Dear Xerex,
After much internal debate, sleepless nights, many blank sheets of paper and previously clean bed sheets now soaked and stained, I have come to the conclusion that- brace yourself- writing and sex don’t differ too much. Howso? Consider:
Length or size doesn’t matter. I know, I know- you think this is just the excuse of the not-so-well-endowed. Hear me out though. Written materials- novels, poems, essays, treatises- are judged by the substance and thought process spent in creating them; quality is neither directly nor inversely proportional to length. Sex- whether the intrument used or the act itself- is judged by the skill and emotions it evokes. Kilometric or nanometric- it doesn’t matter. To many.
It’s great when you do it alone, but it gets better when you share it with somebody else. Yes, there are times when self-gratification suffices, especially when there is a dearth of willing and/or able partners to share your stuff with. But as NVM Gonzales said- a book is never finished unless it is read by another person. The same is true with sex- whether your aim is to procreate or give and/or receive pleasure, it always takes two to tango. Dancing alone just doesn’t feel write.
Sometimes it’s best when done incognito. There are so many levels of joy that going undercover bring. You feel safer behind that veil of secrecy; no one will be the wiser if you fuck up fucking or writing. Or you maybe engaged in something controversial or taboo- your reputation however you may have built it remains. And the stalkers and madcrazy fans can be held at bay if they know nothing of your particulars.
You get better with practice. ‘Nuf said.
If you’re great (or lousy) at it, you don’t have to advertise. Word of mouth, baby! Kiss and tell, read and tell- the same banana. Especially if it’s a good banana that you’ve fed to them. A great, hunk of quality banana that will keep them raving and craving for more.
Foreplay is key. It’s one thing to swoop into the action like a hawk and be a predator, but to passionately devour them is another. Great authors and lovers start off by tickling their readers and/or partners. They whet their appetite some more, stimulate their minds and bodies further. They save the main course for later. Their interests get piqued with smooth talk weighed deftly that it doesn’t lull them to sleep. Lit are the embers of desire to go on and discover what the next page will bring, the next sentence, what lies beneath the undershirt, what’s hidden beneath the sheets.
There’s always somebody better or worse than you. Learn from them. Nobody’s perfect. There will be hits and misses. There will be lousy trash written in the guise of art and there will be skin-scraping teethy blowjobs. Mercifully, there will be Booker Prize winners or Bel Ami boys who can show you the way. To miss out on the opportunity to improve one’s craft is not only a shame but a crime.
Love what (or who) you’re doing; and what (or whom) you’re doing will love you back. Like any endeavor, great sex or effective writing is no mean feat. Patience, commitment, focus are essential. There is room for spontaneity, true- quickies or flashes of genius a la JK Rowling are the bonuses of life!- but careful study, selflessness, and dedication will afford to us maximum satisfaction, on bed or on paper. Let the juices flow, creative and otherwise.
Shag on. Write away.
Lovelots,
