Writing Smut: Omi’s Guide to Meandering
Oct. 11th, 2013 03:51 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
omi_ohmyI have had my beta hat on this week – reading some really wonderful stuff by ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
eidheann_writes and oakstone730. As it happens, I made gently encouraged both of them to go a little more NC-17 than they had already written (as it fitted the stories they were telling). Anyway, I ended up compiling lots of notes about the writing of smut, and eidheann_writes suggested I make them into a proper LJ post. And here it is!
I should say that I don’t write much smut, and have written much less so far this year than last.evilgiraff helped me lots when I first started, with her constant reminders to meander. But I enjoy writing smut (although don’t profess to be any kind of expert – I’d say I’m actually quite tame), and I often have lots to say on the subject as a beta-reader, mostly in the form of endless questions, as will become apparent.
Also, I want to make clear that none of this is a criticism of any other writer, more just questions and issues that have come up through discussion with people through the beta process (both giving and receiving edits). These are all quite personal views; this is by no means a definitive guide to writing smut. And I should note that it’s mainly about writing a fairly vanilla version of smut (within the world of slash fanfiction), as that’s mostly what I write and beta-read.
My thoughts fall into a few areas: what I consider good smut and three aspects to writing sex (i.e., smut that’s more than whatbirdsofshore always calls ‘bumming’, physical and emotional reactions during sex, and evoking the senses). Finally, there’s meandering. Taken all together, these ideas inform how I write smut, and the suggestions I make when I beta.
Good smut, for me, makes me feel and also (to be perfectly honest) leaves me a little turned on. From a less personal perspective, I think it should serve the same function of any scene in a story: move the plot on or tell us something about the characters. Or both, of course. Often the temptation is to use smut as a break from the story, somehow unconnected. But it should be an integral part of the story. For example, what does it resolve, or what new dilemma or tensions does it introduce?
First of all, sex is more than the ins and out (insert tab a into slot b. Repeat) . There are hand jobs and blow jobs, kisses and scrapes of teeth and sucking of skin, plus so much more. This year I resolved to focus more on these and less on feeling that I had to include a 1-2-3 of anal sex (lube-stretch-penetration, and variations thereof). I also find I write sex differently depending on the age and experience of the characters, and on whether it’s their first time or their hundredth time together, or if it’s a passion-driven one night stand, or an emotional long-term pining/UST resolution.
Sex is also, I think, about intimacy, and there are so many ways to show that. How else do two people touch and interact during sex to show intimacy? Do they make jokes or whisper secrets? Do they touch cheeks or link fingers? How do they look at each other? What motivates these little touches? Often the intimacy is in these moments, not the sex. What if there is a mismatch between the two? Suddenly it all gets so much more interesting.
Secondly, I want to see physical reactions at play. If someone strokes another character’s skin, how do they react? Do they shiver, or come out in goosebumps, or does the back of their neck tighten? Following on from his, how does it make them feel? Does it make their heart beat faster or their breath stutter? Do they long for more, or ache to be touched elsewhere or want to reciprocate the touch? Does it remind them of anything else? And then, after all this, what do they actually do in response? Do they subtly shift to offer up another part of their body, or hum in approval, or reach out to touch their partner back? One more comment on this subject– I think it’s important to avoid cliché in all this, if possible. Personally I find hackneyed old phrases to be a bit of a passion-killer. (I’ve been guilty of writing them myself – thank goodness for betas!)
Thirdly, evoking senses really helps to place us right in the middle of the scene. What can the main PoV character smell, see, touch, hear, and taste? I once read (in Diana Gabaldon’s post on how to write sex scenes) that using three senses is enough – a reader shouldn’t feel that they are reading through a checklist. I’d say it’s worth thinking carefully about this. For example, touch can mean skin, clothes, walls, trees, a tight grip, or a wet mouth. But it can also be about corners and edges, rough and smooth, or soft and hard (e.g., rough bark behind someone’s back).
Our senses are powerful things – sense memories can often be triggered by the simplest of things. There’s a certain smell (one nearly impossible for me to describe) that instantly calls forth a crystal-clear image of my grandparents’ basement, and, by extension, of them. The same can be true for characters; one sex scene can link to earlier scenes or future ones through the use of a certain specific touch or sound.
