Hey Robert,

You make the best point, and one I come back to often.  As genre writers cliches are indeed our basic ingredients in anything we cook up.  And just to be clear, I don't think "storytellers" are alergic to cliches, I think internet writing communities make a lot of clamor to that effect.  Lots of "cliches you hate" threads on these sorts of boards.  Not a lot of "cliches you will love to your dying breath" threads around.

But I do think there's a big distinction to be made between cliched phrasing, and cliched concepts. A huge difference between telling stories about love triangles or lost civilizations or "space cruisers" on the one hand and hearts leaping out of chests, smiles that never reach the smiler's eyes, and stories that begin in the evening hours during a thunder shower on the other.  Cliched concepts are unavoidable, but hackneyed, tired word choice and phrasing is generally, actually and best avoidable.  Yes, even these old chestnuts can fit in the right manuscript, but I think it takes immense skill/chutzpah to make such cliches work.  Make 'em invisible, make 'em feel new when they're anything but, make 'em "right" and charming for your chosen voice.

-Kevin

Interesting contributions to the discussion, Robert and GD.
 
@Robert: Yes, that made sense.

@GD: I never knew that either--though I should have.  Luckily I never made the mistake of having a character screw a silencer onto a revolver--although I did once shoot a short avant-garde film in which a brooding, hunch-shouldered existentist silently screws a BANG! flag into a gag-gun as he goes round-and-round in a bank's revolving door. Followed by a jump-cut shot of a fat naked man staring solemnly into the camera while striking an entrenching tool against a lime-green frying pan and intoning, "I hear your color; can you smell my words?" Followed by a long, extended close-up shot of black ants devouring a bit of melting popsicle on a sexy woman's belly. THE END.   

Err . . . were we talking about something here? (It's the ADD, you know . . .)

Hello All,

Let me say that this is a great discussion, but I’ve just gotten back from being dragged up a bloody mountain by my son (no lie!). Didn’t make it to the top (too much snow), but gave it a good try.  Now I’m back, reading over the last two days or so of discussions, and before I crawl off and collapse (unlike Carl, I need sleep), I just thought I’d throw in one of my pet peeves – fantasy and science fiction that introduces so many characters so quickly they make the average 19th Century Russian novel look like a story about a ghost town. (I should add that I’m the type of person who has tremendous face recognition abilities, but I’d forget my own damn name if I didn’t carry it around in my wallet. So you can understand why something like this irks me.  I’m also trying to trump Carl’s challenge by offering the worst written opening paragraph in the history of fantasy (incorporating many or your pet peeves).  Please take notes, there’s a pop quiz at the end.

And so for your Easter egg edification (warning – egg is rotten), STIG OF FLAFFENGLICKENSTEINBURG:

Stig Ironjaw smiled as he watched the voluptuous elf maiden - clad only in the small emerald green leaves of the Kletrogeid tree which grew only in the mountain forests of Iglodtran on the shores of the Z’red’bodszen Sea – approach him with a seductive sway to her hips and a look in her eye that spoke of the untold pleasures she – as a daughter of the Cult of Ald’rogaga, handmaiden of the goddess Mradklx who had stolen the love of Daring’wwxk King of the Gods – could offer any man.  He smiled because he knew her to actually be Cloe-kla, daughter and chief assassin in waiting to Blgoch’kin, head of the Assassins Guild and servant of Ri-logaa, god of all Evil, who was, at this very moment watching them from behind the CVorglin tree, which offered him cover due to its being in full bloom with red, green and purple Maori’nin flowers, accompanied by a squad of Trilldihin archers, the most feared bowmen in all of As’drawf, the fair land once ruled by the good King Brodingdong who had been killed by Soraf’tinhle,   Ri-logaa’s chief acolyte, who now ruled with an iron fist.  Stig also smiled because he knew that, unbeknownst to Blgoch’kin, Vest’rufz evil Marshall of Glaacknw, and sworn enemy of Blgoch’kin was also watching from behind the pile of boulders to Stig’s left, having brought with him a company of the feared Tiizka Infrantry from the arid lands of Frixztar where the wind blew cold all year long.  While Stig knew that they all thirsted for his blood on their swords, knives and arrows – even the elf maiden was armed with the Wraith Spike of Kjarrrdx which would send anyone unfortunate enough to be pierced by it to the burning hells of Luxxcccd (although she thought Stig unaware of it) – Stig was unafraid.  He had been given the Amulet of O’hpoolt by the good wizard Lazdjoot, whom he had once saved from the vicious Grraazd, were-spider of Kfooa, and need only touch it’s gleaming surface, which shone like the sun during the day but sparkled like a thousand stars at night, think the incantation, and he would be transported instantly to safety in the hall of N’errghoost, God of all valiant warriors.

