Aerosmith was singing about something else, but stick with me.
Writing about sex is weird. Western culture, particularly in the US, is remarkably prudish, all things considered. We don’t talk about sex openly as a rule. If we talk about it at all, it’s whispered and cloaked in euphemism.
If it’s true in the US at large — it’s doubly so in the Southeast. I know I’m generalizing, and for those brave souls out there that don’t fit this mold… let’s get a beer, we can be friends.
Here in North Carolina — like much of the Bible Belt — we can casually talk about open gun carry laws, what bathrooms people are allowed to use, and field dressing a deer. But the minute the word ‘clit’ comes up, everybody’s grabbing their kids and heading for the altar.
Don’t even get me started on how unfair it is that books that have heart, soul, and real truth about what it is to be human, are called “dirty” because they — gasp — describe people doing things designed to carry on the species. While books that involve crime, killing, and a host of other horrible things are lauded as “real” or “groundbreaking”. I’ll get on that soapbox later. Bring snacks.
So… back to my point. Writing about sex is weird. One of the things I’ve had to overcome to be an author in this genre is writing about it for my stories. Reading popular authors for inspiration yields everything from melt-the-page, anatomically questionable, quasi-porn to innuendo-filled fade- to-black scenes. Most authors try to stay somewhere in the middle of that spectrum, leaning more one way or the other based on the vibe they’re shooting for.
Like everything, both extremes have their places, as do the various points in between. Fade-to-black scenes are fine as a tool. But where they fail is when they are used to avoid our collective cultural squeamishness around sex. In those instances, authors are leaving too much on the table in an effort to cast a wider readability net and not offend the pearl clutchers.
Romance books are meant to make readers feel something. Lots of things. And… pulling punches doesn’t make anyone feel anything. It’s literary cock/pussy blocking, and it sucks.
In pursuing this craft, I’ve learned about a couple of general writing concepts. Chekhov’s gun is one of them. When I first heard the term, I thought it was a Star Trek reference, but apparently, it’s a real literary school-approved concept.
Basically, it means that if something’s in the story, it needs to serve a purpose. Otherwise, give it the boot.
A sex scene is no different. I try to thread my sex scenes with spice, lust, and vivid imagery. Sometimes that means it’s raw, raunchy, and visceral. Sometimes it means it’s soft, glowy, and moon-eyed. Either way, though, it drives the story.
Luke and Roxy’s first intimate scene in Georgia Red is about them getting swept up in each other physically; that’s true and real. But it’s also about Roxy falling into a habitual performing paradigm she has internalized to protect herself from vulnerability. A paradigm that started in childhood and has been reinforced by family, society, and a string of crappy men.
For Luke, the scene is about forgetting to be guarded, to trust a woman again, even if it is because he isn’t thinking too hard about it. He also has to let himself feel something other than numbness for the first time in years.
I couldn’t fit all of that into a safe fade-to-black scene, nodding to the inevitable physicality of two people who have uncommonly good chemistry. Plus…that kind of scene is nowhere near as much fun to read.
I use some fade-to-black in Georgia Red. I use them as a device to depict simple and important sexual encounters that don’t need a lot of explanation. They still serve a purpose. In this case, to illustrate the giddy joy and insatiability of new love and freedom from ghosts. So, Chekhov can aim his damned gun at Spock while he's trying to figure out what a wessel is.
OK… manifesto time. I’m going to be a brave author and not c/p block my readers. When the story needs the raunch, which, let’s be honest, is more often than not, you’ll get it. When fade-to-black works better… I’ll do that too.
But I’ll probably grumble to myself silently while doing it.
