroine is the daughter of duke with a very stuck-up brother and a complicated trust. That's conflict aplenty--right?

Except, it wasn't. Oh, it was plenty of conflict for a plot! But it wasn't enough conflict for a romance.

One day, it just kinda hit me: plot conflict <> romantic conflict. Um, duh?

See, I wanted my hero and heroine to get along and work together and be happy in one another's presence, because...well...that's how I thought I'd show they were falling in love with each other. And in real life, that's the way it usually happens.

Problem is, real life doesn't make a very good romance. The reader has no emotional investment in the characters achieving their HEA so long as it's obvious they will...as soon as they defeat the bad guys or stupid societal prejudice or whatever external factor is keeping them apart. But if the characters have to change something within themselves to achieve that HEA and that internal change is big and difficult and painful to make...whammo! Now, you have romance!

I know I'm not saying anything we all haven't heard a thousand times before. I know I have. I even pretended to understand and believe it. But until I actually wrote a few stories with next to no external plot problem, I didn't fully understand how to do it.

Now, I have a new dilemma. I've started a story that has quite a bit of external plot (in a short format--about 22,500 words). There's plenty of internal conflict, too, but I'm struggling to keep focused on it. Because, while the external plot is essential to getting the hero and heroine together, it's not the most important element of the story. It's the romance and how they overcome the internal barriers that are keeping them from their HEA that really matter.

YOUR TURN: Do you ever struggle to balance romantic/internal conflict with plot/external conflict? How do you know when you've got "enough" of each?

Read The Spymaster's Lady - An attempt at Reciprocal Pimping by Lacey Kaye

Oh, yeah. That's what my avatar looks like!

Feel like I haven't posted here in ages. Or time flies. At any rate, I'm back, and this time, I have an Epiphany to share with you. Buckle up your seat belts, ladies and gents -- this is going to be bigger, badder, and better than ever.

Note: my office chair at work actually has a seat belt. After the Ergo department evaluated my office space and decided to remove the armrests on my chair, one of the "moonshine" guys came by and decided my seat now posed a safety hazard, so he brought in a seat belt and affixed it to my seat. When Lisa's armrests were removed, she got one, too. See? All the cool kids are doing it. And you thought I was kidding.

Buckled in? OK. Here we go.

This is one of those things you probably read on other people's blogs and go duh. I'm certainly not the first person to realize this, so I'm not claiming to be hiking mountains here. (For the record, I have hiked exactly one mountain in my life. It is an experience sure never to be repeated.) For some reason, even though I'd heard this a million, billion times and it is one of those things that everyone knows, I never truly understood the big deal. Of course your story needs to be the biggest, most awesomest story you can make. Duh, it's a book. We read it to escape things like my slog through 20 consecutive work days. (Seriously? Seriously.) But ask yourself this: Is it?

I have a vision for my Romance with Color label. It's overarching and dark and humorous and sexy and my characters are complicated, tortured souls. But I think my work falls short of that right now. They're not terribly active people, my people. They are afraid of obstacles and you know what? I am, too.

I'm pretty lazy. Dialogue and internal narrative are what I do well. Action...not so much. So I skip it. I write what I write really well, don't get me wrong. But my manuscripts are by no means as big and kickass as I want to believe they are. When I say big, I mean story-scope-wise. The fate of the world isn't on my characters. If my characters decide to crawl into a hole and die, maybe like five people would care. (Besides you readers, of course!) But they're not taking away anything anyone else really needs. The world isn't a better place because they're in it.

I finally had the nerve to plot the story I wanted to write in the first place, and daily I wish I were working on it now. (That would be my third manuscript, If You Asked an Angel to Love.) But I am a finisher, and I need to finish the book I'm writing now. I just don't need to finish If You Asked a Rake to Reform the way I was writing it.

Yesterday, Mavens Erica and Darcy and I talked about ways to make my story bigger. I was excited, and I know they were, too. I feel like this is the right time for me to realize this. (Okay, two years ago might have been better, but I know why I didn't -- that stupid market concept we're all told to be aware of, be wary of, and ignore.)

