Writing About Sex

Sex is difficult to write about. It usually comes off as corny. Or as though written by some development-arrested adult who lives in their parent’s basement. I don’t think I’ve ever really written about sex in a way that was at all effective.

Occasionally, I’ll read something good. When it begins to feel like you ought not be reading whatever it is, that if you were there in the scene as a bystander that you ought to leave, but yet you’re going to keep reading, just as though you were driving past an accident on the highway unable to take your eyes off the beautiful wreck — that’s when the writing is working.

There’s an edge though.  Go over it and the writing falls apart.  You’re over the line into the profane, the disgusting and worst of all the uninteresting.