Let’s talk about sex (scenes)

Saw a post on Twitter where someone was asking how to write a sex scene a few months back. That got me thinking about my process when I write my erotica, and I made a post about this on my Facebook page, which I’ve edited to put up here on my blog, too. Okay, here goes:

Sex is part of the story when I write erotica. There must always be context to it — not just titillation to sell the rest of the story, and not just as the bait on a hook. Sex is part of human life — we think about it, we have it (in whatever way we do), or we miss having it (if we no longer do), or we don’t miss having it, or we anticipate having it if we haven’t yet (or are frightend of it for the same reason). Or maybe we are preachy about it. Or maybe we aren’t preachy about it and would rather not talk or write about it. But that’s just it: Even in the denial, sex occupies space in our minds. For sure we are made through it: It takes sexual intercourse to ensure that the male and female gametes meet and create a zygote and, if the egg fertilization process goes well and that zygote finds a hospitable nest in the womb, a brand-new human.

But sex is not simply about reproduction. It is also about giving and taking. It is about pleasure, power, and very intimate and honest communication. It is mental and physical in its manifestations. At its best, sex is about connecting with another person on a level that is deeper than talking.

When I write erotica, I look at the contexts in which we see sex, experience it, have it as part of our lives. If the sex scene is not germane to the story, it doesn’t get written or, if written, gets removed by editor’s scalpel (usually mine, but my best friend and main editor may beat me to that, too).

So my first consideration is whether the sex scene is necessary to the story at hand — because you can write erotic pieces WITHOUT adding insert Tab A into Slot B, or even have your characters be physically naked and vulnerable. Not all erotica depicts graphic and wanton sexual acts. Interactions in public between fully-clothed characters who are exercising social distancing can be very erotic, too, so if I write a sex scene, it should be an organic part of the story, not merely a come-on. Or at least that is what I strive for.

Now, if a sex scene will push the story forward, provide deeper insights into the characters involved in those scenes, contribute to the context of the whole story, and give the audience (and me) satisfaction, then, yes, I will pen that sex scene. And I will do that with as much crafting care as I use when applying my pen to the rest of the story. Sex is not a bad thing to me, and it will get the same amount of respect and attention to detail.

I make use of the obvious — attraction or repuslion between the characters, their desires, the allure of the unspoken being played out in the scene, as well as the physicality of sex and sexual acts — to tell the story and give it some depth. If the story contains sexual magic as a component, for instance, then every nuance in a sex scene has to contribute to that. If the story calls for sex, I am more than happy to deliver it as well as I can.

Sexual gratification, or orgasm, is also not the finale, or the climax (yes, pun totally intended), of a sex scene as far as I’ve written those. It is part of the story, but not the end. In fact, I prefer to use that “explosive” moment as a continuity device. This is where I get to render the characters at their most human, and unguarded. This is where you see who they are after being stripped naked and worked over — pretty much the same way humans are after they have sex: Vulnerable, gasping for breath after a combination of cardio and aerobic exercise (that’s what sex usually is, if done right), mind blown, emotions still scattered, intellect momentarily scrambled. The characters get taken out of their neatly-done boxes and unleashed, and I like doing that with sex, as well as with other plot devices, like them enjoying a delicious meal, or in the aftermath of a bout of close-quarters battle.

There is just something very satisfying about seeing a character rendered this way, all tousled and rumpled and very, very human (no matter what they may be in the universe I write them into).

I also make use of the build-up, the word seduction of setting the scene up with foreshadowing, context clues, making the setting work toward that scene (and making changes to the text where needed), tweaking the dialogue so there is word-play as foreplay, as well as actual foreplay, in the paragraphs that lead into the sex scene. I maximize small things, like how a light touch on a cheek or a sweeping gaze leads to more intense interactions. Sex scenes, like dramatic or horror story scenes, depend on ever-tightening tension to work properly.

Some kinky sex practices have that merciless ratcheting of tension from the most innocent of situations to steadily intensifying sexual action that reaches the point of explosive climax, that’s how I like writing my sex scenes. So I use those practices as devices to turn the screws tighter (yes, I am still making puns, and why not?).

I also like providing “aftercare” in those sex scenes, just like kinky sex enthusiasts like providing aftercare for the people they have kinky sex with: I like making sure my characters’ post-coital thoughts, actions and experiences are just as well told, because these are as much a part of my stories as the bumping of uglies is.

Of all the types of scenes I’ve written into my fiction, the sex scene is the most difficult for me to write, even over melee combat or battle scenes. I must put aside my biases and preferences to do this — especially when I write about sex acts I don’t particularly want to engage in, or kinks that are not my kinks. I don’t write just what turns me on: I write what turns my characters on, because the story is less about me and more about them.

Human sexuality is a huge, complex font of possibilities, and, when I write about sex in my fiction pieces, I try to stay mindful of that. Whether we acknowledge it or not, sex is as much a part of our lives as everything else — and it can do as much good, and as much harm, as we decide it will.

Finally, I actively choose to write about consent as part of sexual activity — it doesn’t matter if Dude A is horny for Gal B to the point of madness: If Gal B says no, then no truly should mean no. If Dude C says he isn’t comfortable getting it down with Dude D without protection, protection should be used. when I contravene these things, I make sure to show just how wrong it is not to take no for what it is, and to show just what the consequences of not using protection are. Consent and safety are things we need to remind people about, constantly, and this is what I do my best to put into the erotica I write. Sex sells, and what better way than this to get some good sexually healthy messages out to whoever will read my erotica?

Let’s just wrap it up this way: Writing a sex scene takes the same amount of work, care in crafting, research, and meticulousness that writing other scenes in fiction do. That’s what I do when I write the sex scenes in my work: Research, use context, keep the action true to the characters, manipulate the setting to heighten the mood, increase the tension, and make sure the reader gets aftercare — and I revise the sex scenes as needed, until my own requirements of it are met to my satisfaction. Or at least I give it everything I’ve got.