I’m not really shirking!

Well, okay, let’s be honest. I totally am. It partly fell into quality of life shirking, however. In this case, getting some sunlight after two weeks, playing with my much-neglected dog, and taking a nap. It also fell into the ooh, shiny! category, as the first scene of Holly Lisle’s TalysMana just when live and I am filled with fangirl joy.

But in the world of writing, it’s also fear. I did something I maybe shouldn’t have. As I’ve mentioned, I’m doing something fun with the episode of HoC I’m working on. And in my notes, one of the bits, let me call it a frame scene, is labeled: Your Best Interest – bed. This probably seems really dull, but hey, this is what my notes look like. It’s the “bed” that’s giving me problems.

I’ve done some off the record writing, which will never get listed here, which has no connection to my professional world, and which has sex scenes. Yes, okay, I sold my first story to a menage anthology, so how much of a prude can I be? But there is no sex in that story. Strictly fade to black. Sex scenes give me hives. We’re talking sweaty palms, averted eyes, let’s talk about something else now panic. I have, on precisely two occasions, forced myself to write sex scenes. It was horrible.

HoC is not a sex scene sort of story. I’m not looking at a lot of detail in this “bed” scene that I foisted on myself. But I have spent two days now agonizing over even attempting to write it, because I said the magical panic-inducing incantation. And I still can’t bring myself to write it. And my guilt over not writing it has prevented me from just skipping ahead to another scene to keep my forward momentum.

So here I sit, freaked out beyond the telling to write two people fooling around. I don’t even have to make it good sex, because I don’t need or want the reader to think that this is a sexy, enjoyable scene. I would like them to be a little troubled by the scene.

But I just can’t seem to write it.

So that’s where I am. Stuck. Palms sweating. Trying to think of excuses to play one more round of Dice Wars. And I’ve got nothing. Not one word.

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About Joyce

Joyce Sully lives in Southern California. She graduated from UC Irvine. She likes to knit and cook and play video games. But mostly she writes. Joyce writes short stories and novels, songs and poems, scripts and instructions to feed the cat if she stays out late. She has been spotted as far afield as Seattle, but travel makes her nervous. She believes in magic and dragons and ghosts, but is not convinced her next-door neighbors are real.
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