Val Kovalin of Obsidian Bookshelf has, at my invitation, sent in this intriguing post on something I’m sure we have all wondered about in the context of M/M stories. She would love your comments and observations on her post.
Val has been reviewing for about three years. She reads across most fiction and nonfiction genres, but likes m/m fiction best. Visit her Obsidian Bookshelf blog (see link below) for reviews and non-stop advice on reading and writing topics in the m/m genre –
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First, I’ve got to say that I totally admire the courage it takes for anyone to attempt to write erotica. There are only so many ways to describe the sex act, which means that a writer probably can’t help stumbling into clichés. Also, everybody’s sexual predilections are so unique and subjective that there is no telling how each reader will react to certain descriptions.
The readers might burst out laughing. They might put the book down in disgust. Worst of all, they conclude that the writer has never had sex in his or her life. We women who write m/m definitely face the possibility that we might sound like we don’t know what we’re talking about because it’s not like we’ve experienced gay male sex firsthand.
As an m/m fiction writer (not yet published, but working on it), I have total sympathy for how difficult it is to write sex scenes. I tend to write mine last of all when the entire story is finished because otherwise I’ll just sit there in a totally intimidated mindset and not be able to advance the plot at all. It definitely helps me to skip over writing them in the rough draft.
As a reader, I’ll admit that I’ll snicker if a sex scene gets too far-fetched. But then I always remember how hard it is to write about the body parts involved in sex and what happens to them. I mean, we only get three possible approaches.
First, we can use the scientific terms such as penis or erection, anus, and ejaculating. Positives? Well, as words go, they’re accurate and unambiguous. No unintentional connotations there! Negatives? Some find these words so cold and clinical that they kill the mood in a sex scene.
Second, we can use the slang terms like prick, asshole, and coming. Positives? These terms can sound edgy, gritty, and exciting. Negatives? They can be too culture-specific. Also, they can sound too negative in that many slang terms double as insults.
Third, we can use metaphors like rod or shaft, entrance, and erupting. Positives? Metaphors let you build in connotations. If you write that someone is ejaculating, it doesn’t really give you much range of meaning beyond the verb itself. But if someone is erupting, the exaggeration conveys a lot of intensity. Obviously, this is a better-than-usual orgasm!
Negatives? The unintentional humor attached to some built-in connotations. I mean, you can never predict individual reactions to something you’ve written. The weirdest metaphor I’ve ever read for an erection? Rebar – as in those steel rods used to reinforce concrete. It immediately sent me off on a distracting tangent, wondering if the guy whose viewpoint we were in worked in construction and was so into his job that he tended to think only in builder’s terms!
The weirdest metaphor I’ve ever read for ejaculating? “And then he exploded.” This doesn’t sound all that weird, but every time I run across it, which is often, I always picture someone just vaporizing down to his sub-atomic particles. Talk about distracting!
Here is where I’d love to hear your opinion, whether you’re a reader or a writer. What types of words do you prefer when reading or writing sex scenes? Are there words that really kill the mood for you? Have you run across any really off-the-wall metaphors for the sex act lately? Anybody else out there find sex scenes difficult to write?
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Great post on a very interesting subject, Val! A couple of years ago, I wrote a few short slash pieces, and the hardest part for me was writing the sex scenes. Like you, I’d skip them entirely (leaving an *insert sex here* tag) then go back and add them at the end. I found there were only so many ways that I could describe a penis or ejaculating without either repeating myself or sounding ridiculous. Since then, I’ve had much respect for authors that can write good sex scenes.
As far as terms I prefer to read, scientific terms are a bit jarring to me when I come across them, mostly because I don’t think people use them that much in real life (during sex, I mean). The slang terms don’t bother me, and in fact sound more natural. As for the metaphors, some authors do them well, but other times, they come off too flowery or weird which kinda destroys the scene. I’m still LOL’ing at your rebar example. And now I won’t be able to read “and then he exploded” without picturing the guy vaporizing.
Thank you, Nichem. What you said describes it well. There is only a small pool of terms for the sex act and everybody’s already covered that descriptive territory numerous times. So we’re all facing probable cliches even before we start writing! Talk about difficult!
Glad you enjoyed the rebar example, ha, ha!
I like a combination of two and three. Some raunchy with some ephamisms. I did read something (and I’m paraphrasing) to the effect of “Are you going to stick that in my anus?” Huh? Who the hell says that? Vagueness works for me. “He sank into him.” You don’t have to tell me what was sinking where. I KNOW, I have a good imagination and I’ve seen porn.
I find number one a bit distancing. Doctors inspect your penis for disease. A lover looks at your cock in lust. So I’d rather it lean to the crude and rude side than give them impression of stand-offish observation. I don’t mind exploding although now you’ve probably ruined it for me by putting that image in my head. 😉
I feel for writers who have to come up with words and phrases over and over in books and not make them all sound the same, not too clinical, not too disgusting, not too flowery. Ack. Too many “not too”s to keep track of. I’ve tried a couple of times and embarrass myself writing it. I can read it fine, writing is a whole ‘nother kettle of fish, or penises or somethin’.
In Chris Owens Playing the Market the stockbroker (dating the construction worker) admits to having a dream about rebar. LOL They don’t actually refer to the guy’s penis as rebar though.
Hi, Tam! Good point: “I find number one a bit distancing. Doctors inspect your penis for disease. A lover looks at your cock in lust.”
That must be why the slang terms are more popular because when we’re overcome by emotion and excitement (as one would hope we would be during sex, ha, ha!) we’re going to fall back on street terms and not get all clinical with the textbook terms.
I think a lot of “literary” fiction uses the clinical terms because they want that distance. Hence the Bad Sex Scene Awards that the Guardian.uk does every year. Seriously! Norman Mailer’s final book won last year, and from what I saw of the excerpt, it deserved to win!
It was initially an unconscious lesson, but I’m pretty sure I learned to write my sex scenes from Judith Ivory. She’s a mainstream romance author who hasn’t had a new book out in a long time, but the ones that are out there are all gold. She had a sensuality that I’ve never seen replicated anywhere else in the same way: authentic, edgy, and unique to each character.
