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Sex
The hit TV show Seinfeld has covered every possible topic, including sex. Here is the dialogue from the Yada, Yada episode about sex:
George: You don’t think she would yada, yada sex?
Elaine: (raises hand) I’ve yada yadaed sex.
George: Really?
Elaine: Yeah, I met this lawyer, we went to dinner, I had the lobster bisque, we went back to my apartment, yada, yada, yada, I never heard from him again.
Jerry: But you yada, yadaed over the best part!
Elaine: No, I mentioned the bisque.
One of my novels was rejected because the editor was really turned off by the first sex scene. I won’t get into details—sorry—but there was a disturbing edge to it. There were four total sex scenes that were layered in after the first draft. I was trying to establish the nature of the relationship between the protagonist and his girlfriend.
But I did it badly.
I had been trying to set up the girlfriend as the antagonist in the second book in the series. One of my tenets as a teacher is write each book as a standalone, so I was violating my own rules. The scene itself was so graphic it left the reader wondering how sick were these two people? Well, they were sick in their own rights, but the problem was that readers were not empathetic to my protagonist yet. While they don’t have to be “likeable” they must be empathetic and this scene failed to give the reader anything to hold on to, so I rewrote.
Remember American Psycho? Info dump coming: Simon & Schuster originally bought the book but refused to publish it because of the graphic violence and sex so it went to Vintage. The author received death threats and hate mail. Gloria Steinem opposed the book because of the violence toward women. Interestingly, Steinem is the stepmother of Christian Bale who portrayed the protagonist in the movie version.
Sex scenes have to have purpose and move your story forward. Sex for the sake of sex is just that…sex. A sex scene is an interesting way to show small changes in our characters at a deeper level. Actions speak louder than words. A sex scene where the hero and heroine are intimate for the first time could be a way to show insecurities and fears.
While the sex is the action, the scene itself is not about sex, but about character arc and development and there needs to be conflict. This might not happen on an external level, but there must be some conflict on an internal level or you don’t need the scene.
In my early books when people had sex, someone died shortly afterward, much like in a horror movie. (Actually, I didn’t want the guy to have to make small talk afterwards.)
Do you have to write a sex scene? No. If the book requires one to show something about character and plot, then write the sex, otherwise, forget about it.
What is considered too graphic? It all depends on story, character, and genre. If you are writing a sweet romance, sex probably won’t be on the page. If you are writing a romantic suspense novel there is a good chance your characters will have sex.
Whose POV should be used? The POV of the story.
Men and woman do approach sex differently and this can be something to use for character in your books. For men, when sex is over, it’s over. For women it’s usually just the beginning. Key here is character and expectations. You have to be consistent with character.
Bottom line, write your book.
Violence
I watched Mission Impossible III and, in my opinion, it was an excellent example of filming lousy action. I particularly dislike the way explosions are used as ways to ‘propel’ Tom Cruise forward. They don’t hurt him, they move him. And when he falls to the end of a steel cable and is abruptly halted, unlike mere mortals whose back would be broken (ropes are used for climbing because they have at least 1/3 give if you have a fall), Tom motors on. And the bad guys blow up and kill all the other people in all the other cars, but not Tom in his car. Lucky guy. As you can tell, you don’t want to watch an action movie with me. Besides being unrealistic, it violated something I think is very important for action scenes: timing.
Action should play out in real time. Not slow motion. If a character fires a gun, the bullet should land in the same sentence or the next sentence. Not two pages later while the guy who shot the gun has a sudden memory of his pet kitten Bubbles and how much he misses her because the bad guy killed her a year ago and how the hero has spent every waking second tracking the SOB and now, yes, now it’s finally payback, but, dang, he sure misses Bubbles and he remembers when he found Bubbles, wet and bedraggled on the side of the road while strolling through Central Park with Holly Golightly and, boy, Holly, wasn’t she something, cause—and then the bullet lands and the reader forgot he even fired it.
The purpose of a violent action scene is the same as a sex scene. No, not that. You:
Show character through conflict
Move the plot
Raise the stakes
It has meaning within the story and isn’t gratuitous
Why do people fight? What can motivate someone to violence? What most people don’t understand, is that people often revert to violence because they’re afraid. That bully? He’s acting the way he is because of fear.
In combat, fear can easily incapacitate. SLA Marshall claimed a very low percent of soldiers actually fired their weapons in combat. His data has been disputed but one of the major purposes of training is to get soldiers to overcome fear and fight. A large percentage of officers in the Army go through Airborne training, yet there is only one Airborne Division, the 82nd, and most won’t be going there. So why? To get them to overcome fear and step out of a perfectly good airplane.
Most of what you see in movies isn’t real. As my first platoon sergeant in the First Cavalry Division told me: there are two firing positions: the prone and the flying prone (the latter when you get shot at and you aren’t already prone—you dive for it).
Most soldiers fight for their buddies. Not God or country.
Point of view is key in action scenes. A thriller is hard to write in first person. It’s been done, but the action scenes are difficult because your camera is locked down to one participant in the scene. The person who knows the least about what’s going on in combat is the poor soldier in the middle of it.
Omniscient works well for action, particularly large action scenes. Because you can put the camera up high and show the big picture.
In Agnes And The Hitman I have an action scene where Moot makes a cameo appearance. If you don’t know who Moot is, read Don’t Look Down. I have a protagonist: Shane. A scene antagonist: Rocko. A setting: in the swamp. Shane is trying to get information out of Rocko. Except, as his name indicates, Rocko isn’t too bright. The scene builds slowly, and ends fast. With extreme violence. It moves the plot because Shane does find out some important information. It has humor because, well, Rocko aint too bright. It has violence because Moot is hungry and smells blood in the water. The violence happens fast.
