Last night my book club met. We’re a group of humanities and social science professors, and our book discussions tend to be long and intense, because we are all trying to prove our discipline’s superior ability to read a text. We follow that with getting drunk and talking about The Simpsons until the wee hours of the morning.
Anyway, I was recovering from a nasty virus, so my husband went without me. The topic was Padgett Powell’s Edisto, which I hope to finish one day and review. My husband got home after I fell asleep, but this morning I walked into the kitchen to find this:
I don’t think I need to tell you what this book is supposed to do. Check out Sarah Tanner’s most excellent post on this book from March 2009 for an explanation and hilarious example of how to “use” this book.
I checked out Amazon.com’s reviews. My favorite review is by M.A. Bechaz “bookaholic”:
Oh, but this book is awful! Its authors have taken all the very worst, most revolting, most overused phrases found in romance books (those same hackneyed phrases that make romance book editors swear they’ll scream if they have to read them one more time) and organised them into one tome, all in neat little chapters. This book is like a tombstone on the grave of creative writing … about as much of a turn on as getting a pap smear. In fact, I’ve read tractor magazines that were hotter and spicier than this.
But Goodwin’s Gal’s 2005 review offers a spirited defense of the book:
the overall message and purpose of the book seems to have been overlooked. The Romance Writers’ Phrase Book is a guide that’s meant to inspire an author and get a writer to understand the importance and the role of the “descriptive tag/phrase” when it comes to the overall art of writing as a whole.
Romance fiction in particular relies a great deal on emotion and internal conflict. Neglecting the little details, those descriptive phrases, can make or break a story. When I open this book, I’m not looking for a word-for-word phrasing I can simply cut and paste into my manuscript. Romance writing (heck, any writing) is never that simple or that formulaic. For me, the phrase book is a good starting point when I’m stumped on a gesture or where to start on how I want to describe an action or a particular emotion.
It’s easy to make fun of a book like this, and if you’re going to use it to mash up random phrases and pass that off as a novel, you deserve to be made fun of. And, yeah, some of the phrases are outdated and ridiculous no matter what the context (see below for a sampling). But I read a lot of romance, and I have read … many, many, many of the phrases in this book, even in books with publication dates well into the twenty-first century. For example, “her temptingly curved mouth”, “his square jaw tensed visibly”, “the heat emanating from his body”, “with long purposeful strides”, “his eyebrows shot up in surprise, “his jaw clenched, his eyes slightly narrowed”, “the last traces of resistance vanished”, “she swallowed hard and bit back tears”, “her body ached for his touch”, “his gaze was soft as a caress”, “her soft curves molding to the contours of his lean body”, and on and on. Either there are a zillion copies tucked away in writers’ desk drawers, or writers have read enough romances that they unconsciously rely on the stock phrases of the genre with which they are familiar.
Ok, so where’s the contest? Well, inspired by the mystery appearance on my kitchen table of this book, and by Sarah’s post, you can choose any four of the used books below if you win. To enter, create and post here a paragraph with 4 or more of the following phrases from this book (I will count. I am professory like that), lovingly hand chosen by yours truly, by this Friday at midnight eastern time. Open to anyone living anywhere (actually, Mars might be too far). Only one entry per person. I will choose winner at random on Saturday and announce it on this thread.
her complexion was white and illusive pink
her mouth was a smiling rosy flower
the living moistness of her full red mouth
her hair was a cobweb of silvery gold
she had a look of loving to pamper herself
he had a monopoly on virility
the warmth of personal contact in his hand
with an adventurous toss of her head
her head bowed and she remained in an attitude of frozen stillness
he touched his forehead slightly in a mock salute
a circle of ice ringing her mouth
a cold congested expression settled on his face
an inexplicable look of withdrawal came over his face
there was a pale blue lightening of amusement between his lashes
her large black eyes were filled with shifting stars
her eyes froze on his lips
his tone was irascibly patient
she was determined to straighten the havoc alone
the heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up
she was shocked when his eyes suddenly filled with a fierce sparkling
she was irritated at the thrilling current moving through her
her thoughts scampered vaguely around
she felt a curious swooping pull at her innards
her green eyes clawed him like talons
she allowed her subconscious thoughts to surface
could she handle his bundle of restless energy?
the moist satin of her breasts
his bulbous nose dominated his meaty features
reflected light glimmered over his handsome face like beams of icy radiance
manly wisps of dark hair curled against the V of his open shirt
his full black hair flowed from his face like a crest
preoccupied with his blonde hair and long slim legs
his cold urbanity was only slightly disturbed
he had the craggy look of an unfinished sculpture
his flesh met hers in a warm clasp
with a few swift strokes he closed the circle
Books to win (click on the cover to learn more about each book. They are USED):
Happy writing!