That's right. I scared myself out of writing what I wanted to write, which was totally stupid. I regret it now with the fire of a thousand Maven Darcy suns. I get a lot of feedback that the concept is good but the story doesn't grab from the partial. Well, of course it doesn't. It gets better as you keep reading because I got more comfortable with exploring outside the box I was writing in. I realized this on Saturday, when I had dinner with MaveFave and fellow Eastsider Keira Soleore. She was telling me about her Regency box and I was telling her that was totally stupid. Except I was doing it, too.

I worried that because I wanted to write multicultural stories I needed to keep everything else equal so I wouldn't blow myself out of a market. *Bashes head against nearest copy of The Spymaster's Lady* Stupid, stupid. There's nothing keeping multicultural from being published. I get requests all the time for it. The only thing keeping my multicultural story from being published is my nice, safe plot.

How safe is your plot?

A few weeks ago, I got a rejection that made me curse the publishing gods and duck the return lightning bolts. I told my friends that the Powers That Be are saying they want "different" but then I get rejected for the molds I do break (and certainly, I did break some molds with my manuscript -- don't let this post fool you. I'm getting to that part of it in like nine words.).

More stupid, stupid. They're not rejecting me because my story is too different or because readers won't read a super-alpha kickass female falling for a reserved wallflower hero. They're rejecting me because I didn't take that concept far enough and say to hell with it, I'm ignoring the boundaries and writing a HUGE story, one that couldn't be contained anywhere but in the pages of my imagination.

THAT'S the problem. I was afraid to write big. Afraid no one would want it. But as I said in an email earlier this week, I didn't write big *enough* to push my story over the wall of same-but-different and get into the land of stories like Outlander and The Spymaster's Lady.

We just replotted two threads in my current wip. I'm indescribably excited to start writing it. I want passion; there will be passion. I want danger; there will be danger. I want steamy -- characters as star-crossed as my characters are about to be are always hot.

I've already challenged Mavens Darcy and Erica (I challenged them, they challenged me, we challenged each other) to find a thread in our wips and make it bigger. It went something like this:

Me: Hey, guys, I think I need to write a bigger story.

Mavens: I'm so excited about this! So, whatcha gonna do?

Me: Uh. I dunno. You?

Mavens: (blankly stare at half-finished wips) Crap.

It's a conclusion we've all reached pretty recently in our writing journeys, which I think is cool.

So tell me now: how are you going to make YOUR story bigger?

The Absent Middle

Yesterday, Maven Darcy's post on character arcs got me thinking about my own love/hate relationship with C/A.

OK, as I write that I see the fallacy in my description. It's not that I hate C/As. I LOVE C/As. With the fire of a thousand Maven Darcy suns. What I hate -- hate, hate, hate -- is when the character changes through a process I can't see. So, for example, take the secondary character you love in Book Wonderful. You can't *wait* to read about him in the next book in the series, Book WonderfullER. But when you open BWII, the character you loved as a secondary character has (often) taken a tumble into a black pit of despair. The happy sidekick with the sexy grin (but not sexier than the hero's!) was beaten in a duel/spent the last year and a half of his life in an enemy prison camp/married and then lost some other wife you never saw/suddenly has pressing concerns never hinted at in the first book.

This seems to happen ALL THE TIME. Drives me crazy! I would guess that the author didn't have the character's full story in mind when she wrote book 1. He was a place holder, the friend or mentor the hero in book 1 needed. When she goes to write book 2, suddenly the character has no history, no depth to support a good GMC/conflict with the heroine. So she makes a Tragic Event occur in his past, and whammo, instant tortured hero.

KEEP THE CHARACTER THE SAME BETWEEN BOOKS!!! My thinking: if you want to make someone entirely new up, then make someone new up! Then I won't be disappointed the sidekick I loved isn't back to be the hero.