Finally, there’s the meandering. I often notice in my own writing a tendency (if I’m not careful) to write smut differently than I write everything else. While normally I balance scenes between description and plot, dialogue and thoughts, I am tempted to lose thoughts and dialogue, and resort to an ‘and then, and then, and then’ list of actions when writing smut. I think that partly this is because, in a way, that is what sex is actually like – consciousness narrows down to the immediate present, to the physical sensations one after the other. However, it can be jarring when a writing style changes mid-fic. Readers need more than a list of thrusts to make it good for them. (Remember, I want to feel and get turned on a little!)
Whenevilgiraff first told me to meander, it was exactly this blow-by-blow account she was steering me away from (she calls it ‘choppy’ writing). All of the above – the differing interactions that count as sex, the characters’ reactions, and the evocation of senses – help to develop descriptions. But the meandering also brings emotions and thoughts into play. I always think that saras_girl does this very well, and I often return to her fics to inspire me in my own writing.
In this passage from her fic Foundations (sequel to Reparations) , it’s about so much more than fucking:
In fact, there is little description of the sex beyond the most basic; the power of the writing is in reflecting Harry’s emotional state to us, rather than what he is doing. And that messy kiss – so beautifully intimate. Also, a bit of dialogue! People do talk during sex, and they do say more than ‘come for me’.
What are your characters’ emotional states going into a sex scene, and what bearing does it have on what happens and how they experience it? Are they nervous, or angry, or just really desperate for some release? Do they care about the person they are with? Do they know them at all? What will we learn from this scene, about who they are? How do their own reactions to the sex affect them? Are they surprised, or sad, or blissed out by it all?
In a nutshell, then: Make smut part of the story. Show intimacy and reactions (physical and emotional). Use senses. Meander.
None of these are exactly hard-and-fast rules, and every writer finds their own style. But I think about these factors when I write smut, and when I beta-read. When I read for pleasure, I just do that: read for pleasure, not over-think. But I always enjoy feeling. And getting turned on, of course.
One last point: Sex doesn’t have to be perfect to be great. And it doesn’t have to be great to be important to a story, either. It can be bad sex, or weird sex or sad sex – they all have a place too.
Well, that’s my guide to meandering in the form of questions. I hope you find it useful! Happy sexing!
(Many thanks toicmezzo for checking this through for sense and ignoring my liberal sprinkling of Brit commas. <3)
eidheann_writes and oakstone730. As it happens, I eidheann_writes suggested I make them into a proper LJ post. And here it is!I should say that I don’t write much smut, and have written much less so far this year than last.
evilgiraff helped me lots when I first started, with her constant reminders to meander. But I enjoy writing smut (although don’t profess to be any kind of expert – I’d say I’m actually quite tame), and I often have lots to say on the subject as a beta-reader, mostly in the form of endless questions, as will become apparent.Also, I want to make clear that none of this is a criticism of any other writer, more just questions and issues that have come up through discussion with people through the beta process (both giving and receiving edits). These are all quite personal views; this is by no means a definitive guide to writing smut. And I should note that it’s mainly about writing a fairly vanilla version of smut (within the world of slash fanfiction), as that’s mostly what I write and beta-read.
My thoughts fall into a few areas: what I consider good smut and three aspects to writing sex (i.e., smut that’s more than what
birdsofshore always calls ‘bumming’, physical and emotional reactions during sex, and evoking the senses). Finally, there’s meandering. Taken all together, these ideas inform how I write smut, and the suggestions I make when I beta.Good smut, for me, makes me feel and also (to be perfectly honest) leaves me a little turned on. From a less personal perspective, I think it should serve the same function of any scene in a story: move the plot on or tell us something about the characters. Or both, of course. Often the temptation is to use smut as a break from the story, somehow unconnected. But it should be an integral part of the story. For example, what does it resolve, or what new dilemma or tensions does it introduce?
First of all, sex is more than the ins and out (insert tab a into slot b. Repeat) . There are hand jobs and blow jobs, kisses and scrapes of teeth and sucking of skin, plus so much more. This year I resolved to focus more on these and less on feeling that I had to include a 1-2-3 of anal sex (lube-stretch-penetration, and variations thereof). I also find I write sex differently depending on the age and experience of the characters, and on whether it’s their first time or their hundredth time together, or if it’s a passion-driven one night stand, or an emotional long-term pining/UST resolution.
Sex is also, I think, about intimacy, and there are so many ways to show that. How else do two people touch and interact during sex to show intimacy? Do they make jokes or whisper secrets? Do they touch cheeks or link fingers? How do they look at each other? What motivates these little touches? Often the intimacy is in these moments, not the sex. What if there is a mismatch between the two? Suddenly it all gets so much more interesting.
