Embarassment Is Relative, Or, Writing Those Smexxors
Cross-posted to The Midnight Hour.
It’s Friday again. (Where the nutting hell did the week go?) So it’s time for another post about writing! I think you’re going to enjoy this one, dear Reader.
It’s about smut.
Due to the volume of mail I receive, I often can’t respond to fan letters–or I’d spend the day doing nothing else. But often, fans ask Questions, and I do my best to answer those questions in a blog post. A Reader sent a particularly intriguing question a little while ago, and I beg indulgence for only now being able to get around to it.
The question was, don’t you get embarrassed when writing sex scenes? As a fellow writer I often do. How do you overcome that embarrassment? And as I started writing my response, I got into a whole-enchilada post about sex scenes in general.
Ahem. Enjoy.
I guess I’m lucky, since I have a writerly friend–the Selkie, aka Nina Merrill–who’s very comfortable writing erotica (and in some cases, outright PWP, but only if a good friend asks her to.) We’ve discussed all sorts of issues, from word choice to the ideas of consent and restraint, and what makes a sex scene work.
During one particularly memorable discussion we were at a restaurant that had linen napkins, and as she is an inveterate fiddler, my friend had rolled her napkin up very tightly and was using it to accentuate several points. Not to be left out, I’d done the same. But, erm, when you roll a napkin up like that, how do you stop it from flopping? You fold down the end a little, so it looks like–yeah.
We were playing Dueling Phalli with linen napkins.
Much to the amusement of everyone in the lounge, I might add. But we were so into our conversation we barely noticed.
Writing a sex scene, or a chunk of smut, is kind of like that. If you pause to think, “What in Christ’s name am I DOING? Aunt Martha would SO NOT APPROVE!”, you’re going to lose a lot of, ahem, steam. Smut-writing is a lot like sex–most of it is showing up and paying attention, lots of it is making yourself comfortable. So, here’s a few things that help me when I have to, er, Get Some Nookie In That Book!
* Find some Hawt Music. Like one of my personal favorites, the White Stripes’ Ball and a Biscuit. Lots of Rolling Stones. I like grungy guitar and bluesy stuff to Get In The Mood, but it might be different for you. Get music that makes you think of desire. No, not sex–desire. Trust me on this. Sex scenes aren’t really about the consummation. They’re about the desire. Even in erotica, the purpose is to titillate the reader; that’s pure desire, not consummation. (Note: Pure erotica is a different beast than a sex scene in a novel. There. Disclaimers done.)
* As the Selkie says, attend to the smutte every bit as carefully as you’d attend to any other aspect of a story. Just because it’s smutte doesn’t mean it’s not worth writing well. I really can’t add more to that.
* Get yourself comfortable. You don’t have to dress up to write a sex scene. If you’re wearing something that pinches and binds, it might have unpleasant consequences for the fiction. It’s possible to write a totally hawt smexxor scene in sweats and a T-shirt, with kids screaming in the next room. I’ve done it.
Also, you can light a scented candle or some incense, put on some nice music that relaxes you, take a bath beforehand and think about it. Get yourself in the mood just like for a combat scene. The two are remarkable similar. Comfort is the key concept here. You have to be comfortable enough to concentrate and to write. Do what it takes to get there, to maximize your comfort level. (But don’t let that comfort-seeking become a timesuck. All things in moderation!)
* Let it be part of the plot. If two reasonable adults would be having sex in that situation, go ahead and let them. Don’t try to shoehorn smut in where it doesn’t belong, but don’t engage in gymnastics to keep the characters apart OR together. Unless, of course, the plot calls for it. Or unless you’re writing a comedy.
* Get rid of the idea that everyone will think you like what you write. Or more precisely, try writing about stuff you don’t necessarily like in bed. There are a few authors whose sex scenes are THE SAME in EVERY BOOK, so you can kind of tell what they might like in the sack.
I don’t know about you, but that’s something I’m happy not knowing about a great deal of humanity. Give your characters interesting quirks. Have them try things you wouldn’t try. It’s cheap, fun, and safe experimentation. And it will give you a little bit of necessary distance that might help ease some embarrassment. And here’s a big secret: most readers could care less. Really. Just give ‘em good writing and a good plot. Don’t get yourself all twisted up in a knot thinking they might Know Something Shameful about you. They don’t care. They just want good fiction.
* Do some research! Read a few romance novels, try to find a sex scene you like. Read some Anais Nin. Sample some Anne Rice. (If you can stomach it.) Watch some hot, steamy movies. (No, I’m not thinking Basic Instinct. I’m thinking Original Sin. I’m thinking Kama Sutra. I’m thinking Frankie and Johnny. Scent of a Woman. Bleu.) Get a copy of The Guide To Getting It On. Now, analyze. What about these things makes them “steamy”? What qualities do they share? If they don’t work for you, why? If they DO work for you, why?
