Bringing a first kiss into your writing

Jan, 2012

When I think of romance, I can’t help but think of the universal bliss of that first kiss –

Whether the first day of a new relationship or the fiftieth, and whether you are young or not, the rush can’t be matched by anything. The wings of excitement flutter in your stomach, tingles shoot up your arms and into your face, the lump of anticipation fixed so snugly in your throat, you’re afraid it’ll explode once you’re finally within centimeters of that tantalizing lip-to-lip experience–your first kiss!

Decade after decade, the wanna-be-kissed fantasize about it for weeks, months, and sometimes – let me die if it don’t happen soon–years before the big K. Even though each first kiss is magically unique, the excitement is universal. It doesn’t matter if it happens discreetly behind the garage, during a game of truth or dare, under the mistletoe at a dance, or in the park where you always meet up with that special someone–your palms sweat, your heart races, and you worry your breath might stink and wonder if your deodorant is still working.

But once you feel the magic, like a leaf turning from green to orange, you know you’ll never be the same.

A kiss of bliss – LB and I had walked uphill eight blocks, the shortest route to JK’s house, laughing and crunching our way through fallen leaves. A few diehard red and gold still hung in clusters from the trees, but most of them blanketed the ground and made me feel we were walking through a photograph.  Except it was real life. I could taste the brisk October air and crumble dead leaves in my hands. When LB tried to stuff the red and gold discards under the back of my jacket, I swung around and laughed. I tried to attack him with a handful, too, but he grabbed my arms and held them straight out like wings as he stepped closer to me, his chin almost touching my forehead. My stomach muscles tensed and my breath caught in my throat. I couldn’t get my smile to relax and worried he might kiss my teeth. With his face leaning toward mine, his warm breath shot currents of excitement through me. Was I standing still or shivering?

It didn’t happen.

He whispered, “I’m going to let go now, but don’t drop your arms.” My face must have shown confusion, because he said, “Do you trust me?” I nodded. His fingers released mine and, before I knew it, he grabbed more leaves and stuffed them under the neck of my shirt.  We laughed the rest of the way to JK’s house.

There, we stepped down the wooden stairs through the backyard entrance to the basement. Just inside the door, before we took the first step down to meet JK, LB steered my chin toward his, and my knees went weak. The weightlessness of being underwater flushed through me as he pressed his lips to mine. Maybe only five seconds went by, maybe five minutes, but that sensation stayed with me throughout my life. Sometimes I loan the feeling to my characters. That’s how it happened in The Curse of Zorphan Island.

I kept hearing, “You know what happened with Tara Foster’s first kiss? Yeah, um, you gotta check it out. It happened at the lake.”

How could I not explore it further?

How was your first kiss?