A variant on this is the hero who suddenly transforms by the end of the book for no reason. Most often, this is a function of the first time he sees the heroine at home and hearth. Suddenly, he recants his rakehell ways and determines to become a simple landowner. After all, she looked so hawt in her walking dress, sun-kissed cheeks and wind-blown hair! Nay, he shall never be a Society Sir again! It's corn and sheep from here on out!

Noooooooooooooo!!! Why do people have to change for True Love to exist? That's... well, it's a purely romantic thought. Obviously, I don't want my rakehell tossing up the skirts of anything in heels. But at the same time, why does his *character* have to change?

I believe working within the confines of the established character builds more conflict, not less. Take, for example, my rake-cum-landowner hero. It's ok for him to decide he wants to live in the country if there's a REASON. A good reason. Usually shown through some sort of conflict or problem he and the heroine work out together. Not because he had a houseparty, she showed up with her chaperone, and they got it on in the gazebo. Maybe because the rake secretly has a passion for roses, and the heroine can't stand large crowds. But just tossing off their old characterizations to embrace the family values of a quiet, private life wherein they shall boink like bunnies and make many generations of happy little dukes...I'd rather have them not change at all than make a mysterious leap in logic.

What about you? Do Epilogues often make you cringe? Have you ever hated a subcharacter you loved in one book the minute you found out he'd been beaten/imprisoned/impoverished/widowed just before his own story starts? What do you think is appropriate character growth? Do you prefer steep arcs or more gradual ones?

An Enchanting Take on POV

NOTE: EDITED TO REMOVE ANY POSSIBILITY OF SPOILERS!

I apologize for being a little late this morning. I normally write my posts a few days ahead of time, but my latest WIP has been chirping like crazy in my head, and I'm afraid I got so wrapped up in it, this post slipped my mind.

Lacey's post yesterday about Hugh Laurie and how he communicates the character of House on screen even though you never get inside his thoughts was a great setup for this topic, because I want to talk about a movie I saw last week. Specifically, the new Disney film, Enchanted.

First, I have to give this film a little plug (which it may not need, as it's apparently doing well at the box office). I loved this movie. It was sweet without being saccarine, pokes a little fun at the whole Disney milieu without becoming mean, and is very, very romantic. Before all the men who read us Mavens run away tearing out their hair, let me add that my husband, who is usually quite curmudgeonly when it comes to "chick flicks," also loved this movie. My kids all loved it, too, although my youngest (five years old) wrote in his school journal that he liked it even though "there was kissing."

So what, you may be wondering, does a movie have to do with point of view? Aren't movies more "third person omniscient" than "third person limited?" I suppose in some global sense, that's true. Since you're never really able to get inside a character's head and find out what he or she is thinking, and since when the characters are interacting, you're privy to both their facial expressions and gestures and all the other techniques actors use to communicate emotion and state of mind, movies are closer to third person omniscient in POV.

And yet, in Enchanted, I nearly always felt as I was watching that I was in one character's POV more than the other and, more, that the filmmakers had done that deliberately. Obviously, when only the hero or the heroine is in a scene, it's easier as a viewer to decide whose point of view to "identify" with in that scene. But when the hero and heroine are interacting with each other, how do you choose?

In the case of Enchanted, I found myself instinctively identifying the POV as belonging to whichever character was being more strongly affected by what was going on in the scene. I always found myself sharing the point of view of the character for whom whatever was happening would seem most inexplicable or emotionally wrenching.

So, what does all of that say to point of view in writing? After all, we can put the reader directly into the characters' thoughts and feelings and make it absolutely clear who the reader should sympathize with, so how can this observation about a movie help?

Well, here's what it did for me. It drove home to me again the importance of writing each scene from the perspective of the character for whom what's happening is most pivotal, meaningful, or life-changing. That's easier said than done, of course, because most scenes (especially between the hero and heroine in a romance) have an effect on everyone involved in them.

