Do I like writing sex scenes? Yes. But only
because I’ve developed some rules that keep me blush-free. I thought I’d share
these with any new novelists out there getting their knickers in a twist.
1. NO BODY PARTS
There are simply no names for the relevant
bits that don’t evoke an element of smut, comedy or memories of pre-teen
dictionary-searching. Besides, we already know what condition the parts have to
be in and what (usually) goes where; that’s just biology, we can do better than
that.
Also to be avoided are unedifying descriptions
such as ‘randy’; the ‘show rather than tell’ rule of writing is more important
than ever in the bedroom (or wherever). And while a woman describing herself as
‘horny’ sounds a bit cheap, I think we can all sympathise with one who says:
I’d gone
into a stupor, my brain taken over by a primal need to be as entwined with him
as possible on a large soft surface; it was just a question of how to get
there.
(Flamenco Baby)
2. NO PUPPETS
Concentrate
on the sensuality rather than the sexuality. Let’s have a multisensory
experience while we’re at it! Visual description alone will just give you
something like the hilarious (but highly recommended) puppet sex scene from the
filmTeam America: World Police.
Sometimes I
think humour is the sixth sense. Here’s a couple getting inspiration from that very
scene in Team America:
‘And you want see marioneta sex again?’
Of course I did. More laughter, but holding back a little;
aware that we could hardly act this one out. Or at least I was. Because he then
lay back, his head on the arm of the sofa, and acted the hero.
‘I can’t help it, this feels so right and I don’t want
anything mess it up,’ he said, with a hopelessly inadequate American accent.
Then we made explosion noises
and tossed the cushions into the air, shaking and wheezing with laughter.
Perhaps he moved the shoulder I was leaning on to keep my balance – perhaps
deliberately, come to think of it – but suddenly I fell on top of him, our
faces an inch apart.
‘Oh! That was close – I nearly
head-butted you!’ I said, laughing again and trying to get myself up. But his
arm came round me.
‘No, stay,’ he said, twisting
his body slightly and his leg pushing on mine until I no longer had a foot on
the floor, so that all of me was lying on top of him. It was suddenly very
quiet in the room. I was sort of trapped and I couldn’t meet his gaze anymore,
so I tucked my head under his chin and let myself melt into his warm, firm
body. Just for a moment, I told myself. Just a bit longer. Oh God.
‘Is so nice, no?’ he
said. Gently. The softness of his voice lowering my defences, lulling me into
receptivity, an acceptance of the inevitable. After all, I could hear myself
thinking, it’s going to happen sooner or later. Late or soon.
His hand slid under my blouse,
stroked my back, tickling my sides deliciously. He started to kiss me. Then all
of a sudden he needed to be in control: he turned me over and was swiftly
undoing the buttons, kissing my tummy, his hand coming up under my skirt,
murmuring something in Spanish that I couldn’t quite catch...
(Men Dancing)
3. SEX =
DIALOGUE
Think of sex
as just another form of dialogue between the characters; it’s a great way of
showing what’s going on between them. For example, look what this usually gentle
chap does when he’s feeling threatened:
He led me into the bedroom without bothering with the light, and
started to undo his jeans. No first clearing up and getting ready for bed
tonight then, I thought, a flutter of excitement shooting through me. But when
he pushed me down onto the bed before I could take my top off I realised there
wasn’t going to be much else first either. Then he yanked down my jeans and
knickers and was on top of me, pushing in hard then just lying there, silent,
his face in darkness.‘Javi?’ I put my arms round him, stroked his t-shirted back and waited for the Javi I knew to come back. I could hardly breathe. I wriggled underneath him.
He put a hand to my cheek. ‘Is where I want to be. Te quiero tanto.’ He wanted or loved me so much. Perhaps both. ‘Es problema.’
‘No es problema.’
(Flamenco Baby)
And
conversely, dialogue can be enticing, even if one of the characters appears to
be declining…
‘Look, I’m sorry if I’ve given you the wrong idea but…’ I wouldn’t sleep with you again if you were the very last man on earth. That’s what I thought. Then, too weary to come up with anything else, said it.
His smile faded. ‘Qué?’
‘Well, I don’t think I can make it much clearer than that.’
‘No entiendo. In Spanish.’
I gave him a subjunctive-free rendition. ‘It’s an expression.’
He laughed. ‘Is stupid expression. Woman wants a baby.’
‘What?’
‘If one man in world. And any-way, why is so bad, if we sleep before…’
‘Sleep? That’s hardly the word! You just buggered off, scarpered, desapareciste in the night. Not a note or a phone number, nada.’ I started to feel shaky.
He breathed out heavily and shook his head. ‘Yoli, I have explained before, I try to make more easy for you.’
I sipped my drink. Damn it, I thought, if he knows I’m in love with him – if that’s what I am – he could at least have the grace to pretend he hasn’t noticed.
(Flamenco Baby)
Hm. Perhaps I
should reassure you that my heroines do occasionally fall for non-hispanics…
But there you
are. Just concentrate on ‘how’ rather than ‘what’, listen to what they’re saying,
and enjoy it!
http://www.cherryradford.co.uk/
Men Dancing
Flamenco Baby
(15th February 2013,
available for pre-order)