Remember, also, the plan only lasts up to LD/LC (Line of departure, line of contact). That’s the line drawn on the map where, after you synchronize your watches, the order says you will cross the LD/LC at 0342 hours, precisely. And it’s where the chance of making contact with the enemy begins. You can have the greatest plan, but things go wrong. This is where you can add some interesting twists. Shane didn’t expect Moot to be lolling around in the above action scene. So his plan kind of got interrupted.
What does the violence say about your characters who are involved in it?
In Don’t Look Down in the bar fight, it says something about Bryce that he is at least willing to try to fight. It says something about Wilder how he quickly ends the fight without escalating to deadly violence. And how he reacts after the fight.
I once blogged a rant about A History of Violence where I felt the hero was unredeemable. I also feel that way about the ending of MI III. Spoiler alert. Tom is strolling across the bridge with his wife after escaping the bad guy and she’s like: Now what exactly do you do for a living? Him: I’m in IMF. Her: What’s that? Him: The Impossible Mission Force. Her: You’re joking? Him: No. Her: I Love you. She puts her arm around him and they go off to live happily ever after.
Let me ask you something: you marry someone and they tell you they’re a traveling shoe salesman. Then you get kidnapped by some lunatic, dragged halfway around the world, he has a gun to your head and is going to kill you. You end up having to shoot a couple of people (one of whom conveniently brings the weapon of mass destruction with him to drop in front of you while dying), then have to resuscitate you husband whose heart has stopped because he just electrocuted himself to turn off the bomb he has in his brain and after all is said and done he’s: Ah honey, I’m not a shoe salesman, I’m in the Impossible Mission Force.
Most women I know wouldn’t go ‘I love you.’ If, like Agnes, they had a frying pan handy, they’d be whacking him over the head.
So. Violence. Only as a last resort. Real time. It has to make sense and be integral to the plot. It indicates something to your readers about the characters and how they act.
Here is an action scene taken from The Green Berets: Chasing the Lost. Enjoy
She came back just after dark. Pounding on the door. Chelsea barked at the first thud, and didn’t stop.
Chase knew it was Sarah by her profile, which he could see through the broken blinds on the window next to it. He cracked the door open. Her face was flushed, her eyes wide with fear.
“They’re coming! I need your help.”
“Who is—” Chase began as he opened the door wide, but then Chelsea shoved her way past him, growling and barking, racing off into the darkness of the front yard. Chase spotted movement among the trees, shadowy figures coming toward the house. There was a muzzle flash—but no sound of the shot—and Chase grabbed Sarah and pulled her to the ground as he heard Chelsea’s yelp of pain. Whoever had fired was using a suppressor, which meant they might have more of an idea what they were doing than the golfers earlier.
“Stay down.” Chase pulled the MK23. He low-crawled forward, along the line of unkempt bushes adjacent to the walk, trying to get a visual on the intruders. Reaching the end of the bushes, he rolled right to the angled tree trunk, using it as cover. He heard something moving to his left front and he aimed, finger resting lightly on the trigger, the only safety a true shooter used, as he’d been taught in the killing house at Fort Bragg.
There was another muzzle flash directly ahead. Chase sensed the bullet flying by overhead, and heard the dull smack as it hit the house. He fired, four quick shots in the direction of the flash, the sharp crack of his pistol splitting the night’s quiet.
There was a muffled curse, harsh whispers. Whatever was to Chase’s left front was coming closer, and he aimed that way, almost firing, then relaxing his finger when he realized it was Chelsea, dragging herself back. He felt a brief rush of relief that she was alive. He shifted back toward the front. He heard a car door open, and saw the interior lights of an SUV parked on the street, and a dark figure helping another one in.
Chase got to one knee and steadied the pistol in a sure, two-handed grip. As he was about to fire, Chelsea was at his side, panting in pain. And someone was right behind him.
He rolled, bringing the gun up, and once more relaxed his finger when he saw Sarah standing there.
“Don’t sneak up—” Chase began, but Sarah knelt next to Chelsea and cradled her as she whimpered in pain. The SUV’s engine started and it raced away, peeling rubber.
Chase slowly got to his feet, the adrenaline rush of the action still jazzing his nerves. Welcome to Spanish Wells, he thought.
“Oh, my God,” Sarah said and Chase could see the blood covering her front.
“You hit?” Chase asked.
“No,” Sarah replied.
Chase knelt next to Chelsea, and saw the blood bubbling out of her chest amidst the thick fur.
“Damn it,” he cursed, bringing the gun up in the direction of the vehicle speeding away. He almost fired, but at the last second remembered all the homes lining the street, and what a ricochet round might do.
Chase put a fresh, full magazine in the gun, and shoved the pistol back in the holster. He probed the wound with his fingers. The blood was frothy, meaning it was mixed with air. Sucking chest wound—the round had gone through one, if not both, lungs.
Chase scooped up Chelsea in both arms. “Open the door,” he ordered as he carried her into the house. He laid her down next to the footlocker and threw open the lid. He pulled out his combat vest, and ripped open one of the pockets containing a HALO chest seal. He slapped it on the wound, then took out a packet of QuickClot Combat Gauze. He tore it open and pressed that over the chest seal, maintaining the pressure with one hand as he checked for an exit wound with the other.
None that he could find, but he couldn’t be certain.
Then he realized Sarah was standing there, her shirt soaked in Chelsea’s blood. She was staring down at the both of them in a daze.
“What about your son?” he asked Sarah, remembering the boy on the bike.
She blinked, as if coming back into the nightmare of the evening. Her eyes went wide. “They grabbed him. They’ve got Cole.”