{"id":2162,"date":"2013-06-28T00:16:11","date_gmt":"2013-06-28T00:16:11","guid":{"rendered":"http:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/?p=2162"},"modified":"2013-07-13T21:27:49","modified_gmt":"2013-07-13T21:27:49","slug":"sex-on-the-literary-sofa","status":"publish","type":"post","link":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/?p=2162","title":{"rendered":"A Bit of Sex on the Literary Sofa"},"content":{"rendered":"

I didn\u2019t intend to write this post but I was making a comment on Isabel Costello\u2019s blog On The Literary <\/i>Sofa <\/a>and it became so long that I thought it would be an imposition to post on her blog in its entirety \u2013 hence it\u2019s mutated into a rather long post of its own on this site instead.<\/p>\n

Isabel\u2019s blog posts are thought-provoking and well-researched and long enough to develop an interesting argument, which I like (though not quite as long as some of my posts). The title of On the Literary Sofa’s\u00a0<\/em>centenary\u00a0post published this week is Sex Scenes in Fiction<\/i> <\/a>and it\u2019s well worth a few minutes of any literary-minded person\u2019s time — as is the rest of the blog, which has barely mentioned the subject of sex before now. (And I should add that I know Isabel — mainly via Twitter although we’ve met a couple of times. I haven’t hit on her blog at random.) Reading Isabel’s original post may also put my arguments below into context: many of the points are direct responses to quotations or points made On The Literary Sofa.<\/em>\u00a0I also revisit some views I\u2019ve previously blogged about myself.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s a very balanced piece, asking whether it\u2019s desirable (or even feasible) to effectively write good fiction about sex. It covers positions (and I will resist the temptation to highlight double entendres throughout this post or it will be even longer than it currently stands) from the \u2018when the bedroom door closes everything should be left to the imagination\u2019 advocates to those who prefer naturalistic no-holds-barred action with explicit vocabulary to match. However, I absolutely agree with Isabel\u2019s observation that \u2018it would be to the detriment of literature if nobody wrote sex scenes\u2019.<\/p>\n

I find the term \u2018sex scene\u2019 a little troubling when it comes to fiction as it echoes the vocabulary of film and television (or even art). The term scene is always coupled with sex but it\u2019s not often used to describe other passages of fiction. It also suggests the visual \u2013 that depictions of sex are about what you see \u2013 whereas the power of words extends directly into thoughts, emotions and the other senses.<\/p>\n

There\u2019s an argument that writers should self-censor because, as these scenes are difficult to write, there\u2019s a lot of bad writing about sex. This view is perpetuated by the likes of the Literary Review\u2019s Bad Sex Awards<\/a>. I\u2019m sure the Literary Review could find plenty of examples of bad writing about other situations but people wouldn\u2019t find them as amusing, which is probably a symptom of British embarrassment when the subject is discussed in public.<\/p>\n

In itself, I can\u2019t believe that sex is an impossible subject to write about. Just because it\u2019s perceived as difficult to get right that\u2019s not an argument to stop trying \u2013 more the opposite. If writers retreated from the hidden and potentially uncomfortable then novels would become terribly banal.<\/p>\n

Isabel quotes Irish author John Banville on the reason he thinks sex in fiction is so difficult: \u2018What people feel they are doing is so discontinuous with what they are actually doing.\u2019<\/p>\n

This seems to be a cop out. The differences between a person\u2019s perceptions and the \u2018reality\u2019 of what they\u2019re actually doing are a staple of fiction. There are plenty of instances in other fictional situations where feelings are disconnected from actuality \u2013 grisly murders, for example.<\/p>\n

Discussing Banville, the\u00a0On The Literary Sofa<\/em>\u00a0post argues that \u00a0\u2018sex, which\u00a0[is described] as\u00a0this extraordinary act,\u00a0is one of the few aspects of life to remain private, even in an age when we are surrounded by sexual imagery and so many are hooked on \u201csharing\u201d\u2018.<\/p>\n

There’s much truth and insight to this argument. It\u2019s a paradox that a behaviour which (for most of us) is private is referenced so heavily in all varieties of culture. A quick glance at the shelves of W.H. Smith also illustrates an insatiable curiosity (for both sexes) in what other people are doing (\u2018Am I normal?).<\/p>\n

Perhaps another interpretation of Banville\u2019s words is that is that sex is much less likely to be an activity to which the author has been a third-party observer (at least at first hand). Although this point is not limited to sex \u2013 any fantasy or historical novelist has never witnessed or experienced their topic \u2013 it might be unique in that it\u2019s an activity that is so universally practised, albeit in private. However, this should surely make it a much more compelling subject to write about.<\/p>\n

