Why I Write Sex Scenes Anyway

💥 Real Talk: I’ve Always Wanted to Write Sex Scenes

Yes. Let’s just say it. I imagined writing steamy scenes long before The Dark Mage.

I even have a whole folder of standalone scenes I’ve written over the years. Why? Because I long to capture what sex should be—safe, mutual, reverent. Full of vulnerability and connection, joy and wildness. Not performative. Not shameful. Not something I needed to hide.

But wanting to write them didn’t mean I was free from fear.

🕯 The Baggage I Brought with Me

I carry two heavy weights when it comes to intimacy.

The first is a history of sexual boundary violation—part of my ongoing healing journey that’s complicated, messy, and still in motion. When someone violates your body or your privacy—especially repeatedly—it rewires the way you understand safety. For me, it created a storm of shame around desire, as if wanting to be seen by someone I loved made me deserving of being hurt.

That’s a lie I’m still unlearning.

The second weight is purity culture.

As a Christian woman raised in the height of the purity movement, I was told my body was dangerous. That boys couldn’t help themselves. That it was my job to stop them from sinning. We passed around roses and plucked off the petals to show what we would become if we were “used up” by multiple sexual partners before marriage. Meanwhile, boys played basketball in the gym.

We were taught to fear sex. To fear our bodies. To fear desire.

And then, without pause, we were told our husbands’ satisfaction would be our duty once married.

Is it any wonder I felt ashamed of my desire? Is it any wonder that even now, with a loving husband and a healthy marriage, I still struggle to believe my desires can be beautiful and good?

🔥 So Why Did I Write Explicit Scenes Anyway?

To rebel.

To reclaim.

To believe that sex is not sin.

I wrote Ren’wyn’s journey to scream into the cavern of my own silence. To declare that women’s bodies are not weapons or warnings. That we are worthy of satisfaction and tenderness, of being seen and loved in all our mess and want and softness.

Ren’wyn’s intimacy with Fael isn’t just steamy—it’s safe. It’s chosen. And she doesn’t regret the lovers who came before. Her past doesn’t make her “used.” It makes her whole. She walks toward pleasure knowing she deserves it. And Fael delights in her with reverence, not entitlement.

Because that’s what I want for every woman who’s ever been made to feel small:To know that good, mutual sex is not a sin. It is our human right.

🛏 What It Was Like to Actually Write the Scenes

Let me be honest: I was terrified.

Not because of the words. The scenes came together naturally, tied closely to the emotional arc of each character. The magic of the world infused every touch.

But I am afraid of what people will think.

What would the people from my childhood say? The church members? The readers who expected something “clean”? Would they call me sinful? Shameful?

Bryce read every scene. He encouraged me. He celebrated me. He saw me—and never shamed me. I told him that I struggled the judgment that might come from writing honest sex. He told me that he wasn’t interested in what people expected of my writing but in what I had to say from my own heart. That kind of support is rare, and I don’t take it for granted.

And when Kirkus called my scenes “genuinely steamy”? I squealed. Out loud. And maybe a little proud.

🌿 How My Sex Scenes Are Different

I love a spicy enemies-to-lovers trope as much as the next girl. But when I write sex, I write healing. I write safety.

I write moments where characters ask first.

Where they pause to listen.

Where consent isn’t a footnote—it’s a foundation.

Fael and Ren’wyn touch each other with curiosity and care. They laugh. They check in. They mess up sometimes—but they never stop learning.

Because to me, true intimacy isn’t just about pleasure. It’s about surrendering and knowing you won’t be harmed in that surrender.

💗 Why I Still Believe in Love

The truth? I believe in love because I’ve lived it.

Bryce loves every piece of me, including the parts I still struggle to love. He holds space for my pain. He honors my healing. He reminds me that intimacy—emotional and physical—is something I deserve.

And I believe you deserve it, too.

If you’ve been hurt, I see you.

If you carry shame, I hear you.

If you fear that your story disqualifies you from love, I promise it doesn’t.

You are not “too much.”

You are not “damaged goods.”

You are worthy of delight, of passion, of tenderness that doesn’t flinch.

And if writing steamy, romantic, open-door intimacy helps even one person believe that? I’ll keep writing it with my whole heart.

Because healing is holy.

Pleasure is sacred.

And sex—real, honest, safe, reverent sex—belongs in our stories.