sawr mhilk: sex and writing rules men have inspired, like kinda
Write without landing.
Start, fall, bounce, peak, fly, fall, bounce, fly, peak, fall, bounce: that’s it. That’s the rhythm.
Once of the best universal illusions, invented by writers, is the Ending.
Nothing ends. Everything changes. If your story is transforming, lean in, take off, fly and when it peaks, let it fall, transform again.
Why should you presume an ending when writing is so much more fun? Why park when there’s a better destination up ahead? Why settle on Him when someone else will be more sensational?
Once in a while there will be a worthwhile ending. Once. In a long while.
I once dated a man with an elphantine ego and a matching penis.
I’ll call him Egpe.
Egpe shows up in my life when I’m falling.
I meet Egpe while still recovering from losing a close friend of mine who recently falsely accused me of sexual misdemeanour before abruptly exiting my life.
OK. BOUNCE into the assumption that I am a worthless sex criminal.
BOUNCE into self-harm and Tinder.
Mere weeks later I meet a former military man. I fall in love. Bounce. He ghosts. Bounce. A week later I am having many beers with Egpe while he describes his recent weight loss.
“My ex was such a BITCH,” Egpe stares out the window, fingering the lip of his pint glass, his black t-shirt swims around his body. I believe his weight loss. Do I believe that his ex was such a BITCH?
I do not like him. He flexes his tongue while he speaks, pushing words aggressively out of his mouth, imitating Zoolander consistently, past the point of parody.
“What did she do?” I am sipping my first beer. He has already brought me a second one. For no reason, I aspire to drink both beers. Maybe I am weary of being such a BITCH.
“She cheated!” He looks at me. I should have known that.
“Sorry.” I gulp the remainder of my beer, place the pint glass aside. Buckle in.
This conversation is exactly the rhythm with which he kisses. Statement, thought, EXCLAMATION, I swallow hard because I am taken aback, aggresive tongue, wince, remain.
Egpe is pushy. I am falling, unendingly.
We date for something-like-six-weeks.
He keeps me down.
Beer, sudden gestures, sharp comments, insults, yelling.
There is no landing. It’s either Fly or Sink. Forward or Down.
Don’t aspire to land. It won’t happen and if it does, then what?
Then you have an ending. Then you’re fucking Egpe and his giant penis is not what you want.
Lesson: There isn’t a single giant penis in the entire world that can make up for a man who keeps you down. There is no fabulous ending. Be prepared to bounce.
I’ll end with a great example from a film I watched this weekend by French Canadian filmmaker Denis Villeneuve, Prisoners. Actually, I won’t give away the ending. Watch it. And think about this: More ground is covered, more story, more psychology, more pain, more hope, when you refuse to land.
On a personal note: I had to take a very early hiatus from this series because of an issue I was having with my health but everything is fine and hopefully I’ll be able to give one rule a day.
There’s so much to be learned from your own stories. What are the rules you consistently follow? Let me know in the comments below or DM @rachelganz_writes on IG.
Take care friends,