Bad Sex

It's not often that I start to write something which is so bad that I have to stop and laugh out loud before I delete it, but one such moment occurred this morning. I am tidying up the last pieces for my next e-book, which includes writing a couple of sex-laden letters based on what may, or may not, be a fantasy of the character. As a jumping-off point to kick-start my imagination, I have been using a book containing experiences and fantasies from real women, edited by a woman, as a means to give veracity to the relevant chapters. In the process of developing a version of one particular fantasy which has a lesbian element in it, however, I found myself about to write: 'we explored each other's bodies.'

There are times when I can be such a man – thinking my man things, writing man-type bollocks.

Now, sometimes these howlers are pointed to you after you have published them. That can be extremely tough. Sometimes it's your editor or trusted first-reader. That's better. Often you catch them with revision. Just about perfect. But when the editorial part of your brain screams at you are typing such trite, clichéd hogwash any decent reader will want to vomit, you know you are wrong, wrong, so very wrong.

I've had lunch. I've had another laugh. And I'm about to go finish the piece.

This time it will done so as to avoid inducing hilarity and risking a possible nomination for The Bad Sex Award In Writing.   

 

Don't do stupid – it's just not clever.