I suspect the argument that sex is too hard to write about is a canard used by authors who are simply shy and embarrassed. There\u2019s no reason why writers should write on subjects they\u2019re uncomfortable with but it\u2019s disingenuous to justify that by asserting that it\u2019s impossible for anyone else to succeed.<\/p>\n

I\u2019m sure that much of the reason many writers avoid writing about sex (particularly in creative writing classes where they may have to read it out or discuss it in person) is because of the fear that readers will blur the distinction between writer and character\/narrator (i.e. if someone writes about being spanked or having sex in a public place or so on then they feel that readers will somehow snigger away, having inferred it must all be autobiographical).<\/p>\n

Why? Anyone reader who automatically conflated the author with the protagonists in other genres would be considered unable to understand the basic principles of fiction (\u2018it\u2019s made up\u2019). Countless thriller writers come up with depraved ideas, the vast majority of whom aren\u2019t considered sick-minded individuals.<\/p>\n

Similarly, some writers say they\u2019d be embarrassed on behalf of their partners\/parents\/children if their sex scenes entered the public domain. Again, that\u2019s their personal call, but readers won\u2019t assume that this writing is any more autobiographical than anything else in a novel. And it\u2019s most likely, as with less sensitive topics, that a writer\u2019s experience will be used to create composites of characters or plot events. (In the novel I\u2019m writing, the sex scenes are more likely to draw on university experiences than anything more recent).<\/p>\n

Published writers , no matter how high profile, seem to deal easily with any prurient questioning \u2013 take E.L. James\u2019s frank but hardly salacious comments. Gone Girl <\/i>author Gillian Flynn easily deflected questions in an interview in last weekend\u2019s Sunday Times<\/i> <\/a>\u2013 stating how happy her own marriage was and that her husband encouraged her to push the boundaries in her writing as far as she felt necessary.<\/p>\n

Most creative writing classes and workshops therefore tiptoe around sex scenes at least until participants know each other better (I think the Open University officially cautions against them). But because (rather than in spite) of the difficulty and potential embarrassment I was determined to workshop a sex scene by the end of my City University course. I\u2019m glad I did that as I\u2019m happy to submit my writing about sex to MA tutors, coursemates and anyone else who\u2019ll read it in a mature way (although I sometimes give a polite warning).<\/p>\n

Because it was difficult to push myself for the first workshop I\u2019m a fan of the approach that Isabel describes in her blog post about when she attended a creative writing workshop about sex (a Word Factory Masterclass) that was led by literary novelist Mich\u00e8le Roberts. She asked the writers to \u2018asked us to write a sex scene involving something we\u2019d never done. Cue nervous laughter. Twenty minutes later we were listening to some engaging and hilarious stories about threesomes, dogging and a decadent practice someone had just dreamed up.\u2019<\/p>\n

It\u2019s an ingenious approach \u2013 deliberately avoiding any autobiographical speculation by instructing writers specifically not to use direct experience. It puts everyone in the same position and it sounds like it was very funny. Sex can be a tremendous source of humour in real life but intentionally amusing sex scenes are arguably relatively rare in fiction. Not all funny sex has to be bad sex either. \u00a0Good humorous writing about sex \u2013 as with any subject \u2013 means laughing with the characters and the writing, rather than at it.<\/p>\n

I suspect there\u2019s also a similar issue with readers. One\u2019s private reaction to an erotic scene in a novel might be much more awkward to admit to others than pretending it\u2019s hilariously funny or marginalising its importance — the reaction \u2018less is more\u2019 seems to be useful code for saying \u2018Of course I\u2019m not a prude but I\u2019d rather die than admit I got sexually aroused\u2019.<\/p>\n

It seems to be motivated from the same discomfort that inspires the Bad Sex Awards \u2013 the notion that there\u2019s writing about sex can be classified into either \u2018good\u2019 or \u2018bad\u2019. I\u2019m sure there are many occasions when less detail is preferable but it shouldn\u2019t be misapplied into a general rule that says all such writing should be brief. In some contexts whole chapters in the bedroom could be necessary or appropriate.<\/p>\n

(As an aside, I usually find \u2018less is more\u2019 to be a particularly unhelpful comment if used generally in feedback. Without pointing out which of the \u2018more\u2019 should be discarded and which of the \u2018less\u2019 should be retained, it\u2019s really a cryptic way of saying \u2018be more concise\u2019, which is a principle that all writers should use anyway. It\u2019s similar to another b\u00eate noire of mine \u2013 \u2018murder your darlings\u2019. Some misguided people interpret this as advising all writers to delete any writing that they think is good \u2013 one of the stupidest pieces of advice ever. What it should mean is \u2018don\u2019t be self-indulgent\u2019 but even that apparently sound advice is difficult to apply \u2013 one reader’s self-indulgence is another\u2019s literary masterpiece.)<\/p>\n

