When it comes to sex scenes, the rules say things like: Don’t write them at all, and if you do, don’t use these words. Don’t write them silly, porny, dramatic, tragic, pathological, grim, or ridiculous.
My whole practical thesis around the craft of writing a sex scene is this: it is exactly the same as any other scene. Our isolation of sex from other kinds of scenes is not indicative of sex’s difference, but the difference in our relationship to sex. It is our reluctance to name things, the shame we’ve been taught, our fraught compulsion to an act a theatre of types. It is indicative of the lack of imagination that centuries of patriarchy and white supremacy has wrought on us.
To teach sex scenes is to talk about plot, dialogue, pacing, description and characterisation: all those elements that make a captivating scene. A sex scene should advance the story and occur in a chain of causality that springs from your characters’ choices. It should employ sensory detail that concretises and also speaks symbolically to the deeper content of the story. Or if not, it should service your work of art in whatever ways you want from your scenes.
“Mind Fuck: Writing Better Sex” in Body Work by Melissa Febos
Reading a Terry Pratchett book is literally just:
Here's a funny little joke
Here's something that you can tell is a joke but don't get and will only figure out five years later
Here's a surprisingly cool fantasy concept
Here's a unique and well written simile
Here's a lil guy
Here's something that has aged depressingly well into the modern day
Here's something that has aged remarkably queer into the modern day
Here's a character that you can barely understand what he's saying
Here is the most terrifying and deeply disturbing concept you have ever heard, casually mentioned
Here is the dumbest fucking pun you've ever heard but in the best way
Here is a quote so profound that it makes you view morality and the world in a different way
Here is a plot twist that you can't tell if it's genius or stupid
Congratulations! You've finished the book! It has fundamentally changed you as a person and you will never be the same!
“No writing is wasted. Did you know that sourdough from San Francisco is leavened partly by a bacteria called lactobacillus sanfrancisensis? It is native to the soil there, and does not do well elsewhere. But any kitchen can become an ecosystem. If you bake a lot, your kitchen will become a happy home to wild yeasts, and all your bread will taste better. Even a failed loaf is not wasted. Likewise, cheese makers wash the dairy floor with whey. Tomato gardeners compost with rotten tomatoes. No writing is wasted: the words you can’t put in your book can wash the floor, live in the soil, lurk around in the air. They will make the next words better.”
- Ya lo sé
- Repítelo de nuevo, Nela. El pánico es un veneno que disuelve la memoria. Quiero que lo tengas grabado a fuego y te salga sin pensar, incluso en los peores momentos.
Firefighter demonstrates how to put out a kitchen fire
some people think writers are so eloquent and good with words, but the reality is that we can sit there with our fingers on the keyboard going, “what’s the word for non-sunlight lighting? Like, fake lighting?” and for ten minutes, all our brain will supply is “unofficial”, and we know that’s not the right word, but it’s the only word we can come up with…until finally it’s like our face got smashed into a brick wall and we remember the word we want is “artificial”.
so violent that actors have to get buff for marvel films. So fucked up that women have always had to be the smallest they can be to get work as actors. Changing your body for cinema should be illegal actually
It is increasingly obvious that most people have no idea how to indicate an illness is slowly killing someone without making them cough up blood. Doesn’t matter what it is or if it has anything to do with your respiratory system, if you’re dying, you’re coughing up blood.
People, especially games, get eldritch madness wrong a lot and it’s really such a shame.
An ant doesn’t start babbling when they see a circuit board. They find it strange, to them it is a landscape of strange angles and humming monoliths. They may be scared, but that is not madness.
Madness comes when the ant, for a moment, can see as a human does.
It understands those markings are words, symbols with meaning, like a pheromone but infinitely more complex. It can travel unimaginable distances, to lands unlike anything it has seen before. It knows of mirth, embarrassment, love, concepts unimaginable before this moment, and then…
It’s an ant again.
Echoes of things it cannot comprehend swirl around its mind. It cannot make use of this knowledge, but it still remembers. How is it supposed to return to its life? The more the ant saw the harder it is for it to forget. It needs to see it again, understand again. It will do anything to show others, to show itself, nothing else in this tiny world matters.
you know what actually pisses me off? when I finally start to feel a smidge of confidence in my writing ability and then some JERK POSTS A SINGLE LINE FROM A TERRY PRATCHETT NOVEL AND IT’S BETTER THAN ANYTHING I WILL EVER WRITE NO MATTER HOW MANY MILLENNIA I SPEND TRYING!