Give Good Sex?

I read an interesting newspaper article a while ago about concerns raised by the judges of the Booker Prize. Not that they were unable to pick a winner, or that there was anything wrong with the quality of the nominated works, the problem was—of course—sex. Was there any doubt?  

Rather than there being too much of it, the opposite was the problem as the judges were expecting lots of the good stuff from the nominated books but got nada. Well, they got some, but not enough to satisfy them. It proved to be such a big issue that it was repeatedly discussed, which resulted in the authors themselves confirming their reasons.

The nominees offered an array of reasons for why they avoid writing about the sexual act, but it all boiled down to “I don’t wanna!”  

There was some talk of the authors being worried about earning the Literary Review’s Bad Sex Award, which is given to writers who pen sex scenes that are less than erotic. The idea of the critics merely being failed writers was little comfort, with many admitting that they would feel humiliated and upset if their work was chosen. This reason seems like a valid one, but this was not the only one put forward.

One of the most interesting reasons for not writing about sex came from a very well-known English writer, who told a crowd at a book festival that it was actually impossible for a novelist to write about real sex, as opposed to the pornographic variety. Sex is too personal and, therefore, cannot be universal. Who says it has to be universal? It was even suggested that a ‘closed door’ and implications are more effective. It seems that these people are of the same mindset as those that sought to prosecute Penguin under obscenity laws due to Lady Chatterley’s Lover – and that was 50 years ago!

An editor of the Literary Review went so far as to say that there are no cases where sex scenes work in fiction. (Though the Bad Sex Awards are meant to be light-hearted rather than humiliating.) Other writers suggested that it was difficult to write about ordinary or loving sex, which resulted in books containing drug use and rape.        

I can only wonder what I and the many other erotic writers out there are doing when this type of opinion exists. Who is reading all the erotic tales that exist if they’re so bad? It is very disheartening to realise that literature is affected by such prudish ideas.

Fortunately, the article mentioned several other writers that had the opposite view. A story in which the heroine losing her virginity was an integral part of the story, gay writers writing novels that they can see themselves in. It is by using these sex scenes that the writers reveal the true personalities of their characters. What’s wrong with that?     

There is one glimmer of hope that shines through the fog of nonsense, bright enough to offer a little hope—at least the judges wanted to read about sex!

Why I Love Limericks

What’s not to love? Maybe I’m just a child at heart, but sometimes a little cheekiness is positively necessary. I used to make up lots poetry when I was younger, even changing the lyrics of songs and it was just silly fun.

Life has a habit of throwing up all sorts of events and problems that can bring you down, simply watching the news can be enough to cause despair, so being able to raise a smile is always beneficial. This is why I have a certain amount of envy for comedians (not for the nerves that many of them must suffer), as being able to make someone laugh must be so satisfying.  

Using a touch of facetiousness within the confines of a ditty allows me to enhance the personality traits of the subject, or impose ones they don’t have at all! Only in the name of poetic licence, you understand.  

The subjects of my limericks are usually my (long-suffering) family and friends, but I’ll reveal no more than that to prevent their embarrassment. A few examples follow and, don’t worry, there isn’t a man from Nantucket in sight.      

There was once was a young lady named Clare

Who never could turn down a dare

With the test barely posed

She ripped off her clothes

And ran off yelling, “I’d rather go bare.”

 

There was a young lady named Sam

And she always liked a good slam

With a black man or white

In the day or at night

She just couldn’t give a damn

 

There once was a young man named Neil

Who would smoke and swear and steal

When he was asked why

He was such a bad guy

He said: “Cos it gives me sex appeal.”

 

There once was a young man named Martin

Who found his good manners departing

When he went out one night

Some guy started a fight

Which made him yell, “Oi, are you startin’?”

 

There was a young lady, Vanessa

Who was gorgeous and kind, a great dresser

But please don’t be fooled

Though her demeanour is cool

That doesn’t mean you can test her!

 

But it isn’t fair, I hear you cry, you get to take the rise out of others and don’t get any of your own treatment. Okay, how about…

 There was a young lady, Shermaine

Who had quite good cause to complain

With a bottom as round

As a new English pound

Nobody took note of her brain

(I know what you’re thinking and, yes, ‘lady’ in this instance is used in the very loosest sense!)

Feel free to share your own favourite limericks or leave a comment with your name and challenge me – I’ll see if I can make up a few more.

Passion P-A-S-S-I-O-N Passion

“Can you use it in a sentence?”

 Pretend you’re a judge in a (very easy, admittedly) spelling contest – what sentence would you use? 

