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Another sex scene, and I am so not in the mood. Still not a hundred percent well from the sinus infection. Allergies are kicking my ass. A nap, or a video sound about the right speed for today, but instead we’ve got to have literary sex. Some days the sex scenes are easy, or at least fun, but then there are days like this. When the book is willing, but the flesh is tired. Part of the problem is Anita is not in the mood either, we’re in the middle of a metaphysical disaster of cataclysmic proportions, at least for Anita’s personal life. Is this a spoiler, yes, but I don’t know how to explain the event without spoiling some stuff. Anita’s been trying to not feed the arduer again. She and I have just come to a point where we’d like to try and make it work with the men we already have in our life, and not add. But we’ve discovered that part of the reason that the arduer doesn’t stay fed is that feeding on someone that is bound to you metaphysically is like eating your own arm. You’re eating energy that you’re sharing back and forth anyway. You need an occasionally meal that isn’t sucking energy from you. So Anita and I both understand the necessity of adding a new pomme de sang now that Nathaniel is her animal to call, but who? Who won’t screw our domestic arrangements all to hell? You might conceivably have sex with this many men on a regular basis, if it was just sex, but taking care of everyone’s emotional issues, too? I just don’t see how any one woman can take care of that many emotional needs. The thought of adding another man to the mix, well, Anita has just balked at it. I don’t blame her.
But what happens when she doesn’t feed the arduer enough? What happened last time? Damian got hurt, almost drained dry. Well, guess what? Yeah, it’s happening again, but this time it’s daylight and he’s in his coffin, and if she doesn’t fix this he won’t ever wake again. To make matters worse, Nathaniel tried to share energy with him metaphysically, since he is the animal to that particular triumverate, and Nathaniel doesn’t know how to share energy. If Anita doesn’t fix this, they may both die. How do you fix it? Feed. Feed the arduer. But I don’t think Anita and I have both felt so unarduerish in books. Too worried, too stressed, too scared. Ah, but here’s the fix. Requiem’s power. It’s like hours of really good foreplay in seconds, and it will raise the arduer if Anita doesn’t shield against him. Feed on him, save the day, right? Yeah, Requiem’s power will put Anita in the mood immediately. Problem, I don’t have Requiem here with me. Fictional character and all. And contrary to rumor, my having real life sex doesn’t necessarily make it easier to write literary sex scenes. Sometimes it does, I’ll admit that, but my energy is low enough that right this moment I could have sex or write about it, not both. I’d really need that nap if I did real life sex. Besides, it’s a little awkward to tell everyone else, sorry, lunch has to wait, Jon and I are going to have sex. That just seems rude. It has been one of the downsides to adding to the workforce here at the house, all those odd little social conventions to be adhered to. But even if Jon and I could throw caution, and politeness to the wind, it’s easier to have real sex than to write about it. I’m sure I’ve discussed before somewhere in the blog that it’s easier to run your fingertips down someone’s skin, than to describe how it feels on paper. So much easier.
So here I sit, trying to conjure not just good sex, but great sex, and I’m almost sure that once we’ve fed on Requiem that it won’t be enough to undo the damage we’ve done to Damian and Nathaniel. Which means more sex, of at least the metaphysical variety. Since I try to make every sex scene the best it can be, it means the bar will be raised damned high by the time we get this fixed. It will also be the first time that we’ve had more complete sex with Requiem, so a first time on screen for him. I always feel a certain performance anxiety for the men the first time. My words are all they have to defend their honor, and their technique. Some of the male characters will let me make them short, or not absolutely gorgeous, or amazingly endowed, but they all insist inside my head that they be good in bed. I can’t blame them, but it does make a writer’s job hard, sometimes.
I’ve just sort of read back over the complaining, and I have to say, what a great job. My worst complaint today is that I’m not in the mindset to do the big sex scenes that are coming up near the end of the book. Sometimes I buy into Anita’s emotions so deeply that her terror at loosing her loves, spills over to me. Sometimes I have to get some distance and remind myself that her sorrow is not mine, her losses, not mine. So real, sometimes, she seems to me. Hell, I bought a present for Nathaniel the other day. I started to talk myself out of it, I mean I’ll never be able to give it to him, he’s not real. But I bought it anyway, because I wanted to, and I could see the smile of pleasure on his face when I gave it to him. I used to fight myself when I saw something and thought would this, or that, imaginary friend love this. I thought how weird, how psychotic, to feel that the characters are that real. But you know what, I’ve stopped fighting with myself and take it as a sign that the character has become that real to me. It’s a gift, not a curse. Most of the time. I’ve already bought the penguin calendar for next year for Anita. The one character that I don’t buy much for is Jean-Claude? Why? Because if I’m spending that much money on jewelry the man has got to be real flesh and blood. Jean-Claude’s okay with that, he’d rather have me have Anita give him the jewelry anyway. I’m working on it. She’s just not as comfortable with it as I am.