BOOKISH: Sex Writing for Beginners

Bet I got your attention. Now let’s see if I can keep it.

Writing about sex is a minefield. Like the act itself, a lot can go wrong. And like the act itself, it was probably because you did something you weren’t supposed to do.

Clumsy. Stupid. Silly. Obvious. These are the more common mistakes writers make. Let’s think of one more. Crude. That’s the mistake I see most often.

As a reader, I don’t ask for crude. If I did, I would buy some porno. Crude and rude is gratuitous writing. It’s cheap writing, and I for one read for good writing. Writers who use sex like this are trying to sound real. They think they’re sounding authentic, but they’re anything but. Like profanity or exclamation points, it’s a cheap cop-out.

Crude can be used for humor. But brother, you better be funny.

It’s time for examples. Taffy Brodesser-Akner is pretty typical. A sassy well-connected East Coast person, she writes about… sassy well-connected East Coast people. And there’s a lot of sex. Really crude sex. Her latest, Long Island Compromise, includes some stuff that would make Erica Jong blush. The title itself refers to, ah, don’t ask.

You might argue she’s being tongue in cheek. Probably the wrong phrase, but nothing here is light-hearted. It’s just ugly and explicit, which may play well on the coasts. Doubtless. But to us Midwesterners, something ain’t quite right.

I mean, we’re sexy people and all. No we’re not. We’re modest. Our men say bless you and thank you and hold the door open and keep their eyes where they belong. Our women wear sweaters. Under that sweater is another sweater. And under that, more often than not, is a sweatshirt.

We know what is left to the imagination is far more alluring than what is not. Writers, imply at least as much as you show. The reader will fill in the rest. Trust me.