Suddenly Stig frowned and cursed aloud, “By the burning dungeons of Klaff, land of eternal freezing rain, How does that damn incantation go again?”

Quiz Question (I warned you!):

Which of the following, after being raped by the Golden Turnip of Xldng’ddbfh, gave birth to the dog-kitten faced god Jojo?

a)      Edlrtrib, fair maiden of Globlerret

b)      Toto

c)        Wendy of the delicious hamburgers

Happy Easter to all, and to all a good night! (OK, so I lifted that one.)

J)

Pubic Thatch - (compound noun: from the Latin & Old English)

(1) bear rug for bare rubbing parts
(2) a roof comprised of fine, cylindrical, keratinized, pigmented filaments originally shorn from the epidermis of a mammal [see: Famous Pubic Roofs of Polyandrous Polynesia for further info] 

That's a lovely thought LeeAnna. I'm sorry to digress from it, but I thought I should add some insight into the "crispy" discussion - from a purely academic viewpoint - and set the record straight.

Folks, I really hate to rain on your parade regarding “crispy”, but the truth is that the original author had greater insight into the etymology of the word than you give her or him credit for.  While there is debate as to whether it is actually derived from the Old English “ChRISPUY” (sorry, but my computer doesn’t have an accurate Old English alphabet) or the French “Crispέέ”, nevertheless its original meaning was “Crispin-like”.  This referred to the 3rd Century Saints Crispin and Crispinian (they were brothers) who are the patron saints of cobblers, tanners and leather workers (and at one time of weavers too), and after whom Saint Crispin’s Day is named.   It is generally accepted that they were beheaded at the order of the Roman Emperor Diocletian in Belgic Gaul c. 286 AD.   As to the original meaning of the word:  Legend has it that both brothers were in the habit of walking around the town showing off their wares - newly weaved “wool britches” - to passersby.  As word of their great ability at weaving spread, it attracted the attention of both the Emperor Diocletian and the Holy See (hence the short-lived designation as patron saints of weavers).   The Emperor, on his return from Britain, decided to see for himself.  Blessed with more insight than the average person, the Emperor quickly realized the brothers were both practical jokers, and also extremely hirsute and fleecy in their lower regions, so when they were showing off their wares, they were, in truth showing off their “wares” (think The Emperor’s New Clothes).   Unfortunately for the brothers, the Emperor turned out to have no sense of humor and ordered their execution (which did, of course, lead to their sainthood, although “executed for their faith” may be considered a stretch).  Years later, in 296 AD, Pope Caius was finally let in on the joke and dropped dead (assumedly of heart failure). His successor, Pope Marcellinus, upon ascending to the papcy, immediately had the “patron saints of weavers” appellation revoked.

     So, while I am unsure how the meaning of “crispy” was bastardized to its present meaning (it may have been due to an attempt by Saint Sanders of Kentucky to reform the memory of the brothers by claiming they had been burned at the stake instead of sent to the chopping block); I can happily inform you that the word’s original meaning was luxuriant and lush, and hence, I assume, apropos to the story in question.

For more info, please see: Cardinal Saint-Andre΄, Jacques-Camile, 1894, Saints and Bozos – why they won’t let you into the Vatican Archives, Vatican Press, 10,001 pages. (Published 1894, all copies but the one in my possession burned by Papal Decree 1894).

