I survived my book group meeting a few weeks ago and received some helpful feedback on my book. The biggest takeaway is that the second half of my book is missing SIZZLE.
OHMYGOD, just writing that makes me blush. I was hoping that leaving *almost* everything (of a sexual nature) up to my readers’ imaginations was going to suffice, but you, you greedy readers, you want your sex.
Now, I gotta deliver.
Frankly that’s hard to believe it’s missing from a book I penned because I am staggeringly sexed up. (See how awkward that was? Now you know why my book is light on the sizzle.)
It was helpful to hear my readers say that what I have written is a love story. That phrase makes me throw up a little (and then swallow it quickly), but it’s true. The books that made their initial imprint on my psyche were all love stories so it’s a fitting place to start my book-writing here.
But we’re not in Victorian England anymore nor are we Puritans so it’s time to combine those two perennial favorites–
peanut butter and chocolate sex and love– and ejaculate inject them into my book.
I mentioned to my therapist that I felt blocked around writing the physical part of the relationship that is the heart of the book. Naturally, he offered me a helpful suggestion: Write a sex scene and pull out all the stops; have your characters go at it and let your imagination run wild.
Dear readers, I did that. I “pulled out all the stops” (not a euphemism) and wrote the sex scene of my life. It was 100 words long. That’s practically a tweet. Apparently, my imagination is a little flimsy in this area. (Have I mentioned that I was raised Catholic? I blame the nuns for this hole in my manuscript.)
I tried again and I got it up (ha, ha) to 1,300 words. At this rate, the book will be done in 2044. (Preorder now from Amazon!)
However, in my effort to embrace more sexuality (so I can write the book as a sexually literate person (is that a thing?)), I am taking some pro-sex action steps. Here’s what I’ve done so far:
- Downloaded extended remix of George Michael’s I Want Your Sex
- Read the portions of Fifty Shades that I highlighted last summer
- Read my Twitter feed (you wouldn’t believe the filth over there)
- Eavesdropped on conversations between young horny people at Starbucks (again, filth)
- Shaved my legs (you know, to get in the mood)
- Moved the copy of the Joy of Sex from the bottom of the pile to the middle (but closer to the top) of the pile of books on my nightstand
I’ve been busy so that’s as far as I’ve gotten. Future steps may include actually having sex, taking whatever drug that enhances amorous feelings (cocaine? rogaine? ibuprofen?), watching MTV music videos, eating oysters, and re-reading the investigation file from the Clinton-Lewinsky scandal.
What can I say, I am willing to suffer for art.
What would you do if you needed to spice up your book?