The Mind Game
15 years ago
Hallo again, all you fuzzy little bags of fluff and liquid love!
Something recently occurred to me while editing a piece of prose. The writer had gone into detail on a nice, steamy scene, and there were throbbing members here and slick thrusting there and bodily fluids everywhere. It was exactly what you'd expect from a piece of furry smut. It was even well written and well described, dripping colorful adjectives and solid metaphors liberally. From a technical angle, it was perfectly adequate.
But even with all that, it simply did nothing for me. It didn't even seem to do anything for the prose, even though it was presumably the centerpiece of the work. I had to go back and reread it, because I just couldn't fathom why I wouldn't be happy with perfectly valid "hot yiff." It took me a little while, but I think I finally figured out what was bothering me.
Even though sex is a physical activity, the eroticism of it is all a mind game. In other words, sex is only hot because you think it's hot. You can have as much detail about the positioning as you want, but it's nothing more than textual body tetris without insight into the character's mind. This is a conclusion that's been simmering for a while, and when I read back through my own writing, I can see my old pieces making exactly the same mistake. It's tough to see the difference, insidious, even, but (at least for me) it makes all the difference.
Originally, I floundered about trying to back this argument up. I *like* the positioning, I want to know what characters are doing, when, and how hard. It matters, it really does. But as I thought about it, that's all part of the fantasy; part and parcel to the mind-game. Think about it this way: how excited were you when you met up with that special someone, knowing for a fact that in four hours, you two *might* just be slick and oiled up on the bed, rubbing on and over and in each other? That excitement, the anticipation, the dreams and fantasies in your head when you imagined it, those are hotter than even the hottest sex you could have at the end of the anticipation.
This isn't to say that the physical act of sex is bad. Quite the opposite, but imagine what the sex would be like without the anticipation, without the fulfillment of dreams and fantasies. Would it be as hot? Hell, can you even imagine it? I can't. Those fantasies are so integral a part of the sex that I can't remove one from the other.
Okay, I take that back. I can imagine what it's like. I've played around when the fantasy just wasn't there. For whatever reason, the person just didn't interest me, or maybe they had kinks or fantasies of their own that were so alien to me that I couldn't understand them. Oh, sure, I had my fun, but it wasn't *hot*. It wasn't something that I looked back on two days later and thought "Man, that was great. I'm getting hard just remembering it." That's what the anticipation is for; that's why the fantasy matters. It's the difference between just a mechanical anatomical activity and the erotic.
I don't want to say this is a newbie mistake, because that's not technically true. There's lots of people new to writing who grasp this concept perfectly well. No, I'd say that it's a mistake made by people who aren't experienced with sex. I've seen it time and time again, chatting with people new to the scene, sometimes virgins, sometimes not, but always inexperienced. There's a focus on the physical, this overwhelming drive to insert tab "A" into slot "B". They'll talk about it and they'll write about it, to the exclusion of all else, as if that's the highlight of the show.
It isn't. It's a part of the circus, yes, but it's the sideshow to the mind-game's center ring. Give me sensory input. Give me perspective. Tell me how your character had been craving this, how they'd imagined just how it'd feel and, oh, it feels even better than they'd imagined. Show me how this is fulfilling the fantasy, how this is the culmination of the character's hopes and dreams. Make *me* feel just how the character's kinks are being tweaked, and how all the right buttons are being pushed. That's the difference between an instruction manual and erotica, and sorry, I don't fap to instruction manuals.
Just to show how much I believe the above, I have plans for a new story (probably in the next month or two.) The story will be the build-up, the anticipation. I'll write the fantasies and the dreams, with nothing but imagination and longing instead of physical contact. Maybe it'll be during the car ride, maybe it'll be while waiting for the plane to land. I haven't decided the scene or genre yet, but the story will stay within the protagonist's head, seeing just what he's hoping, just what he's praying for. Then the story ends just as the object of his affection walks into sight, with just the coy smile as a promise of what's about to happen off-camera.
I don't know if it'll be a good story, but it'll be a good exercise.
P.S. Listening to Guns and Roses' "Pretty Tied Up" takes on a whole new meaning when you're a fox. "Pretty tied up, hanging upside-down!" Mmmm... Okay, dammit, I know I just spent a whole post saying that the physical is just a scene, but that's a scene I want in on!
