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Writing about sex...
Writing about sex...
Maybe I should post twice, but I want to write about two things... First, boring personal stuff.
My head feels like the soggy pumpkins outside my window look, carved up, bloating and filled with mold. I am in an anti-social mood. The boys are with their mother's mother, and it has been, outside of my sinuses, a pleasant, mellow day sitting at my computer reading about what I will write in the second part of my post...
But I am restless and I have been couped up in this place for days trying to rest up, to get over the sad, sick feeling, and to get my life moving again.
My mood is better than it obviously was the last time I posted. I was overextended, exhausted and fighting my second cold of the season so far (or fighting off a return of the first bug). I feel good about life, but not social today... but cabin fever is burning.
I am going to go out to the Sandy Slut, sit in a booth, and finish researching a paper on the Egyptian New Kingdom's "empire" that I have due on Monday. Then I am going to read a book of my own choosing. And since it is Saturday night, by that point, I may feel like talking to people.
So I've been reading internet content of a variety of kinds today, all examples of writing about sex, or writing in sexually charged environments, or writing about non-traditional lifestyles...
One of the exciting things about dropping the class, one of the things that was frustrating me, is that I have been burning to work on my own writing. I had a publishing project in the spring were I wrote a lot of poetry, by I have been missing non-academic prose and the project burned out the poet within for a while.
One of the styles I am looking to explore is erotica. Or, perhaps, sexually oriented writing in general.
When it comes to traditional erotica, there is a huge difference between writing flat explicit scenes for fantasy purposes and in writing truly literary erotica, though I would argue that there is definitely room for both in the world.
One would be writing a scene describing what you would like to have done to you by that sexy person who sat on the bus next to you, the other would... Well, what would it have? Some extra dimension, I suppose, other than a flat description of bending someone over? Or, if the words are poetic enough, does it really need any underlying symbolic or metaphoric quality?
I suppose this is the great question about art in general, and I suppose that it is too large for me to truly explore here...
But I did notice some things today.
The writing that turned me on most was "reality" based, even if it was only based on a narrator's fantasy. It was written with both hands, also; not just for the momentary gratification of whoever was typing. The writing was solid. The scenes complex and well defined.
These requirements applied to both the traditional sexy story type of erotica and to the sexually oriented blogs and articles I read today.
It was much hotter reading an article on threesomes that included feeling, opinion and commentary that it was reading someone typing a scene they never experienced before as they either jerked off or planned on jerking off as soon as the typing was completed.
I suppose one exception to the above rule is if one knew the person writing (and was interested in knowing what got them going). But from strangers, it just wasn't that interesting, and I was left thinking, Oh, how nice for you.
Maybe the best way to describe what I found is that the most erotic writing came from people who wrote about life. Not just sex, but life. Even if the only aspect of life they were talking about, at the time, was how good the sex was, the life was still there underneath.
And I suppose that is the element that I was searching for in the beginning, and it does apply to everything from dirty stories to novels. Life needs to be in there some place.
And discovering this, perhaps I do not have to spice my own life up before spicing up my writing. I have experienced many things worth writing about, and I can even write the fantasy, if I follow my own rules above.
And I just decided. School can wait for Sunday. If I read tonight, it will be for me.