A recent conversation with a friend concluded with us both acknowledging that we were more passionate than romantic (can you tell what we were talking about in the first place?!) Neither of us saw hearts, flowers and wild declarations of love necessary for the physical act to take place.

However, our conversation was limited to sex and the reasoning for how a man and a woman can come to the same conclusion. The picture looks very different when the meaning of passion is looked at as a whole. Besides intense sexual love, the word can also mean great enthusiasm, which got my mind working.

I see many examples of people demonstrating great enthusiasm (probably because I watch too much TV), that far exceeds anything I would do. I remember a shot of a young girl in an Elvis video (the one where he wears a white jump suit) who is crying real tears as the man himself does his thing. Really? I used to love Neneh Cherry when I was younger to the point where I wanted to be her, but I don’t think I would act hysterically had I met her. Old footage of Beatles fans amazes me, as does the hysterical reaction of the wannabe models when Tyra Banks first reveals herself (told you—too much TV!)

I once met Josh Hartnett and I reacted as I would with anyone else I just met. Despite the crowd whooping like I’ve never seen at a play before and the massive crowd of people clamouring for him outside the theatre doors, I found him to be—taa daa!—a normal guy. If I’m going to get hysterical over a guy that appears normal, he better have special powers. 

It must be lovely to have such a strong interest in someone or something, but, in many cases, it seems to take so much effort for so little reward. For example, I can’t imagine standing out in the cold wind and rain just to catch a glimpse of a celebrity.

I suspect it stems from the fact that I’m inherently lazy and prefer to save my enthusiasm for matters that don’t take me out my way. Or maybe I’m selfish and only get passionate about things that I get pleasure from, like writing, sex and food (not necessarily in that order).                    

I’m possibly just low-key and prefer to save my passion for some things and not others, or perhaps I am yet to get the right motivation for the wild, passionate enthusiasm that simmers somewhere deep. An experiment is needed—has anyone got Denzel’s number? Ving Rhames? Tyrese? No? Damn, I guess we’ll never know.

What’s in a Voice? Comment and win an ebook

If you had never seen him, what image do you think you would conjour of David Beckham simply from hearing his voice? What about Mike Tyson? Do you think you could predict the power their bodies hold?

What about if you only ever heard the speaking voices of Macy Gray and Fantasia Barrino? Do you think they would be able to produce such beautiful singing voices?

The voice can be as deceptive as it is powerful , which is a concept that inspired my latest Lust Bite, Remote Control. The short story is published today by those lovely folk at Total-e-bound.

Remote Control is the tale of ‘Scarlet’, a telephone sex chat line worker who can remain clear headed in the haze of fantasy she provides, except when it comes to one man, Joseph. When it comes to him, she becomes powerless. An excerpt follows…

Normally, one or two of her tricks would be sufficient to make a man come, a satisfying grunt before he hung up or told her how good she was, but his stamina withheld. Forced to use all her best material, Scarlet went from blowjob to cowgirl to doggy style as she tried to bring him to climax. Even with listening to his television in an attempt to figure out the programme, she could still make every description a detailed one.                          

Finally, the pace of the familiar sound of him tugging on his cock increased, his rasping breaths becoming louder. She sighed with relief as his orgasm finally arrived, a groan being heard before his gratitude. By the time she hung up, she found that nearly forty-five minutes had passed. There was no way for her to know whether she had missed any calls. Nervously tapping at the casing, she hoped it was a night in which he would call late.

Distracted when the phone rang again, she put her thoughts aside to let Scarlet take over. A pause came after her normal seductive greeting, making her think her last caller had come back for more.

“Good evening, Scarlet.”

The sound of his deep voice never failed to melt her, she loved to hear him speak almost as much as what he said.

“Hello, Joseph.” 

All attempts to maintain the manufactured breathy voice instantly failed. A smile of pleasure and relief lit her face, her temperature rising as her body brimmed with pure lust and desire. 

Remote Control is available now at Total-e-bound. However, for your chance to win an ebook copy, you need only leave a comment on this post.

New web site live

My new web site is live…..looks amazing!

You’ll find details of my all my shorts, novellas and novels and where to buy them, some free reads (naughty but nice), plus all my contact information.  Go and take a look around, you know you want to www.shermainewilliams.co.uk

Welcome to the erotic world of Shermaine Williams

 

Welcome to my blog. My name is Shermaine Williams, purveyor of erotic interludes….purely in written form of course!

Here you’ll find details about my books and what I’ve been up to and my latest releases.

Come in and take a look around, you know you want to.

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