I’m revising the final act of my manuscript and I’ve hit a wall. A sex wall, to be exact.
You see, there’s a romantic, um, encounter that occurs and I’ve been struggling with both how far my heroine goes with the fella as well as how descriptive said encounter should be. Apparently, despite my initial bravado, I am an emotional twelve-year-old when it comes to writing sex scenes (complete with blushing, discomfort and mild nausea).
Now, I like a good sex scene as much as the next middle-aged suburban soccer mom, but when I have to choreograph it…well, let’s just say it feels like my grandma is reading over my shoulder (or is – shudder – in the room with my heroine and her dude).
Last month, I unveiled my progress to my fellow restless writers and the reaction was unanimous: MORE SEX PLEASE!
And I tried, I really did: I googled “how to write a good sex scene”; I drank a lot of red wine; I even had some fairly steamy stuff on paper. But it just wasn’t working for me and I started feeling like a big, frigid prude (Judy Blume was cranking out fantastic raunch in her sixties!).
Then I read an interview with Jennifer Weiner, one of my favourite authors, and she stated that, as long as her mother was alive, she wouldn’t be writing any sex scenes either.
My fellow writers will be disappointed, but until further notice, Ms. Weiner and I will be tunneling under the sex wall, much to the relief of our mothers/grandmas.