Welcome to EroticaVille, a
magical town where our characters don’t shit, piss or bathe...except when
there’s some kinky goings-on involving in-shower BJs, scat play or golden
showers.
When I first started writing
romance back in the Dark Ages, I read many stories in which the characters
enjoyed frenzied fucking but never seemed to get slimy, smelly or sweaty. They
never showered, bathed, pooped or peed. Normal bodily functions were ignored
except for eating—mealtimes were prime time for characters to relate to each
other.
I hated that. Not
that I’m squeamish about bodily functions, but ordinarily, the first thing I do
post-afterglow is drag myself out of bed to a bathroom for a quick cleanse, even
if that’s only a damp washcloth over my crotch. I can skip that if we’ve used a
condom, which is always nice as well as safe, as we all know. Being uninterested, even repelled by bukkake,
I firmly believe that come belongs in my mouth or a condom, not in my hair or
on my face. Either of those destinations would call for a shower. Immediately. Others may feel
differently—more power to them. And I
hate to sleep on the wet spot.
Back to my main point—in many
novels, characters behave uncharacteristically. Normal body functions are a
part of life, and while I believe that a nod should be given to normalcy, the
fact is that our characters are not humans, and the world we’ve created is not
our world, not even in the grittiest contemporary.
Scenes must perform one of the following four functions--no shoehorning sex in just to make your book hotter or, heaven forbid, extend the word count.
·
Advance plot
·
Reveal or develop character
·
Complicate or resolve conflict
·
Express setting, mood, theme
Nothing belongs in your book that doesn’t do one or more of the above
four, not even the tiniest comma.
And that’s the reason most
writers don’t show their characters brushing their hair, tying their shoelaces
or taking a dump (unless their Dom tells them to, which is quite another
matter).
Here’s a snippet from my writing manual,
ABOUT WRITING:
Everything in your manuscript should have a function, even
every comma or em-dash. And this is the reason the special world we create in
our stories is so different from our ordinary world. Much happens in our
day-to-day existence isn’t particularly relevant to the story of our lives,
that is, the accomplishment of our dreams and goals...
Let’s say that we’re thinking of having
our protagonist, who has as his goal great wealth, stop at a Chipotle
restaurant for a burrito. Eating that burrito doesn’t help accomplish that
goal. But it’s a common act, one that occurs often. Lunch is a part of our
lives, but we wouldn’t put it in a book about a protagonist on a quest to amass
loads of money unless something occurred at that Chipotle that fulfills one or
two of the above purposes.
If he’s just eating lunch, his burrito
probably doesn’t belong in your book.
But
when I first started reading romance, which was long after I’d started having
sex, I found it odd that no heroine got out of bed to tidy herself up. She
didn’t even reach over for a tissue to grab that glop before it fell out of her
and created the (shudder) dreaded wet spot.
Perhaps
this was because of my own peculiar emotional conformation. While in the
bathroom, I’d ruminate about what had just happened and how the lovemaking
affected my feelings about my partner. In a calmer relationship, as during most
of my marriage, I might get up but maybe not, and I wouldn’t think about
anything. Scenes of that nature shouldn’t appear in books because they don’t
fulfill any of the legitimate purposes of a scene.
But
in a romance, post-coitus is a prime time for the characters to indulge in a
little introspection, or if they’re feeling chatty, it’s a great opportunity
for your characters to relate to each other.
The sex itself should certainly advance the plot—if not, why’s it there?
After, a little sweet talk is a nice sequel to the sex scene—or maybe the
conversation goes awry and conflict is revealed or advanced.
I love to write historicals, and
part of the reason is that I love to learn about how people used to live. The
clothes they wore. The foods they ate. And yes, how they disposed of their
feces. Most people think that a garderobe was some kind of medieval wardrobe.
Nope—it was the castle’s shitter, usually just a bench with a hole. It most
often led to the moat which, as you can imagine, was not the most charming spot
in our hero’s demesne.
I mentioned above that body
functions can appear in erotica, as follows—this
excerpt is from my
fictionalized memoir, Perilous Play.
This snippet takes place after a particularly intense scene.
He took everything
off except the collar. With the leash tied to it, he led me into the bathroom
so I could pee, and stood staring down at me.
I guessed that this
was part of the whole humiliation shtick, but didn’t care. With Trapper, I was
beyond embarrassment.
I looked up at him
and said, “Remember when you were spanking me in here before?”
He nodded.
I shivered. “That was
possibly the most erotic moment of my life.”
He smiled.
My passion for realism often
leads me to write scenes in which the formerly virginal heroine washes off the
brownish streaks that her first lovemaking left on her thighs while (you
guessed it!) thinking about what just happened and how it affected her and the
relationship. I also write characters who wake up with morning breath, children
who have to use the garderobe and yes, my characters shower often.
After all, the shower is a great
place to fuck.
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If you enjoyed either of the excerpts quoted above, you can find them
here:
About Writing: http://tinyurl.com/deMelloAboutWriting
About Writing (large print!): http://tinyurl.com/AWLgPr
Perilous Play (found within a boxed set, What to Read After Fifty Shades of
Grey): http://tinyurl.com/deMelloPP
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