Lover of Words (Explicit, NSFW)

In college one of my professors said that in the end, all anyone writes about can be boiled down to sex or death. So it’s not particularly surprising that I’ve been thinking about my writing in similar metaphors. It could be that I’ve not so much as kissed a woman since June. Really, however, I think that Rapscallion started this mindset when she wrote an entry all about little ole me and ascribed the lack of quality in my poetry to my “slam, bam, thank you ma’am” attitude toward it. She is certainly spot on, of course, though I don’t think that those are the words I would use. I have a very different attitude toward sex, and consider the standard approach of the modern man, (slambam or otherwise), to be the equivalent of masturbating in a vagina.

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Still, Rapscallion is right. Only, I think of it in the terms of masturbation. I treat my writing, poetry and lyrics in particular, in a purely masturbatory way. It shows. The best of my poems are about as frequent as a good self-induced orgasm. Generally they’re simply habitual, or a tool for a moment’s pleasure, frequently disappointing.

That being recognized, while I enjoy masturbating, both in terms of writing and the physical act, I think that my writing deserves to be treated with the same perspective I have toward sex. That doesn’t mean that sometimes it shouldn’t be hard and fast, but it should still leave us gasping and content afterward. Us being the writer, the poem, and the reader. All good writing is a ménage a trois, is it not?

Of what I consider the three most common ways to describe sex, I honestly feel that “having sex” is the most flaccid. Pun intended. It’s the phrase I use when I don’t consider myself emotionally involved enough to truly “make love” and am not sure how comfortable a particular partner is with the word fuck. “Having sex” is the “PC” way of describing the act, and frankly, the most boring.

Writing should not be masturbatory, nor should one simply “have sex” with it. Whatever piece a writer is working on, be it a poem, song lyric, short story, or novel, it should be caressed, teased, flattered. Perhaps it is no coincidence that we describe a story as having a climax. The tension should be built, slowly or quickly, brought to its peak, the edge of that cliff we both yearn to leap over yet struggle to do so. If it will not go on its own, time should be spent, coercing, coaxing, and perhaps, in the right situation, given the gentlest of shoves off the edge into the tidal ocean of pleasure below.

I think my work deserves this attitude. It deserves to be made love to, because I love my work, and it deserves, when the need is too strong, to be caught up in the kitchen, clothes stripped down to her knees and taken from behind. Perhaps I’ll finish, and perhaps it is simply a tease, a promise of more to come later. Pun not intended.

It is unlikely this will be an easy transition for me. Masturbation is a habit, an easy one. It is always challenging to build new habits, especially when the new habit requires more effort than the old. I am fortunate that I never saw sex this way, but that does mean that there’s a strong dichotomy between the way I treat my writing and the way I think it deserves to be treated. It deserves foreplay, and while there are always exceptions to the rule, an orgasm. Everything afterward is simply better for both parties, I think, and why not make something incredible even better? I put a lot of attention into my partner and her pleasure. I find her enjoyment stimulating both sexually and intellectually, sometimes one more than the other, but both valuable and always balanced satisfactorily. I take pride in the moans escaping her throat, the arch of her back, the dampness between her thighs. All things we care about, whether art, work, or a lover deserves such care and pride in our effort and results. One should probably put the same effort into one’s self pleasure, but we all need a break sometime. Ha ha.

Now that I have rather explicitly made my point, I formally declare my intention to make a better effort to treat my writing with the longing of a lover and not the quick hand of self-satisfaction. As I love words, so will I give them the attention, and intention, they deserve. I will caress my  words, take them rough and fast, lift their syllables completely off the ground as I do, experience their meaning in a myriad of positions and perspectives, and bring the sentences and paragraphs, finally, to completion.

And when all is said and done, and the end written, we will bask, sweaty and panting, in the afterglow.

-m0rg4n