Of course, if you're writing in first person (and not doing shared first person like Audrey Niffenegger in The Time Traveler's Wife or third person/first person mix like Diana Gabaldon and Elizabeth Peters), this isn't an issue. You've only got one point of view to deal with. But even then, you have to choose which parts of a story are relevant and meaningful to that point of view character and only tell those.

YOUR TURN: What are some tricks you use for deciding which character's POV to use in a scene? If you write first person exclusively, do you find that freeing or limiting in terms of showing the "whole" story? And have you seen any good movies lately?

Stoning the Romance

So yesterday was really quiet in the blogosphere. I hope you're all done doing whatever it is you were doing, because tomorrow's post is going to be FAB-U-TASTIC!

I mean, this post is awesome. You definitely want to comment on it. You know you do.

This week in MavenLand, we're talking about romance. Seeing as how I've already read tomorrow's post, AND I've read the three organized, on-topic, thoughtful, amazing posts that lead into this one, it may not surprise you to know I'm a little stumped for insightful...uh... insight.

But we've talked about first blush, we've talked about the practical, and we've talked about the Forever Guy. What's missing? Oh, right. The one who doesn't stick around.

I think I had a whirlwind relationship with my last manuscript. Flying high on the wings of love, I skipped through the all-important getting to know you phase and went straight for the uber-crush. You know, the heart-pounding, midnight-obsessing, follow it around like a stalker straight-up hardcore crush. My manuscript and I didn't part for months on end. Then, like sexual tension after the first sex scene, we crashed. Fell from the sky and landed, quite inelegantly, somewhere on Fifth Avenue, only to be run over by the wheels of a hot dog cart and crushed by the broken leather heel of a very old woman.

Except, by that time, we were already married.

"It's not you, it's... you." Maven Erica gave me this line the other day and I swore to use it in a blog post. But it's true. There's nothing wrong with my manuscript. It didn't change between that first glimpse and today. There was no false advertising. His jokes are still funny and he's still got the same sparkle in his eye. He's just not directing it at me, or if he is, my Spidey senses aren't picking up on it.

So what to do? Well, divorce is always an option. In this industry, we can file manuscripts under the bed indefinitely, we can burn them, we can mail them off and forget about them, we can send them to our closest friends and let them laugh at our folly, and if you trust the Gmail sidebar, there's only a million small print shops who would be happy to bind it into your own precious photobook of broken dreams.

Or.

You can do nothing and hope it will just disappear on its own.

Or.

You can find a new toy and play with it instead. Pretty soon, you won't even notice your old one has gone missing. Did the snotty little girl next door steal it? Who cares! You have a shiny new one to break!

Yes, I've officially announced my foray into Humorous Women's Fiction. It's a new love for me, still rosy with the first blush, and perfect for all its hidden faults. Right now. It's not perfect; hey, it's not even publishable. It's the ultimate Unpublishable Novel, in fact. But it's fun, and it's mine, and it's private. I try to avoid the crushing, soul-destroying existence of the Unfinished Novel by pretending it doesn't exist.

Ever had to shelve a project? Ever wondered what to do with a project that no longer felt "fun?" Ever realize how cyclical romance can be? Haha. That last one was for me!

Is it Love?

That I'm feeling? Come on, sing it with me! (I know you want to.) I'm going to pose the age old question today: Can real life rival or even, gasp, exceed a romance novel?

I would argue yes.

Now, before you go and roll your eyes or snort coffee out your nose, let me explain. You know the saying, "the truth is stranger than fiction." I think romance can be the same way. Our real life heroes and heroines may not be picture perfect, but I'm willing to bet they share many characteristics.

As Erica is wont to do, I'll use myself as an example. Mr. Burke is absolutely my romance hero. Did I always think that? Perhaps not in those terms, but since I've been in love with him for the better part of 17 years I must have found him heroic on some level. Now, I know without question he is my hero because as a romance writer I recognize the traits in him that make a romantic hero. I use them to build the men in my novels, and honestly didn't realize I was doing so. Does that mean you need a fabulous husband to write great romance? No, it doesn't. It means you may be able to use the romance in your life to craft the Great Romance Novel. (Which isn't to say I've written THE GRN. Yet.)