For me, this is the place to start. I let the body parts be named as the voice would determine them, both of the character whose head I’m in and the scene in general. If it’s a dirty scene, dirty words are best. If it’s a sweet scene, sweet words are best. If it’s not so much about the sex as it is about the discovery of the act, or something difficult to name–essentially, if the sex is backseat even while going on–I’m more likely to use “penis” and “anus.”
You can’t control what words will throw a reader out, so the only control left is to make sure you use the ones you choose to their best advantage.
Heidi, isn’t that the truth where you say: “You can’t control what words will throw a reader out, so the only control left is to make sure you use the ones you choose to their best advantage.”
For example, I can tell that “And then he exploded,” was fine for everybody until I introduced the image of vaporizing, ha, ha!
This is excellent advice you’ve given us about letting the character viewpoint/voice determine the words: “I let the body parts be named as the voice would determine them, both of the character whose head I’m in and the scene in general. If it’s a dirty scene, dirty words are best. If it’s a sweet scene, sweet words are best. ” Thank you!
Very good post and an interesting subject. It is very hard for female writers to write m/m, but then it can be equally has hard to write erotica in general, because sometimes we tend to write our fantasies and not realities, but then that is what stories are for 😉
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Perferred words? Well that mostly depends on the story. In a way it is subject. It would be very akward if the story is (for example) about this rough/tough character or characters and the story would be clinically written, like there is no emotion. or the exact opposite. (though it is possible).
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What I’m trying to explain is that the words used by an author is subject to the characters and their behaviour. I don’t mind any of the words used. Sometimes it can even be farfetched if the story calls for it, for example.
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Hehehe I know what you mean about exploding. While it can be entirely likely that is how a character feels, the reader can see it in a different context. For a while I had the same with Christine Feehan’s description of orgasm. Every.single.character? Went.up.in.flames.
After a while that gets really really old!
Hi, Larissa, and thank you! This is also good point: “What I’m trying to explain is that the words used by an author is subject to the characters and their behaviour. I don’t mind any of the words used. Sometimes it can even be farfetched if the story calls for it, for example.”
Between you, me, Nichem, Tam, and Heidi — and K.Z. whose comment just showed up now! — I think we’re figuring out a solution to the incredible difficulty in writing a good sex scene, and that’s maintaining a very close (rather than distant) character viewpoint and keeping all his perceptions consistent with his personality. Well, how cool is that to learn something new on a Friday? 🙂
Okay, I think Larissa’s use of * to make paragraphs is brilliant. I’m stealing it because the no paragraph break makes me crazy. Imitation is the sincerest form of flattery right?
Hahaha I see I started something! Cool. I wasn’t sure if html codes would take.
Val: Yay you made sense of my post. I wasn’t sure when I read it back afterwards. Drinking mead and watching Terminator at the same time… not always a good basis 😉
This looks great, Wave! Even better than expected. Many thanks!
Val
I’m happy that it worked out for you. Now you have to respond to everyone .:)
Absolutely! If only I could figure out that little asterisk (*) thingie that everyone is doing … 🙂
Rebar kid here!
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What Heidi said. The nature of the descriptions absolutely depends on the characters’ voices and personalities, the overall tone of the book, and the tenor of the particular sex scene. Subgenre matters, too (i.e., you can often push the envelope farther in fantasy and paranormal fic).
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Unless an author writes something REALLY bizarre, like “Gilbert’s alligator wriggled its way into Henry’s swamp,” or uses the vowel scream that’s so prevalent on Literotica (“Oooo…eeeeee….aaaaahhhhh…I’m…cuuuuuuuming!”) I’ll buy it.
Hi, K.Z., excellent point about the speculative fiction: “Subgenre matters, too (i.e., you can often push the envelope farther in fantasy and paranormal fic.” Totally! SFF authors were getting away with same-sex pairings way before the rest of us came on the scene.
And Gilbert’s alligator into Henry’s swamp — OMG, that’s fabulous! Norman Mailer might have won the Bad Sex Scene Award last year, but I doubt he ever could have outdone that!
The only thing that really gets on my nerves with regard to sex scenes is when a supposedly sexually innocent or inexperienced character uses graphically explicit language.
I think often authors get graphically explicit in their language to amp up the sexual heat, but it seems out of place many times and it throws me out of the scene.
I don’t mind clinical terms or flowery euphemisms, but they do need to fit the characters’ personalities and ambience of the scene.
Good comment, MB (Leah). This is really perceptive: “I think often authors get graphically explicit in their language to amp up the sexual heat, but it seems out of place many times ”
It’s sort of an amateurish author intrusion, it sounds like. Again, it sounds like staying consistent with the character’s viewpoint is the way to go.
Ah yes…
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Add in an editorial policy on which words can be used and which words MUST be used (yes, you must work in two pussies and a cunt, even if there are no female characters… I exaggerate only slightly). Then your life gets really complicated.
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I disagree that women have no experience when it comes to writing m/m sex acts. The only thing we’re missing is a prostate on the receptive side. We can give blow-jobs and have anal sex enough to get a feel for the mechanics and sensations. And just how much lube is REALLY needed. Spit can be enough. Half a tube can be too little. Many of us also make love to men and can remember how they act, like the guy who shuddered when I breathed on his nipples or the one who liked having his ears licked.
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Words… Always a tough one. I consider “cock” a neutral and default term, although some people find it dirty. Metaphors can range from barely noticeable (shaft) to really gross (bloated mushroom) to just silly (baby custard injector). I like to let my characters determine the choice of words. A more sophisticated character might say organ or shaft. An ordinary joe will call it cock. Someone a little farther down the scale might use dick.
Angelia, wonderful comments here! I’m so glad you didn’t hold anything back, ha, ha! So much food for thought here.
