The Writer, Discipline and Sex (Warning this post does contain items of an almost explicit nature)
One week in and I am already apologising profusely about everything.
For a start I ate a slice of real unadulterated bread today (not good for the fructose intake).
On top of bread I had one piece of bacon that was covered in maple syrup. I went to breakfast with Ms Rabbit and we shared French toast. It may not have been the greatest symbol of solidarity with our fellow publishers in France but was a small gesture none the less.
Ms Rabbit covered her bacon with syrup and I ended up with a certain amount of overflow on mine. It has been a hard week for my partner as she has been incredibly ill, to the point where I spent yesterday working from home to look after her.
Which leads to my next apology – yesterday was a day without a post.
My plan had been to write in the spare time that pops up from time to time while I am fulfilling my obligations to my employer. Yesterday panned out more around doctors and making soup. Consequentially Ms Rabbit is feeling much better, I did not blog at all yesterday and I am extremely behind at work.
My problems are nothing compared to the families that lost people in the Paris shootings. I note this with my sincerest expressions of sadness for all of those that have lost someone.
This post is dedicated to all lovers of free speech and the right to write but not vilify.
One of the reasons I keep this post secret from my family and friends is because I am writing a novel. It is my first attempt and I am battling through the process.
The central theme of the novel is male narcissism and sex. I have a detailed plan, the last two chapters and the first two.
I have my character profiles.
I am stuck on chapter three.
In my plan chapter three was incredibly important however it has turned into a chapter where nothing happens and everything happens. It is a muddle, the plan has gone out the window and I have meandered through the piece trying to get where I need to be at the start of chapter four.
The reason is sex.
I will state with certain trepidation that I have very loosely based the sex on a fling I had years ago and I try write it in a way that is erotic, humorous and respectful. I say respectful because I am making sure that any characters are very remote from the real people. I remind myself that dutiful writers must be courteous to our muse, our subjects and ourselves. We walk a fine line between telling (or attempting to tell) a good story and exposing or hurting someone. This is fiction after all.
Writing sex produces a raft of emotions that range from guilt and self consciousness to arousal and joy. At 8000 words the chapter is finished apart from the sex. I was completely lost until last night.
Ms Rabbit’s coughing has meant she is sleeping down stairs. We have a two year old baby rabbit and we are both often very tired. That is code for me telling you that Ms Rabbit and I do not have sex very often. In fact if you were to compare our pre and post Baby Bunny sex life the differences tell a story of exhaustion, stress and PND. With the greatest respect to Ms Rabbit it is not just her it is me also. Time may heel all wounds (or wound all heels), but an infant will destroy a healthy sex life for all but the most special couples. Yes, I am saying we are not that special.
Usually if there is a reason to sleep apart I will volunteer to go downstairs because it means I can at least (putting this as nicely as possible) give my right arm a bit of a work out and empty some rusty water. However with Ms Rabbit coughing profusely she wanted to take the downstairs floor. With our bedroom next to our daughters room any attempt at masturbation is always going to be very quiet and unsuccessful because I have the biggest bout of catholic guilt. Which is bizarre because I am not and nor have I ever been catholic.
Last night I willed myself to sleep, only to be woken at 12, 2 and 4:30 by a couple somewhere in our central Hipsterville apartment complex having incredibly loud and obviously enjoyable sex. I will state right now I am not the kind of fella who gets off on listening to others having sex. Quite the opposite.
At twelve it took a few minutes for me to work out what I was actually hearing. I thought I was probably dreaming. Her moans we loud and consisted of;
“Oh. Oh yes, there right there. Oh fuck that is so good. Oh god. Oh god yes! Harder, harder”
And finished with a lot of screaming as he grunted very loudly.
“Good for you” I thought as I rolled over cuddling my pillow. It was an uneasy feeling.
The two o’clock session woke me because it was much louder. Same dialogue, also louder, with him adding the odd “come on”, “oh yea” and “fuck” to his grunts.
I got up and shut Baby Bunnies door, went for a pee. They were still going when I got back.
“Well done” I muttered out loud when they finally finished.
At four thirty I awoke not to the sounds of grunting or enjoyment, but banging. I am not sure how many times or how long they had been going this time, but it was obviously becoming hard work for all of us. Yet again it took a while for me to work out what the noise was, the bed creaking and banging the wall. The occasional tired “yea”, “good” and “oh”. I don’t know what time it finished. When it did I thought “thank good that’s over”, which I am sure they probably did also.
It did make me think about sex and the process of writing sex.
Whether it was fuelled by drugs, love or blind lust it was a big effort. how do write a full night of this?.
Listening to someone else fuck is not something I really wanted to be woken by and definitely not much of a turn on. If my daughter had woken up because of it I probably would have been furious.
There was a lot of difference between the early and late sessions.
At some stage today when they needed a piss they were certainly going to feel more than love.
What are the things to think about when writing sex? Time spent on body parts? Apart from the obvious erogenous zones there is the nipple, ear, mouth, belly, toe. How far do you delve into description without losing the eroticism? Should eroticism we your aim? What is erotic?
How do you make sure your character not having sex matches your character having sex?
This morning fired by these questions I snuck out of work and wrote my sex scene. It was surprisingly easy and I could not help but feel naughty sitting in a packed Hipsterville café writing. It was like playing hooky from school, knowing that you are doing something that no one else knows about; a guilty secret.
I don’t know If I can ever finish this novel, it is taking time because I have a full time job and a family. But as a way of keeping sanity in a world of demanding toddlers, depression and noisy neighbors it’s pretty liberating.