Productivity greets you like your naughty friend
18 Nov
Hmm, that’s supposed to be temptation greets you like your naughty friend. (At least that’s the title. The lyrics go: temptation greets you like your naughty mate//the that made you steal and set things on fire//but one you haven’t seen of late. Because with a band as awesome as the Arctic Monkeys, even their b-sides are amazing. Don’t believe me? Oh-ho! You Tube does!)
But I digress. As usual.
I’m really just here to crow because I finished my polishing edit on Scripped. Meghan and Amanda were invaluable beta readers/editors (yes, it’s different, thanks), and thanks to them I was able to figure out just how to say exactly what I wanted.
I hardly ever feel that I’ve said what I meant to, so this is big. Imperfect, oh hell yeah, but perfection is probably boring, right? (Justify!) But yay, I was productive. Forgot what that was like.
Discussion of Scripped brings me to another motif I tend to repeat: sex. I joke about all my stories being about sex and death, but be serious for a minute: what stories aren’t? Two inevitabilities of human existence (although with the former, it’s only inevitable that you’ll think of it, not necessarily get it, or even want it), both of which consistently frustrate our attempts at such ideals as logic and reason.
I don’t mean I write a lot of sex scenes, because I don’t– that’s a different genre, and a great one, but not mine. However, I’m particularly interested in the sorts of things one can show about a character in those situations. People are honest in bed– at least, if they’re having fun. Two sentences in the bedroom can reveal things about a character that’d take pages otherwise. These are not things we want to know about real people, of course, but things that are often quite useful when it comes to the fictional characters we follow from point A to point B– which to me is the main point of any story.
So how they go about getting f!#ked*, and with whom, says a lot about them**. Not always necessary, but it certainly provides some illumination at times. Is it cheating? I don’t know.
But it sure is fun.
*I am anti-euphemism. There are about three acceptable terms for this. And f!#ked is the best of them, because honesty is always the best policy.
**I don’t mean whether they’re in possession of tab A or slot B– attraction is something over which we have about as much control as we do over whether we’re born with tab A or slot B ourselves. Now, as a sideline, I’m also interested in the fluidity of general human sexuality, because I’m a firm believer in the usefulness of the Kinsey Scale, which will surprise no one, but that is not to the same purpose. I shouldn’t even have to say that, but you know, best to be clear for those who don’t know me.
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Now playing: Arctic Monkeys – If You Found This It’s Probably Too Late
via FoxyTunes
Without doubt, the most convoluted, amusing and clarifying posts I’ve read all year.
It was like listening to the Abbott and Costello ‘Who’s on first’ skit all over again.
Brilliant.
And there should be more sex, in all genres – and in real life…
Congratulations!
BT, your former point I cannot in good conscience agree with– unless the brilliance is that of the Arctic Monkeys. But I love you for it all the same, as I’ve always admired brilliance. I only want to amuse!
The latter point stands. More sex. Yes.
MG, thanks!
“Two sentences in the bedroom can reveal things about a character that’d take pages otherwise”
I’ve never really thought about this, but I think you’re right. Funnily enough, I’ve written sex scenes but always removed them in the final edit. Not sure if that’s because they embarrassed me or because I found them superfluous. It’s probably because I’m crap at writing them!
BTW, Mark Deniz visited me earlier this week (see my LJ for photographic evidence!) and he very generously gave me a copy of Voices. I read The Mirror last night. Excellent stuff, Katey. It’s just the kind of thing I couldn’t begin to write but enjoy reading immensely. I’m looking forward to reading your Harvest Hill story, when my contributor copy arrives.
True. As always.
Personally, I generally shy away from most sex scenes. Like Michael, I frequently find them a little superfluous. That, and I can’t take them seriously. Oh, and so many of my damn characters are under 18, I’d feel dirty doing it (ouch, what a pun), to them.
I wrote sex scenes in all my early novels. Note to self: destroy evidence now.
I have to admit to a certain amount of embarrassment myself, Mike. You know, I’ve written some scenes and later cut them out/pared them down to fade to black because they were superfluous in the end. But like most of the other crap I cut, I’m always glad I did it, because I need to know what happened, I figure!
And thanks for the kind words. That was the first story I ever sold, so it has a special place for me… and always makes me nervous. Ha!
Aaron, I find sex scenes are at their best when not taken seriously– but then I think that about almost everything. Like you, I shy away when possible, but I don’t mind it if I find myself looking down the barrel of one now and then, when necessary.
I feel you on the underage thing, too. I’ve been in that situation and no matter WHAT the story requires, can’t really make myself do it. I must be getting old.
Cate, no, don’t! Sex scenes can be important!
Actually, I only have explicit sex in one of the novels I’ve written, and only because how it happens is genuinely a major plot point. As in, how they behave. For most other stuff, I fade out, because what goes on just before is so often all I need to make the point.
… I want to see an early novel of yours. Don’t guess you can be bribed– even for synopsis/pitches?
People do all sorts of neat things in bed. And oh, do I love writing about them : )
But no, not in the bodice ripper sense. They make up silly names for humping.
I totally agree about your policy on f#ck, by the way….
Nat, I completely agree– and you do it so well! You’d think with my love for writing historicals I’d have a little more affection for the bad euphemism… alas. They make me stabby.
Barry, yes, thank you. That and body parts. There are words, on a sliding scale of the socially acceptable (inversely proportionate to their usefulness, of course), with which we can refer to these parts. And they don’t make people cringe.