it's a great life, if you don't weaken (matociquala) wrote,
it's a great life, if you don't weaken
matociquala

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If nobody hates you, nobody knows you're alive.

blackholly blogs on helpful writing tips, including "Cultivating your inner perv". Or, yanno, shamelessness.

Which is just what I needed to hear, considering I spent most of last night working on the most unnerving sex scene ever. Yeah, the not-precisely-consensual erotic-asphyxiation one.

The ew just never stops.

But in the first draft, I ducked it. And in the semi-final draft, it had to be done.

See, the thing is, people in books do horrible things. They have horrible trainwrecks of lives. I'm not just talking about their sex lives here, either--when I say "kinks," below, I mean it in the wider slang sense of "irrational loves and hates."

They have these horrible trainwrecks because it's interesting. And if I'm sitting there as a writer worrying "what will the neighbors think?" well, I'm in the wrong line of work.(*) Because the only real sins for a writer are dishonesty, and dullness.

See, I spend a fair amount of time writing about things that aren't my kinks, as it were.  Because most of my characters aren't me, not even a little bit. (mcurry likes to provoke me by proclaiming that Jenny is a Mary Sue. I'm like, yeah, because she's just like me only idealized, and I would totally want to be her. No freaking thank you.) But that means I have to get into the heads of people who want very different things than I want.

So yeah, I know perfectly well that when I write a scene that makes me uncomfortable, somebody's going to assume they know something about me because of it. Hell, half the time when I write something that I completely agree with, people assume they know things about me, and they're wrong. (Case in point, the small bastion of readers who have been so busy railing against my presumed side in a particular argument that they haven't picked up the deconstruction of certain commonly held dichotomies that, as far as I'm concerned, is Blood & Iron's major excuse for existing. Which isn't to say their readings aren't, yanno, valid, but I find them entertaining as hell.)

Anyway, I have a character to finish strangling. Be back soon.

It ain't a joke.
It's an epitaph.



((*)N.B. This does not grant you latitude to behave like a prima donna in your personal or professional life, though some of us seem to think it does.)
Tags: writing craft wank
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