Ways to write about sex...

The Loony Bin ( loonies@bloodaxe.demon.co.uk )
Wed, 8 May 1996 14:04:11 +0100


Hiya Guys & Gals...

Here's a word of advice for the many would-be writers out there...fanfic
may never be the same again...

Wishes & Dreams...

- ANDREA
        xx
-- 
************<andrea@bloodaxe.demon.co.uk>************
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Ways to Write about Sex


There are two ways to write about sex: literal and metaphorical.

Of course, the two should be mixed.  Mostly because the technical terms
remind people of gynecological and urological examinations rather than
dark and stormy knights, and the metaphors get ridiculous after a while.

(Some people want to be reminded of gynecological and urological exams,
but most writers imagine their audience to be capable of reading the
book in a sitting position. Or at least of not staining it to the point
of illegibility.)

The literal approach, when taken to its (overly) logical extreme, tends
to read something like this:

Johnathan moved his forefinger in a repeated horizontal motion across
the fold of epidermis half an inch above her vaginal opening.  Jessica
expressed enjoyment in a series of one-syllable words, enunciated
forcefully through the one-hundred-percent cotton scarf which was tied
in a double half-hitch around her head.  As muscular contractions began
to occur in her lower body, Johnathan removed his false outer skin.  His
reptilian features repulsed and fascinated Jessica as her orgasm began.
Johnathan breathed in and out regularly. His body temperature was eighty
seven point six degrees, normal for a Venusian in Newark, Delaware
during the month of July.  As terror supplanted pleasure, he sank his
pronounced incisors deep into the folds of her neck.

Now the kinder, gentler, metaphorical approach:

She stood resplendent in white at the center of a beautiful clam-shaped
chamber, deep in the heart of her father's mighty, valorous, cloud-
poking castle. The knight stood before Lady Spoon, waving the bluebell
back and forth, first slowly, then briskly. "My lady," he said in the
sweet voice of an angel, "this bluebell brings me great happiness in its
beauty, just as you do."

Lady Spoon blushed wine, her dress spinning endlessly around her in the
soft, whispering wind.  "Why, Sir Goldenrod!"

"My lady," he said in the sweet voice of a blushing bride, "this
bluebell smells of hot August mornings, just as you do."

Lady Spoon sighed like the aforementioned wind.  Her dress did a little
foxtrot.  "Why, Sir Goldenrod!"

"My lady," he said in the thick brogue of a Glasgow dogcatcher, "this
bluebell resembles the fold of epidermis half an inch above your vaginal
opening, just as you do."

Lady Spoon swooned like an arteriosclerotic golfer. "Why, Sir
Goldenrod!" she panted from the safety of the four-poster onto which she
had conveniently collapsed. Her dress, tuckered out, decided to pack it
in for the day.

Sir Goldenrod removed his armor.  His reptilian features repulsed and
fascinated Lady Spoon.  As terror supplanted pleasure, he sank his
pronounced incisors deep into the folds of her neck.

And there you have it.  So kids, when you try this at home, be sure 
to combine these two approaches!  Only then can we have wonderful, 
original imagery like "her vagina resembled a... flower" or "his penis 
thundered in her like an enormous... stick."