Let’s Talk About the ‘L’ Word

This post is NSFW and is intended for audiences 18+. And TW: mention of non-consent.

The ‘L’ word. You might be thinking ‘love’ or perhaps you’ve taken a page out of Scott Pilgrim’s playbook and you’re thinking ‘lesbians.’ No, no my friend. It’s February; chocolate hearts and dozens of roses and giant teddy bears are in season. We’re talking about a more lusty, luxurious ‘L’ word.

That’s right. Literotica [and sex scenes], why it often sucks, and how you can do it better in your own writing.

Literotica is actually a trademarked term for a site of the same name. That’s not what I’m talking about. I’m talking about literary erotica, which is often referred to by the generalized catch-all term, literotica. You know what I mean: the smutty books you find at garage sales and Goodwills for a quarter. 50 Shades of Whatever-the-hell. Fabio ravishing a damsel in distress. Ad nauseam.

I already feel nauseam, but let’s get into it.

This sucks. And not in a good way. Literary erotica has a place in the world. I’m not saying it doesn’t. But in many types of media - from writing to movies to TV shows - lust is confused for love, gratuitous sex for deep character development, abuse for non-standard relationship dynamics, and r*pe for a ‘totally necessary and good literary device.’ It’s despicable and lazy writing. It can alienate your audience. Focusing so heavily on sex can dilute your story and take away from your main plot. When I’m reading a fantasy novel, I don’t want romance with a side of dragon slaying. If I’m watching a horror movie, I don’t need to sit through a five minute long sex scene and get pulled out of the thriller’s tension. And I definitely don’t need to have an abusive relationship masquerading as a consensual BDSM dynamic popularized by a handful of trashy fanfic books and some movies crammed down my throat.

Literotica - or even just sex scenes in books - comes down to taste. What might set your heart aflutter might make me cover my eyes. And what makes me blush might make you cringe. As an author, appealing to any given taste is at your discretion. There’s a market for everything and where you fall on the spectrum of including [or not!] sex in your writing is totally up to you. I’ve stopped watching shows, fast forwarded through movie scenes, or skipped ahead a few pages to avoid poorly written, gratuitous sex. Game of Thrones, American Horror Story, far too many horror films, far, far too many fantasy books; it’s a shame that so much media suffers from bad writing. But it doesn’t have to be that way.

You can do it better. Erotic writing is often laughable at best, and harmful at worst. But sometimes your story needs a sex scene. Sometimes it makes sense for your characters as their romance blossoms. Seem daunting? Don’t worry, you’ve got options.

The clever fade to black. If you want to do right by your characters and not make your readers uncomfortable, consider a fade to black. Fading to black is a classic device that gives the impression of what happened without you having to describe in explicit detail about meat rods and moist mounds. [Look, I told you this post was NSFW, okay?]

One of my favorite fades to black was a clever implication of what might happen, and it comes from The Name of the Wind by Patrick Rothfuss. He writes;

“I think [the break is] nice,” my mother said, walking around from the back of the wagon. “Gives us the chance for something hot,” she gave my father a significant look, “to eat. It gets frustrating making do with whatever you can grab at the end of the day. A body wants more.”

The implication is obvious, but I don’t need to read about Mr. and Mrs. Kvothe’s Parents doing the deed, and thank goodness for that. It’s creative and clear. The meaning is shown in the euphemism instead of bashed over your head like a lingerie-clad rock.

But what if you want to be explicit? What if you want to be detailed and graphic? Do it, then. But even in the most explicit, detailed writing, it’s probably not a great idea to write a play-by-play of every single action that takes place. Can you imagine narrating every action that happened while you were getting some action? Wow, talk dirty to me. [/s]

Think of a fight scene. Authors don’t write every punch, every cut, every fancy footfall. Great fight scenes are written like a dance with implications and metaphors. There’s nothing wrong with describing the brutality of a fatal wound, just like there’s nothing wrong with describing the euphoria of climax. But good literature doesn’t [generally] describe the results of a fight in clinical, cold detail. Equally notable, good sex scenes aren’t clinical and precise with every movement detailed in excessive description.

It’s okay to say penis. The only thing you need to wrap a penis in is a condom. It doesn’t need the pretty packaging of constant euphemism or the average-sized bow of a thousand unique adjectives. And for the love of all the gods, please don’t call it a ‘throbbing member.’ You don’t need to be medical in your erotic writing, but don’t write a caricature of sex either. Not every word has to be anatomically accurate. But not every word should be a metaphor. [Same advice for vaginas, I just couldn’t think of a clever opening…]

Above all else, consent is key - for your characters and readers. Far too often, characters in books - frequently women* - are written as objects without agency. They cannot act of their own volition, have nothing to offer to the relationship beyond being objectified, and are treated as little more than eye candy or a piece of meat. They are not afforded consent, or the author elects to forgo including the actual act of consenting in their work. Have you ever spent time in Reddit’s MenWritingWomen sub? It is an embarrassment to the art of writing that some of the quotes captured there come from respected, published, multi-book-contract-holding authors. Readers deserve far better.

Readers also deserve to make informed choices about - IE, consent to read - the type of literature they consume. If you’ve written an explicit, NSFW, fetish-focused piece of literotica, more power to you my friend. But be clear about what you’ve written in your summary so readers can choose to purchase your work, knowing what they’re getting into.

*To be abundantly clear, objectification can happen to men, to non-binary folks, to any gender.

That’s lit-erotica-lly all there is to it. Writing genuinely good sex in your books can feel daunting and impossible. But you shouldn’t be intimidated by it. Sex is just another social interaction; a different kind of dialogue. The best thing you can do besides keeping the above advice in mind is to read. Read stories that include the type of writing that resonates with you. Read stories in the genre you’re writing to see how other authors handle the topic. Read books that your ideal audience would read and make sure you’re appealing to them appropriately. Beyond that, just write. No one else will write your [sexy] story for you.