When I wrote BEYOND THE EYES, I was wondering how I should write the sex scenes. What was appropriate and what was crossing the line?
Before I go on, there may be spoilers in this post.
You have been warned.
My main character Paige, gets sexually involved with Nathan, rather quickly. She’s not a slut or anything. In fact, she was a virgin, however, she couldn’t deny her feelings for Nathan. I knew though, as I wrote this book that some people wouldn’t buy the whole love-at-first-sight deal. But I left it there anyway because it does exist and can happen. I know because it happened to me back in January of 1994. I did wonder though, how I should tastefully write the sex scenes. I then thought about the popular teen shows on TV and reflected back to when I was a teenager. I also thought about the romance novels that wrote stuff like, ‘He put his throbbing love muscle into my dripping honeypot.’
Um, no.
There’s no way I’ll ever write something like that because it’s ridiculously funny and cheesy that when I read something like that it always makes me giggle.
Call me immature, but it is what it is.
So I had to be creative in writing the sex scenes and not be too explicit. I had to write it in such a way to where my readers could fill in the blanks with their own imagination. But then I wondered, would that be supporting promiscuity among teens? I mean, shouldn’t I be standing on the pulpit promoting abstinence instead?
Maybe.
But the truth is, teens are having sex and with the technology we have nowadays, they’re constantly exposed to anything and everything that has to do with it.
When I was growing up we didn’t have the internet and computers weren’t prevalent in every household. Hell, we didn’t even have cell phones. If we wanted to send a message to somebody we wrote a note and would slyly pass it in class to that person. Instead of having the internet to look up sexual content, we had Playboy or Playgirl. We also had the VCR and HBO, which meant easy access to porn.
The point is, even back then without the technology we have today, teens knew about sex and were having it. Even the movies back then, like Fast Times at Ridgemont High, didn’t hide the fact that teens were doing it.
So as a writer in the YA genre, I had to come to terms with the whole "sex issue."
Should I leave it out and not promote it and turn a blind eye to the fact that teens are having sex? Or, should I keep it real and trust my teen readers to be levelheaded enough in their own lives to make the right decisions for themselves?
I decided to trust my teen readers and to write each sex scene modestly, even though they can click on the TV and see teens having dirty, monkey sex.
No. I wouldn’t ever take it to that extreme when writing in the YA genre. If I was writing erotica, yeah, but not in a book about teens.
So to sum it all up, I don’t see any harm–if it’s done tastefully–in writing about older teenagers having sex.
PATH TO OLD TALBOT
A Young Adult Fantasy
Thirteen-year-old Charity can escape her unpleasant reality by stepping through the parlor closet of her mother’s new home, a mansion built in the 1800’s.
In her hometown of Talbot, New York, in the year 1880, she doesn’t have to worry about her depressed father skipping his medications or her mother flirting with her coworker. Instead, she gets to know the hatter’s son, who shows her a lifestyle of manners and pride. Few have ever accepted Charity’s old-fashioned ways…until now.
However, old Talbot can’t banish the present. Charity can stay in the mansion, with access to the hatter’s son in the past, and the prospect of a steady family unit with her mother and the new man in her mother’s life, or she can go back to her father, who has been given the option to straighten out his life and join them in their new home. Instead, his world unravels, and he spirals into violence and self-harm.
Torn between two worlds, Charity knows that if she doesn’t help him, she may lose him forever if he follows through on his threats of self-destruction.
PATH TO OLD TALBOT is on Amazon from CHBB.
Check out early reviews on GoodReads!
Check out Chapter One:
Sunlight reflects off the pavement and bakes my bare legs. Shadows play across Daddy while he cries on the stoop, slumped forward, his shoulders shaking. How many times will he play this game? If he got it together, Mom and I wouldn’t be packing the car to move to a different house.
I shade my eyes and look away from him. Think about the steps. Don’t think about him. It’s a lovely stoop, with only a few chips, and it has a wrought iron railing that curls at the end.
“Why does life keep throwing crap at me?” Daddy’s yell makes a crow fly from the old oak tree in our front yard.