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This: “yes, you must work in two pussies and a cunt, even if there are no female characters… I exaggerate only slightly). ” That’s too funny! I know there’s some exaggeration here, but even so the idea of sort of a quota of words and sex scenes is a mind-boggling thought.
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Though on the other hand I guess we’ve all heard about the supposedly mandatory romance novel requirements such as the characters absolutely must have their first kiss by page 19 or whatever, so maybe sex scenes ARE sometimes micro-managed to that level.
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This is also interesting: “The only thing we’re missing is a prostate on the receptive side. We can give blow-jobs and have anal sex enough to get a feel for the mechanics and sensations.” I see what you’re saying, and that’s kind of cool realizing that maybe we know more than we think we know. But we definitely missing a penis as well as a prostate so we’ve got to guess about that, ha, ha!
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Words … bloated mushroom? Baby custard injector? Ick, ick, ick! I may never see food in the same light again!
Angelia
According to my gay male friends, blow jobs by women and blow jobs by men are totally different, with the edge going to the guy. Apparently guys can control their tonsils a lot better and therefore do not gag.:)
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To swallow or not? Apparently the edge goes to the guys again.
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Lots of guys like a bit of rough play during sex and they have a difficult time doing so with female partners out of concern about unintentional injuries, since women are not as strong as men.
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Also, according to my friends while female authors can write great sex scenes between gay men, they sometimes come across as a bit unrealistic in terms of gay sex because women tend to add the female perspective. William Maltese said basically the same thing in his interview this week. IDK, never having been a gay man, if this is true or not. Gay men claim they can always tell if the sex scenes are written by men or women and mostly I tend to agree. For example, one of my favourite male M/M authors is Bobby Michaels and I can’t say that I have read any books by female authors where the intensity of the sex scenes matches Bobby’s.
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“baby custard injector???” :DDD
“… blow jobs by women and blow jobs by men are totally different, with the edge going to the guy. Apparently guys can control their tonsils a lot better and therefore do not gag. :)”
I did not know this! This has been such an enlightening Friday! Thank you so much, Wave, for giving me the opportunity to do this guest post! 🙂
OMG. I ALWAYS flake out on the damn sex scenes. I have no idea why, they’re just always hard to write <_< I don't really sweat the terminology, though. The characters lead me, usually in the direction of the COCK, LOL. It's a good word, I like it 😀
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I'm with Angelia here. A person's writing ability, not their sex, determines whether or not they are able to write a believable sex scene. At least as important as that to the believability of any sex scene (hell, any book in general) is what the reader him- or herself brings to the experience. In reader reviews on the same exact book, I've had one male reader say I clearly knew nothing about sex with men and another think I WAS a man. Individual perspective makes a huge difference.
Thank you, Ally, for the comment! It’s an eye-opener to hear that you and the other established authors who have commented on this post also find the sex scenes hard to write. That’s interesting, and not what I’d expected.
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I think I’d have to agree with you on “cock”. It’s probably the term I would gravitate towards, too. “Dick” and “prick” just sound too insulting!
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This, though: “I’m with Angelia here. A person’s writing ability, not their sex, determines whether or not they are able to write a believable sex scene.”
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Totally! We’re all on the same side on that one. I’ve definitely got to try to head off any misconception that readers of this post might be picking up. I don’t want to imply that women are less qualified or entitled to write about gay sex because we don’t have a prostate or penis.
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That whole write-what-you-know thing can turn into a big flap that I’ve seen happen before online, and it’s already been argued out. Anybody can and should write about whatever his or her imagination wants to bring up. It’s just that we women don’t have the luxury of first-hand experience with a penis or prostate and we’ll have to rely on our imagination and writing ability to fill in the gaps in experience.
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And given a choice, I think I’d rather experience having a penis than a prostate, ha, ha! Maybe that’s my “inner top” coming out. 🙂
Heh. If I could have a cock and a prostate for a week, I’d totally do it *g* No keeps, though. I am perfectly happy being a girl! LOL
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You know it’s funny, a lot of writers I know have a difficult time with sex scenes. My critique partners and I talk about this, because we all have the same problem. We’ll suddenly have to go do laundry, or clean the kitchen, or get on the treadmill or something. We avoid those scenes! We’ve tried to analyze why that is, but can’t come up with anything concrete. Weird…
Wouldn’t that be fun to be a guy for a week!
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And the procrastination, wow, it’s not just me …
Great post, Val 🙂
I prefer cock, ass and come over the more clinical terms of penis, anus and ejaculating. I’m ok with metaphors as long as they don’t get too flowery and overboard.
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The one word sure to throw me out of a scene is rectum. Don’t know why but it does it every single time.
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And thanks to Larissa for the *. It works great.
Hi, Lily! I agree. Rectum is an icky sounding word. Sphincter is kind of a weird word, too! No question — the wrong word can just pour ice water over a sex scene!
Risque post, Val. 😉
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Like others, I also don’t mind when slang terms are used during sex scenes.
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With regard to clinical terms, it depends on the context; for eg, I’ve read some stories in which this terminology has been part of the ‘kink’ between the couple and it’s worked really well. When it’s out of context and you feel like the author is scrabbling a bit in order to use different terms for the bits and bobs and rosebuds, it can be quite jarring.
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As you and I have already discussed one of my fave descriptions – the eruption! – and its possible use in spec fic where red lava/cum could be appropriate, I’ll just leave it at that. 😉
Hi, Kris! Yes, very risque post! At least in terms of my own blog — it’s been fun to be able to be (fairly) uninhibited over here.
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Good point: “With regard to clinical terms, it depends on the context; for eg, I’ve read some stories in which this terminology has been part of the ‘kink’ between the couple and it’s worked really well. When it’s out of context and you feel like the author is scrabbling a bit in order to use different terms for the bits and bobs and rosebuds, it can be quite jarring.”
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You know I think it was our discussion about the erupting and lava that inspired this Orgasmic Description post!
“… blow jobs by women and blow jobs by men are totally different, with the edge going to the guy. Apparently guys can control their tonsils a lot better and therefore do not gag.”
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Baloney.
