Chicken
From the Dictionary:
5. Slang. a. A cowardly or fearful person.
b. Erica
Yup. That's the word for the day. Chicken. Me.
I've made no secret of the fact--if you've read all nearly 400 blog entries here--that I fear the following: clowns, cops, the dark, cockroaches (but not spiders), enclosed places, flying, and I'm not too keen on crowds. But last night, I was chicken about writing a scene.
You see, I brought two chapters of one of my works in progress to my writers' group. The book is literary fiction, or women's fiction, and it's about gender roles and sexual redemption, in the matter of themes. In one of the chapters, Cate, my main character, who gave birth to a stillborn baby and had five miscarriages, finally sleeps with Anton, the grandson of an African-American preacher, and a decent but broken man. And a cop, actually. And I took it right to the bedroom. And then it was the next morning. In between, because the book is told in horicultural chapters, we learned about evening primrose and the chapter ended, as they usually do, with a flower.
I got very positive feedback. I could have cut and run. In fact, I thought, leave well enough alone, Orloff. He likes it. But I just HAD to bring up what I considered the big pink elephant in the room. I asked my partner, So, I don't mean to be crass here, but do I have to . . . SHOW it?
To keep this blog relatively PG, I will say that there are some feminists (and there are extreme gender politics in this book) who believe all sex is rape. Even if invited, it involves the woman being demeaned because she is entered. Enough said. So, I asked the big $64,000 question. Do I have to SHOW it in a book like this?
Depends, said my critique partner. I think you have to deconstruct how Cate feels about the act, and what her sexual identity is as a sexual being and then you'll know how to rework the scene.
My response? I knew that. But I'm chicken.
Now, I can tell you that ANYTIME you don't feel you are UP TO writing a scene on a deeper and more intense and honest level . . . you must. Because to do less is to be dishonest as a writer. I am chicken to write it as brutally honest as it needs to be because, like some (most?) people, sexuality is a complicated topic for me. In my circle of, say, ten close friends (intimate enough to share on a deeper level), five were raped at some point. A couple knew their attacker. But they didn't even HAVE the term "date rape" or "acquaintance rape" back when they were raped. So it was one of those things these women just forgot. Or tried to. One more piece about trust or lack of in gender relations. And really, sexuality is ENORMOUS. It's an essential part of our identity (which is why the idea of condemning someone for being gay is ludicrous to me, as if people have choice about these roles). In that same circle, two women were victims of sexual abuse as children. The enormity of sexuality casts its shadow or its light over all our lives. My sexuality is as vast as my lifespan. There is much more to my main character than just this moment in time with Anton; she brings a great deal of baggage to their bed. And "going there" in fiction is really scary. Can I do the topic justice? Can't I just avoid it? Who would know? I would, for one. The story demands it.
So . . . I know I have to go forward and rip apart the scene yet again. No chicken for me today.
Thoughts? Anything in your current or past works you are chicken about? A book you've been avoiding writing because it's too difficult?
Have a seat on the Couch today.
Peace.
Erica Freud
5. Slang. a. A cowardly or fearful person.
b. Erica
Yup. That's the word for the day. Chicken. Me.
I've made no secret of the fact--if you've read all nearly 400 blog entries here--that I fear the following: clowns, cops, the dark, cockroaches (but not spiders), enclosed places, flying, and I'm not too keen on crowds. But last night, I was chicken about writing a scene.
You see, I brought two chapters of one of my works in progress to my writers' group. The book is literary fiction, or women's fiction, and it's about gender roles and sexual redemption, in the matter of themes. In one of the chapters, Cate, my main character, who gave birth to a stillborn baby and had five miscarriages, finally sleeps with Anton, the grandson of an African-American preacher, and a decent but broken man. And a cop, actually. And I took it right to the bedroom. And then it was the next morning. In between, because the book is told in horicultural chapters, we learned about evening primrose and the chapter ended, as they usually do, with a flower.
I got very positive feedback. I could have cut and run. In fact, I thought, leave well enough alone, Orloff. He likes it. But I just HAD to bring up what I considered the big pink elephant in the room. I asked my partner, So, I don't mean to be crass here, but do I have to . . . SHOW it?
To keep this blog relatively PG, I will say that there are some feminists (and there are extreme gender politics in this book) who believe all sex is rape. Even if invited, it involves the woman being demeaned because she is entered. Enough said. So, I asked the big $64,000 question. Do I have to SHOW it in a book like this?
Depends, said my critique partner. I think you have to deconstruct how Cate feels about the act, and what her sexual identity is as a sexual being and then you'll know how to rework the scene.
My response? I knew that. But I'm chicken.
Now, I can tell you that ANYTIME you don't feel you are UP TO writing a scene on a deeper and more intense and honest level . . . you must. Because to do less is to be dishonest as a writer. I am chicken to write it as brutally honest as it needs to be because, like some (most?) people, sexuality is a complicated topic for me. In my circle of, say, ten close friends (intimate enough to share on a deeper level), five were raped at some point. A couple knew their attacker. But they didn't even HAVE the term "date rape" or "acquaintance rape" back when they were raped. So it was one of those things these women just forgot. Or tried to. One more piece about trust or lack of in gender relations. And really, sexuality is ENORMOUS. It's an essential part of our identity (which is why the idea of condemning someone for being gay is ludicrous to me, as if people have choice about these roles). In that same circle, two women were victims of sexual abuse as children. The enormity of sexuality casts its shadow or its light over all our lives. My sexuality is as vast as my lifespan. There is much more to my main character than just this moment in time with Anton; she brings a great deal of baggage to their bed. And "going there" in fiction is really scary. Can I do the topic justice? Can't I just avoid it? Who would know? I would, for one. The story demands it.
