When I started writing, my books were Christian fantasy. Sex scenes were never a concern because I always imagined an old woman reading the books. Fearing I would squick her out, everything sexy was written fade to black. While I have no doubt there are plenty of frisky old women, they don’t read Christian books for their naughty fixes.
Coming soon…
Why I read negative reviews – Pt. 5: An asshole, a bitch, and a weenie walk into a bar.
Later, I became interested in urban fantasy and it’s expected for there to be a sex scene in each book. So I had to learn to write at least a decent sex scene, but there weren’t the best examples in my favorite series.
Mercy and Adam don’t have sex for like fifty books. When they do, Mercy basically says, “Adam knows what he’s doing.” You mean he figured out how to put his dick inside you? Huh, good to know that a guy with a kid understands this concept.
Or there was Kate and Curran who waited three books to even kiss. By the time they had sex, it was basically “Me angry and horny. You vagina. Tear dress, licky, licky, fucky, fucky for three seconds, best sex ever!”
Those two are still better than poor Alex Craft who endures a sex scene in her first book with Falin that comes down to “I’m drunk and horny and you’re a whore. Let’s do this thing, slut.” Eek!
The thing about sex scenes or romance in general is how the writing gives away a lot about the writer. Say the writer is obsessed with long haired guys who wear pirate shirts and Pretty Woman boots. The reader will know this when the writer creates her main squeeze fitting that description.
Speaking of Anita, she’s a great example of the two sides of the urban fantasy romance realm. The old Anita fans versus the new ones usually comes down to whether a person wants the sex scenes to be the dressing on the salad or do they want their salad to consist of an old piece of lettuce drowning in a bowl of dressing.
LKH gives a lot away about her personal feelings. So did the writer of an infamous anal scene in UF. I read a review complaining about how obvious it was to the reviewer that this author wasn’t comfortable with anal. The sex scene is raw and crazy up until anal is introduced then the passion comes to a screeching halt. There is awkwardness until the anal part is over then they return to hot fucking and it’s all good again. The lesson is maybe we shouldn’t write about behavior we’re not comfortable with. If you feel you must push outside your comfort zone (because fans are always begging for more anal in their UF) then keep it consistent with the characters’ behaviors.
If your couple is normally crazy in bed, the anal stuff shouldn’t be slow and careful with concern for cleanliness. Plus, since when did vampires have to worry about vaginal infections? That’s the point, isn’t it? No one should think about those concerns in the scene (not after the concept of puncturing clits is introduced), but the author felt awkward and it showed.
Often in reviews, readers complain about the language used.
- Cock vs. manhood vs. penis? What do you want coming at you in the dark?
- Her sex vs. her pussy vs. down there? To be honest, they all sound stupid.
- Fucking vs. making love vs. came together as one? Does it count as naughty that the last one uses the word came?
No reader is the same. Some need the down and dirty version. Others don’t want to be mentally scarred by the visuals you create of two freaks humping. If you write “thrusted inside her,” some readers will want you to explain just what part of him is inside her. Others will beg you to never speak of it again while they storm off for a shower. It’s important to understand your audience and their possible reactions.
The word fuck is tricky. One review I read complained about a particular couple who finally got together after five books. The guy looks at the girl and basically says, “I need to fuck you.” Be still my heart, right? Now I know this guy would never say, “I need to make sweet sweet love to you because I’m a cuddle bunny who needs sugar from my favorite girl.” It’s not him, but if he had said, “I need you” and fucking was implied, it might have felt more romantic without becoming sappy. Again, it’s a fine balance between the writer’s vision and the desires of her readers.
Then there’s anatomy. I read a review of a book by a popular romance writer. This author specializes in the “huge guy hung like a bear and his tiny blonde woman” stories. There is always quite a bit of detail about how large the men are. Hell, their balls alone could flatten a double-decker bus! These guys are just that gifuckingnormous!
In the review, it was pointed out how the giant dick was able to thrust completely into the wee virgin. Uh, how exactly is that possible if the guy’s dick is basically the size of the chick’s torso? Did his huge cock tickle her tonsils?
Lesson? Be careful with sizes. The same scene could have simply said he shoved his cathedral sized dong into her itty bitty magpie and she was super happy even though I’d assume it would actually frigging hurt. Yet, add the detail about being balls deep inside and suddenly the reader is forced to wonder how deep a woman actually is?
Last time I checked, the average woman’s vagina isn’t a bottomless pit. While nasty things happen in porn to claim otherwise, few women can park an SUV inside their bodies. A reader should never wonder about such things while reading a sex scene. This reviewer was so offended by the writer’s lack of knowledge of the female body (and likely horrified from imagining a mighty oak tearing into something the size of a change purse) that she stopped reading the book. Lesson learned - sometimes less info really is more.
The goal when writing is for the reader to never feel you maneuvering them. They should dissolve into the story and forget how someone created everything. Yet, sometimes a sex scene will yank a reader out of a book and make them wonder weird stuff.
A review for very popular zombie book complained about a creepy sex scene. The reviewer wasn’t so bothered by the weirdness, but how she was immediately reminded that the book was written by a guy. Not just any guy, but one who clearly believed foreplay was something chicks made up as a way to screw with men.
Here’s a hint, fellas: women do not walk around in a constant state of readiness for sex. We rarely yank down our panties at a moment’s notice and have sex with a random older guy without foreplay. Why would this teen girl behave in such a manner? Oh, because she was a teen girl written by a grown man who knows nothing about teen girls.
Everyone has a different reaction to sex scenes. It’s like cussing in that way. Many readers have no issue with the wording in sex scenes. Plus, there are readers who simply skip over sex scenes. Then there are those who are very picky or whose imaginations are too vivid. Those last readers will notice anatomy problems or weird words or inconsistent characterization. Those readers might love everything else in your book, but if you squick them out with your word choices or an awkward sex scene, you could lose their future business.
Why I read negative reviews – Pt. 5: An asshole, a bitch, and a weenie walk into a bar.