Leaves rustle in its wake as the bird shoots over the house like a black ball, and it caws, a hoarse screech like Daddy’s voice when he’s upset.
Mom carries her last box of books from inside the garage and sets it in the trunk of her Subaru. The huge box catches on an edge and she grunts as she shoves it. Her biceps flex— surprising how strong she is, since she never works out. I swear Mom can lift anything. She wipes her palms on her shorts, smearing dust across the black denim.
“Why does this always happen?” Daddy slams his fist into the cement stoop.
I wince. I could cover my ears against the sound, but I’m not a little kid anymore; no more hiding for me.
His hand bleeds. It will add a new scar to the skinny white lines that crisscross his knuckles.
When I was younger, I pretended they were lines from elf hoes, and miniature vegetables would grow among the whorls of dark curls. Now, seeing the scars makes my stomach clench.
Mom won’t bandage him up. She stopped years ago. This time, I won’t either, even though my fingers itch to fetch the Band-Aids and Neosporin. I didn’t make Daddy punch anything. He needs to patch himself. It isn’t our fault he won’t take his medication.
I pick at my glittered purple polish, catching a hangnail. The red stain mixes with the polish as if I intended for a gruesome pattern.
Daddy staggers off the stoop and paces.
“I need a gun,” he rants. “I’m gonna put a bullet in my head.”
Mom clears her throat. “Come on, Charity. We’re leaving.” She presses her lips into a thin line and slams the trunk door, making her Impreza vibrate. She walks along the path of flat rocks, trampling some of the grass that has grown too tall, and pauses next to him.
Daddy grunts, dropping back down onto the stone, and he tips his head up, his fingers dragging across his cheeks. Blood trickles down the back of his hand into the sleeve of his button-up shirt. His blue eyes are wide and bloodshot, tear-filled. Sometimes when he cries, Mom kisses the tears away.
Even though I’m thirteen, I should be the one crying. Heck, I’m still a child. His therapist said so. Daddy should hold me and promise everything will be fine. He’ll take his meds and we’ll all be okay.
I’m too delusional for all that, but the thoughts slip in anyways.
I shouldn’t have to avoid Daddy when he’s in a mood. I shouldn’t have to worry about my words making him emotional, or my attitude setting him off, or whether I’m going to find him dead when I come home.
Mom kneels to clasp his wrists. “I love you, Max. I will always love you.” Her voice squeaks, but her body remains steady. She doesn’t look away from his stare.
“You can’t go!” He yanks his arms free and stands on the stoop, but he teeters. His bare feet poke from the ragged hem of his jeans. The lack of shoes makes him look like a teenager. When has Daddy ever been an adult for me? Has he ever been an adult for himself? According to my grandparents, his depression started in high school. Why hasn’t he learned how to cope yet? “I’ll kill myself!”
I wince at the threat, but Mom rises, shaking her head. Why can’t he see how much we love him? Why aren’t we enough to stop his pain?
“You know where we are. When you’re ready, come find us.” She kisses his mouth, fast, as if afraid he’ll push her away. His blood smears her palm, but she doesn’t look down when she wipes it on her thigh. It leaves a crimson streak, as if she’s the one bleeding.
“Charity!” Daddy stumbles toward me. “You won’t leave me. Come back, honey. I need you.”
I quicken my pace to open the car door and slip into the passenger’s seat. My fingers shake as I fasten my seatbelt. He doesn’t need me. He needs to help himself. I play with my hemp bracelet to avoid looking at him. My stomach heaves as I fight back tears.
“Isadora,” he yells.
I glance back, a final glimpse in case he does kill himself.
It won’t be my fault, or Mom’s. We don’t make Daddy do things. Mom tells me that every day. It is never your fault. Sometimes it hurts to think that. If it was my fault, maybe I could fix it.
His brown hair is in that buzz cut Mom hates. He’s gotten blood on his cheek. If only he took care of the things about the house the way he cuts his hair, the place wouldn't look so run down. After we leave, he’ll break things, but we took the things we cherished— everything except for Daddy, and seeing the tears in Mom’s eyes, I know we cherish him most of all.
