That post about breasts

I started thinking about breasts…well, when I was 12…but, more specifically, last month while I was reading Jennifer Crusie’s novel, “Bet Me.” In one scene, the hero, Cal, tells Crusie’s chubby and buxom (Crusie says “round”) heroine, Minnie, that she has great breasts that lots of men would love access to. In a different scene, another character opens her blouse to show a man her “perfect B cups.”

What I was thinking was, “What’s up with those things, anyway?”

You ladies push and prod and pull and squeeze them to draw men’s attention, then get all huffy-puffy when they do. You know what I’m talking about: “A man’s intelligence varies in direct proportion to the size of a woman’s breasts,” and, “Hello! My eyes are up here.”

Admit it: You know you’ve got our heads spinning in real life. But that leaves me wondering what to do in a romance novel.

“Your eyes are like jewels.”
“Ooh, Miguel…”
“Your lips are like sweet, ripe cherries.”
“Ooh, Miguel…”
“Your tits are like two Jell-O molds that I long to squish between my fingers and smear all over my face.”
“Oh, for Christ’s sake, Mike. Turn on Sports Center. I’m going to bed.”

OK, so Miguel could use a lesson in pitching woo. Or two. Nevertheless, I’ve been informed that in “Bet Me,” Minnie asks Cal for an assessment of her body, which makes his comment all right. Second, what Minnie hears when Cal says nice things about “the girls” is that Cal finds her attractive. Not just her breasts. Her.

I suspect, too, though, that Minnie’s attitude is important here: We already know she’s attracted to Cal.

As for B cups, all I have to say is that if they were a problem, evolution would have eliminated them by now. In fact, in “Fast Lane,” Lara Dixon has B cups, which doesn’t stop Clay Creighton, who could have any woman in the world—and pretty much has—from seeing her as the hottest babe ever.

Romance novel heroes are a lot like their real-life counterparts: They know the breasts are there even without any pushing and prodding and pulling and squeezing. The trick to gaining access to them, though, might just lie in bringing them up at the right time and in the right way.


FWIW

I looked up “breasts” at Urban Dictionary.com and found these titbits:

•“The softest, tastiest most tender part of a chicken…(or) woman.”
•“Girls’ body part that boys love to squeeze and girls don’t like it.”
•"Bulging flaps of skin on a woman that have magical powers because they produce a tractor beam to suck men's eyes and sometimes their hands.”
•“Men wish they had them, women with big boobs want small ones, and women with small boobs want big ones.”

More important than mogambos

I know, everyone’s eagerly awaiting that post about breasts. Once again, though, circumstances draw my attention elsewhere.

Jan O’Hara mentioned MWAR and me in her blog, Tartitude—and said nice things in the process. As you can see, Tartitude is on my “blog list,” and I am now going to say nice things about it.

Jan’s pretty funny, and she accomplishes techno-wizardry things like photos and videos that I’m afraid to try because I think I might damage the Internet or something. The first post of hers I read was about going to the mall in men’s underwear, which I approve of wholeheartedly.

Also, being cited in Jan’s blog means MWAR is now international, as I am told she resides in a mystical land called “Canada.”

Next time, titties. I promise.

T & A (but hold the T for now)

My apologies to Kirk Farber for promising him this post would be about tits. Circumstances demand it focus on ass instead.

Research follows me wherever I go. I got a catalog from NFLShop.com, “the Official Catalog of the National Football League.” Not expecting to see anything even vaguely girly, I was delighted when I turned to page 52 to find:

The Reebok Women’s Super Soft Thong
65% polyester, 35% cotton knit.
Sizes S-XL.
$14.99.

Unfortunately, while models are shown wearing various types of fleece wear, this particular item is pictured lying benignly flat against a blank background. So that’s a little disappointing. Judging by what female comics say in Comedy Central half-hours, I’m guessing they had a hard time getting a model to put it on. Then again, judging by what I saw a few rows in front of me at Wrigley Field a few summers ago, maybe they were just asking the wrong people.

But, who would buy this thing? Dudes thinking they’re being romantic? Women with a sense of humor? Women who are really big fans of the game?

The front of the thong in the catalog features an Indianapolis Colts logo. Would a woman wear this thing while watching a game, all the while contemplating the possibility of Payton Manning going deep?

The mind boggles. However, it did give me an idea for Fast Lane: One of Clay’s enterprises should be an online store where dudes can buy stuff for their ladies.

So, ladies…what should be for sale in that online store?

The funny story about sizes

In one scene of Fast Lane, Lara’s in a high-end hotel room that has a closet full of lingerie for guests to use. I had her grabbing one in a pinch that I described as being six sizes too big.