So . . . I know I have to go forward and rip apart the scene yet again. No chicken for me today.
Thoughts? Anything in your current or past works you are chicken about? A book you've been avoiding writing because it's too difficult?
Have a seat on the Couch today.
Peace.
Erica Freud
Labels: gender roles, sex scenes
posted by Erica Orloff at 7:26 AM
14 Comments:
Hmm. Velly interesting Ms Freud. :)
I think it all goes back to that honesty thing again. Sure, it's fiction, but you can't SHOW something that big without SHOWING parts of yourself that aren't generally revealed to the masses. And because different people bring different perspectives, any time you are that honest you run the risk of someone misinterpreting how YOU really feel about a certain subject.
But you just revealed that your story demands it, so I know you'll find a way to do it justice. ;-)
Hey Lainey:
That's the thing. As personally ICKY (how's that for a word) as I find getting technical about how she feels (versus it being an erotic scene), I think it's a cop-out if I don't.
AND, I cannot tell you how many times people have made tremendous assumptions about my life from things in my books. It's fiction. It's a LITTLE of me. But I'm not my characters.
E
Icky is an excellent word. Very descriptive.
And hey, I'm not even big pubbed yet and it's happening. I think only other writers understand a character is bits and pieces, NOT representative of the writer.
Meanie neighbor/beta reader jumped all over me for this line in my wip:
“I kinda feel about psychics the same way I feel about god. I don’t want to believe, but I’ve seen just enough to make me afraid not to.”
She feels that by not capitalizing God I'm telling the world I'm an atheist. Duh. It never occurred to me that whether I would capitalize it or not was an issue. My CHARACTER didn't, which was meant to convey his beliefs, not mine.
Sheesh, even when I think I'm tip-toeing I manage to offend. No wonder I'm such a ...chicken.
I can't tell you how many times I'm too afraid to go where the story asks me to go. Or just plain lazy. That's when I imagine my imaginary angel-reader on my shoulder.
Wow, I haven't heard from the "all sex is rape" crowd. I am so grateful for all feminism has done, but the most important thing it's done is give us a choice. That choice makes all the difference in the world.
Sex and sexual desires and sexual hurts are so ... big. For something we don't often talk about it, it's such a huge part of our emotional lives, such a vulnerable, often wounded part.
Have you seen Georgia Rule yet? I'm just shocked that a major movie could go so deep and honest.
Lainey:
New word of the day: ICKY
And tell your neighbor to get over herself. LOL!
But yes, people take offense over the oddest things. I have had people extract single lines from my book and give me a hard time about them.
E
Spy:
It's a narrow splinter of feminism, but it's there and vocal. And my character's mother is of that opinion.
And yes, sexuality is one of the most complicated parts of ourselves--vulnerable, angry sometimes, betrayed . . . it's not easy to "go there" in writing. And I know by NOT going there, it just doesn't do the chapter justice,
E
Erica, sounds like you talked yourself out of being chicken. I was afraid to tackle my last book. I thought about it for ages before I wrote it, and I never thought I could do the subject justice while I was writing it. When I think of that book, which I finished in July this year, it's with pride.
I wrote a book about 3 women brought together by breast cancer, but it took me two months after getting the idea to start it. I kept on thinking I needed to know more. (This is when I read Do They Wear Hight Heels in Heaven, to see how you handled it.)
But the thing is, I've had breast cancer. Twice. It was fear holding me back.
Love the idea of ending chapters with a flower. :)
Michelle:
In general, in life, I "Just Do It." Once I identify a problem, I have to address it.
E
Hi Edie:
I went through two of my dearest friends' having breast cancer. That book (High Heels) came pretty close to following some events in my own life--I have Crohn's disease and was close to death when my oldest was 3. As a mother, that crap I went through--ex-husband, mortality issues, religious and spiritual questions . . . appearance issues . . . formed the basis for the book. Its heroine is very close to me--MY voice comes out of her mouth. :-)
E
Gosh, Edie, sounds like a great book!
Erica, if my mom had been born 15, 20 years later, I'm sure she'd've been of that crowd. She was of please-marry-a-doctor generation, but then she had me convinced that sex was the most painful thing imaginable. So sad, because I know she believed it to be true.
Spy:
OMG . . . I am so grateful my parents wanted ME to be the doctor (or whatever I wanted to be). I remember them getting absolutely furious that a teacher tried to push the girls to be nurses in 3rd grade--and teachers and other "female" professions. My parents to me to be a doctor or an astronaut.
However, there was no such thing as "the talk." LOL! I got a book and a "good luck." :-)
E
Erica, your voice in High Heels worked. It kept me reading, and then I got more of your books.
Thanks, Spy! BOOBS is my favorite book of mine so far.
My mother didn't tell me anything about sex. When I had my first period, she handed me a booklet and told my older sister to tell me what to do. lol
Hi Edie:
Thank you. And your book sounds compelling. LOVE the title, LOL!
E
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