Kissing Bits

In 2006 I ventured out into the world of publishing, never expecting anything I wrote to actually make it past the submission process. I was a bit shocked when I was offered a contract--excited, yes, but not really ready to believe my good fortune. Then, I settled in to see if I could replicate my first attempt.

Imagine my surprise when that's exactly what happened. I couldn't contain my excitement as I was offered contracts for a second and then a third book.

There was one small fly in the ointment.

Some folks were...takeaback at the 'kissing bits'. I've had some time to consider this since then. And I've decided this might be a reflection on personal views of the action in the bedroom. I know individuals who cannot mention their own body parts without lowering their voice as though they're speaking about something unmentionable. Now, that must make it difficult to share information with their partner or doctor.

An acquaintance of mine suggested this was natural modesty. I'm not so sure. I believe it's partly embarrassment--an uncomfortable acknowledgement that we ALL have sexual thoughts and feelings. And it's the stark reality that most women have participated in sex at sometime during their lives. Because HELLO...it's pretty difficult to get pregnant, otherwise. Not impossible. But the alternatives certainly take planning and effort.

There's touchy denial going on there, a sly secret knowledge that pretends the truth is hidden in a deep, dark closet. In reality, sex, along with eating and sleeping is one of the activities almost all adult humans share. Pretending we don't is akin to denying we have hunger or a need to rest.

Now I don't advocate public sex. I don't even advocate public discussion about what we personally do--or don't--in the bedroom. But I do think no man, or woman, should be embarrassed by the language in your average erotic romance. If those words, those names for body parts make the reader squirm that much...doesn't that say more about our strangeness, than the writers?

The first time I ever read the word 'breasts', at around age eight, it was in the Bible. Song of Solomon. The author clearly revels in the physical attributes of his lover. He admires and loves her. I have noticed that book is entirely skipped over in church services. Why is that? I was taught that EVERY part of the Bible is equally important. I suspect this goes back to those secret, hushed whispers in the living rooms across the land.

We are the only ones who can shine a light on the secrets in the closet. No wonder our kids have no way to speak to us, no way to frame their questions. After all, our actions speak so loudly they drown out our words. Sex is bad. Dirty. Secret.

anny