It\u2019s good that someone who writes a popular literary blog that, as is pointed out in the post has hardly mentioned the subject in past, is brave enough to avoid the easy route of trivialising and ridiculing of writing about sex.<\/p>\n

It\u2019s not being depraved or perverted or unusual to be aroused (mentally or physically) by well-written writing — it touches what it is to be human and good writing can also evoke physical reactions in other ways — raising heartbeat with suspense stories and so on.<\/p>\n

Anyone reading this far might think my novel is stuffed with sex scenes. It\u2019s not — but it’s a modern novel with a male-female relationship at its core and the attraction between the characters is key to driving the plot.<\/p>\n

As it stands, the first sex scene is well over a third into the novel and there\u2019s probably no more than half a dozen in total and the narrative is only in flagrante delicto <\/i>two or three times. It\u2019s much more likely that the writing sets the scene or explores the consequences, particularly through dialogue.<\/p>\n

Using all the feedback patiently offered me by my coursemates and writing friends, I\u2019ve worked out the parameters that I feel I\u2019m comfortable with and competent in writing. I find there\u2019s a problem with diction — it\u2019s difficult to tread the line between medical terminology and euphemism (or the overblown imagery that earns a Bad Sex Award).<\/p>\n

While words like cock seem to do the job (so to speak) for the male anatomy there doesn\u2019t seem to be a satisfactory word for the female equivalent. \u00a0(I get puzzled when some writers substitute the abstract noun \u2018sex\u2019 for the concrete \u2013 as in \u2018he touched her sex\u2019.) But words like \u2018pussy\u2019 seem either too American-porno (or Mrs Slocombe<\/a>) and the c word sets off a debate that would take another blog post to discuss.<\/p>\n

Similarly with the actual act of sexual intercourse itself — there\u2019s a limit to how much language can enhance the mechanics. But while most sex could be represented as a basic biological transaction, its immediate context could reveal much about the relationship between characters. For example, even in relatively \u2018vanilla\u2019 sex, characters might use more anonymising positions in which they don\u2019t see each other\u2019s faces.<\/p>\n

While there might be limits to the variety of description of sex itself, assuming the novel or story isn\u2019t purely for titillation, there\u2019s a huge role for fiction to illuminate its anticipation, desires and consequences.<\/p>\n

If it\u2019s true to life, it should reflect that it\u2019s part of the human condition to understand that we\u2019re not always motivated by rational, intellectual choices. \u00a0I\u2019m fascinated by the subconscious, subliminal, instinctive, inexplicable desires that are drivers of our behaviour.\u00a0 And these are universal. While it might be more socially conventional for men to be portrayed as being more driven by sex, it would be an unfortunate (and perhaps incompetent) man who\u2019d never experienced in private the formidably pleasurable force of female sexual desire.<\/p>\n

Sometimes we do things we know are wrong and may have catastrophic consequences that are purely based on physical impulses that might come from dark places we don\u2019t understand. That\u2019s surely an incredibly fruitful subject for fiction.<\/p>\n

And cultural values change as I was reminded when I visited the Pompeii and Hurculaneum exhibition<\/a> at the British Museum at the weekend. The Romans would be puzzled that we were having this debate at all. They thought nothing of murals of people having sex or ubiquitous representations of phalluses (wind chimes were a favourite!). And the statue of what Pan was doing with the goat probably was beyond the imaginations of anyone at Isabel\u2019s Word Factory Masterclass.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"

I didn\u2019t intend to write this post but I was making a comment on Isabel Costello\u2019s blog On The Literary Sofa and it became so long that I thought it would be an imposition to post on her blog in its entirety \u2013 hence it\u2019s mutated into a rather long post of its own on … <\/p>\n

Continue reading “A Bit of Sex on the Literary Sofa”<\/span><\/a><\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":0,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"_jetpack_memberships_contains_paid_content":false,"footnotes":""},"categories":[424],"tags":[135,93,360,125,28,974,34,1012,665,110,42,98,999,80],"class_list":["post-2162","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","hentry","category-influences-2","tag-artists","tag-certificate-in-novel-writing-course","tag-chilterns","tag-creative-writing-classes","tag-feedback","tag-isabel-costello","tag-james","tag-john-banville","tag-less-is-more","tag-psychology","tag-sex","tag-subconscious","tag-the-literary-sofa","tag-workshops"],"jetpack_sharing_enabled":true,"jetpack_featured_media_url":"","_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2162","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=2162"}],"version-history":[{"count":9,"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2162\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":2172,"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/2162\/revisions\/2172"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=2162"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=2162"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/www.macnovel.org.uk\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=2162"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}