They shine for you
Memo to self: singing one high tenor part once does not magically give you the low end of a tenor range. Don't push it. (Translation: my throat hurts.)
I have to write more sex scenes. It used to be that I was kind of surprised at myself when I'd written a story without a sex scene in it; now I'm more surprised when I write a story that does have one. Or at least an explicit sex scene. Back when, starting to write explicit sex was kind of like a revelation... no, wait. First, I was embarrassed and couldn't look at the screen when I was writing. But after that, when I got over the fact that I was writing those words and they added up to this scene and I was actually going to show it to other people and eep, after that it was fun and freeing to write smut and share it with other people and have that be a good thing. Yay, smut.
At some point, I got more self-conscious. Not about writing sex scenes as such, but about the language. I mean, fire metaphors and water metaphors and shivering here and throbbing there and tongues and fingers and please keep track of the hands. I've written ::counts:: 78 stories with a whole lot of more or less explicit sex in them. How many ways can you describe an orgasm, anyway?
I guess part of the problem (yes, okay, it's a really lame and tiny problem. A problemette?) is that I want to write about people having really, really good sex, most of the time. Spine-shaking, skin-tingling, breath-stealing good sex. I could maybe try writing scenes where people have mediocre-to-boring sex and see if it helps with the description issues, but. Well. Spectacularly good sex is more fun.
Plan for spring 2003: rediscover the joys of writing smut. Try to, anyway. The crossover challenge story, as plotted, calls for good sex, so I really hope this works out before May 1. (Now that I've said it in public, watch my characters take vows of chastity and sew extra buttons on their clothes.)
Project More Fun Sex? Project More Sexy Fun? I should make a t-shirt.
I have to write more sex scenes. It used to be that I was kind of surprised at myself when I'd written a story without a sex scene in it; now I'm more surprised when I write a story that does have one. Or at least an explicit sex scene. Back when, starting to write explicit sex was kind of like a revelation... no, wait. First, I was embarrassed and couldn't look at the screen when I was writing. But after that, when I got over the fact that I was writing those words and they added up to this scene and I was actually going to show it to other people and eep, after that it was fun and freeing to write smut and share it with other people and have that be a good thing. Yay, smut.
At some point, I got more self-conscious. Not about writing sex scenes as such, but about the language. I mean, fire metaphors and water metaphors and shivering here and throbbing there and tongues and fingers and please keep track of the hands. I've written ::counts:: 78 stories with a whole lot of more or less explicit sex in them. How many ways can you describe an orgasm, anyway?
I guess part of the problem (yes, okay, it's a really lame and tiny problem. A problemette?) is that I want to write about people having really, really good sex, most of the time. Spine-shaking, skin-tingling, breath-stealing good sex. I could maybe try writing scenes where people have mediocre-to-boring sex and see if it helps with the description issues, but. Well. Spectacularly good sex is more fun.
Plan for spring 2003: rediscover the joys of writing smut. Try to, anyway. The crossover challenge story, as plotted, calls for good sex, so I really hope this works out before May 1. (Now that I've said it in public, watch my characters take vows of chastity and sew extra buttons on their clothes.)
Project More Fun Sex? Project More Sexy Fun? I should make a t-shirt.