This is probably going to be a TMI blog entry, so if you’re squeamish you should probably stop reading.

You’ve been warned. Carry on. 🙂

I had been reading an entry on LKH’s blog earlier this week. It’s on my blog-roll somewhere to the right, so I’m not going to link to it directly. I have a love/hate thing with LKH which I’m not going to get into here, but in her blog entry she talked about not writing about what you know, but about writing on what you want to know about. I think that actually makes a lot of sense, provided you put in the research behind it – whether it’s about firearms, or how the post office works, or repairing car engines, or whatever. If you’re going to write about something, you’d better be able to back up what you say. Eventually people are going to call you on it.

When it comes to writing about sex, I have a bit of an issue. Not because I have any direct issues on *writing* sex, but because for a number of medical reasons, I can *only* write what I know. And it’s not much. I suffer from Interstitial Cystitis – which essentially means I have agonizing flare ups of constant bladder pain, the urge to pee 24 hours a day, bladder spasms and pissing blood. It’s all very exciting. Not really. It sucks. I’ve had it for nearly 10 years now, and I’m in a hazy form of remission – for the most part, if I watch what I eat/drink, I can keep it tolerable. If I don’t, then I pay the price.

I also have Vulvar vestibulitis – which has gone through several name changes, I think. Atrophic vestibulodynia is what they call it now. In either case, it translates into extremely painful sex. Imagine having sex with someone and they’re wearing a condom made of sandpaper. That’s about the best way that I can describe it. Now, I have a somewhat milder case than others. Some people can’t walk or sit because of it. Some people can’t work. I just can’t have sex very often. Although, sometimes, like today, sitting is painful. It’s tolerable, but my crotch is burning as I write this. I have tried numerous things and been to hordes of doctors, but I’ve had this condition since I was about 19 and it’s never really gone away. What does it mean? It means I’m so sensitive in the vulvar region that even the light brush of a q-tip causes a really horrid burning situation. Can you imagine what sex feels like?

Once you get past the hymnal ring it actually gets better, so if done correctly I can actually manage a decent enough time. 😉 But condoms hurt, fingers hurt, tongues hurt. All of it hurts. And it never really stops hurting. My uterus is tipped also – which doesn’t mean anything directly, but it does make penetration interesting and somewhat painful depending on the angle. Some people are into pain, but I’m not really wired for that. And besides, I think what appeals to people who like pain in their sex is the fact that, eventually, it stops hurting. They get to choose how much or how little. I get pain whether I want it or not and there’s nothing sexy about that, at all.

Now, why am I telling you this? It doesn’t really have any bearing on anything, but I’ve come to realize that when I am trying to write up a smuttier sex scene, I really have no way of actually knowing. Even simpler things – sex against the wall, or the shower or in a chair – all are out of my reach. Reverse cowgirl? Doggie style? Congress of the Cow? *snerk* Don’t make me laugh. It won’t happen. I can’t tolerate anything except missionary. I find it rather depressing on the whole, but I’ve come to at least accept it somewhat (it’s been nearly 15 years, after all). But it does make it hard to do “research” in the name of writing. I don’t know where that leaves me in the “write what you know” game – or even the “write what you *want* to know” game, for that matter. As much as I might want to know (and God, how I *want* to know), I cannot do it without the trade off of sitting on a bag of ice cubes for hours afterwards. So tell me – is it worth it?

This entry was posted in depression, Interstitial Cystitis, pain, pathetic, sex, Vestibulitis. Bookmark the permalink.

4 Responses to Pain.

  1. Kendris says:

    Congress of the *what*?

    Never mind. I think I can continue happily in my existence without a mental image to accompany that one, since I’m pretty sure that my perverse imagination would insist on inserting bovines.

    Ah, shit…it already happened…

    If you’re asking if trying a sexual position that is likely going to cause you so much pain that you won’t be able to enjoy it in the name of research is worth it, I’d say no way in hell.

    I seriously doubt that all of the smut writers out there have actually *tried* all the things that they write about, any more than someone who writes a book about a serial killer actually kills someone for the experience (I hope). Use the books in the genre that you like as a touch point and work from there. Get a couple of beta readers to bounce things off of.

    You have the writing skill; you just need to trust in it.


  2. ~Sia McKye~ says:

    Yah, what Kendris said. You can use your imagination.

    But it’s no fun to have your mind revved up and your body says no way in hell. I can tell I know how painful the idea was after I fractured my back. Any pressure was unacceptable, but it got better. I can’t imagine what you go through…

  3. mynfel says:


    It is what it is, really. For the most part I just deal with it – but every once in a while I throw myself a pity party. Just happened to be on my blog this time. 🙂

  4. Crowblackdream says:

    Tell you what doll, if I read something of yours and it sounds like a cheeseball romance novel, I’ll let you know right away.

    Otherwise, sometimes our own fantasies count as experiences.

    Your writing is the shit, I’m going to pay money for anything you write and get published.

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