Our real life romantic experiences build the romance novels we read and write. And even if it's not real life, it's perhaps our fantasies that come out of our real life. I honestly wouldn't want Mr. Burke to do half the things the heroes do in romance novels (probably because I read historicals - he doesn't need to duel the villain to save me, thank God), but in theory he's pretty close. (He worships me, really. Here's where I mention that he surprised me with my first ever Tiffany gift last week - a silver business card holder engraved with my name. He said every professional writer needs a nice business card holder. All together: awwwwww. Given, Jacq's post yesterday, I should say that while I don't need gifts to feel the love, they sure are nice when they show up on your desk in turquoise gift-wrapped splendor.)

Now that I've gushed about how real life can be as romantic as a novel, let's talk about how it's not. Romance novels are an escape. Escape from everything UNromantic about our everyday lives. Kids. Bills. Errands. The pushy neighbor with an excess of tomatoes and zucchini. We need them to be bigger than life in order to eclipse our life. (That said, I still think the elements are based in reality, which is what makes them so accessible to us for such a short time, but I already talked about that so I'll move on. I promise.) Romance novels are exciting, passionate, hilarious - our experiences times ten. Which is what we expect. If it were anything less, we probably wouldn't believe it. We want perfection for our escape, not the strange truth.

So what real life romance or romantic ideals do you use in your writing? If you don't write, what about romance draws you in, takes you away from the daily grind?

What Is Romantic, Anyway?

I have a confession to make: I'm a terribly unromantic person. I do not melt over the gestures that I'm given to understand "normal" women (whatever normal is, LOL) swoon over or consider de rigeur from their beaux. Flowers, jewelry, even chocolate fail to touch my hardened heart. I don't crave long walks on the beach (too much sand!), or regular candlelit dinners at fancy restaurants (too expensive!), or pina coladas (too sweet!) and getting caught in the rain (too cold!).

Just to provide additional, amusing anecdotal evidence of my lack of a romantic gene on my X chromosomes, when I discovered about a week ago that two small diamonds had fallen out of my engagement ring, my first thought was not to feel sad that the symbol of my husband's promise to me had been damaged, but, "Damn, the empty settings are going to catch on everything and it's going to cost hundreds of dollars to fix it!" (I've still not had it into the jewelers, though, as I expected, the empty setting slots are a pain the butt.)

So, what's a romantically-challenged person like me doing writing romance novels?

Well, here's the thing: I actually don't think I'm romantically-challenged. I think the rest of the world is brainwashed :)! The things I find romantic are a lot more practical than flowers and expensive dinners and jewelry. A man who puts the kids to bed or washes and vacuums your kidmobile without being asked (and without complaining about it later!)--now there's romantic! A man who, after almost 18 years of marriage, comes up behind you when you haven't even had a chance to shower, puts his arms around your waist, and kisses your neck while whispering, "Just wait until I have you alone"--now there's romantic!

I love the ways I can show in a story that the hero loves the heroine--maybe even before he knows it himself. The seemingly simple gestures and selfless actions that speak of love more clearly than any token that can be bought or sold. True love isn't about the things we can give one another, but the ways we support and help each other through life. And I believe, in romance novels, writers can explore this in a way popular culture is, in its wham-bam-thank-you-ma'am way, incapable of doing. Maybe we're all just a little too eager for the quick fix--the roses or the diamonds--and a little too quick to dismiss the smaller, but more meaningful actions that tells us we are loved.

YOUR TURN: What's romantic to you?

The Twelve Steps of Intimacy

Quick Reminder: Still one book left to win in the Carrie Ryan comment contest!

Relationships & Intimacy

I'm going to start with the credits. Desmond Morris, a behavioral scientist studying why couples divorce or stay together, first described the twelve steps of intimacy as a way to explain the progression from "Who the hell are you?" to "I can't live without you." (My words, not his.)

