Sense of success
A common piece of advice in writing is to use all five of the human senses. I think this is especially important in romance and erotica, when you’re creating something sensual, that needs to appeal to and gratify the senses.
It’s relatively (relatively!) easy to focus on the visual and the auditory. The ‘easiest’ to neglect are probably taste and smell. Sights and sounds will have individual connotations, but the gustatory and olfactory are, arguably, more personal still.
Let’s focus on smells. A particular odour can ‘take you there’, the gritty damp of concrete to a cell; frying pancakes to your childhood kitchen. Then think of your favourite smells – hyacinths perhaps, baking bread, fresh coffee, or jasmine? Then again it may be something more complex, the garden after rainfall, say. That may include wet earth, damp stone, crushed petals releasing their scents; the freshened grass, as if green itself were an odour. That is, if you live in a temperate climate.
Or your ‘top five’ smells may include something even more personal, such as the scent of your baby’s head. Or of your lover. If you have one. And if you love them. Not long ago I read a quote from performance artist Marina Abramović, who said of her former partner: “That was the moment I stopped liking his smell. And the moment I stopped liking his smell, it was over.”1 How relatable.
What can be more personal than your reactions to the smell of your beloved; what can be better if you’re in love or in lust with them? And what can be more off-putting if you do not like the way someone smells?
Nobody farts in erotica
Once you’re hooked in to someone, of course much can be forgiven. A study in the Netherlands back in 2012 demonstrated how arousal had the strength to prevail over ‘disgust’2. So really, if you want to show the lust or love between partners, one way would be to have one of them break wind, or return home redolent with body odour, yet remain irresistible to the other.
But nobody farts in romance or erotica, do they? Unless you want to start a niche sub-genre in olfactophilia-based stories. (I believe that ‘olfactophilia’ is sexual arousal by body smells, particularly those of the genital area). Okay, wouldn’t be surprised if that’s already been done.
Scents of connection
So how can we use smells, which are so much a matter of personal preference and emotion, to convey attraction and erotic fulfilment? Especially given odours are so elusive? Just as in real life, we do not necessarily want our lovers to reek of some synthetic, off-the-shelf perfume.
In one story I tried to describe the effect of a woman’s scent on her lover, as “something like fruit and something like fresh seaside air, but not the precise same as either.” trying to relate smells to something tangible yet also catch their indefinability. Not sure that was successful, but as with any writing, it is all part of the ongoing effort to capture something in words that will create connection.
Attempting to convey something that, as the (brilliant) novelist Rose Tremain put it will “…feel truthful and real to the reader”3.
1. ‘Marina Abramović in her own words: ‘Why don’t we have a ménage à trois?’ in The Guardian, https://www.theguardian.com/artanddesign/2016/oct/22/marina-abramovic-artist-extract-menage-a-trois, retrieved 10 April 2018.
2. ‘Feelings of Disgust and Disgust-Induced Avoidance Weaken following Induced Sexual Arousal in Women’, Borg, C. & de Jong, P. J. 12-Sep-2012, https://www.rug.nl/research/portal/publications/feelings-of-disgust-and-disgustinduced-avoidance-weaken-following-induced-sexual-arousal-in-women(098ae0c2-bcb1-4dcb-a820-8749215a36e8).html, retrieved 10 April 2018.
3. Rose Tremain: ‘Truth, insomnia and waiting for inspiration in Norwich John Lewis’ in The Observer, https://www.theguardian.com/books/2016/may/28/my-writing-day-rose-tremain, retrieved 10 April 2018.