Something recently occurred to me while editing a piece of prose. The writer had gone into detail on a nice, steamy scene, and there were throbbing members here and slick thrusting there and bodily fluids everywhere. It was exactly what you'd expect from a piece of furry smut. It was even well written and well described, dripping colorful adjectives and solid metaphors liberally. From a technical angle, it was perfectly adequate.
But even with all that, it simply did nothing for me. It didn't even seem to do anything for the prose, even though it was presumably the centerpiece of the work. I had to go back and reread it, because I just couldn't fathom why I wouldn't be happy with perfectly valid "hot yiff." It took me a little while, but I think I finally figured out what was bothering me.
Even though sex is a physical activity, the eroticism of it is all a mind game. In other words, sex is only hot because you think it's hot. You can have as much detail about the positioning as you want, but it's nothing more than textual body tetris without insight into the character's mind. This is a conclusion that's been simmering for a while, and when I read back through my own writing, I can see my old pieces making exactly the same mistake. It's tough to see the difference, insidious, even, but (at least for me) it makes all the difference.
Originally, I floundered about trying to back this argument up. I *like* the positioning, I want to know what characters are doing, when, and how hard. It matters, it really does. But as I thought about it, that's all part of the fantasy; part and parcel to the mind-game. Think about it this way: how excited were you when you met up with that special someone, knowing for a fact that in four hours, you two *might* just be slick and oiled up on the bed, rubbing on and over and in each other? That excitement, the anticipation, the dreams and fantasies in your head when you imagined it, those are hotter than even the hottest sex you could have at the end of the anticipation.
This isn't to say that the physical act of sex is bad. Quite the opposite, but imagine what the sex would be like without the anticipation, without the fulfillment of dreams and fantasies. Would it be as hot? Hell, can you even imagine it? I can't. Those fantasies are so integral a part of the sex that I can't remove one from the other.
Okay, I take that back. I can imagine what it's like. I've played around when the fantasy just wasn't there. For whatever reason, the person just didn't interest me, or maybe they had kinks or fantasies of their own that were so alien to me that I couldn't understand them. Oh, sure, I had my fun, but it wasn't *hot*. It wasn't something that I looked back on two days later and thought "Man, that was great. I'm getting hard just remembering it." That's what the anticipation is for; that's why the fantasy matters. It's the difference between just a mechanical anatomical activity and the erotic.
I don't want to say this is a newbie mistake, because that's not technically true. There's lots of people new to writing who grasp this concept perfectly well. No, I'd say that it's a mistake made by people who aren't experienced with sex. I've seen it time and time again, chatting with people new to the scene, sometimes virgins, sometimes not, but always inexperienced. There's a focus on the physical, this overwhelming drive to insert tab "A" into slot "B". They'll talk about it and they'll write about it, to the exclusion of all else, as if that's the highlight of the show.
It isn't. It's a part of the circus, yes, but it's the sideshow to the mind-game's center ring. Give me sensory input. Give me perspective. Tell me how your character had been craving this, how they'd imagined just how it'd feel and, oh, it feels even better than they'd imagined. Show me how this is fulfilling the fantasy, how this is the culmination of the character's hopes and dreams. Make *me* feel just how the character's kinks are being tweaked, and how all the right buttons are being pushed. That's the difference between an instruction manual and erotica, and sorry, I don't fap to instruction manuals.
Just to show how much I believe the above, I have plans for a new story (probably in the next month or two.) The story will be the build-up, the anticipation. I'll write the fantasies and the dreams, with nothing but imagination and longing instead of physical contact. Maybe it'll be during the car ride, maybe it'll be while waiting for the plane to land. I haven't decided the scene or genre yet, but the story will stay within the protagonist's head, seeing just what he's hoping, just what he's praying for. Then the story ends just as the object of his affection walks into sight, with just the coy smile as a promise of what's about to happen off-camera.
I don't know if it'll be a good story, but it'll be a good exercise.
P.S. Listening to Guns and Roses' "Pretty Tied Up" takes on a whole new meaning when you're a fox. "Pretty tied up, hanging upside-down!" Mmmm... Okay, dammit, I know I just spent a whole post saying that the physical is just a scene, but that's a scene I want in on!