Hope that helps,

Tom J

Boy, is there anything more fraught with danger for a writer than writing a sex scene? Among the perils (or worries in the back of my mind) are:

(1) Is the reader going to mistake my protagonist's professed feelings and preferences for my feelings and preferences?

(2) Is the reader going to wonder: How does he know that?

(3) If I'm writing from a woman's POV do I have to hide behind a female pen name in order to have credibility with my readership? (Especially a feminine readership?)

(4) Is my sex-scene writing inadvertently either (a) unintentionally funny, (b) overly-pornographic, (c) too coy by half, or—worst of all— (d) boring.

Seems to me the type of sex scene you’re writing should match the tone, plot, and themes of your novel (or short story): graphic for “hard-core” material, more allusive and indirect for “soft-focus” romantic writing, as short and direct (possibly metaphor-laden—or not)  as possible for “literary” writing.

What do you worry about when writing a sex scene? Or are you absolutely fearless and confident in your control of craft here?  

@Robert – “evil”?  Thank you. High praise indeed!

@Carl – sometimes the lead-in has to be a bit long to draw in the unsuspecting reader. I would have thought that you, of all people, would know that – you’ve done it enough times!  I’m guessing that you saw through my little post-April Fool’s joke too soon.  Fascinating to note though that for Stig I go a LMAO from you and a groan from Robert, while for Crispin I got a groan from you and a Bravo from Robert – tough crowd!

BTW Carl, you will be happy to know that all historical details are accurate (check Wikipedia).  I think you should also give me some credit for restraint.  After all I decided not to use Crispin’s immortal final words, spoken as he lay his head on the block (and quoted by Slowking in the Poke΄man Movie): “I should have worn pants!”  J

Graphic sex scenes?  Why?  This reminds me of the time back in the 80’s when the term “mandatory sex scene” was bandied about. Every work of fiction had to have one.  The now defunct National Lampoon did an article on “What if all literature had required mandatory sex scenes?”  The only one I remember was  Fezziwig’s Chistmas Eve Party turning into an orgy!  Hilarious, but also showing just how dumb the entire idea was.  True sex is the playground of the mind.  I think that you can get more character detail across in a paragraph descibing how the character reacts too, or thinks about sex than you can in ten pages of graphic detail. I learned quite a bit about LeeAnna’s husband and their relationship in that one lovely sentence she gave us – think about it.

@Tom: That was a pained groan of appreciation. Or as Robert might put it: "The arful—it burns; it do!

@Mimi: "Itsy-bitsy spider, balling up a tart / stepped in tar-like vaginal glue, let out a startled—” Yeah. I think tasteful vanished over the horizon at conception. But hey, I’d love to be a—forgive me; can’t resist!—fly on the wall at that children’s book pitch meeting . . .

Sex is private because each couple's personal chemistry and imagination exceeds what words can express. How do you communicate what only you two can know? I remember taking my Polaroid camera into the hills one September in Alaska to photograph the trees with their spectacularly colorful leaves. But when I compared the photographs to the actual scenery, I was appalled. The real colors were incredibly brilliant. The photos were muted copies. Convinced the camera was defective, I returned home determined to research the problem. You guessed it. People who looked at the pictures thought they were wonderful. Writing about sex is like that.

We can describe the sex act in bare terms that would make a mechanic blush & grin and we can creatively allow the reader to mix our metaphors with their memories and imagination. But I suspect that the poet comes closest to translating sex into words.
 
Anyone for a bit of Gioconda Belli?

"Caress the lily's center with your anchor
Plunge deep drown yourself stretch your limbs
Don't deny yourself the smell the salt the sugar
The brain's dense fog
Earthquake of legs
Sleeping tidal wave of kisses
Rock your fallen angel let your usurped sword of fire lose itself in the thick hair
Bite the apple
Breath in breath out
Die a little
Sleep you shipwrecked sailor."

Lines excerpted from her "Brief Lessons In Eroticism"

Just to keep the pot boiling:
......................................................

Writer: Laura Miller

excerpt from the Salon.com article: No Sex, Please, We’re Literary!

………………………………..

