![]() ![]() “In the shadows her face was so close to mine that I could smell the sweet ropy fragrance of the sherry she had been drinking, and then her tongue was in my mouth. In this scene the young writer, affectionally named Stingo, is observing a painting beside a young jewish girl named Leslie. Pause on your obsession with kissing and plunge headlong into the best guide post on novel writing.ĭolphin-Slippery Kissing in Sophie’s ChoiceĬonsidered by many to be William Styron’s magnum opus, this story chronicles the friendship between a young Southern writer and a polish Auschwitz survivor. I’m going to give you two examples and explain why both of them work.Īll writers absolutely need to read the best post I’ve ever written: “ 12 Steps to Write a Bestselling Novel.” In order to craft the perfect kissing scene, it is important to look back on the work of others in order to see what works. The perfect kissing scene is found smack dab between these two adjectives in the title - steamy and sophisticated - as it is the balance of coy and crude that can develop into a beautiful scene. Humans are private creatures when it comes to lust, and illustrating an intimate scene can still make the most seasoned writer nervous. Writers worry about being too obscene (will my mother read this?), or even worse, not vulgar enough (no one wants to be labeled a prude). One of the most difficult scenes to write is a kissing scene, or really any scene when when things get hot and heavy. And she had destroyed herself, crushed by an insult that had appalled and amazed that childish soul, had smirched that angel purity with unmerited disgrace and torn from her a last scream of despair, unheeded and brutally disregarded, on a dark night in the cold and wet while the wind howled Steamy yet Sophisticated: How to Write the Perfect Kissing Scene ‹ Back to blog She was only fourteen, but her heart was broken. Svidrigaïlov knew that girl there was no holy image, no burning candle beside the coffin no sound of prayers: the girl had drowned herself. The stern and already rigid profile of her face looked as though chiselled of marble too, and the smile on her pale lips was full of an immense unchildish misery and sorrowful appeal. But her loose fair hair was wet there was a wreath of roses on her head. Among the flowers lay a girl in a white muslin dress, with her arms crossed and pressed on her bosom, as though carved out of marble. The coffin was covered with white silk and edged with a thick white frill wreaths of flowers surrounded it on all sides. The birds were chirruping under the window, and in the middle of the room, on a table covered with a white satin shroud, stood a coffin. The floors were strewn with freshly-cut fragrant hay, the windows were open, a fresh, cool, light air came into the room. He was reluctant to move away from them, but he went up the stairs and came into a large, high drawing-room and again everywhere-at the windows, the doors on to the balcony, and on the balcony itself-were flowers. He noticed particularly in the windows nosegays of tender, white, heavily fragrant narcissus bending over their bright, green, thick long stalks. A light, cool staircase, carpeted with rich rugs, was decorated with rare plants in china pots. A fine, sumptuous country cottage in the English taste overgrown with fragrant flowers, with flower beds going round the house the porch, wreathed in climbers, was surrounded with beds of roses. He kept dwelling on images of flowers, he fancied a charming flower garden, a bright, warm, almost hot day, a holiday-Trinity day. Perhaps the cold, or the dampness, or the dark, or the wind that howled under the window and tossed the trees roused a sort of persistent craving for the fantastic. But one image rose after another, incoherent scraps of thought without beginning or end passed through his mind. ![]() ![]() He was not thinking of anything and did not want to think. There was a cold damp draught from the window, however without getting up he drew the blanket over him and wrapped himself in it. “It’s better not to sleep at all,” he decided. He got up and sat on the edge of the bedstead with his back to the window. ![]()
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