I love this topic, and likewise what you say on it. It's something I do think on frequentlypart as the effort of finding the right word, part in the joy that there are so many words and that this aspect of language is so vibrant and flexible.
The one that trips me up is "cunt" v. "pussy." "Pussy" for me sounds as silly to me as "twat" and its sibilance just seem wholly inappropriate for that body part. Honestly, I find the word embarrasing. So I've always preferred "cunt" and probably use it to excessbecause, to me, it's not a big gun. Perhaps because I have no broader, comparative context for the words: I hear pussy all the time as a insult for weak/feminine/etc., but have never once heard cunt used in daily speech (what a rock I must live under, I know). It doesn't have a huge, heavy connotation for me; it's purely sexual; the word seems and sounds appropriate in sexual context, to my ears.
But I'd never quite thought about the fact that my use of "cunt" may trip up others just as much as the prevalence of "pussy" shoves me right out of the story.
The subjectivity adds another fascinated, confusing element to a subject which iswonderfullyalready both.
The writer of porn of course dreams of choosing the exact right words that will please the audience and provoke the desired reaction. (Okay, you could say that of all writers, but it's particularly important in porn/erotica.) And it's impossible. Absolutely impossible. It cannot be done. A word that sounds hopelessly un-sexy to me may have just enough of the thrill of the forbidden, just the right connotation, to really do it for another reader.
I like "cunt." I really do. It's dirty, it's sexy, it growls well, does well in dirty talk. "Pussy" is, for me, one of those invisible words, the ones you don't see because . . . well . . . that's just what it's called, so I default to it. Other people have different defaults, and the way this expresses itself and even the process by which those defaults are formed is fascinating to me, even if it often confuses me.
It's part of why actual dirty talking during sex is kind of a high-wire act. Unless you know someone really well, well enough to know where their words and your words line up, it can become rapidly hilarious or embarrassing as hell if you try to get too fancy.
I don't think female anatomy was ever named, for me, the way that male anatomy was. Not literally speakingI was raised with a healthy sex educationbut colloquially there was an awful lot of talk of dicks and nothing at all of ... whatever word I was supposed to use for the other bits, they had no "just what it's called." Part of that was the fact that my social circle was predominantly male, but it also makes me wonder what sort of bias was operating there that it was perfectly normal to talk about a penis but a vulva was somehow ... not spoken of. And I wonder, too, if that's why "pussy" sounds embarrassing to mebecause I associated it with the word for those unspoken-of, and so implicitly shameful/embarassing, girlbits. "Cunt" by contrast was a term of empowerment, a term of intentional statement and sexualization, which may be one of the many reasons that I love and embrace it.
That's all distinctly personal, but interesting thought for me because I haven't really dissected this issue before now. But it just goes to show exactly that: so much is distinctly personal, even when aiming to make a piece of public entertainment.
These days I generally stick to male/male erotica, which simplifies my own troublesome language issues.
By the time I had graduated from the made-up gender-neutral baby words we used to using more descriptive terms, I had already heard what seemed like every swearword in the English language. I had a precocious sister who was furthermore eight years my senior, and neither my mother nor my father did much to censor their language around me. So I had a weird upbringing in that regard.
Male/male erotica. *thumbs up*
It's interesting in that (speaking for myself) writing m/m (or f/f) -- especially anything kinky -- I feel freed from a lot of the political and ethical baggage that comes with writing such material. Introducing someone of the opposite sex automatically adds all these layers of meaning.
I've read articles and dissections of gay slash fiction and the popularity of male/male erotic material among women that said similar stuff. I would link, but I can't even remember my own last name today, apparently. I just spent an hour trying to remember the word "fandom."
The one that trips me up is "cunt" v. "pussy." "Pussy" for me sounds as silly to me as "twat" and its sibilance just seem wholly inappropriate for that body part. Honestly, I find the word embarrasing. So I've always preferred "cunt" and probably use it to excessbecause, to me, it's not a big gun. Perhaps because I have no broader, comparative context for the words: I hear pussy all the time as a insult for weak/feminine/etc., but have never once heard cunt used in daily speech (what a rock I must live under, I know). It doesn't have a huge, heavy connotation for me; it's purely sexual; the word seems and sounds appropriate in sexual context, to my ears.
But I'd never quite thought about the fact that my use of "cunt" may trip up others just as much as the prevalence of "pussy" shoves me right out of the story.
The subjectivity adds another fascinated, confusing element to a subject which iswonderfullyalready both.
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I like "cunt." I really do. It's dirty, it's sexy, it growls well, does well in dirty talk. "Pussy" is, for me, one of those invisible words, the ones you don't see because . . . well . . . that's just what it's called, so I default to it. Other people have different defaults, and the way this expresses itself and even the process by which those defaults are formed is fascinating to me, even if it often confuses me.
It's part of why actual dirty talking during sex is kind of a high-wire act. Unless you know someone really well, well enough to know where their words and your words line up, it can become rapidly hilarious or embarrassing as hell if you try to get too fancy.
Reply
That's all distinctly personal, but interesting thought for me because I haven't really dissected this issue before now. But it just goes to show exactly that: so much is distinctly personal, even when aiming to make a piece of public entertainment.
These days I generally stick to male/male erotica, which simplifies my own troublesome language issues.
Reply
Male/male erotica. *thumbs up*
It's interesting in that (speaking for myself) writing m/m (or f/f) -- especially anything kinky -- I feel freed from a lot of the political and ethical baggage that comes with writing such material. Introducing someone of the opposite sex automatically adds all these layers of meaning.
I've read articles and dissections of gay slash fiction and the popularity of male/male erotic material among women that said similar stuff. I would link, but I can't even remember my own last name today, apparently. I just spent an hour trying to remember the word "fandom."
Reply
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