FA+

Or are you saying that you enjoy when authors build up to the sex instead of just getting right down to the dirty stuff?
I think I understand what you are saying. Would adding maybe a line or two of character subtext into the body of the story itself, add insight to the character's mind in a way that makes the scene hot? Or does it not have to be as blunt as spelling out the character's emotion? Could it not only be the mentality of the characters involved but the entire context of the scene?
As an aside, I learn by asking questions don't think the questioning is there to school ya or anything.
An added line or two is unlikely to make a difference. This isn't meant to be a way to write. "Position, position, position, (added insight into character), position..." That's still focusing on just the act of sex. This is meant to change how you even approach it. Think about it this way: Can you write a scene that contains no sexual content, but is still innately hot? That's what I'm talking about. Examine your scenes, discover what makes them sexy, and make that the focus of your writing. After reading the furry smut on offer for so many years, the conclusion I've come to is that the act of sex itself is so rarely what makes a good scene steamy.
If you want an example, go find work by a guy named Squirrel on SoFurry. He is explicit in his work, but in a way that suggests what's happening, rather than outright telling you. I find alot of his stuff extremely hot, because the effort he spends explaining the scene around the act draws me in and lets me feel it for myself, rather than telling me I should be excited by it.
I am not sure if I am conveying my thoughts correctly here. But if you can decipher what I wrote, I'll give you a hug. I'd prolly give you a hug regardless but still.
As I said, the position and scene matters. I wouldn't want every bit of porn to suddenly go without. I just don't want it to be the highlight of every scene.
I don't disagree that sex is mental. But it does not have to be mental for the characters. It does not have to be anticiapted or hot for the characters. And I think that you can have a hot scene even without knowing the characters' minds.
There are quite a few stories out there where what's going on in the scene is steaming hot. But for the character, it's unpleasant. They don't want it, or they're uncomfortable, or awkward, or whatever. The story thus makes you wonder "Should I be turned on by this?" It can cause arousal and horror, or arousal and disgust, or arousal and discomfort. The character's feelings are not influencing the arousing component. Because:
It's the Situation.
Let me frame it a different way. Take a horror book or film. In horror, the idea is to build suspense and tension. Atmosphere helps. So does pacing and description. You build in the reader anticipation that something's going to happen. You do not need to know what is going on in the character's head, the way they are anticipating things, all you need to do is show their discomfort, their anxiety, their caution, their fear, and describe the noises, the sights. You are building the Mind Game for the reader, not the character.
The sex can be the same way. Because it's building the atmosphere of the situation: the place, the characters' context to one another, and the description of what's going on.
So let me give an example: A prison guard is coming to have sex with a prisoner. Instead of getting into the head of either character, I describe to you the sound of the prison guard's night stick clacking on the bars of the cells as he walks. Of him swinging his handcuffs around a finger, and how intentionally slow his pace is. I describe to you how the inmate's breathing picks up, how they flinch or tense at each clack of the night stick, and I tell you also how aroused the inmate is, well that's everything right there: the anticipation, the atmosphere, the tension, all without TELLING you how they feel.
I mean, sometimes the sex isn't anticipated. I love anonymous and/or spontaneous sex, which is hard to anticipate. The "I wake up aroused and just grind against my lover in bed". Or "We give eachother a look across the dance floor, walk to a quiet corner, and start groping". The situation here is "Groping in a dark corner, trying to keep it quiet". That's hot because there's the public element, the boldness, the fact they don't know each other. Even if this was spur of the moment, and I know neither character, the context around the sex is what's interesting.
So I agree that there needs to be some window dressing on the sex to make it hot, I don't think that window dressing needs to be from what's in the character's heads.
Which of the following sounds hotter:
1: Two guys having sex in a bed.
2: Two soldiers, under mortar fire, having sex in a foxhole.
I'm really having a tough time coming up with a good "golden rule" for this, so forgive me if I'm not accounting for every situation. Really, I don't think this can be encapsulated into a single rule, because just like every "rule" of writing, there are examples where it just doesn't apply. I just want people to think about what makes the sex "hot" to them.
Also why sometimes you enjoy kinks that aren't really yours. Because the CHARACTER does, and you see the story through him.