I believe Linda Howard was the first to present his research to the romance writing community.

According to Morris, the steps do NOT have to be taken in order, but stronger relationships are likelier when they are, and when couples give themselves time to bond before progressing to the next level.

Morris's research shows that women, specifically, resent being rushed (ie, having a man grope his way into the "grabby boob" phase before the hand holding phase.)

Time to bond can take anywhere between five minutes and five years, depending on the circumstances and depending on the couple.

Interestingly, the couples in his study who repeatedly revisited all twelve steps in order, reinforcing the progression, tended to enjoy longer relationships.

The 12 Steps and Writers

Pretty obvious what this means to you in terms of real life, but how do the twelve steps of intimacy affect you as a writer? As with any craft advice you hear anywhere, remember these two things:

* Know the "rules" before you break them
* There are no true rules, only suggestions

DO NOT marry yourself to the twelve steps in such a way as to confine your characters to some preordained, artificial progression. Instead of two people swept up in the dance of love, they'll look like two robots dipped in water.

Always, always, always keep your characters in character. If your hero is the grabby-boob type, so be it. And if your heroine responds with a swift kick to the---well, he'll learn his lesson.

PLEASE DO let the twelve steps remind you of the the small things that happen on the way to the big things. Even if your hero and heroine hit the sack in Scene One, chances are good (especially if they just met) that they don't just shuck clothes and slide Tab A into Slot B.

Chances are exceptional that they'll follow most of the steps instinctively and naturally on their own. Your job is to show the reader.

The first nine steps can be done in public or in the bedroom, but the latter three are most often done in private. As mentioned earlier, these can be done quickly, just a few moments each, or they can span years. It's up to your characters.

Step 1: Eye to Body

Hero sits in the corner, nursing a Cuba Libre, when across the smoky room, empty beer bottles clang to the floor as a group of women climb from their stools to the bar and begin to dance. Two of them are wearing barely there come-get-me clothes, but the third--the one in jeans and sneakers--has a body that undulates to pulsing beat with a rhythm that matches his own.

Sometimes it's just a glance. Sometimes the glance turns to a stare. Sometimes the gaze starts at the top/toes and takes its time roaming the length of the body. Sometimes the first look leads to an exchange of phone numbers, and other times it leads to a dismissal until next they meet in different circumstances.

If this were a Harlequin Desire, for instance, in the example above, the hero might be CEO of a Fortune 100 company and the sexy thang in running shoes might be the secretary who thought he was out of town.

The two things to remember are: Show the reader whether or not attraction occurs, and why. Why=details. He notices her sex, age, size, shape, personality, how she carries herself, how she moves. Maybe the selling point is she's got that shake-yo-booty thing down cold. Or maybe she takes one look at him and decides against, because the size of his muscles indicate he'll spend more time in the gym than in with her.

Also remember this moment can be just as powerful if the POV character is on the receiving end of the prolonged once-over or the casual dismissal. How does this affect him/her? Is he uncomfortable? Angry? Aroused?


Step 2: Eye to Eye

Let's say they don't run each other off, or at least not yet. They've seen each other and, like it or not, they're intrigued.

Suddenly--oh my God!--they're caught looking. No matter how many people are in the room, for a second it's just the two of them, locked together by the magic of eye contact. Eye contact can be heady flirting, in and of itself.

I asked a friend of mine how she met her husband. She said the first thing they noticed about each other were their looks (this isn't shallow--it's life) and found the other attractive. By chance, they kept showing up at the same social events over the course of weeks. Rather than approach each other, they kept making eye contact across crowded rooms. She'd be caught staring. Or she'd catch him staring. Each time, the one who was caught would look quickly away... then just as quickly back, only to find the other person still looking. And so on. By the time he introduced himself, a whirlwind romance was a foregone conclusion.