KZ
I bow to your superior experience.:DDD
Writing sex scenes for me is always organic, whether it’s m/m, m/f, or menage, the sex scene is always an extension of the characters themselves. Very often the mechanics are understood–so it’s the sensations or the expressions or even the pillowtalk that needs to be emphasized. We want to see PEOPLE making love, right, not body parts?
This approach–whether it’s m/m, m/f, or menage– does have one drawback, but it’s an important one, and it usually cues me in to the fact that I’m doing it right. When the sex is IMPORTANT, and my characters are everything they should be… that’s the time I can only write the barest, “fade to black” scenes. I’ve had that happen a couple of times. The moment was too real for the ‘sex scene’, and the ‘love scene’ had to take precedence. I’m really proud of those moments in prose–I think they’re some of my best writing.
Hello, Amy, I think you’ve pointed out a really important insight here: “Very often the mechanics are understood–so it’s the sensations or the expressions or even the pillowtalk that needs to be emphasized. We want to see PEOPLE making love, right, not body parts?”
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That’s got to be the way for us not to mismanage a sex scene. If we can keep the focus on the emotion, then the scene itself will have an authenticity. For example, I’m not a big fan of BDSM-themed fiction, but for those type of stories that I’ve run across where there is real emotion between the characters, then I’ll read it and be entirely caught up in because it feels real to me and the ritualistic BDSM stuff fits in tolerably well. But when there is no emotion and it’s all mechanical (or in the case of emotionless BDSM, too ritualistic) then it gets boring.
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I’m very intrigued by your “fade to black” comment. I’ll have to think further about that!
Val, thanks for a fascinating post! Sadly, I’m never going to be able to have a character explode again. How about implode? Is that any better? 😉
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BTW, this asterisk stuff is pure genius! Thanks, Larissa. *g*
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I’m fine with calling a cock a cock, or a dick or a shaft. Draw the line at “throbbing love lance” though. My problem has always been with the girly bits. I dislike all the available words so much that I’ve gradually stopped using them. If they’re not twee or clinical, then they’re just prurient or plain crude. Not to mention actively used as deadly insults. I HATE that. A part of me a term of abuse? Huh!
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As the others have said, it’s erotic because of what the lovers are thinking and feeling, not because of the particular type of docking procedure under way. If the mantra is that every scene should advance character development, then it has to be, hasn’t it? There’s no way on earth I could leave a sex scene and go back to it later, because I’m a pantser and I get to know the characters as I write and they reveal themselves through the act of sex.
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I do have one friend who doesn’t care for anything explicit, but still reads my books. She usually skips sex scenes but she gets cranky with me because if she does that in my work, she loses out on the character development. I was a very, very happy camper when I heard that, believe me!
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I admit though, that I always find it difficult to describe the actual moment of orgasm without repeating myself from book to book or borrowing one of those starburst cliches. After all, the only head I’ve been inside at that moment is mine, so the range is a trifle, um, limited. And no more explosions either. Oh my.
Denise, you’re very welcome. I’m glad you enjoyed the post! I don’t know about “imploding”, though. Makes me think of deep-sea diving or maybe getting tossed out the airlock in a science-fiction piece. 🙂
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“As the others have said, it’s erotic because of what the lovers are thinking and feeling, not because of the particular type of docking procedure under way.” This is great! Especially the docking procedure!
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And this is an outstanding insight: “There’s no way on earth I could leave a sex scene and go back to it later, because I’m a pantser and I get to know the characters as I write and they reveal themselves through the act of sex.” I was sort of coming to that conclusion in my unconscious mind and couldn’t quite make a conscious connection until you clarified it.
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The sex scene, like you’re saying, should have some other reason for being there. Something that reveals a character’s attitude towards himself, the other guy, or towards sex in general. Or it could reveal how his relationship with his love interest is changing. All that is very fascinating and gives the simple description of sex a lot of emotional depth.
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This is probably the main reason why the “Celebratory Sex Scene” doesn’t work when authors will put in a sex scene between their characters at the very end of the story when all the conflict has been resolved.
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I’ll admit that I probably always will have to skip over writing the actual sex scene in the rough draft, but I’ll probably include a note along the lines of “[insert sex scene here – power struggle between the couple, Dude X feels one way about this, and Dude Y feels the other]”!
Late to the party, but what a great post and some interesting comments.
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I’m with most of the others in that I don’t like the clinical terms. Hate ‘anus’, and ‘penis’ makes me giggle. I much prefer the dirty slang words but don’t mind a bit of metaphor/simile. Sometimes that can make me giggle too which pulls me out of the sex scenes. I once read a book where there was a lot of fruit metaphor going on and that just had me laughing rather than getting caught up in the scene.
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I don’t really see anything wrong with authors all using the same works such as ‘cock’ (actually that’s my favourite word for a penis). It works so why change it just ‘cos you’re trying to be original. One word that I rarely see is the Briticism ‘dick’. We use it all the time over here – possibly more than ‘cock’ but it’s never used in m/m, not even in books with British characters.
Jen
I did read a book once where the author claimed that the come tasted like raspberries. I giggled so hard I never could finish it.:)
Raspberries? Whoa! Ick!
Hi, Jenre! Is “dick” really a Britishism? I did not know that! I hear it all the time out here as in, “Stop dicking around,” and “don’t be such a dick!” and I’d assumed it was an Americanism. Shows how little I know! I’d probably never use it (or “prick”) in a sex scene when a word like “cock” is available, but only because it sounds sort of insulting.
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I can only guess how giggle-inducing all those fruit metaphors must have been! Bananas, for sure, right? But what else? Papayas and guavas? The mind boggles!
Jenre: “I don’t really see anything wrong with authors all using the same works such as ‘cock’ (actually that’s my favourite word for a penis). It works so why change it just ‘cos you’re trying to be original. ”
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Good point. We don’t see authors trying to come up with different words for limbs just because everyone else calls them arms and legs and that’s sooooo boring. Why should sex organs be different?
