Vice Nebulosa
Dark Matter Turner
Right; I don't know whether this subject is about to broach much debate, but it seemed a tad . . . risqué for the general forums.
Anyway, my interest lies specifically in the presence of elements in my own writing compositions that, while not overtly sexual (nothing so blatant as intercourse, or even romance, really), are nonetheless colored by sensual descriptions. The issue can be writ larger into a statement about sex in general, but as I have no direct experience with the activity, I am not in a position to affirm or refute. This is where any of you with sexual experience become potential sources of wisdom.
I have written three short stories in the past two months or so, short-term projects designed to ease the tension of the latter half of the first university term, laden as it was with essays and exam preparations. Far more than my larger projects, I notice that sexual imagery and suggestion is present in the description of individual (invariably female) characters. It is fairly subtle, but it is there. And though it is fairly inevitable that my literary projects, at times, will lead me to more explicit regions of the sexual sphere, it is significant to note that, in the short stories, the sensual flavor was never planned out beforehand. This means that, for the most part, this aspect of the narratives evolved as they were being written, and were probably linked to whatever mood I happened to be in at the time.
Mostly we are talking about descriptions of female clothing and anatomy, though within this sphere the sexual organs themselves are rarely emphasized; eyes and hair are dominant themes. I might begin a paragraph describing the dress of the female lead, fully intending to describe the basic appearance and follow it up with analysis of textures, colors, scents, etc., envisioning a finished paragraph that, while long, begins and ends concisely. What I have found, though, is that this paragraph often gets itself rolling and sprawls into two paragraphs, and three, and I suddenly notice that I have spent upward of an hour thinking about the imagery. There is definitely a sense of anticipatory energy pervading the process, and it is undeniably fun to write, but its spontaneity makes me curious. Most likely this is simply a muted form of the adolescent puberty mindset manifesting itself again, but this time at an age and set of life circumstances (I am eighteen years old, away from home at university) where the possibility of actually performing the damn act, around which all this mystery spirals, is a real one.
Now the issue can be looked at more broadly. The question exists in my mind as to whether this invigorating literary bent towards the sensual (with its positives and negatives) will continue undisturbed after actually having sex, will intensify, or will ebb altogether. Now, physically, sex is neither unnatural nor special, and a part of me scoffs at the idea that this basic biological throb has such a sly influence over my creative process to begin with, let alone that my life should suddenly be altered in some palpable way after satisfying it. On the other hand, there is the fact that sex can be an indicator of other things -- intimacy, closeness of individual personalities as well as bodies -- and perhaps it is these that are the true destroyers of "virginity", whatever that is, rather than the actual orgasmic rush. This idea resonates well with me, as I have always found that the reality of the sexual act is an extremely disappointing metamorphosis of the anticipation that our society enjoys indoctrinating us with. Since it is not mere "T and A" that holds my attention, but rather interest in the quirks of the female mind (and feminine experience in general), as well as physical features like eyes, hair, body contours, etc., there may be something more than lust at work, and though I find the thought unpleasant, there may not.
So, the question being asked can be boiled down: does sexual illusion or suggestion exceed the reality of sex itself? Is it likely, do you think, that someone in my position will become disillusioned and less interested in the imagery involved in this aspect of biology after having acquired experience -- something to be used, but sparingly and deliberately in writing? Or is it really "that good," so as to maintain or even increase this tendency toward sexual allusion?
Anyway, my interest lies specifically in the presence of elements in my own writing compositions that, while not overtly sexual (nothing so blatant as intercourse, or even romance, really), are nonetheless colored by sensual descriptions. The issue can be writ larger into a statement about sex in general, but as I have no direct experience with the activity, I am not in a position to affirm or refute. This is where any of you with sexual experience become potential sources of wisdom.
I have written three short stories in the past two months or so, short-term projects designed to ease the tension of the latter half of the first university term, laden as it was with essays and exam preparations. Far more than my larger projects, I notice that sexual imagery and suggestion is present in the description of individual (invariably female) characters. It is fairly subtle, but it is there. And though it is fairly inevitable that my literary projects, at times, will lead me to more explicit regions of the sexual sphere, it is significant to note that, in the short stories, the sensual flavor was never planned out beforehand. This means that, for the most part, this aspect of the narratives evolved as they were being written, and were probably linked to whatever mood I happened to be in at the time.
Mostly we are talking about descriptions of female clothing and anatomy, though within this sphere the sexual organs themselves are rarely emphasized; eyes and hair are dominant themes. I might begin a paragraph describing the dress of the female lead, fully intending to describe the basic appearance and follow it up with analysis of textures, colors, scents, etc., envisioning a finished paragraph that, while long, begins and ends concisely. What I have found, though, is that this paragraph often gets itself rolling and sprawls into two paragraphs, and three, and I suddenly notice that I have spent upward of an hour thinking about the imagery. There is definitely a sense of anticipatory energy pervading the process, and it is undeniably fun to write, but its spontaneity makes me curious. Most likely this is simply a muted form of the adolescent puberty mindset manifesting itself again, but this time at an age and set of life circumstances (I am eighteen years old, away from home at university) where the possibility of actually performing the damn act, around which all this mystery spirals, is a real one.
Now the issue can be looked at more broadly. The question exists in my mind as to whether this invigorating literary bent towards the sensual (with its positives and negatives) will continue undisturbed after actually having sex, will intensify, or will ebb altogether. Now, physically, sex is neither unnatural nor special, and a part of me scoffs at the idea that this basic biological throb has such a sly influence over my creative process to begin with, let alone that my life should suddenly be altered in some palpable way after satisfying it. On the other hand, there is the fact that sex can be an indicator of other things -- intimacy, closeness of individual personalities as well as bodies -- and perhaps it is these that are the true destroyers of "virginity", whatever that is, rather than the actual orgasmic rush. This idea resonates well with me, as I have always found that the reality of the sexual act is an extremely disappointing metamorphosis of the anticipation that our society enjoys indoctrinating us with. Since it is not mere "T and A" that holds my attention, but rather interest in the quirks of the female mind (and feminine experience in general), as well as physical features like eyes, hair, body contours, etc., there may be something more than lust at work, and though I find the thought unpleasant, there may not.
So, the question being asked can be boiled down: does sexual illusion or suggestion exceed the reality of sex itself? Is it likely, do you think, that someone in my position will become disillusioned and less interested in the imagery involved in this aspect of biology after having acquired experience -- something to be used, but sparingly and deliberately in writing? Or is it really "that good," so as to maintain or even increase this tendency toward sexual allusion?