I know we’re always told to write what we know, but unfortunately I’m very lacking in the romance department and I’ve reached the dreaded moment… the kiss.
Usually I ghost over kisses in my writing- some of my favourite kisses in literature are the most subtle, more alluded to than described, but this one is just too climactic for me to do that. I feel like it’d be an immense disservice to my readers not to describe it a little, so- I thought I’d ask r/writers– what are your favourite kisses in literature? And then I became quite interested in the answers. What little paragraph has recreated the feeling the best? For a fun bonus: what are your least favourite kisses?
My own answers, to get the ball rolling- my favourite that comes to mind is the following, from The Raven King by Maggie Stievfater. Her writing is hit or miss for me and this is longer than I usually have patience for with kisses but… this hit. Maybe it was context. It is however, more rooted in metaphor than what I’m hoping to go for with this kiss, which is why it’s not sparking anything in me I suppose.
Once, when Adam had still lived in the trailer park, he had been pushing the lawn mower around the scraggly side yard when he realized that it was raining a mile away. He could smell it, the earthy scent of rain on dirt, but also the electric, restless smell of ozone. And he could see it: a hazy gray sheet of water blocking his view of the mountains. He could track the line of rain travelling across the vast dry field towards him. It was heavy and dark, and he knew he would get drenched if he stayed outside. It was coming from so far away that he had plenty of time to put the mower away and get under cover. Instead, though, he just stood there and watched it approach. Even at the last minute, as he heard the rain pounding the grass flat, he just stood there. He closed his eyes and let the storm soak him. That was this kiss. They kissed again. Adam felt it in more than his lips. Ronan sat back, his eyes closed, swallowing. Adam watched his chest rise and fall, his eyebrows furrow. He felt as bright and dreamy and imaginary as the light through the window. He did not understand anything.
As for least favourite, in my early teens I remember struggling the hell through the kisses in James Patterson’s Maximum Ride series. God, they went on for pages and pages every time!
TIA for any responses, I’m curious to read them.