Very good point. “Cock” is totally fine by me. 🙂
Jenre,
some of our publishers won’t let us use “dick” or “prick.” (I got a special dispensation on the latter because of writing medieval) This is the one that keeps urging me to “be more frank” on my language.
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Penis works in certain circumstances, but almost never in a sex scene proper. I know that sounds odd, but I do have nude scenes that aren’t sex scenes.
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Wave: what of those of us who don’t have tonsils?
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Denise,
That’s one of the reasons I have problems writing het or f/f. There are no good words for the ladies. Although I found one story conducive to “cunny” of all things and “quim” worked well in another. A big problem is when the character herself thinks of her privates as a red velvet settee.
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And I just laugh when people use pussy as a synonym for weak. I tell them mine delivered four kids without anesthesia and they might want to rethink that usage, unless they are prepared to pass about four bowling balls at 10lbs EACH through THEIR genitalia.
Angelia, I just laughed out loud, just about choked myself on tea.
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And I just laugh when people use pussy as a synonym for weak. I tell them mine delivered four kids without anesthesia and they might want to rethink that usage, unless they are prepared to pass about four bowling balls at 10lbs EACH through THEIR genitalia.
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I am woman, hear me ROARRR! You tell ’em, girl. I am so going to remember that! Can’t beat four bowling bowls, but no drugs here either. (Not bravery, just no time!)
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A red velvet settee? No kidding? *shakes head in wonderment* Cunny and quim I don’t mind, but they’re more suited to historicals. I just get around it by “situational” writing and hope to hell it works And don’t get me started on “nubs”. Aaaargh! Hate ’em!
“And I just laugh when people use pussy as a synonym for weak. I tell them mine delivered four kids without anesthesia and they might want to rethink that usage, unless they are prepared to pass about four bowling balls at 10lbs EACH through THEIR genitalia.”
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Angelia, wow! Just — wow! That’s awesome!
Darn it, I’m always late to the party!
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I agree that writing sex scenes is tricky. I usually spend an entire day on them, and mine are relatively short. MY SEX SCENES.
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I think the challenge is in keeping each one relatively fresh and unique — and true to the characters. Like if the character would think in clinical terms because he’s trying to distance himself, then I’ll throw in some clinical terms, or if he’s a detached personality or if he’s in shock or…you get it.
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It’s romance, so it should be better than real life. Some artistic liberty is not only allowed, it’s preferred.
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I do try to make each scene different, but early on it occurred to me that certain words and phrases are satisying to the reader, so whether it’s repetitive or not, they ought to be in there. For the same reason that when you have sex there are certain things you do every time…that it wouldn’t be the same without them.
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I think trying to be too original leads to some purple-helmed-love-warrior mistakes of mythic proportion. I try to keep it simple, grounded in physical sensation and emotion, and a little bit lyrical without anyone bursting into a sonnet.
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#1 piece of advice I can give: keep “the voice” of each scene true to the characters. If your character would say “dick” (and I know an awful lot of men and women who use the term), then use it. If your character would say purple-headed-people-eater…er, well, I assume he — and you — have a great sense of humor.*g*
Hello, Josh, you’re not late to the party at all! I’d assumed late yesterday that I’d got all the comments I was going to get on this post, so I was thrilled to glance in today and see that it had gone from 13 to 34.
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What good insights you’ve given us here. This thing about ” … the character would think in clinical terms because he’s trying to distance himself, then I’ll throw in some clinical terms, or if he’s a detached personality or if he’s in shock or…you get it.” I had never considered before that a writer could work with that distancing effect to convey to the readers that something odd is going on with the character. That is very subtle and interesting! It gives us a whole other level to play with as writers.
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This is also an excellent point: ” It’s romance, so it should be better than real life. Some artistic liberty is not only allowed, it’s preferred.” That is something I need to keep in mind though I’m going to have a tendency to forget, having (mis)spent my younger years reading science-fiction, which isn’t known for the quality of its love scenes at all!
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And yet, there is a balance like you say between making it a little better than real life and going over the top with ecstatic description: ” I think trying to be too original leads to some purple-helmed-love-warrior mistakes of mythic proportion. I try to keep it simple, grounded in physical sensation and emotion, and a little bit lyrical without anyone bursting into a sonnet.” This is great advice to remember. I’ve read some sex scenes went too far and read like a religious experience – attaining mystical enlightenment and all that. The grounding in simple physical sensation and relatable emotion would save us from that tendency.
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” If your character would say purple-headed-people-eater…er, well, I assume he — and you — have a great sense of humor.*g* Ha, ha! That or K.Z.’s alligator wriggling into the swamp as stated above!
This has been quite a fun post! I’m late to the party, too- hope there are still some munchies left…
I have to say, Wave, I learn some amazing things on this blog. It’s good to know that going up in flames, and swallowing the purple-headed whatever, and Exploding are all to be avoided. I agree that sticking to the basics is the most agreeable way to go, if you don’t want to boot your readers right out of the scene.
Jenre: I know that I’ve seen lots of “dicks” in my reading. I mean…um…I’ve seen the WORD.
Josh: Glad to know only your sex SCENES are short. Thanks for the info.
Val: Thanks for writing such an inviting post!
Hi, Wren, you’re very welcome. This HAS been a fun post! It’s been like a mini-workshop in writing sex scenes, and I know I’ve learned a lot. I’m going to have to copy the comments into my “writing – instruction” folder on my computer!
I’m definitely still learning when it comes to the sex scenes. I’ve started actually writing them the last couple of years instead of just closing the door, but they’re still the bits that get the most editing afterwards!
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For words to use, well like so much in fiction it’s all down to character. If I’m doing a scene in the 3rd person limited of a character whose had a fairly sheltered life, he’s probably not going to be using or thinking the vocabulary of a porn star.