How does this relate to our hero and heroine? Show the reader what is happening and how the POV character reacts. And remember not to cross the creepy line! If some burly stranger fixes her with an expressionless stare like a woodsman on the hunt for deer, ew. Heroine wants to be the focus of sweep-me-off-my-feet interest, not fear-for-my-life aggression.

Assuming he doesn't come off as scary or rude, how does she respond? Does she hold his gaze? Look away? Flutter her lashes? Wink? Smile?

Step 3: Voice to Voice

Heroine catches hero staring, and responds with a half-smile and a lick of her lips. Hero plunks down his Cuba Libre and prowls over to where heroine undulates on the bar. One of them says, "Hey, sexy."

Is the hero speaking? Does his voice come out a low rumble, like thunder before a storm? Or is his voice high-pitched and uncertain, crackling over the words like a teenage boy in puberty?

Or is the heroine speaking? Is her voice smoky and smooth, like a '30s jazz singer? Or does she have a thick, nasal accent and a loud, wet lisp, spraying the word "sexy" all over the front of his shirt?

Assuming neither person's voice chases the other away, where does the conversation go from there? Highspeed banter with carnal subtext? Blatant sexual overtones? Strained, keep-it-casual comments on the weather? Low, intimate murmuring? Awkward/charged lapses in conversation?

For strangers, the first conversation is often a get-to-know-you phase, touching on topics ranging from names, careers, likes and dislikes, to hobbies, habits, opinions pastimes, etc. Don't forget to show the reader what the characters do and don't admit, and how their responses--or lack thereof--affect the POV character.

Step 4: Hand to Hand

The music fades. Heroine stops gyrating. Hero lifts his hand, palm up, a silent offer to help her down from the bar.

Do her fingertips smooth across his skin in a soft caress? Do her nails scrape across the sensitive skin of his palm, much the way he imagines them skating down his naked back? Do her fingers lock around his wrist rather than his hand, as she leaps down like a boy scout out hiking? Does she bat his hand away, muttering she can do it herself, and slide off the bar with a disgruntled expression?

Either way, hand to hand is their first taste of physical contact, and their first act of trust (or mistrust, if she refuses him). Up until this point, either person could change their mind and walk away without causing confusion or hurt feelings in the other. Once the body contact line has been crossed, however, bonding has begun, if only at a small level.

Hand to hand contact can blossom into hand holding, an indication of a deepening relationship.

Regardless of the intent or level of the body contact, don't forget to show the reader the POV Character's physical and emotional reaction.

If the heroine places her hand in hero's and squeezes, how does he react? Does he squeeze back, tossing her a flirty wink? Does he touch her hand to his mouth, savoring the feel of her skin against his lips? Does he drop her hand in horror, thinking hand-squeezing is a sure sign of neediness and a harbinger of shrewdom to come?

Step 5: Arm/Hand to Shoulder

Hero escorts heroine away from the bar. Drunken, leering patrons try to pull her from him, and he slings an arm across her shoulders, protecting her from their advances and wordlessly staking his claim.

Arm/hand to shoulder can be anything from a friendly hug to ballroom dancing. Although either sort of embrace can be noncommittal, depending on the cues given and received through body language and physical contact, disengagement at this point can cause hurt feelings.

Hand holding allows space between bodies, but hugs or arms around shoulders require closeness. The closer two people are, the more intimate the contact can feel.

Picture two people hugging. Are they belly-to-belly, feet interlocking like puzzle pieces? Or are they hunched over, backs curved in an A-frame, clapping palms to backs as they carefully ensure no further contact can occur, even accidentally?

Hand/arm to shoulder is non-casual physical contact. Hero didn't sling his arm over her shoulder on accident--he meant to do it. She didn't lose herself in a bear hug on accident--she meant to do it. Don't forget to show the reader whether the body contact works out as planned and how the POV Character reacts to it.

Step 6: Arm/Hand to Waist

As hero sweeps heroine from the smoky bar to the twilit street, his hand coasts down from her shoulder, tracing the curve of her back. His palm glides from the base of her spine to her waist. His fingers splay across her hip, nestling her closer against the warmth of his body.