That’s why we have to leave.
Mom sits beside me and slams her door. She slips the key into the ignition and turns it without taking her gaze from the road. I stare forward too, because it only hurts to think about the past. Tall grasses wave in the breeze next to the garage as if saying goodbye.
I’ll really miss this place.
“He needs to get help,” Mom whispers. “He can’t do that with us. We’re just his crutch now.”
A chipmunk darts across the driveway and from somewhere down the street, music plays through an open window. I almost forget how hot the day is until sweat gathers behind my knees.
We need to grow up, too, but I don’t talk in case Mom needs solitude. What will the neighbors think?
It’s about time Isadora and Charity left.
How dare they leave that poor man? Mrs. Ames next door has always seen him as someone to coddle, like an oversized infant. No doubt she’ll go with that train of thought.
Mom drives forward and heads down the road, past all the neighbors with their happy, safe families, as peaceful as the fluffy clouds dancing over the blue sky.
“Isadora! Charity!” Daddy’s wails fade and I bite my lower lip.
Mom told him to come home once he becomes well. Our new house. Her dream house.
Our home.
I want to squeeze Daddy’s hand, to feel secure, but my fingers close on false hope.
Jordan Elizabeth is known for her odd sense of humor and her outrageous outfits. Surrounded by bookshelves, she can often be found pounding away at her keyboard – she’s known for breaking keyboards, too. Jordan’s young adult novels include ESCAPE FROM WITCHWOOD HOLLOW, COGLING, TREASURE DARKLY, GOAT CHILDREN, and VICTORIAN. PATH TO OLD TALBOT is her third novel with CHBB. Check out her website for bonus scenes and contests.
Books can be our window into the past when we don’t have a portal in our new house. In honor of PATH TO OLD TALBOT, enter for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
All winners will be notified after verification of entry at the end of this promotion. Prizes have been supplied by and the responsibility of delivery are solely that of the author and/or their representatives. Blogs are not liable for non-delivery on the part of the author. No purchase necessary.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
PATH TO OLD TALBOT is a young adult fantasy novel.
Thank you, Rue Volley, for creating this stunning cover!
Blurb:
Thirteen-year-old Charity can escape her unpleasant reality by stepping through the parlor closet of her mother’s new home, a mansion built in the 1800’s.
In her hometown of Talbot, New York, in the year 1880, she doesn’t have to worry about her depressed father skipping his medications or her mother flirting with her coworker. Instead, she gets to know the hatter’s son, who shows her a lifestyle of manners and pride. Few have ever accepted Charity’s old-fashioned ways…until now.
However, old Talbot can’t banish the present. Charity can stay in the mansion, with access to the hatter’s son in the past, and the prospect of a steady family unit with her mother and the new man in her mother’s life, or she can go back to her father, who has been given the option to straighten out his life and join them in their new home. Instead, his world unravels, and he spirals into violence and self-harm.
Torn between two worlds, Charity knows that if she doesn’t help him, she may lose him forever if he follows through on his threats of self-destruction.
PATH TO OLD TALBOT will be available March 24 on Amazon from CHBB.
Check out early reviews on GoodReads!
Author Bio:
Jordan Elizabeth is known for her odd sense of humor and her outrageous outfits. Surrounded by bookshelves, she can often be found pounding away at her keyboard – she’s known for breaking keyboards, too. Jordan’s young adult novels include ESCAPE FROM WITCHWOOD HOLLOW, COGLING, TREASURE DARKLY, GOAT CHILDREN, and VICTORIAN. PATH TO OLD TALBOT is her third novel with CHBB. Check out her website for bonus scenes and contests.
Books can be our window into the past when we don’t have a portal in our new house. In honor of PATH TO OLD TALBOT, enter for a chance to win a $5 Amazon gift card!
All winners will be notified after verification of entry at the end of this promotion. Prizes have been supplied by and the responsibility of delivery are solely that of the author and/or their representatives. Blogs are not liable for non-delivery on the part of the author. No purchase necessary.
a Rafflecopter giveaway
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