It’s one of those clichés, a line (or variant thereof) that appears again and again. It turns up in every genre, and Romance is no exception. In a recent DearAuthor “First Page” post, where authors anonymously send the first page of a novel to be read and critiqued by the community (and where the first page of The Knife of Narcissus made a debut with an embarrassing global-cut-n-paste error, don’twannatalkaboutit), commenter Ainslie Paton remarked, “that likely started life as a powerful depiction, unfortunately it’s so overused it’s lost its street cred.” I have to agree.
I scoured Knife of Narcissus searching for it to stamp it out, during which I discovered there’s an awful lot of breathing in this book; a lesser but still extravagant amount of exhaling; and an importunate amount of inhaling. Inevitable, maybe, when characters are sidling up close and sniffing—I mean—getting to know one another, and then getting into strenuous activities together. But I’ve put that on my list of overused quirks to keep in mind as I write, along with an excess of “just,” “very,” a few I won’t mention in case no one’s picked up on them, and certain body-part euphemisms.
I decided not to remove the held-breaths completely. Or, rather, to stick with the variants, where our hero at least knows that he’s holding his breath.
It’s such an accurate way of describing the literal…
His body tensed so tightly that even his breath stopped. He froze like a cornered animal….He could feel every thread in the weave of the bedding. He wondered if he truly could do this.
Shouldn’t a real Roman man dare anything, and everything? he asked himself.
He forced himself to breathe, and suddenly he was breathing too fast.
…but it’s also spot on for describing figurative mental clenching, a background tension that’s only noticed when it’s finally relieved. Such as—here in the off-the-page world—an author hoping for and then getting a review. I had a suddenly-my-brain-is-breathing-again moment today when I read a new review of Knife of Narcissus parts 1-2 this morning.
I’ll let you click on over to Cryselle’s Bookshelf and read it for yourself.
Whew.
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