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So it’s POV, but also period specific and culture specific too. Some words sound wrong in one time period and fine in another and vice-versa. On the other hand, using authentic historical words can have an issue in that they don’t resonate with a modern reader, or they may even sound silly. Have you seen the show Deadwood? It’s set in the 19th Century, but all the profanity – and there’s A LOT of profanity – is modern usage. They tried it with authentic period dialogue at first, but apparently it sounded silly and worse, it didn’t feel like swearing to those hearing it. It couldn’t produce an emotional response the way the modern words could. You get the same with made-up swear words in sci-fi, they don’t have the same emotional power as words we’ve grown up to understand as rude or obscene.
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So I guess I’m saying, there is a case for not being too much of a stickler for authentic historical use and use some modern words if they fit without being jarring.
Junkfoodmonkey, I know just what you mean about self-editing those sex scenes more than any other part of the story afterwards. I always feel like those scenes are where my limited talent stretches thinnest, ha, ha!
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I did not know that about Deadwood, and the switching of the period slang with the modern slang. How interesting! I think that really is a problem that t.v. shows face, including shows like Battlestar Galactica where everyone is saying “Frak,” all the time or Farscape where they’re saying, “Frell,” (even sillier, in my opinion). Profanity equivalents in SF can sometimes be more distracting than anything else.
Jenre wrote: ” One word that I rarely see is the Briticism ‘dick’. We use it all the time over here – possibly more than ‘cock’ but it’s never used in m/m, not even in books with British characters.”
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I have to disagree, and agree with Wren: “I know that I’ve seen lots of “dicks” in my reading. I mean…um…I’ve seen the WORD.”
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Personally I am dubious about clinically terms, happy with “cock” and “dick” (which are practically neutral germs, IMO), not quite so happy with “prick”, for unknown reasons, seeing that I am German.
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HATE “cumming” in that particular spelling, hate it with a vengeance.
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Metaphors: very much hit and miss.
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However, coming back to that seemingly elusive “dick”: I came across it just now, quite a number of times, in Tere Michaels’ “Faith and Fidelity”. I certainly see often enough not to be thrown by it.
Hello, Liade, and thank you for your comment! You say here, “Personally I am dubious about clinically terms, happy with “cock” and “dick” (which are practically neutral germs, IMO), not quite so happy with “prick”, for unknown reasons, seeing that I am German.” This is good feedback! I am so glad this post is attracting comments from m/m readers of many different nationalities.
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I see what you mean about “cumming.” I’d never actually seen the word before I saw these comments, but it just looks weird in print. I’ve just recently run across “quim” a couple of times (both in historicals) and it looks really strange as well! Hard to get used to.
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Dicks, though? I’ve seen a lot of that word as well. I’ve recently increased my m/m reading like threefold, and I think the top terms I run across for the male, um, part in order of frequency of use might be (1) cock, (2) dick, (3) prick, (4) shaft, and (5) penis.
To tell the truth, I’ve found that most graphic *written* depictions of sex make me laugh. It’s not a subject that lends itself to writing, which is why the best (and least idiotic) porn films are the ones with the least dialogue.
I think the most significant aspects of sex take place in the mind of the person(s) experiencing it, so describing the act itself seems almost irrelevant, unless what you’re writing is a medical textbook. Viewed objectively as a physical act, it actually is a bit silly, so its description is bound to be funny. The subjective experience, on the other hand, is so completely non-verbal, writing *that* aspect well has to be a challenge.
Of course, in a genre which has to work with sex act quotas (which seem to me like a guarantee your publications will often be ridiculous), these are hardly useful comments. Just my observations as a reader.
You’ve definitely got a point, Batboy126, when you say, “To tell the truth, I’ve found that most graphic *written* depictions of sex make me laugh. It’s not a subject that lends itself to writing.” But if we don’t try to write the sex scene anyway, then we miss out on the opportunity that Josh and others were describing to reveal interesting psychological / emotional stuff about our characters.
Of course a really good writer can create a red hot sex scene without using a single word that you couldn’t say in front of a maiden aunt (then again, a maiden aunt might be a secret m/m fan too, so we could be unduly cautious. :D)
I remember reading in a “guidelines for submission” page on a website for a publisher seeking nonexplicit romance: Don’t send us anything that you couldn’t stand up in church and read aloud without embarrassment. *snort* Can you imagine standing up and reading ANYTHING aloud in church without embarrassment?
Yes, embarassment depends more on the person than the material and context! Some people couldn’t read aloud the characters catching a bus, others would happily read out a description of an orgy to an audience of nuns.
“others would happily read out a description of an orgy to an audience of nuns.”
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Ha, ha, very true! And they would SPECIFY that they wanted an audience of nuns just so they could have the thrill of trying to shock them. 🙂
This has been quite a fun post! I’m late to the party, too- hope there are still some munchies left…
I have to say, Wave, I learn some amazing things on this blog. It’s good to know that going up in flames, and swallowing the purple-headed whatever, and Exploding are all to be avoided. I agree that sticking to the basics is the most agreeable way to go, if you don’t want to boot your readers right out of the scene.
Jenre: I know that I’ve seen lots of “dicks” in my reading. I mean…um…I’ve seen the WORD.
Josh: Glad to know only your sex SCENES are short *snort*
Val: Thanks for writing such an inviting post!
You’re very welcome, Wren. I know what you mean about running across a word that just destroys the escapism and tosses you out of the scene. I actually hadn’t run across much bursting into flames now that I think about it, but if I had, I would totally be cracking up laughing and probably having to put the book down.
“Hello, Liade, and thank you for your comment! You say here, “Personally I am dubious about clinically terms, happy with “cock” and “dick” (which are practically neutral germs, IMO), not quite so happy with “prick”, for unknown reasons, seeing that I am German.” This is good feedback! I am so glad this post is attracting comments from m/m readers of many different nationalities.”
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I should add, of course, that I don’t think I could read a single piece of M/M fiction in German without cringing/blushing furiously *g*.
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Re. “cumming”: some time ago I read “First Your Fall” by Scott Sherman, but though it’s a Lambda Winner and fun to read, every time “cum” as a verb cropped up, it took me right out of the story.
