Why we can stop worrying about writing sex scenes

and instead worry about something much bigger (optional)

Hello! I come to you from a break from drafting book 2, filled with equal parts excitement, joy, fear and disillusionment. So same old same old, am I right fellas ha ha hahah ha???

This post is about a concept I’ve been wallowing in recently, which is that to write is to tell on yourself.

This is just true. Of course it is! Because if we allow some radical honesty, i.e. the kind that we hate because it feels bad, we can agree that really, to make art of any kind is to tell on yourself.¹ ²

To make art is to reveal what you find interesting or beautiful or noteworthy, the areas that take up space in your mind, your observations about the world and about yourself.

And a byproduct of this, of course, is telling on yourself. Sorry!!!

In particular, to write is to tell on yourself because it feels like a parallel to an internal monologue. Our inner voices speak in words; we write using words. So writing feels like a unique window into someone’s thoughts, in a way that kind of isn’t true but also… kind of is.

Writing about sex is a big yikes

This comes up a lot in how writers feel about sex scenes. In this line of work with its countless opportunities for cringe, this may be the area richest in potential.

It can differ depending on genre, maybe. I have a special place in my heart for the kind of literary fiction that fully commits to being disgusting about sex on purpose. They have their sick little freaky characters, leaning in to the visceral grossness of the human body, the ridiculousness of sex, the mortifying ordeal of being human. And I applaud them!!! It’s great stuff.

But it’s a bit different because at least these scenes aren’t trying to be sexy, right? For commercial fiction, you’re trying to write characters who are in some way appealing. So there’s much less sick fuckery allowed — a blessing and a curse. And it makes people think, YIKES I could never write about sex like that, how embarrassing.

Why are we worried?

I suspect this is linked to a fear that if you write a sex scene, then people will know how you think about sex. Readers will not only know that you know what sex is (awful), but worse, they’ll apply this to you.

They’ll think what you’ve written is what the author likes or wants, that it’s a humiliating list of your sexual preferences. They’ll know so many things about you. And it’ll be so cringe.

The good news is: nope!

Maybe it’s fine actually

Authors don’t write a sex scene assuming no one will ever read it, or that if someone does, they’ll therefore have a unique insight into the author’s proclivities.

Sex scenes aren’t secret little windows into authors’ sexual lives that accidentally reveal embarrassing secrets. Authors know what’s in there. We’re the ones who wrote it.

If something is included in a sex scene in a published book, it’s because the author has made their peace with someone else reading it.

Also, it’s a book. In fiction, it’s not the author having sex. It’s the character. The character is not the author.

So we can agree that’s fine and we can be okay with it.

But wait…

Here’s something though: To write is to tell on yourself, but not in the way you think.

It’s not the words you’ve chosen that will tell on you, but the things you haven’t noticed you’ve written. The reveal lies in the gaps between the words.

The best and worst thing about writing is you’re telling on yourself in ways you haven’t even noticed. You can check every word you write and make your peace with someone reading it. But there’s always something else you haven’t noticed that someone else will form an opinion about. And that? Is just very funny.

Two obvious examples from me here, which make me smile nervously when I think about them.

In my first book, early readers asked me if my main character is non-binary. The way I’d written my (female) narrator revealed something about how I think about the performance of gender. This was unintentional! I just thought this was how everyone viewed it. Apparently not.

I’m working on book 2 now. It’s a fun and flirty treasure hunt story. Or so I thought!!! Until conversations with loved ones illuminated a funny thread of spirituality and religion running through this hijinksy book that I didn’t mean to put in. Clearly I have some stuff to figure out, and I hadn’t even freakin’ noticed.

The stupid part about these two examples is, of course, that these are just a couple I know about. There will be millions of others. It’ll be happening right now, with this post! Wow. How does she do it.

Just tell on yourself and have done with it

The good news is though, it literally doesn’t matter. Because this isn’t unique to writing — this is just what it means to be a person. You can’t exist in the world without other people noticing things about you.

Yes, this can be horrible and/or deeply uncomfortable, especially when people spot things you haven’t even noticed about yourself that you’re not yet okay with. Sorry again!!!!

But telling on yourself is fine. It’s something we just have to do. And in fact, it’s not just fine, but wonderful. Beauty in vulnerability.

Just whole-arse it — in writing, and maybe also in life(?). If you’re going to be earnest, be earnest. If you’re working through some aspect of your personality, great. So are we all. You don’t need to apologise for being a person.

This goes for sex scenes too. Humans have always made art about sex, and they always will. Let’s simply not waste time feeling shame or fear about this, a fundamental part of humanity. Yes, to be seen is to be cringe. But as we know: to be cringe is to be free.

So make the art anyway. Delve into your psyche, make it badly. Embarrass yourself. Play. Feel something. Be a person. Nothing matters. Seriously, none of this could matter less. Write the sex scene.

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P.S. Thank you for reading! These newsletters will be moving to a more flexible schedule from now on, so look out for posts every so often. Please say hi, or send suggestions for what you’d like me to write about, if you want! I literally love to hear from people. And if you subscribe to this newsletter, please know that I consider you a close personal friend.

the mortifying ordeal of being a stinky lady who has to sit in the car footwell

1. I’m not gonna talk about AI here because I can’t face it today, but this is one reason why using AI to unthinkingly generate ‘art’ is to wildly, embarrassingly miss the point.

2. also for those who don’t know what tell on yourself means (hello to my dad), I’m using it in the sense of, to reveal something embarrassing about yourself by accident.