Oh, your book club sounds like the best. I wish I had one like it.
Meanwhile, I have to say that “her soft curves molding to his hard body” is one of my pet peeves of romance cliché, although I can’t quite put my finger on *why*. Maybe, just once (although I am a woman of, ahem, soft curves myself – i.e. lax in my gym-going) I want to see a woman of chiseled athleticism snuggle up to the pillowy comfort of her beloved’s arms. Although, come to think of it, Joan Wolf’s heroism are sometimes unusually muscular from devotion to riding, aren’t they? I seem to recall some talk of the unconventional way that dresses fit the strong, developed back of one of her protagonists. Ah, found it (The Pretenders): ” ‘I will design dresses with small sleeves to hide this malformation,’ Mme Dufand decided. She bit her lip. ‘Unfortunately, there is nothing I can do about your back.’ ‘Lord Cambridge will not mind my muscles,’ I assured her. ‘After all, it is his horses that I ride.’”
No contest entry from me (yet, at least), but the creepiest of the above phrases is certainly “her eyes froze on his lips,” an image that only brings to mind an icy outdoor encounter and a recreation of the famous scene with the flagpole from “A Christmas Story.”
Her complexion was white and illusive pink. Her mouth was a smiling rosy flower. Her head bowed and she remained in an attitude of frozen stillness. He touched his forehead slightly in a mock salute, not knowing whether to touch her or to simply worship her.
The warmth of personal contact in his hand melted a circle of ice ringing her mouth, tendrils of virile heat thawing her from head to toe until her thoughts scampered vaguely around, reminding her that she had once possessed a functioning mind of her own. But now—oh, not now, not with the way his bulbous nose dominated his meaty features, reminding her that his powerful resemblance to Karl Malden was what had made her fall for him from the start. Could she handle his bundle of restless energy? There was only one way to find out. She cupped his bundle with now properly defrosted fingers and saw a pale blue lightening of amusement between his lashes. Had she succeeded? She dared to hope—then realized with a flash of disappointment that he was merely—as usual—preoccupied with his blond hair and long, slim legs. She sighed in resignation. With the monopoly he had on virility—could she really blame him?
Purple prose at it’s worse! Here’s mine:
His flesh met hers in a warm clasp with an adventurous toss of her head. And with a few swift strokes he closed the circle of the living moistness of her full red mouth.
Wait, can somebody explain if this is sexual:
“with a few swift strokes he closed the circle”
Am I naive?
Also, I really like the crest one. (his full black hair flowed from his face like a crest) It must be from the 1980′s, when mohawks were all the rage.
@Carolyn Crane: You know, I think it;s the ambiguity that makes that phrase so useful. (heh) I like the way KB used it.
And I am already regretting what I have wrought. @Virginia C: @katiebabs: @Mara:
And I totally love it, Mara, that you used the “preoccupied” phrase to refer to the hero!
How about this one? LOL
“His bulbous nose dominated his meaty features as the reflected light glimmered over his handsome face like beams of icy radiance”
Big nosed, but handsome icy hero. My ideal man here.
Ah, she was delectable enough. Tall, high cheekbones reminding him of of the Scandanavians he’d bedded in his youth, her mouth was a smiling rosy flower and her hair was a cobweb of silvery gold. She gifted him with a sultry look and he smiled back politely. Good looks ran in that family, but fortunately it was her brother who had the monopoly on virility. Brendan lifted his glass as Edvard strode over, then touched his forehead slightly in a mock salute. His lover, so elegantly European, in contrast to Brendan’s craggy look of an unfinished sculpture, kissed him deeply, then pinched his champagne. He swallowed a long gulp of wine, and Brendan admired the workings of Ed’s long throat muscles. He liked to watch him swallow. “You’re scaring the guys away from my sister, Bren. Nobody can face that kind of competition. So I’m taking you away to be handsome somewhere more private. Let the poor fools have their chance.” Brendan had no problem with that.
I couldn’t do it in one paragraph, so leave me out of the contest, but here, for your enjoyment, is the short scene I wrote. Very 1980s and melodramatic, but that’s what those lines brought to mind.
———————————————-
An inexplicable look of withdrawal came over his face. She reached for his shoulder, thinking to bridge that distance. Quick as the thought, his hand shot forward to grasp her wrist.
“I’m sorry, Miranda, but that won’t work again.” Jim dropped her hand as though it revolted him to touch her.
She looked down at her hand. Small bones, seemingly perfect pink nails. The urge to chew them struck her. Had he learned of her deception? She must not let her nervousness show.
