Come Lie With Me: 3 Tips to Making Sex Scenes Count

For the last week and a half we've had internet connection problems at Chez Lanyon. You don't want to know, but allow me to whine anyway. Between comments and regular email, I get one HELL of a lot of stuff I need to respond to on a daily basis. This is both the pleasure and pain of my job.

There is no argument that I love hearing from readers, and all I can think is I've been sniveling in public lately because the last two weeks have been blessed with such incredibly kind letters from readers.




Should you ever have a down moment, know that there are people out
there who would give all they had just to be in your company, and who feel
a mountain of debt towards you. Should you ever have someone saying you
write too much, or you need to do something different, please, clod them on
the head for us. Should you ever wonder if your life was worthwhile, know
at least one of your readers feels a reconnection to humanity because of you,
is happy because of you, and believes you have made the world a better
place by far. That should surely count for something, right?



I don't even know how to respond to something like that -- I'm so deeply touched. And, as seems to so often happen, that letter came at a point of near-despair. And not over the internet connection (though that didn't help).

When I read things like this--and I've been so incredibly fortunate in my readers that readers care enough to take this kind of time to write--it helps me refocus on the things that matter.

But I seem to be digressing from my original point. My actual point is that, like so many writers, I often feel overwhelmed by the realization of all I'm failing to do. There's so much--writing is only a small part of it. It's the part that matters most to me, certainly--and probably to a lot of readers--but there's just a lot of stuff to do all the time.

Take this post here at Loose Id. I saw the alerts pop up in my email today and I realized that I needed to say something new, something fresh, something...something. And the week has been full of shrieking in full Edgar Allen Poe at ATT (who quoth NEVERMORE) and trying to hit deadlines (so freaking many deadlines) and what can I say that you haven't all heard before?

Probably nothing. But since I seem to be handing out nearly as much advice as I take these days, here are my three never fail tips for writing sex scenes that resonate with readers. Because when in doubt, pull the sex card.

1 - Say something.

Is it just me? I usually have something to say during those moments of, um, intimacy. I mean, unless I'm half asleep, and even then there's usually SOMETHING. Would you knock it off? Something. I'm blown away by how many fictional sex scenes apparently occur in dead silence or nothing more than a few moans and groans.

What a wasted opportunity for building genuine intimacy. People say stuff when they're feeling vulnerable and open and, yes, sexy.


2 - Equipment malfunction

Sometimes the most interesting stuff is what doesn't work. Again, maybe this is just me, but I'm not a machine and I've rarely had sex with machines. And I'd rather not talk about the time I did as I was VERY drunk and Coke doesn't even support that product anymore. (I have no idea what I'm talking about--I'm totally making this up as I go). Anyway...laughter and tears. Those aren't bad things in a scene of intimacy. Part of learning to be with someone is learning to be intimate with someone. And there's usually a learning curve. I like curves.





3 - Make them work for it

Not just the characters. The readers. Familiarity breeds contempt and a sex scene every fifteen pages is just dead boring. Make the characters work for it. Sex scenes mean more when they have ramifications. Sex before you're ready for it, sex with strangers, sex with enemies, sex for sex's sake...there are emotional and psychological ramifications for this stuff. But basically...if you have characters eat ice cream and cake every fifteen pages, it's dull, right? Oh, I know there are readers who live, vibrator in hand, for those scenes, but they don't write letters like the one above, and frankly, I'm not writing for those gals. They're just using me and my vending machine.

It's kind of like any relationship. We have our one night stands and we have our committed relationships. With every book, you make a promise to your readers, and what you're promising is you won't let them down and that you'll be there for the long haul. And even when you have performance anxiety, you'll do your best.

Writers, what are your favorite tips for making sex scenes count? Readers, name your single favorite sex scene in a book.

Slow-Motion Sex and a Headache Chaser

I spent part of yesterday writing an intense, sexual encounter between two old friends. It was the first time they had touched each other intimately in years. The words flowed, and it was an enjoyable scene to write (and not in a dirty enjoyable way. Sheesh. Well not that much, anyway). I usually like the writing of sex scenes, but this was the first time writing one gave me a headache. I think I had ratcheted up the tension so much that I was feeling it in my brain or something. Perhaps it had something to do with the non-completion of the act for the characters. Maybe I ticked myself off as much as I did them by not seeing it through.

