By Megan Tripp, Staff Writer, Emerson College
The New York Times has recently started publishing a weekly series exploring contemporary fiction’s aversion to writing about sex. Times' reporters interviewed well- established writers like Alison Bechdel and Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche about their approaches to writing about sex, and why they think other fiction writers today tend to avoid writing sex scenes.
What I didn’t read from any of the writers the Times interviewed, however, was a connection between their aversion to writing sex scenes and the current social conservatism regarding sex. Art does not exist in a vacuum, and I think the Times’ astute observation about contemporary fiction is a perfect example of this. Writers avoid writing about sex because sex has become one of today’s most politically charged topics – so charged, in fact, that writers don’t want to touch it for fear of alienating certain audiences.
No matter the genders involved, sex is censored everywhere. Creative media like television, movies, commercials, and music are restricted by rules and regulations for discussing sex. If these rules are not adhered to, critics will tip the media into the “explicit” or “rated R” categories. While these labels don’t necessarily change the artistic integrity of the piece, most of the writers, directors, and musicians creating this media alter their work to avoid receiving these labels and limiting their possible audience. Unfortunately, as The New York Times has illustrated, fiction is falling into that same trap.
Authors avoid writing sex scenes into their literary fiction for fear of being labeled “explicit” or “trashy.” The fearlessness of past generations of writers is gone and has been replaced by allusions. Readers see two characters go home together and possibly even fall into bed together, but then authors resort to clichés like “they fucked” or skip immediately to the morning after scene where readers are meant to assume that sex occurred. I think this is cowardly writing. It’s a way to avoid offending part of these authors’ readerships, make sure their books continue to sell, and avoid writing scenes that may prove difficult to write.
I’m not saying that I think writers need to give us a detailed play-by-play of what happens in their fictional bedroom, nor am I saying that romance novels that do so are an example to aspire to. But I am saying that writers are insulting the intelligence of their readers by merely implying sex. This is a case where more showing and less telling is ideal, contrary to the popular fiction-writing mantra.
If sex furthers the plot or complicates the relationship between two characters, then tell me about it. I think sex can be a powerful tool for character development and for the art of fiction, but it has been avoided like it comes attached with a PR plague. Which, perhaps, it does because of the risk of the “R” rating, but that’s no reason for an author to shy away.
Allen Ginsberg fearlessly opened his most famous poem, “Howl,” with the line: “I saw the greatest minds of my generation, starving, hysterical, naked,” which automatically sets the scene for the controversial, explicit, yet quite perceptive social commentary in poem form. Where are all the “starving, hysterical, naked” minds of our generation who will write sex honestly?
Image: City Lights Books
Megan Tripp is a junior WLP major who drinks way too much coffee and watches and re-watches Gilmore Girls way too often. She likes shiny things and looks forward to making a career out of making things up and writing them down.
The New York Times has recently started publishing a weekly series exploring contemporary fiction’s aversion to writing about sex. Times' reporters interviewed well- established writers like Alison Bechdel and Chimamanda Ngozi Adiche about their approaches to writing about sex, and why they think other fiction writers today tend to avoid writing sex scenes.
What I didn’t read from any of the writers the Times interviewed, however, was a connection between their aversion to writing sex scenes and the current social conservatism regarding sex. Art does not exist in a vacuum, and I think the Times’ astute observation about contemporary fiction is a perfect example of this. Writers avoid writing about sex because sex has become one of today’s most politically charged topics – so charged, in fact, that writers don’t want to touch it for fear of alienating certain audiences.
No matter the genders involved, sex is censored everywhere. Creative media like television, movies, commercials, and music are restricted by rules and regulations for discussing sex. If these rules are not adhered to, critics will tip the media into the “explicit” or “rated R” categories. While these labels don’t necessarily change the artistic integrity of the piece, most of the writers, directors, and musicians creating this media alter their work to avoid receiving these labels and limiting their possible audience. Unfortunately, as The New York Times has illustrated, fiction is falling into that same trap.
Authors avoid writing sex scenes into their literary fiction for fear of being labeled “explicit” or “trashy.” The fearlessness of past generations of writers is gone and has been replaced by allusions. Readers see two characters go home together and possibly even fall into bed together, but then authors resort to clichés like “they fucked” or skip immediately to the morning after scene where readers are meant to assume that sex occurred. I think this is cowardly writing. It’s a way to avoid offending part of these authors’ readerships, make sure their books continue to sell, and avoid writing scenes that may prove difficult to write.
I’m not saying that I think writers need to give us a detailed play-by-play of what happens in their fictional bedroom, nor am I saying that romance novels that do so are an example to aspire to. But I am saying that writers are insulting the intelligence of their readers by merely implying sex. This is a case where more showing and less telling is ideal, contrary to the popular fiction-writing mantra.
If sex furthers the plot or complicates the relationship between two characters, then tell me about it. I think sex can be a powerful tool for character development and for the art of fiction, but it has been avoided like it comes attached with a PR plague. Which, perhaps, it does because of the risk of the “R” rating, but that’s no reason for an author to shy away.
Allen Ginsberg fearlessly opened his most famous poem, “Howl,” with the line: “I saw the greatest minds of my generation, starving, hysterical, naked,” which automatically sets the scene for the controversial, explicit, yet quite perceptive social commentary in poem form. Where are all the “starving, hysterical, naked” minds of our generation who will write sex honestly?
Image: City Lights Books
Megan Tripp is a junior WLP major who drinks way too much coffee and watches and re-watches Gilmore Girls way too often. She likes shiny things and looks forward to making a career out of making things up and writing them down.