Semicolons, serial commas, and other persnickety punctuation, part 2 (sorta)
In which I ramble on a bit about persnickety periods of the other kind.
My goal this year is to write a blog post every time I turn in an edited manuscript. In theory, it’s a great idea. In practice, well, let’s just say I was thinking ahead to the next thing, so when I turned in my last manuscript (a few days early, natch!), I totally forgot to post.
My plan this week was to finish up the copyediting practicum I took through Editorial Arts Academy and to take the preliminary copyediting test for one of the Big Five publishing houses. If you guessed that neither of those activities took place, you’d be correct. Well, I did start on some of the homework for the practicum, but I missed the note that said I should skip the reference notes in the first few pages, so I spent too much time and energy on those.
My strategy for tomorrow is to start my next manuscript, so I need to get this post posted. (Post posted? Weird.)
I’m sure I had follow-up posts in mind when I wrote the initial blog post with this title. Well, life got in the way. So let’s run with it.
We’re talking menses!
“Persnickety punctuation,” or, as I put it in the subhead above, “persnickety periods of the other kind.”
About half the world’s population will menstruate at some point in their lives, yet periods seem to be a taboo subject in American “polite” society. It’s a travesty. If young people are lucky, they learn about the menstrual cycle in middle school health class. If they’re anything like I was in middle school, they’ll be impressed by the fact their teacher, who’s out of adolescence, still gets pimples. (My teacher explained she breaks out around the time her period starts, and that’s what stuck with me all these years. Sorry, Miss R!) How many people learned about sex from romance novels? How many more could learn about periods from them too?
It’s fascinating to me that in all the thousands of romances I’ve read over the years, I can remember only one ever discussing periods. (No, strike that. A motorcycle club series mentioned periods, but not in a way that looked out for the woman.)
I’m agender, but I was assigned female at birth (AFAB), and my uterus has been a source of pain, discomfort, and stress over the decades. In college, I never knew when my period was going to arrive, and I would have “spotting” between menses. I wasn’t sexually active, so I never talked with a doctor about it; I just put up with it. I learned much later that spotting like that isn’t typical, and I could’ve been treated for it.
I don’t remember ever hearing the word “perimenopause” until a few years ago. I’m still not sure what it is or what it means. From what I’ve gathered from a Facebook group dedicated to menopause and related issues, perimenopause is that time before the Change of Life when hormones go haywire and periods start surprising you again. For me, perimenopause is also a time when premenstrual dysphoria hits like a hurricane.
Premenstrual dysphoric disorder (PMDD) is, essentially, a severe version of PMS. The U.S. Office on Women’s Health estimates that up to 5% of women (sic) of childbearing age experience PMDD. It’s a serious condition because of its impact on mental health. If you experience five or more of the following symptoms in the days leading up to your period, please seek help. (If you feel like unaliving yourself, please seek help immediately!)
Lasting irritability or anger that may affect other people
Feelings of sadness or despair, or even thoughts of suicide
Feelings of tension or anxiety
Panic attacks
Mood swings or crying often
Lack of interest in daily activities and relationships
Trouble thinking or focusing
Tiredness or low energy
Food cravings or binge eating
Trouble sleeping
Feeling out of control
Physical symptoms, such as cramps, bloating, breast/chest tenderness, headaches, and joint or muscle pain
Why share all this on a romance copyeditor’s blog? Well, I’m a romance copyeditor, and I experienced PMDD this week. It impacted what I planned to do. It affected how I interacted with those around me. And it’s a topic not discussed in romance.
Think of it: How much more realistic and relatable would historical novels be with mention of dealing with one’s period? How much more would readers become emotionally involved with an FMC who’s supposed to make her “come out” or “debut,” but her menses has arrived? How did women in the Regency period (think “Emma,” with lightweight gowns over minimal undergarments) deal with their periods? What if cramps hit while someone is riding in a covered wagon or in a Pullman car across the prairie? Were “hygiene papers” used for periods? Or did folks just use rags? How were the cloths attached? What if they fell out? Or what if there was no place to wash them? Did women get a form of toxic shock syndrome (often warned of in the 1980s and 1990s with the increasing popularity of tampons) in Victorian times?
In contemporary romance, the way a male main character (MMC) deals with his partner’s period can show a lot about him. If he’s immature and needs to grow, he could be portrayed as squeamish and childish around a box of tampons on the bathroom vanity. Later, he could demonstrate his character development by caring tenderly for his partner while they’re cramping and miserable. That could include shopping for menstrual products, good chocolate, ice cream, and heating pads. (Plenty of fodder for romcoms there too.)
Or, how about sexy times? Romance novels tend to imply sex can happen anytime, anywhere. Sex while menstruating is something partners have to discuss with each other. Orgasms can sometimes alleviate period pain temporarily. But whether the orgasms are self-provided or courtesy of a partner will have to be part of the discussion.
In the heat of the moment, when clothing comes off, how will the partners act if a menstrual pad is attached to the panties? Will the partners negotiate PIV (vaginal) sex if she’s wearing a tampon? Will the removal of said item cool the love interest’s ardor? Might they remove it for her?
(And that’s not even talking about how a gay or bisexual man might react to his trans lover’s period. I am not qualified to discuss those circumstances.)
Romance is all about resolving conflicts. What conflicts might PMS or PMDD cause? How can those issues be dealt with fantastically and respectfully? How could an author show the struggles of someone who lives with PMDD without making them a source for pity or dislike?
I’ve read loads of grocery shopping scenes, but oddly enough, the shoppers were always stocked up on menstrual products; they didn’t add any products to their carts.
I’ve gone on long enough, but I hope I’ve given you something to think about as you write your next book. And remember, if you or a loved one is experiencing PMDD, please seek help.