Ah, I wish I were bilingual! I think it would open up a whole realm of perception where you could pick and choose the language that you wanted to perceive certain things in. I used to speak French well enough to dream in it, but it’s all gone now because I didn’t keep up with it. French was a fairly easy language to pick up, but I’m afraid that German would be way beyond my limited linguistic talent (especially at my age)!
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Things totally do come across differently in different languages. It’s no big deal to swear in English. I mean, we’ve only got a handful of swear-words. But in Spanish? Whoa! I’ve heard that cursing has a lot more impact in Spanish.
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I know what you mean about “cum”. It’s sort of an icky-looking word. Nothing wrong with “come”. We can figure out its meaning in context.
Re. “cumming”: some time ago I read “First Your Fall” by Scott Sherman, but though it’s a Lambda Winner and fun to read, every time “cum” as a verb cropped up, it took me right out of the story.
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As a reader I’ve no problem with the word “cum”. Have gotten used to “come”, since I guess that’s what editors want authors to use, still think its a little strange. (but maybe thats just me, since English is my second languages).
dick, penis, cock … all good in books and real life :-).
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Rectum I can do without, same with “wink” and anus in the same sentence. Too much description just makes me laugh.
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My biggest hangup as a reader right now is the whole cleanliness of the m/m couples. I get that you take care of the condom and wipe off what doesn’t get licked off (sorry, couldn’t resist). But seriously, what’s with the jumping out of bed and running to the bathroom 2 seconds after “cumming” :-).
MRB
“But seriously, what’s with the jumping out of bed and running to the bathroom 2 seconds after “cumming” ”
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I think that’s a “female” thing, like washing the dishes and making the bed in the stories.:) Like some male M/M authors say over and over again, female M/M authors tend to superimpose feminine qualities on “their” men so that he’s their ideal gay man. I guess the whole cleanliness thing is what they would like their man to do.*g* I wish I could find a guy who would have a warm washcloth ready.:)
[quote]>>“But seriously, what’s with the jumping out of bed and running to the bathroom 2 seconds after “cumming” ”<<
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I think that’s a “female” thing, like washing the dishes and making the bed in the stories.[/quote]
That's just sad. Imagine having to leap out of bed and start housekeeping, at a time when rest and reflection are most welcome.
LOL, me too Wave. No such luck and on top of it I get to sleep in the wet spot most nights. Really didn’t train him well at all…
MRB and Wave, I hadn’t even considered the cleanliness dimension. Whoa! That’s just too funny.
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“Like some male M/M authors say over and over again, female M/M authors tend to superimpose feminine qualities on “their” men so that he’s their ideal gay man. I guess the whole cleanliness thing is what they would like their man to do.”
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It’s true. I would have unconsciously and automatically written my male characters to rush off and clean up after doing the deed, and I never would have questioned that instinct, ha, ha! But do most men really have that big a concern about tidying up? Well, according to the cliche, they’re just going to roll over and go to sleep! 🙂
Val
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Here’s what William Maltese said in answer to my question about gay male characterizations in M/M books –
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“The transference of female emotions onto gay fictional characters may make gay men, in general, come across to women as better men than their straight male counterparts, if just because gay men, word-painted with the universal, albeit artificial guise, of being so often so truly kind, caring, loving, and considerate, have morphed into the female ideal of the perfect mate and lover. Is that a good or bad thing? I’m for anything that makes gayness more acceptable. If in the end, it’s a totally unrealistic way of seeing gay men, how many women are actually going to know they’re indulging in pure illusion?”
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I guess it’s a nice way of saying we’re delusional.:)
I guess so!
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To paraphrase Gandhi, maybe we’re trying to write the change we want to see, ha, ha!
It looks like I’m wrong about the use of ‘dick’ as a word instead of cock, etc. I don’t think I’ve seen it used very much at all – perhaps I’m just reading different books to everyone else. 🙂
I think I see more “cocks” than “dicks” in m/m fiction now that I think about it, but dick seems to be a close second!
BB
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“That’s just sad. Imagine having to leap out of bed and start housekeeping, at a time when rest and reflection are most welcome.”
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Rest and reflection? Phooey! Roll over and go to sleep more likely.
That, or have a cigarette. Or get something to eat!
I can say that I’ve been dinged by certain female reviewers (not here!) for my guys NOT jumping up and washing off, but sleeping with the spooge all over them. Which, personally speaking, I kind of like. I know, TMI, sorry. LOL. But yeah, I guess the ultra-cleanliness obsession is kind of a female thing more than a male thing. Though I know for a fact that there ARE women **points at self** who aren’t like that, and men who are (no, I’m not naming names, you wouldn’t know them anyway).
” can say that I’ve been dinged by certain female reviewers (not here!) for my guys NOT jumping up and washing off, but sleeping with the spooge all over them.”
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Whoa, you’ve had reviewers get that persnickety about the character details? Wow. I guess I shouldn’t be surprised. Unless there is something big and obvious going on with the pacing of the story or plot improbability, I don’t address it in a review. I definitely don’t review to that kind of level of micro-managing detail because I know that the author knows what she’s doing with her characters.
Ally
I would never make a negative comment about male characters not meeting mythical standards of cleanliness. God knows I’m not that clean.
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One of the reasons I love Jordan Castillo Price’s guys is that they are all slobs and their homes are like a pig sty.:)
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This washing off right after sex is definitely a female trait (some writers anyway). Glad you don’t follow that trend Ally.
*is really late to party…probably should have brought Alka-seltzer and a vacuum cleaner*
I’m glad you mentioned my pigmen, Wave. I was reading all the comments thinking, “Really? The guys jump up and wash off? Mine walk around the next day with random objects stuck to themselves because they rolled onto them covered in semen. And they had a REALLY good time doing it.”
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A publisher changed the spelling “come” to “cum” for me and I wrote back in my comments that I’d rather not use the word at all if that was how it would be spelled. I haven’t had the fortitude to check the final mss for the offending word.
