March 30, 2012

Keeping It Fresh. And by "It" I mean Sex


The Rusty Nail. 
D. C. McMillen takes over Romance Lives Forever today. Go, D. C.!
 
Keeping It Fresh. And by "It" I mean Sex
When people find out I am an erotica writer, it is almost inevitable that they ask, "How do you keep your sex scenes fresh?"
At first, I was thrown off by this question. The more I heard it, the more I worried (and by worried, I mean obsessed) that my sex scenes were on the verge of becoming boring or repetitive. Every time a sex scene was upon me (and they often are because that's how I roll) I would worry, is this the encounter that's going to suck, um, in a bad way? I would write, read, and then re-read the scene about twelve more times, comparing them to encounters from past stories before assuring myself that, yes, this sexual encounter is pretty much the opposite of boring or "done before". I wasn't killing the joy of sex for my readers but I was definitely starting to do it to myself. Talk about a self-fulfilling prophesy!
I have been writing and publishing erotica for about a year now and sometime late in this year, I had an epiphany that allowed me to release all of the tension and worry over the potential for fizzling sex scenes. I realized that my books are largely character driven. This of course means that the hot sex that takes place in my books is also character driven. Duh. I don't have to keep myself awake at night worrying about repetitive, blah, or boring sex because my characters dictate what happens and their perceptions create a new angle to everything I write.
Of course, character driven sex does not automatically result in super hot, toe-curling, eyelid-fluttering make-out sessions but it does pave the way for new encounters and fresh perspectives. So unless I suffer a severe blow to the head that causes me to choose nothing more than the missionary position between a man and a woman for the next eleventy years, I should be able to make each scene unique to the character and the story, right?
 I guess the question now is, why didn't I figure this out sooner? It certainly would have saved me a lot of stress.
~
Kayelle, thank you so much for letting me take up some space on your blog! Before I go, I would like to share a blurb and excerpt from my latest release, The Rusty Nail.
The Rusty Nail, blurb:
Despite the dim lighting in his rundown bar, Randall sees the seemingly random lives of his customers intersect in the most unusual ways. Why, in just a single day, he eavesdrops on a gay man flirting with his straight boyfriend, spies a Stepford style wife slip into the shadows of a cracked leather booth to join an Italian bombshell wearing a trench coat, stilettos and not much else, and demands a lunatic in search of chocolate milk to vacate his establishment, all the while hoping his slick and skuzzy landlord doesn't show up to collect back rent.

What Randall doesn't realize is that, other than their questionable taste in watering holes, these patrons all have something in common. Each one of them will experience a unique sexual encounter that will awaken, enlighten, or perhaps even devastate their lives.
The Rusty Nail, excerpt:
I named the painting Longing. Eventually I worked up the courage to show it to Vincent. Of course, he wouldn't realize I painted it while thinking of him but I was still anxious because I so badly wanted him to like it. As he gazed at it, I carefully scrutinized his face. His lids were hooded and his lips were parted slightly. Then out of nowhere he actually asked me if the painting was supposed to make him horny. My heart leapt. I had planned to charge $3600 for it but I instead hung it in his living room. Truth be told, I did not really want to sell that piece anyway.
The painting remained where I had hung it and I glanced at it after Vincent unlocked the door to his apartment and motioned me inside. A bolt of electricity ran the length of my body when he placed his huge hand on the broadest part of my back and pushed me towards the bedroom. He smelled like weed, beer and spicy aftershave. It was a pleasant combination and it reminded me of how stoned we both were. After the beers at the bar and the joint we had smoked on the walk from the bus stop to the apartment, we were both feeling warmly buzzed.
Once inside the room, however, Vincent looked unsure of himself. The juxtaposition of his big hulking body and soft, vulnerable expression made me want to reach out for him. Stepping forward I placed my hands on his chest. When he did not immediately respond to my touch I was struck with a fear that he was about to change his mind. After what felt like an eternity he wrapped his arms around my shoulders. His reach was so long that he could do this without our bodies even touching and although I'm not a small guy the top of my head barely grazed the bottom of his chin. I let out a ragged breath that I had not realised I'd been holding.
I slipped my hands under his shirt and slid my palms along his belly and chest. I was pleased to find it was nearly hairless. Reaching for the bottom of his shirt, I gathered the material in both of my hands and pulled his shirt over his wide expanse of a chest. Softly, I trailed love bites across his skin. His breathing became more rapid and his grip on my shoulders tightened. I looked up as he finished pulling off his shirt for me and I pulled my own over my head in response. My skin warmed under his gaze as if his eyes were two little suns casting rays over my body. I wanted to be in his arms again, I wanted to be on my knees in front of him. I wanted – he reached out and pulled me towards him. 
D. C. McMillen

~
Thanks for reading this excerpt! The Rusty Nail was just released on March 3, 2012, through Rebel Ink Press, and is available on Amazon and other online book retailers.
Please feel free to keep in touch with me through my blog, Twitter, or Facebook page.

2 comments:

  1. Thank you again for allowing me to take over your site for a day!

    ReplyDelete
  2. I'm glad you're here. A glitch kept the site from posting earlier in the day, but it's okay now. ;)

    ReplyDelete

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