I hear some writers say they dislike or dread writing the sex scenes. I’ve never really read much on why that is which got me to wondering if maybe it gives them a headache too. I don’t know.

I have to say I occasionally skip a sex scene or leave it purposely vague the first time through, but it’s not because I don’t want to write it. I’m either not in the right frame of mind or I’m not deep enough into the story to really get a handle on what I want the characters to be feeling in that moment.

There are a few things I have to be able to do to keep writing the scene:

1) Slow down the action.
I watch the scene unfold in my mind in slow motion, taking note of every movement, every touch and how each character responds, utilizing the ones that change the dynamic each step of the way.

2) Put myself into the scene, into the character’s mind and body.
Once I have an idea of how I want it to go, I get inside the POV character and describe it from his perspective. I can practically feel the anticipation, the tension, the touches. It’s an intense way to write but has proven effective for me as a writing technique.

3) Utilize as many of the five senses as I can.
This is true for most scenes but are especially true for intimate moments. Smell and taste are hard ones for me to describe, but I try to pull them in when I can.

4) Know what the characters need to gain or learn from the experience.
Sometimes I know a sex scene is the next logical step in the progression of their story, but I’m just not sure how they are supposed to come out of it. Since I’ve been outlining everything I’m writing these days, I usually have these details identified before I write the first full draft which helps me write the scene.

So tell me (for research purpose only, of course) who are some authors that you think can pull off amazing sex scenes that put you right into the moment? If I haven’t yet, I’ll probably want to check out their work…and possibly ask them if they get a headache while writing their scenes too.

Oh, and before I go...check out the cover art for my next release, BREATHE, coming from Loose Id next month. The artist was Valerie Tibbs. Isn't it gorgeous?



Sloan Parker
www.sloanparker.com

Flash Fiction: Crybabies and Sex

"How is taking off your shirt going to help, Agent Rayland?" Nicki squeaked. Determining modesty would probably be a better tack than bravado, she tried dropping to her knees. Tried, being the operative word, as the solid thunk of her left knee striking the bedframe preceded another catastophe.
"Owww....shit...fuck." The medley of curses didn't stifle the laughter from the doorway as Nicki lost the little bit of balance she had, listed to the left, and slammed into the nightstand. The fancy brass knob made contact with her cheekbone as her butt hit the floor and the shin of her right leg left a layer of skin on the underside of the frame.
That's it! she decided. Laying her head on her awkwardly twisted arms, Nicki gave into the tears pressing against her eyelids.
The bed swayed beneath Luke's weight as he stepped over rather than around it to get to her. "Are you okay?" The amusement was still there, but concern overshadowed it as his warm hands stroked along her throbbing leg, examining the injuries she'd inflicted on herself.
Again.
"No," she sobbed, glaring up at him. "I'm not okay." And she was sure the sight of her eyes, swollen and red, matched the splotches on her face. She'd never been a pretty crier, which only made her angrier and cry even harder.
"I can see --"
"This is all your fault!" There, it was out.
"I don't --"
But could she just leave it at that--oh, no, not Nicki Vymes, she just had to humiliate herself completely. "Oh yes, it is. If you hadn't let me run into you, then showed up at the strip club I never would have seen that cute ass of yours. Or your yummy eyes. Which only made me horny and Harold wasn't helping."
Luke didn't saying anything, only stared at her in what looked like stunned surprise.
"Now, I'm gonna have a black eye from the knob, a swollen knee, a scrape that'll probably fester and give me gangrene, and I'll never have a screaming orgasm." Giving up, Nicki let another wail out, sucked in a deep breath and pushed her face into the mattress to wipe her tears and runny nose on the tangled bedding.
She'd never quite understood what a deafening silence was until now. Unwilling to face him, Nicki squirmed, trying to get her feet under her, but rising was beyond her ability. Resigned, she rattled the cuffs binding her to the bed, "The key is under the bed. If you'll just--"
"No." His firm hands lifted her off the floor.
A gentle twist and flip had her settled on the mattress staring up at him as his shirt was tossed aside. "I can't do anything about the black eye, the swollen knee, or the scrape." Faded denim dropped to the carpet. "But the screaming orgasm, that I can deliver."
"Oh."