cj Sez: A lot of the
passion, or eroticism, a reader finds in a story is often the part that’s left
unwritten. For me, what one imagines to be residing between the lines of a
story—the perceived
hidden meanings—can
be more erotic than detailed descriptions.
The calendar says Autumn; the temperature does not. |
The reader’s imagination is a powerful tool for writers.
Writers
can never predict how their words will be interpreted because their readers are
coming from a multitude of backgrounds, and each has a different set of life experiences.
That’s both exciting and fearful. Words, syntax, and semantics have to be as
exact as we can make them, all the while knowing that the reader will most
probably interpret them differently. Yet it is unfair and insulting to
intelligent readers to tell them what is meant through the use of Italics and adverbs attached to
dialogue. Example: “How dare you do that,” she exclaimed angrily. (Suggested alternative: “How dare you
do that!” This draws the reader into the story by allowing him or her to
place their own word emphasis.)
I’ve had the pleasure of having a reader tell me how much
she enjoyed (or did not enjoy) a particular scene or dialogue exchange. When I
asked why, her interpretation of the scene or dialogue was nowhere near what I
had intended. Obviously, words do not have universal meanings. In particular, writing with and
about passion and eroticism tends to invite a lot of critical judgment and opinion.
Erotic is far more than the sexual and sensuous description.
For me, the definition of erotic is nebulous. It is sitting on the floor of a darkened room
immersed in music…it is snowflakes melting in my eyelashes…the smooth caress of
summer breezes...the warmth of the sun…the whistle of an elk and the cry of a
loon in the northern wilderness...it is pleasure that fills me with laughter
and pain that makes my heart ache…it is intelligence with a quick wit and
gentle humor…it is the harmonics of a deeply resonant baritone…the touch of a
guiding, strong hand at my waist…it is the fragrance of herbs crushed between the
palms of my hands...it is the touch of silk, satin, skin on skin…the
velvetiness of a baby’s cheek…the taste of dark chocolate melting on my
tongue...it is the aroma of a pipe and the coarseness of a woolen shirt…it is
the heady sheen of an athlete…it is a decision made confidently that culminates
in success…it is trees dressed up in spring green or autumn blaze…pewter clouds
and blue skies…it is sounds, feelings, sights, smells, tastes, touch,
memories…it is imagination.
Okay, that’s all for today. You-all guys keep on keeping on
and I’ll try to do the same.
Cj
“Bad
Day at Round Rock” in The Posse Western anthology of 8
short stories @99 cents
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