* Don’t go for the cheap shot. The Selkie and I are in agreement about this. She pointed out this morning that good smut: should NOT be pornographic, and by that I mean it should not degrade or abuse. There are legitimate cases where a writer may want to portray abuse or degradation, but in those cases they should not be meant to cause an erotic reaction in the reader.
I read a a few scenes in Simmons’s Carrion Comfort that skeezed me right out. They were meant to, and they involved sex, but they weren’t sex scenes. Sex in a book is like in real life: it has a variety of uses and purposes. Be very clear about the type of scene you’re writing and what the purpose of sex in that scene is. It’ll help.
* Use the words that are right for the scene. Words are your tool and your craft. Think about the words you’re using for sex scenes and the precise meaning you want to convey. The Selkie notes: I used to say I’d never use the C word because it had been so abusively used in my experience, but I’ve just written the pr0n where that IS the right word, because of its connotations for the character and the story’s intended audience. Never say never when it comes to any word.
* Don’t be gratuitous. As the Selkie says, sometimes a fade-to-black IS what is called for. A lot of my sex scenes are actually very lightly described, because I aim to let the reader decide how detailed s/he wants it. One of the few fights I got into with an editor was over the gratuitous insertion of a sex scene. I balked. The editor said the Readers would feel cheated if I didn’t slap a sex scene in. I still refused–one of the number of times I can count on one hand I outright refused to do something an editor suggested. I am not ever going to put a sex scene where it doesn’t belong. I’m just NOT.
* It ain’t personal, honey. Well, everything you write is going to be personal, because your word choices are like a fingerprint. But you can’t consider your sex scenes as being too personal.
Get over the idea that Fannie Mae and Brucie Goose (i.e., the general public) are going to be giggling behind their hands at your sex scenes. They’ve got Jerry Springer, the tabloids, and their own sex lives to worry about before they can worry about yours. Just get on with your work.
* Write your embarrassment. Okay. So you can’t write the hot smexxors without dying of blushing Victorian-style heaves. There’s a way around that–give one of your characters hideous embarrassment. Make him impotent, make her afflicted with the giggles, make both of them fumbling around hitting their head and deciding to move to a bed.
Look, sex IS embarrassing in real life. It’s damp and weird and makes funny noises. You need practice to do it right. If you are having trouble doing a totally-hot smexxor scene, have it turn out a little less than perfect. Get sand in someone’s bikini. Have someone fall off the bed. You and your characters will both learn something. (Heh.) Then, after you’ve finished and written a few more scenes, you can go back and tweak the embarrassing bits piece by piece, making them less embarrassing for the character. Voila! Instant hot-hot love scene. (I have used this SO MANY TIMES. There was one incident with Dante and Japh that–oh, never mind.)
* Use all your senses. Sex is a total-body experience. A lot of the best sex scenes I’ve ever read weren’t even particularly graphic; they just described sensations–what things felt, tasted, smelled, looked, sounded like. This is where the power and habit of observation I’m always talking about comes into play. When you find a sex scene you like in a book or a movie, pay attention to the sensory details. What makes it so good for you? What makes your heart race and your palms sweat?
* Do It Anyway. Look, I’m still mortified when I have to write a sex scene. I just buckle down and do it anyway. The book is important enough for me to do so. Just hold your nose (ha ha) and plow through. There’s always room for revision.
* For God’s sake, think about what you’re doing. Sex in a book is like death, combat, red herrings, or dialogue. It has to have a point. Don’t just ram a sex scene in because “books like this have to have a sex scene.” Genre conventions are there to be played with, subverted, stood on their head, juked-out, and “had fun” with. Go ahead and play with expectations. Give us a sex scene that’s not like every other sex scene. Give us something to think about.
* Last but not least…I have often said that the best writing comes from what you’re afraid of. So your heart is in your mouth and you’re terrified? Good. Use that. You’re hearing the little voice saying “so-and-so would be so DISAPPOINTED in you for writing this”? That “this is true but you shouldn’t say it”?
Good. That’s ROCKET fuel. Some of the best writing comes when we’re staring at that sort of fear and using it as a spur. Go ahead and break boundaries. Write what makes you afraid and uncomfortable. Look that demon right in the face and call it by its name. And later, when you’re sweat-soaked and shaking, and your reader looks through it and says, “Damn, that’s some good writing. Where’d that come from?” you can say, “Aw, shucks, tweren’t nothin’.” Don’t stop writing a smexxor scene, or any other scene, because you’re afraid. That fear is a sign that there is a rich vein of experience and emotion to be mined. Get your pick and shovel and get to it.
There. I hope that helps. There’s more advice I could give, but I’ve got that were-weasel to go back to today, not to mention laundry to fold and a bit more caffeine to get into my system. So…DISCUSS! What helps you write sex scenes, if you do? What stops you from writing them, if you don’t? What other advice do you have to give?
Enjoy.
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August 28th, 2008 at 7:47 am
Just stumbled across this. As someone who one day would like to be published, thanks for taking the time to give advice such as the above. It is encouraging.
& I know you probably have tons of comments such as mine, but wanted to say it all the same.