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I sometimes use more juvenile words for cock when my characters are being deliberately childish. Wiener was a recent fave…I think that was in Swarm, which was just reviewed here 😀
“Mine walk around the next day with random objects stuck to themselves because they rolled onto them covered in semen. And they had a REALLY good time doing it.”
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Totally! Ha, ha!
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There are some hilariously juvenile sounding words for cock: wiener, weenie, willy, ding-dong, pee-pee! Too funny.
“One of the reasons I love Jordan Castillo Price’s guys is that they are all slobs and their homes are like a pig sty.:) ”
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Pigmen, ha, ha! Definitely with that grody van in Channeling Morpheus. 🙂
I just realized something. Most (not all) female M/M writers seem to have probelms writing sex scenes (even the ones who are really ballsy) and avoid them like the plague until they HAVE to write them. I wonder why? The male M/M writers don’t seem to have this problem, unless they’re not telling the truth when I ask this question.
I love my sex scenes…but I always stop in the middle and finish the next day. I figure my subconscious must need to churn on them.
And, Val…hot damn, what a cool topic! I loved reading both the post and all the comments!
“And, Val…hot damn, what a cool topic! I loved reading both the post and all the comments!”
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Thank you, Jordan! I’m pleased and astonished myself. I thought the post might get about five comments. Maybe it helped that I titled it “Orgasmic Description” 🙂
Somehow I get the feeling that the men writers are telling you truth. Which makes me really wonder about us women! I know for me I’m not real practiced at writing sex scenes, having come up through SFF fiction, and then also being painfully aware of the limited pool of expressions for the sex act and then having an inhibited feeling about getting cliched from the get-go. But otherwise I just have no explanation for us women in general. Very perplexing!
Jordan
No one will ever mistake your guys for the female ideal of a gay man; they remind me of guys I know and have known. Crash’s apartment is that of the quintessential man, although he takes it to extremes.:)
And that van from Channeling Morpheus. I regard that as the ultimate!
Val
You’re so right about the van – it should have been condemned. The blanket was just disgusting! *g* I’m reading my print copy of Scary Mary: Channeling Morpheus (couldn’t get enough of the books as ebooks so I decided I needed it in print also.):)
Oh, Christian, I LOVE that floating “Home” button in the lower-right corner. Very high-tech! 🙂
Val
This post has now raced past 4 others to half way up the ladder of “Popular Posts”. If you check you’ll see Orgasmic Description now has almost 500 “views”. Great job!
OMG! That’s just completely awesome!
I stopped reading romance/erotica for many, many years. I just came back to the genre 2+yrs ago. For the longest time, I was thrown out of a story when I read the word “coming”. My 1st thought was, “Where is he “going” during sex?” I have gotten used to it now, but previously I remember that “what a male ejaculates” did = cum. I remember a childish saying that was something like- When 2 people add their parts together their sum equal’s cum. *rolls eyes*
Interesting! I think I read somewhere about orgasms that we in the West will say, “I’m coming,” and in the Far East, they’ll say, “I’m going.” Different perspective on the same thing.
This would be why my sex scenes tend to not get into a lot of detail. I’m in awe of writers who can get detailed and hot and just keep going, but I’ve read enough smut where the descriptions were just… awful. I always got a little thrill out of books that gave us just enough information to hint at what was going on but not tell outright, because that meant I got to use my imagination. When I was reading “The Dreyfus Affair” (Lefcourt), for example, there’s a lot of hinting that goes on and obviously not a lot of exposition, as that book was never meant to be an erotica novel. One part I remember specifically was when the team’s manager says that Randy Dreyfus “has his head up his ass.” The narrative goes on to say to effect of, “While that was not strictly true in the way it was meant, it wasn’t that inaccurate with regards to Randy’s current activities.” (I don’t have the quote right or the book on hand.) The next chapter, we find out from Randy in his therapist’s office that at that moment, he and DJ had been fucking in DJ’s sexy Jaguar.
My brain sort of exploded into little tiny pieces. Forget that the sexual tension between Randy and DJ was awesome, just that HINT that they’d been up to something – was DJ fucking Randy? Vice versa? Was it rimming? – made me stop and fantasize for a full forty-five seconds about what had been going on. I loved it.
What’s funny to me is that I was all nervous about one of my recent novels having more explicit sex in it than I usually write, and every single review has mentioned, “There’s no graphic sex in this.” *headdesk* Oh well. I figured if I was naming body parts and there was visible semen, it was graphic, but different strokes. (And I admit, it wasn’t anywhere near as graphic as some of my heroes manage to write and still sound suave.)
Jules, you said:
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“What’s funny to me is that I was all nervous about one of my recent novels having more explicit sex in it than I usually write, and every single review has mentioned, “There’s no graphic sex in this.” *headdesk* ”
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It’s always fascinating to me how we can all perceive the same writing so differently! *headdesk*, indeed!
Jules
Funny you should mention The Dreyfus Affair. One of the things I loved about the book was that the sex was not graphic. Here’s what I said in the review about the sex
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“Randy and D.J. loved each other in really strange and wonderful ways. There is no explicit sex in the book and most of the sex was by innuendo, using techniques like closing the hotel door after the guys go into the room, and you have to use your imagination about what they’re doing. However, the book did not lose any of its romantic impact or luster by the lack of explicit sex – in some ways it was better.”
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Of course this book was written 16 years ago but I still found the techniques to be effective.
If you want to read the full review here is the link
http://www.gayromance.org/?p=756
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Sometimes less is more! Many times when I read a book with an overabundance of sex my conclusion is that the author ran out of story so the sex helped to fill the pages. There are very few female authors who can write a sex scene that will blow me away – Jordan Castillo Price, M.L. Rhodes, Jourdan Lane and just a few others. Most M/M writers should learn that we appreciate a taste but not a bucket full unless they can do it really well.
Less is more, ha, ha! My mantra. 🙂
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You said: “There are very few female authors who can write a sex scene that will blow me away.”
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I’d second that recommendation for Jordan Castillo Price, and also add L.B. Gregg’s novella “The Men of Smithfield – Gobsmacked” for hot, hot, hot sex scenes!