Secondly, I want to see physical reactions at play. If someone strokes another character’s skin, how do they react? Do they shiver, or come out in goosebumps, or does the back of their neck tighten? Following on from his, how does it make them feel? Does it make their heart beat faster or their breath stutter? Do they long for more, or ache to be touched elsewhere or want to reciprocate the touch? Does it remind them of anything else? And then, after all this, what do they actually do in response? Do they subtly shift to offer up another part of their body, or hum in approval, or reach out to touch their partner back? One more comment on this subject– I think it’s important to avoid cliché in all this, if possible. Personally I find hackneyed old phrases to be a bit of a passion-killer. (I’ve been guilty of writing them myself – thank goodness for betas!)
Thirdly, evoking senses really helps to place us right in the middle of the scene. What can the main PoV character smell, see, touch, hear, and taste? I once read (in Diana Gabaldon’s post on how to write sex scenes) that using three senses is enough – a reader shouldn’t feel that they are reading through a checklist. I’d say it’s worth thinking carefully about this. For example, touch can mean skin, clothes, walls, trees, a tight grip, or a wet mouth. But it can also be about corners and edges, rough and smooth, or soft and hard (e.g., rough bark behind someone’s back).
Our senses are powerful things – sense memories can often be triggered by the simplest of things. There’s a certain smell (one nearly impossible for me to describe) that instantly calls forth a crystal-clear image of my grandparents’ basement, and, by extension, of them. The same can be true for characters; one sex scene can link to earlier scenes or future ones through the use of a certain specific touch or sound.
Finally, there’s the meandering. I often notice in my own writing a tendency (if I’m not careful) to write smut differently than I write everything else. While normally I balance scenes between description and plot, dialogue and thoughts, I am tempted to lose thoughts and dialogue, and resort to an ‘and then, and then, and then’ list of actions when writing smut. I think that partly this is because, in a way, that is what sex is actually like – consciousness narrows down to the immediate present, to the physical sensations one after the other. However, it can be jarring when a writing style changes mid-fic. Readers need more than a list of thrusts to make it good for them. (Remember, I want to feel and get turned on a little!)
When
evilgiraff first told me to meander, it was exactly this blow-by-blow account she was steering me away from (she calls it ‘choppy’ writing). All of the above – the differing interactions that count as sex, the characters’ reactions, and the evocation of senses – help to develop descriptions. But the meandering also brings emotions and thoughts into play. I always think that saras_girl does this very well, and I often return to her fics to inspire me in my own writing.In this passage from her fic Foundations (sequel to Reparations) , it’s about so much more than fucking:
Locking eyes with Draco again, Harry pauses, oddly struck with the reality of the situation.
You’re actually doing this, whispers his subconscious. Draco flicks an eyebrow and drags him down into an awkward, messy, delicious kiss. Harry tells his subconscious to be quiet, deepens the kiss, draws his hips back and slides back inside slowly. Draco moans, and he does it again.
“Like that?”
“Mm. Hard and slow.”
Harry hastens to comply, settling into an agonising tempo for both of them, pulling back from the kiss to look into unfocused grey eyes, finding Draco’s hands and gripping hard; losing coherent thought altogether, held together only by sensation and whispered words and feeling utterly surrounded.
In fact, there is little description of the sex beyond the most basic; the power of the writing is in reflecting Harry’s emotional state to us, rather than what he is doing. And that messy kiss – so beautifully intimate. Also, a bit of dialogue! People do talk during sex, and they do say more than ‘come for me’.
What are your characters’ emotional states going into a sex scene, and what bearing does it have on what happens and how they experience it? Are they nervous, or angry, or just really desperate for some release? Do they care about the person they are with? Do they know them at all? What will we learn from this scene, about who they are? How do their own reactions to the sex affect them? Are they surprised, or sad, or blissed out by it all?
In a nutshell, then: Make smut part of the story. Show intimacy and reactions (physical and emotional). Use senses. Meander.
None of these are exactly hard-and-fast rules, and every writer finds their own style. But I think about these factors when I write smut, and when I beta-read. When I read for pleasure, I just do that: read for pleasure, not over-think. But I always enjoy feeling. And getting turned on, of course.
One last point: Sex doesn’t have to be perfect to be great. And it doesn’t have to be great to be important to a story, either. It can be bad sex, or weird sex or sad sex – they all have a place too.
Well, that’s my guide to meandering in the form of questions. I hope you find it useful! Happy sexing!
(Many thanks to
icmezzo for checking this through for sense and ignoring my liberal sprinkling of Brit commas. <3)