Giggles all around from the women in the writers group.

One of them, Judy—Judy’s great, she’ll be coming up more in the future, for sure—explained it to me this way:

“I was thinking, even if Lara’s a size 6, this negligee would be an 18.”

Oh, right. Women’s clothing manufacturers don’t know about odd numbers. And here’s me, thinking six sizes larger than a 6 would be a 12!

So, everyone had a good laugh, which isn’t all bad—Fast Lane is supposed to be funny. It just can’t be funny because of mistakes like that.

Which is another reason I love my writers group.

Research is key (Really, that’s why I’m looking so closely at the bra ads in the Sunday paper)

Men, we have pants, shirts, underwear and shoes. Well, there’s suits and ties, too. But the pants that come with a suit are just pants. And, yeah, we have specialty stuff, like sweaters, sweatshirts and sweat pants.

Now, women…women have lots of names for all this stuff. So I can’t just have Lara wearing “a dress.” She has to be wearing a “scroll border print chemise” or a “ruffled tie back dress” or a “cold shoulder dress with pleated detail on the skirt and bodice.” (That one looked pretty freakin’ hot in the photo I saw at Overstock.com. As far as I’m concerned, Lara wears stuff like that all the time.)

I’m also told that if I put her in a pleated tuxedo dress, “everyone would know what that means.”

I don’t know what that means, though, so I have to do research. Which I do not mind at all. Well, I kind of mind when it comes to shoes, because I really don’t see what the big deal is. Back when I was single, I do not remember ever thinking, “Ooh, she has great shoes. I have to meet her.”

(BTW: Lingerie research is easy. Victoria’s Secret sends it to me via snail mail six times a year.)

The Sunday paper helps out that way, too. One time, while my coffee was still steaming and the sports section was sitting in my lap yet unmemorized, I came across a photo of Lara in the—yeah, this is gonna sound dorky—Kohl’s circular. Hey, but it’s right. Being divorced and left penniless due to her ex’s bankruptcy, she’s on a budget. She would shop at Kohl’s and Overstock.com.

I cut out the photo and keep it nearby when I work. Lara—I mean, the Kohl’s model—is wearing something called a Maidenform Control It seamless strapless slip. Maidenform doesn’t exactly sound, to borrow terminology from Liquid Silver publishing, molten, but it does help get me into the mood to write.

In fact, I feel a chapter coming on right now.

Bringing it on

I love my writers group. The members give good comments, and I get a lot out of reading and analyzing their work.

Every now and then, though…

A woman said the other night that “feminists” would be angry about the name “Hard Core Grrls” for the website that supports Lara’s undercover operation. “It sounds like a porn site,” she said.

And so it does.

On purpose.

The site’s owner, Gina Wray, chose the name to “reclaim” something she believes to have been stolen from women. The term “hard core” isn’t specific to the porn industry. It also means “devoted” and “steadfast.” Why would feminists object?

When I was kicking around the idea of this blog, a friend said I should discuss what I feel my “male perspective” has to offer the genre—and how it might cause me to struggle with it.

I have some ideas about the second suggestion. I’m not sure about the first.

Every woman who writes romance does not bring the same things to the genre just because she’s a woman. For example, one publisher’s guidelines for authors say pedophilia, bestiality, “rape as titillation” and “bodily functions as sexual activity” are verboten. Another lists levels of “heat” to give a head’s up to buyers who might not appreciate reading, for example, LGBT fetish scenes with anal sex.

Since almost all of the writers who submit are women, it’s telling that the publishers feel the need to articulate these as taboo. It means that what some women “bring to the genre” isn’t the same as what other some other women bring.

So where does that leave me?

The same friend pointed out that Fast Lane might appeal to men as well as women. Let’s see…it has hot women, hot cars and (at least some) hot sex. Things guys love.

Sure, I’ve struggled with some of the “woman” things. For example, my egregious ignorance of the dress-sizing system has been called to my attention. I’ll tell that story in full later.

For now, I can say one thing I intend not to bring to the genre is the idea that all women think alike. Feminists included.

More about that contest

One of the judges said this: “I’m wondering if you’re really intending this to be an erotic novella.”

Well, yeah, that was the intention. But you know what they say about how the best plans of mice and men get laid.

There’s no actual sex in the first twenty pages, so, no, Fast Lane seems not to be an erotic novella.

Great!

I no longer have to follow the rules of a genre I’m probably not cut out to write.

I celebrate my freedom by forging ahead not with the story I’d intended, but with the one that’s emerging.