“Look at me,” he said. The heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up. He touched the place where her shoulder joined her neck. The touch of his fingers was light, so light, yet it became the focus of her attention. “So beautiful. I used to think that I could drown in eyes like those. That I couldn’t imagine a sweeter death. You know what I think now?” His fingers fell away. “No waters are more treacherous.”
Her head bowed and she remained an attitude of frozen stillness. She didn’t think to explain her betrayal. She must not move, she told herself. To move would be to lose him. It was a thought that made no sense, but like a child who feared she’d startle away a bird, Miranda remained frozen.
“Goodbye, ” he said.
Even after the sound of his departing footsteps faded, she stood still. A rush of blood roared in her ears. He knew. He’d learned what she had done.
Miranda twisted her hands together. She allowed her subconscious thoughts to surface. He’d come to mean so much to her. Would he ever forgive her? Could he understand she’d had no choice?
Janine has me sold! Nice!
Thanks Katie. I had a blast writing something so over the top. It took me back to my teenage years when I devoured those types of books.
Oh, I get it. There is a gap in the circle of her womb that he filled. Thank you.
(If that’s really what it means, and you’re not making a fool out of me!!)
OMG, now I’m reading everybody’s. These are funny. Karl Malden? LOL.
Janine, I think yours is nice. I feel sorry for that girl now.
I know I’m BANNED from this blog, but I wanted to play….
The heavy lashes that shadowed her cheeks flew up and her thoughts scampered vaguely around as her eyes froze on his lips. Suddenly an inexplicable look of withdrawal came over his face. Grant saw Susan’s eyes fill with concern and he forced himself to stop thinking about Brad. He had to stop being preoccupied with Brad’s blonde hair and long slim legs (oh, his long slim legs!!) and do his duty to his title. A cold congested expression settled on his face at the thought of laying with Susan. Oh Brad! If only they could be together!!
“(oh, his long slim legs!!)”
WIN!
@Carolyn Crane: Thanks. I could have done a total parody (in fact, it was hard not to) but I tried or something melodramatic that might still work instead because I remember loving books that used those phrasebook phrases when I started out as a romance reader. It’s easy to laugh at those phrases, esp. with four a paragraph, but I enjoyed the challenge of trying to put together a scene within these parameters.
Jessica, thanks for the linkage! I had a lot of fun writing that post.
The Romance Writers’ Phrase Book is “of its time” and was compiled without irony.
Twenty-six years after it was first published, it makes me laugh, not least because the phrases it contains remind me of the very first romance novels I read way back when.
I’m enjoying everyone’s purple prose and I’ll be sure to check back to see who wins the contest.
Long-time lurker here, but I just cannot resist purple prose, so here’s an attempt (I apologize for the length, but I got a little carried away.)
“With an adventurous toss of her head, she turned to look at him, a circle of ice ringing her mouth. “Why is your full black hair flowing from your face like a crest, my lord?” she asked, feeling a curious swooping pull at her innards. His monopoly on virility made her thoughts scamper vaguely around, but she was determined to straighten the havoc alone.
An inexplicable look of withdrawal came over his face. “It is my bundle of restless energy”, he said, his cold urbanity only slightly disturbed. “Ladies ussually find it… distasteful.”
Miss Chaste found she could only take her eyes off the crest to look at the manly wisps of dark hair curling against the V of his open shirt. At last, she was unable to contain her feelings any longer. “It isn’t distasteful”, she whispered, the living moistness of her full red mouth giving a certain pregnant weight to her words. Or at least soon-to-be pregnant.
“Oh, my love”, he said, his flesh meeting hers in a warm clasp. With a few swift strokes he closed the circle of their love.”
I already wrote this for the Purple Prose Parody in 2000!
http://www.likesbooks.com/ppp2000b.html#5
An excerpt here:
Edited to add: when I said I’d already done this, I meant I’d already taken the most overused phrases of Old Skool romances and made a story out of them.
@Sherry Thomas: I love this! You know how some people became fans of Meljean Brook’s fanfiction before they were fans of her books? well I was a fan of your purple prose parodies and your AAR reviews!
@Jessica: Am astonished! I thought you were a latecomer to romance and therefore wouldn’t have known about the PPP contest or my AAR reviews.
I recently went back and read my Ivory reviews when Janine and Janet’s dual review of BLACK SILK came out. I like the stuff I write so I’ve always thought the my review was a very fine piece, and then compare it to the depth, insight–or even length–of the DA reviews, and suddenly it no longer seems half so ravishing!
Have you ever read Mrs. Giggles’s review of BEAST btw? She had a much more nuanced reading of it than I did.
@Milena: Well, de-lurking certainly worked for you, Milena. According to Random.org, you are my winner!
And thank you, everyone, for giving me so much to wince over. Really.
More books to unload, and more contests coming up.