Sex must be mixed with tears, laughter, words, promises, jealousy, envy, travel, new faces, stories, dreams, fantasies, music, dancing and wine.       Anáis Nin

In my draft novel The Spa Resort there are several scenes involving romance, from enticing glances, to fully immersed lovemaking. Sometimes the characters fail clumsily. In other scenes they are seductive successes. As I wrote them I wondered what people would think. Would they be offended? Would they want the ‘juicy stuff’? Would innuendo be good enough? What kind of language should I use to describe these scenes? What if members of my family, friends, or neighbors read them? Would I feel embarrassed, be called sexist? Would I have to give my Boy Scout badges back?

So I thought I’d put a summary together of how other authors go about writing sex scenes. The spectrum is as varied as romance itself. On one end, there are gratuitous sex scenes put in just to titillate the reader. Just like in many of today’s movies where there has to be some nudity, a car chase, an explosion, and a fight. A scene where two people find themselves unexpectedly near a bed and feel compelled to rip each other’s clothes off then touch, lick, squeeze, and generally mimic a game of twister on that bed. Then there is the opposite side, obligatory (by genre) sex scenes where two people have met and over 20 chapters fallen in love despite themselves. Where their relationship naturally culminates in a passionate love scene, finally, often behind doors closed to the reader. (more…)

Years ago I was with a friend. We’d traveled to Oberlin College in Ohio to listen to a storyteller perform on stage there. We’d never seen him, but he came highly recommended. As we sat in the auditorium, a janitor came out and set a chair in the center of the stage. Then he returned with a cushion and a lamp. He plugged the lamp in and turned it on and off a few times, testing it. As he was bent over he looked out at us and gave a little wave. A few people laughed. He told us that no one ever tells him anything and he wondered why we were there. Someone called out politely that there was a storyteller who was going to perform, hopefully soon. He looked at a few people in the front row and mumbled that his father used to be a good storyteller. That when he himself was growing up, for better or worse, he was the cause of his father having stories to tell. He then apologized and said he’d be moving on as soon as the show was ready to go on. He said, ‘But there was this one time when my parents had a big party at their home and he’d ended up trapped on top of the roof’. We were five minutes into his story before we all realized that he was the story teller. (more…)