Intimacy: How I Spice Up My Fiction
Emotional and physical intimacy can be serious or humorous. It all depends on the characters, how developed their relationship is, and the environment in which it’s shown to readers. All things considered, I’ve had varying exposure (no pun intended, I swear!) to how intimacy is shown on the page, even outside of the romance genre.
Like most queer authors, I love that fiction gives me the opportunity to realistically represent queer relationships. Spice isn’t just what happens in the bedroom. Jenna Moreci emphasizes that “the main definition of intimacy is closeness and familiarity. It means an affectionate or loving personal relationship, or some act or expression of affection.”
Tooth-rotting fluff. Tummy-aching sweetness. Burning exchanges that make me believe in soulmates. Spiciness takes on difference visages in every subgenre you can think of, at every turn, and especially in partnership styles. Given these points, it’s vital to remember to balance emotional and physical intimacy in the same chapter, often on the same page. Neely Tubati Alexander says the following:
Regardless of whether it’s love at first sight or a slow burn, writing a believable connection is knowing which interaction levers to push and pull that create electricity and rhythm.
Sexual tension emerges by integrating those most intimate scenes meaningfully with plot and character development. Whether it’s setting the right mood, choosing the most evocative language, or showing through vivid sensory details, intimacy and spice are interrelated. Follow along as I cover the difference between emotional and physical intimacy. After all, I use both in turn to craft the kind of story I’d want to read.
Photo by Christian Buehner on Unsplash
Emotional Intimacy
Above all else, emotional intimacy is about vulnerability. It’s characters dropping their guard one interaction at a time. It’s why I love slow-burn romances so much. The protagonists not only admit the depth of their emotions to the other love interest(s). Specifically, they have to admit that depth to themselves.
No matter the genre or subgenre, readers pick up books to connect with the characters. I develop my characters so deeply because I want readers to step as much into their shoes as I did in creating them. A character uncomfortable showing emotions struggles more to acknowledge that depth, let alone accept the intimacy that comes from it.
In other words, as DiAnn Mills puts it,
The value of understanding emotion means a writer successfully connects the core of our humanity to a character walking through the pages of a story and shows how life’s happenings affect [the character].
A solid romance story is built on and around emotional bonds. That bond centers around shared experiences and feelings. These experiences can be as simple as a beer shared over a fence. Seeing that, readers pick up on a subtle hint that a character is taking a step toward more fully opening up to the other.
As humans, we all have feelings, thoughts, dreams, and fears. Who we share that level of intimacy with undeniably depends on the trust we’ve established with each other. Sharing experiences validates them from each protagonist’s perspective. The emotional spice rises with every witty aside, every serious conversation. Readers see how these characters complement each other. Most importantly, they see how perfect these people are for each other.
Consent
Consent is key. I’ll say that again. Consent is key. One more time. Consent is key.
Point blank: “No.” Means. “No.”
It doesn’t mean “Maybe.”
It doesn’t mean “Convince me.”
And it definitely doesn’t mean “Just get it over with.”
I don’t work on queer romance that includes nonconsensual consent, not even in passing. Not only does it make me uncomfortable, but it’s triggering.
As I write Sexy Time Scenes, I always keep in mind how a character’s past encounters affect their approach to physical intimacy. More so, I keep potential readers’ experiences at the forefront. Authors have started regularly using trigger warnings or content warnings in the front matter of their books. Readers more easily know upfront the major themes or situations that may affect them in a negative way.
In your fiction, verbal consent isn’t enough. Readers should clearly see and understand that your characters are willing participants in any physical intimacy. Communication on everyone’s part before, during, and after the spicy scene highlights the importance of mutual understanding, respect, and boundaries. It’s essential that all parties involved are actively and enthusiastically consensual. Those slow caresses, the flirty smile, or even forehead kisses are different ways to show that the point-of-view character wants this to happen.
Physical Intimacy
The ways to show physical intimacy in fiction are endless. Jump across social media, and you’ll find various ways readers rank spice levels. The most prevalent breakdown is the Chili Pepper system. Here’s the system according to Penguin Random House.
- 🌶️: Think heart eyes and pinky holding as the characters stroll through a lush park filled with families.
- 🌶️🌶️: Things start to get a little warm. It’s still sweet, but there’s a certain buildup toward the physical intimacy. That intimacy, though, happens behind closed doors.
- 🌶️🌶️🌶️: Now we’re getting into the sensual, the books that smoothly combine emotional and physical intimacy. Yes, there’s a sex scene or three, but it’s pretty mild, all things considered. Just enough to explore the tension, desire, and longing between characters through consummation.
- 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️: The language used in these books can be pretty descriptive. The sex scenes get a good chunk of page space. The sex is still meaningful, though, and pushes the plot and character arcs forward toward a satisfying climax. (Pun totally intended there.)
- 🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️🌶️: Pure smut. Seriously. For the purpose of this system, I’ll compare it to the dark corners of Ao3, Tumblr, and Wattpad.
There are spice levels out there for every reader. Authors will publish under different names solely based on the spice levels they write. Know your characters, know your market, and know yourself. Physical intimacy isn’t just about making your characters all hot and bothered for each other. In the long run, it’s about writing content that’s comfortable for you as well.
Using Both in Turn
You’re probably getting sick of this, but I fully and unashamedly credit my fanfiction writing background as to why I understand emotional and physical intimacy in queer romance. The spice is nice, of course, but I best love watching relationships grow. First, I’ve learned that the spicy scenes aren’t built on the physical acts themselves (not unless it’s PWP [p*rn without plot], but even that’s an exception on occasion). No, as Erin K. Larson-Burnett says, “They serve as critical junctures where emotional bonds are forged and narratives are propelled forward.”
Intimacy is about messiness. It’s about mistakes made and owned, a focus on building a future with their partner(s), come what may. When characters—and your readers—know what’s at stake, they know how much more they have to lose. The higher the stakes, the more these characters want each other emotionally, the more powerful the moment becomes when their chemistry explodes physically.
Figure out why your characters are perfect for each other and at the same time the exact wrong choice for what they think they want. Then use that to create intimacy. Not just the mechanics of sex but how they reveal the vulnerabilities behind their guarded hearts. When you allow them to connect at that deep level, the reader has the authenticity of it.
Another key point I’d like to make before I wrap things up. There’s a reason “adversaries to lovers” is such a popular trope in romance, you know.
In essence, true intimacy is borne from conversations, from those shared experiences and moments of vulnerability I mentioned above. Physical intimacy becomes just an expression of the emotional intimacy you’ve already established.
Photo by Alexander Grey on Unsplash
To Sum It All Up
The older I get, the less important physical intimacy in fiction becomes to me. The romance novels I read average between 350–500 pages. In fact, I preordered a book solely off the fact that the author said it was 140,000 words. At that word count, I am assured that characters are going to go through painful and trying times, that their character arcs are going to be two steps forward, three steps back for quite a while.
And yet… There I am at 11 p.m. fighting my sleepy-bye meds so I can read one more chapter in the hopes that these two idiots will get themselves together and JUST KISS ALREADY! In fact, I love Jenna Moreci’s additional advice:
Without moments where all parties share an unguarded version of themselves, there is no sense of closeness, and that is pivotal for creating a bond. Focus on powerful bonding moments and the intimacy will be much easier to write.
If I ever complain to you that my characters “make me sick,” there’s a 9,000-percent chance I got a cavity from something absolutely sweet they did for the other. Ramp up the emotional intimacy. The physical intimacy will follow.
Reflecting On Your Story One Word At A Time!