It doesn’t take much nerve to stand up in front of a boozy crowd and read sex passages from other people’s books in a mocking tone of voice while everybody sneers and groans. No one raises an eyebrow if you talk about what doesn’t strike you as erotic. Doing the opposite, however, amounts to admitting that you’ve found something arousing, and thereby risking the British equivalent of the ninth circle of hell: embarrassment.

“Their attitude is: ‘Next time you think of writing about sex, don’t,’” said Susie Bright, who was the editor of the Best American Erotica anthology series for 15 years. “I can’t think of any other fundamental human experience that writers would be encouraged to keep to themselves.” Melissa Katsoulis, a literary reviewer for the Times of London, certainly seemed to conform to Bright’s impression when asked to comment on the award by the BBC: “Sex is a subject best avoided altogether,” she said. “If I was writing a novel, I wouldn’t attempt to write it except in the most Victorian and prim way, because it’s awful. It’s a cliché, but the moments of genuine frisson in books are when hardly anything happens.” Speak for yourself, missy.

…………………………….

Complete article here: http://www.salon.com/2010/11/30/bad_sex/">http://www.salon.com/2010/11/30/bad_sex/

It’s a good hijack! Except now that discussion title—"Ten Things Writers Do That Cause Me To Sigh Heavily"—has become a double entendre, heh!

Great posting, by the way. A similar argument could be made for the difficulty involved in writing about any intense experience, could it not? War, for example . . .

The writer uses words. Words are our clay, the potter’s wheel our madly-whirling minds.

All I ask when the writer is shaping/writing a sex scene is (a) be true to your characters, (b) be true to the tone and style of your novel, (c) have a compelling reason for embedding a sex scene(s) in your narrative. (You’re writing an erotic novel, for instance. That’s a good reason. You’re writing a war novel and want to show your protagonists embracing Eros in the midst of Thanatos-thralled madness. That’s another.)

@Tom W.—I hear you! It seemed like every other best-selling novel I read there in the late 70s had an obligatory sex scene popping up (off? —bad Carl) every other chapter or so. A surfeit of poorly-written, badly-motivated sex scenes is like an excess of poorly-written, badly-motivated eruptions of violence in a hack novel: ponderous, boring and all-too-predictable—and ultimately meaningless.
.....................
I had hoped to broaden the discussion into a description of the technical and personal difficulties involved in writing sex scenes, but all ya’ll dour Puritans [except for Mimi—you go girl! Spider-sex-’em-up! Anything can work, if done with story-appropriate pacing, POV and tone, eh?) turned the talk to the question of whether or not writers should write about sex.

Perhaps you all agree with H. P. Lovecraft, then, who replied to a critic [who inquired as to what accounted for the lack of love scenes or other romantic elements in his writing] by sniffing: “The amatory phenomena do not interest me.”

Again: just trying to keep the pot stirred. I appreciate everyone checking in on this issue. We’re all working writers (professional, semi-pro and amateur) struggling with issues of craft. Everyone has a slightly different take on this subject and I find the various perspectives, insights and opinions articulated very thought-provoking indeed . . .

PS. Alright, GD, I'll take up your challenge to write a one-para sex scene right here:
............................................
    "Do you wanna—"
    "No!" she said.
............................................
Okay, technically that's two paragraphs . . .

LMAO Carl double entendre, huh.

Yes, it can be argued that war experiences can exceed what words can express. Unlike sex, real war ain't something real people really want to hear about anyway. But anybody can write about sex because we all share that experience. And you're right, how we write about sex is probably best determined by what readers of our story might expect.
I enjoy the poetry more than the description of sex but when I was younger the opposite was true. Now I enjoy Henry Miller for his humor and Rumi for romance.

Speaking of Rumi...

If anyone asks you
how the perfect satisfaction
of all our sexual wanting
will look, lift your face
and say,
                'like this.'

 - Rumi, 13th Century Afghanistan poet.

For someone who just enjoys writing and now seriously working on becoming a published author I find this conversation entertaining and most importantly informative. “Suddenly”   I realize I need to be more aware of the words I’m selecting to tell my story.