Physical contact has now become a sexual embrace. (Hero would probably not have pulled this manoever with, say, the garbage truck guy.) He is physically drawing her closer. With this kind of proximity, they can enjoy softer words, each other's scents, intimate dialogue, the feel of body against body.

This stage indicates growing familiarity, increased comfort, and escalating emotional response. Show your reader all of this through body language, conversation, physical response, and internal dialogue.

Step 7: Mouth to Mouth AKA Face to Face

They reach an intersection. The walk light flashes green. Heroine takes a step toward the street, but hero spins her to face him. She looks up in surprise and suddenly her eyes are right there, drinking him in. Her breath is right there, feathering against the stubble of his jaw. Her tongue is right there, wetting her parted lips. Her mouth is right there, asking to be kissed.

What now? Does he claim her mouth in a searing kiss, gazes locked, mating his tongue with hers in blatant imitation of a carnal act, desire lighting his skin afire? Does he rest his forehead against hers and close his eyes, murmuring an apology for being unable to continue because she reminds him too much of his dead wife? Does he lean in and rub the tip of her nose with his before sucking her lower lip into his mouth and nibbling playfully?

Often, this step combines many previous steps into one. He's noticing her body, gazing into her eyes, murmuring love words (or bedroom talk). His hands are locked on her hips, grinding her body to his, while her hands twine around his neck, fingernails scraping the skin below his shoulders.

Whether this is the first kiss or the hundred and first, fireworks are going off all over the place and it's your job as the writer to show the explosion to the reader in such a way as to make the reader feel the emotion right along with the POV character.

Step 8: Hand to Head

Heroine fingers, once splayed against Hero's back, now slide up the hot skin of his neck and into the clipped softness of his hair, toying with the wind-whipped locks. Hero, for his part, locks onto Heroine's long ponytail, wrapping his hand with the fall of blonde hair, and forcing her mouth even tighter to his.

This, even more than kissing, is an act of physical intimacy and a symbol of deepening trust. Protecting the head is instinctual. Allowing another free reign is indicative of submission to desire.

Although it can make both acts more powerful, this step does not have to precede sex nor take place during kissing. Perhaps she strokes his hair while dancing, or he slides his hand down her hair fanned across his pillow when she wakes up next to him in the morning.

Step 9: Hand to Body

Whether this step is exemplified as hand to breast or a foot massage, a high level of trust is required.

This is often the moment Hero and Heroine cross the line between kissing and pre-sexual foreplay. Typically, the body part(s) being touched is one not exposed in public, indicating a great deal of intimacy.

Step 10: Mouth to Breast

Undeniably sexual in nature, the act of licking, nibbling and/or suckling indicates sexual desire, deepened trust, and a high level of emotion.

This step typically includes partial to full nudity, as well as some combination of the previous steps.

As a writer, don't forget to show the reader what the POV character is seeing, thinking, and feeling. Is he dying to knock boots with this wild-haired vixen? Is he straining like hell to keep his starving eyes and aching hands away from his best friend's fiancee?

Step 11: Hand to Genitals

Indicative of high levels of trust, this step is a huge act of bonding.

How do your characters react? Is this a culmination of their dreams or further proof they're the kind of person their mama always said they were? Do they stop before either reaches satisfaction? Do one or both experience an orgasm? Or do they move on to:

Step 12: Sexual Intercourse

This stage represents the highest level of bonding and the pinnacle of trust. Both parties expect to gain and give pleasure. Intense physical sensation flood the senses and bonding is at an all-time high.

As always, show the reader! What is the POV character thinking, feeling, saying, doing? How does the other person look, smell, taste, feel, sound? And most importantly... what happens afterward?

YOUR TURN: Have you seen this or a similar progression used/abused in writing (or, I suppose, IRL)? When reading, what makes a couple's path to physical intimacy more/less believable to you? Are there any steps you feel are dwelled on overmuch? Are there any steps you feel are often missed? Do tell!