Picture the scene: you are surrounded by familiar faces, people who know you well. It’s your turn to speak and so you clear your throat and stand. Feel the eyes, the pressure. A sip of water, maybe. You open your mouth. But instead of your high-flown fantasies, your lovingly crafted words of beauty and bliss, out pours a tide of filth and depravity; words you barely touched before now rolling out to suffocate the audience…
I wrote my first sex scene. It is dirty, unpleasant and, I think, necessary. See, I understand the mechanics of sex. I’ve read a fair bit of erotica (not 50 Shades, thank you; my experience of that is finding a copy abandoned on a bench by the Thames. I picked it up, flicked through it, then abandoned it on the next bench upriver. I imagine it moving from sea to source in such fashion). But writing it oneself is somewhat disturbing.
Creation is a private, personal experience. You build worlds and stories internally, deep within your mind. No-one is ever going to know what you’re thinking unless you tell them. Writing isn’t like that. You do it with a potential audience in mind. And so when you create something intimate and personal – and, in this case, horrible – you can’t help but be a little anxious. I guess the way to get round this is to realign your mental compass to not see it as personal at all, but that’s not likely to happen unless you’re specialising in erotica. Or horror. Or financial reports.
As for this particular scene – well, I knew it was nasty. It was meant to be unpleasant. It’s a rape-and-murder scene so it can hardly be nice. But I am inexperienced; although I fully intend to go through the whole damn thing and make it better, I don’t know what ‘better’ means in this context. Too much, too little or just right? So I took the scene to the lovely folks at Abingdon Writers for their judgement.
I can’t help but feel their opinions of me may have changed. Just a little.
Get any group of writers together – collective noun: a scribble? A grammar? An argument? – and you’ll find as many opinions as there are people. I’m still unsure whether I’ve gone too far or not far enough. But the strongest point made was that my use of language was wrong. I was using terms that a man would use, but not a woman. This scene was from the woman’s POV and so my use of some particular dirty words wasn’t seen as appropriate.
I’m not sure about this. Not being a woman myself (chance would be a fine thing) obviously I can’t really be sure. But my approach to writing as women is to treat them, first-and-foremost, as human beings. Is there really a difference in the way men and women think? I don’t know. What I’m really looking for is a book, by a woman, on writing erotica. My local library is strangely lacking such a work.
And these things matter. I care about being honest. I want to write things that are true. Just as important (to me) is to not be lumped in with the John C. Wright’s and Theodore Beale’s of the world. I don’t want to be thought of as a misogynistic hate-monger. If I can’t get this scene to work then I’ll cut it out.
But I want to keep the damn thing. The novel needs it or something like it. More importantly, to me, right now, in the position I’m in, I want to prove to myself that I can do it. It’s another skill to work on, develop and (hopefully) master.
So if anyone knows of any helpful books or articles I’d be very grateful if you’d let me know.