Everything You Always Wanted To Know About Sex Writing*
*but were afraid to ask
I’m not a fan of trigger warnings, but just in case any of my followers are of a sensitive disposition, or do not like graphic language, then I probably need to start this Valentine’s post by saying the obvious – TRIGGER WARNING: SEX
But then on the other hand, sex is life, right? And we write life, so eventually, we’re going to need to write sex.
Last week’s Write With Me Club was all about desire, and we had a fascinating discussion about desire in all its various forms which prompted lots of thoughts and posts outside of our meet up (I’ll write more of that later for those who missed it). But of course, when many people think of desire, they think of the passionate kind – they think of sex. But how do you write about sex? And perhaps, most importantly, how do you not write about sex?
Many of you will be familiar with the Literary Review’s annual bad sex awards which scours otherwise good novels for the worst sex scene. I had a little scout around at previous year’s winners and there are some absolute howlers, but this one really stood out to me. Brace yourselves:
Katsuro moaned as a bulge formed beneath the material of his kimono, a bulge that Miyuki seized, kneaded, massaged, squashed and crushed. With the fondling, Katsuro’s penis and testicles became one single mound that rolled around beneath the grip of her hand. Miyuki felt as though she was manipulating a small monkey that was curling up its paws. [from Didier Decoin’s The Office of Gardens and Ponds]
A small monkey? What the hell?
When I scanned through the list it appeared that most winners were historically male, and I wondered what this tells us about male and female perspectives on sex, what constitutes good sex and bad sex, and particularly when men are writing sex from a female point of view, what they believe good sex means to us? But then, that’s a whole other discussion… (do feel free to pick it up in the comments!)
So with the bad sex writing out of the way, let’s take a closer look at how to write good sex.
When I came to penning advice to you on how to write sex, I realised that much of my advice mirrors the act itself. For example, relax and have fun, slow it down, don’t be so focused on racing towards a conclusion, and also, vitally, don’t forget a warm-up. See? I’m right, aren’t I?
I set an exercise for my White Ink members at last week’s meet up which I have included below, along with more dos and the don’ts of writing sex.
Someone who definitely knows good sex writing is Monique Roffey, and I was lucky enough to attend one of her erotic writing workshops which sadly she no longer runs.
You may know Monique best for her brilliant and Costa Prize winning novel, The Mermaid of Black Conch, but she also has a line in erotic literature based on her own personal adventure/rediscovery/journey/call-it-what-you-will into sex in her forties. Her non-fiction work, By The Kisses Of His Mouth, was her exploration into her own sexual self after the breakdown of her marriage. And out of that came The Tryst, a strange and hot little book positively chaffing with sex scenes.
I have scoured my notes from that workshop I attended to bring you the essentials on erotic writing according to Monique and adding in some thoughts of my own.
So, as it’s Valentine’s Day, and whether you’re getting some or none, let’s take a look at these ten tips on writing sex: