I love the question. Writing, like sex, when done right feels liberating, important and needed. Everything else dissapear. Writing, like sex, when done wrong, feels forced, clunky and cringe. In both cases trying to enjoy it rather than focusing on an external perfomance review is good advice. In both cases there can be huge pleasure both in the shared experience and in doing it alone, just for yourself.
It's such a risky question. 😁 I like to think surrender is part of sex. I find writing asks me to surrender to what comes. I have no idea what that will be like. In fact when it gets formulaic (writing and sex) the magic is gone.
In the published diaries of her all-consuming, year long affair, with a younger, married Russian diplomat, Annie Ernuax writes, “My mouth, face, and sex are ravaged. I don’t make love like a writer, that is, in a removed way, or while thinking ‘I can use this in a book.’ I always make love as if it were the last time (and who’s to say it isn’t?), simply as a living being.” Nicely put, right?!
Writing and sex: to stand naked at the crossroads and to recognize that the unknown is hot, that possibility is sexy. And when we imagine the transformation from body to page, we understand that to desire and to write are one and the same.
I love the question. Writing, like sex, when done right feels liberating, important and needed. Everything else dissapear. Writing, like sex, when done wrong, feels forced, clunky and cringe. In both cases trying to enjoy it rather than focusing on an external perfomance review is good advice. In both cases there can be huge pleasure both in the shared experience and in doing it alone, just for yourself.
It's such a risky question. 😁 I like to think surrender is part of sex. I find writing asks me to surrender to what comes. I have no idea what that will be like. In fact when it gets formulaic (writing and sex) the magic is gone.
In the published diaries of her all-consuming, year long affair, with a younger, married Russian diplomat, Annie Ernuax writes, “My mouth, face, and sex are ravaged. I don’t make love like a writer, that is, in a removed way, or while thinking ‘I can use this in a book.’ I always make love as if it were the last time (and who’s to say it isn’t?), simply as a living being.” Nicely put, right?!
Writing and sex: to stand naked at the crossroads and to recognize that the unknown is hot, that possibility is sexy. And when we imagine the transformation from body to page, we understand that to desire and to write are one and the same.