Hello there! I hope your day is going well.
Writing sex, partially highly erotic, detailed sex is a process. Sure, I can bang out—all puns intended—a scene in under a half hour, as a first draft. But, it’s never good enough. Always room for improvements.
Writing great sex takes a combination of knowledge, gathered from personal experience and/or research about people who’ve walked on the wild side, a vivid imagination willing to envision the situations in high detail, and a drive to see it through, sometimes pushing past comfort zones.
Whether it’s straight up one on one, or ménage, there is a “mathematical” formula that comes into play, especially after the first draft. Whose hand is where and when? Should it/can it be there? Who is doing what to whom? How graphic do you want to be?
Ménage in particular can be tricky. The more people involved, the more ligaments, mouths and actions to keep track of. Which in theory, sounds obvious, but the author knows what’s happening—but is the reader of the tale, envisioning it as intended? Or do they lose track of the “who is doing what.” The author can easily overlook a key word or phrase that blows the whole action into another literary galaxy. Fortunately, authors have editors. Editors who pick apart scenes with a critical, fresh eye.
Some of the commentary I get from editors makes me giggle. My favorite being, “Are you sure that it is physically possible? Sounds like to he dislocated something to do that.” I don’t remember exactly what my characters were doing at the time, but the comment stuck with me, like a brand, something I think about every time I hit a sex scene, making me extra careful.
Over the past three years, I’ve written a lot of sex: both published and unpublished, in varying degrees of nearly behind closed doors, to full on, graphic, “Ride ‘em, cowboy!” detail. In the beginning I had boundaries I found hard to overcome. One of them being anal. Don’t ask me why, I can’t tell you. The act in and of itself doesn’t bother me, never has. But something about graphically describing it to someone else unnerved me. Fortunately, I had an editor that wouldn’t take no for an answer, and pushed and prodded until I had added enough detail. This began to take the edge of taboo from writing about the act. Mind you, in the very beginning, I couldn’t write detailed “everyday” sex either. Now, I can without batting an eyelash.
Let’s face it, how many times do you want to read the hot n’ heavy, in the missionary position, in a bed?
My biggest problem with sex now, is what haven’t I written before? What terms that aren’t flowery haven’t I used? Making sex fresh for me, and the reader becomes increasingly harder with every erotic romance and erotica title I complete. I forever seek new positions, new terminology, new places. I rewrite over and over again, so I don’t risk repeating myself too often. I watch porn. I fantasize. I try new things. I’ve been a domme. I’ve been a sub. I attempt thinking more outside the box than I already do. Hopefully, it works, though sometimes, I just have to accept my limits.
Thank you for being here with me today! Leave a comment for your chance to win a copy of book one in the Master of Subservience Series, The Interview.
The trailer for Master of Subservience: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=P_GR2P_XTpA&list=UUfdDPcnqJbKykehynxkk08A&index=2&feature=plcp