For many, sex is a discussion best to have with your therapist or best friend, not for public consumption. Reading sexual content in a novel is off-putting, they’ll say, embarrassing, just inappropriate. I agree sex in some novels is not appropriate. For other novels, however, it’s not only appropriate but important to the story.
A couple of disclaimers. I don’t read romance novels. They’re currently the biggest genre of fiction, which probably says more than I’d care to try tackle. Many, not all, of these novels include sex to boost sales, sex for sex’s sake, a quick fix, which quickly turns into shlocky writing. I also don’t read Hallmark books or watch their movies. Pure and safe, they might offer a sentimental escape, but that stuff leaves me with a saccharin taste. Adhering to a Christian purity code, I once believed that putting explicit sex in novels was wrong, that it should only ever be vaguely suggested, at best. I’m not there.
In my mind, neither of these two extremes resembles real life or produces real literature.
But why do writers think they have to put sex in their stories? And where’s the line? How far do you go? Legitimate questions, which serious writers take seriously.
Sometimes a story isn’t complete if sexual content is scoured out of the novel. My choice to include sexual content in Left Unsaid has generated more discussion than I anticipated. Some think it’s too much or too explicit. Others say the scenes were done well, making me wonder if I should have included more.
Here’s my basic rule of thumb: putting sexual content in a novel should be handled selectively, sensitively, and with purpose. Usually, more is less. Suggestion is often more powerful. The question I have to answer is, Does it serve the characters and the story? I ask the same question about any other choice I make, such as including violence, addiction, abuse, crime, religion, or politics. It must all be integral to the characters and story. No shock value, no sensationalism, no escapism, no fluff, no leaps of the internal logic. For any writer, these choices require commitment, integrity, and meticulous discipline. When I include sex, it has to be vital to my story as a whole, and I must craft these moments in a way that carries meaning or not use them at all.
To expand briefly, if sex is a crucial issue or theme in a character’s journey, then it’s important for me to include it in the story. If I’m deliberately avoiding the topic of sex to make the book palatable for some readers, while I know a character obviously needs to deal with it, then I’ve broken an unspoken contract with my readers. They’ll feel betrayed, cheated, and rightly so. A character, for example, may be at an important stage of discovery in their lives, struggling to understand their sexuality, trying to act responsibly with a partner, or struggling to deal with sexual abuse. If these issues are critical to a character’s development, they need to be addressed, wholistically, without sidestepping their feelings guilt, grief, anger, or fulfillment. The ultimate judge of whether it’s accomplished is the reader.
Left Unsaid follows Gideon through his teen years. For most teens I’ve ever known sex preoccupies their thought life and includes a myriad of questions and feelings, from mystery to discovery, shame to elation. Sex is a point of contention between Gideon and his parents. To not mention how they deal with these powerful feelings would not do them or the story justice. By smoothing over the issue, I would end up with a bland and incomplete novel.
But why can’t you just write a story without any sex at all?
You certainly can, and many good novelists have. Sexual content may not be suitable for their particular story or target age group. I’ve written two novels for young readers. Sex doesn’t come up in either book. Pre-adolescent romantic attraction does, but not sex, not even suggested.
Bottom line, if, when, and how to include sex in a novel is a judgement call every writer makes. Serious writers approach it with discernment, care, and precision. I’m trying.
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