Death Sentence

AMoveableBeast

Literotica Guru
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Feb 1, 2013
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Have you ever been reading an erotic story, and everything is going swimmingly, then, suddenly, it happens. You read this sentence, this horrible abortion of language, and it's over. It's all over.

I was reading a tale, and liking it passably well. It wasn't badly written and it had a bit of panache. But then, out it came. The line was, as written by the author to describe the first-person female narrator's initial penetration by the dashing man who had pursued her so vigorously up the this point in the story, "He dipped his ladle into my punch bowl." And, after that...it...was...over. I was done. I just couldn't stop...seeing it, that awful sentence, hearing it zoom around in my mind like a midget on a dirt-bike inside of one of those latticed iron cages. I just couldn't gone on. I still can't. I can't work. I'm stilling here, waiting for it to leave, hoping it does. And that I can feel good again.

Has this ever happened to you? If so, what was the sentence? Does it haunt you still? Does it ever get better? Tell me it gets better!
 
Have you ever been reading an erotic story, and everything is going swimmingly, then, suddenly, it happens. You read this sentence, this horrible abortion of language, and it's over. It's all over.

I was reading a tale, and liking it passably well. It wasn't badly written and it had a bit of panache. But then, out it came. The line was, as written by the author to describe the first-person female narrator's initial penetration by the dashing man who had pursued her so vigorously up the this point in the story, "He dipped his ladle into my punch bowl." And, after that...it...was...over. I was done. I just couldn't stop...seeing it, that awful sentence, hearing it zoom around in my mind like a midget on a dirt-bike inside of one of those latticed iron cages. I just couldn't gone on. I still can't. I can't work. I'm stilling here, waiting for it to leave, hoping it does. And that I can feel good again.

Has this ever happened to you? If so, what was the sentence? Does it haunt you still? Does it ever get better? Tell me it gets better!
OMG, thanks for the laugh!! I can't stop! That sentence promises to make me crack up at random times all day long.

I haven't had an experience quite as "shocking" as yours, but some nearly so. Nothing will deflate my balloon faster than clunky language. A story I read recently that was quite beautiful ended in a paragraph that, clunkily (not a word, probably, but that's what seems right), tried to summarize a timeline and events worth about half or more of the story up to that point. My exalted mood just thudded to the ground. I hope the next chapter in the series will send me soaring again, but I was very disappointed. I don't want to identify the writer, who is otherwise quite good. I'll look for other winning examples.
 
This happens so often, and it always feels glaringly obvious when I read it. I find myself wondering HOW on EARTH the author of the story could have thought that was an appropriate description. HOW could they not see how awful and awkward it was.

That said, I really hope I'm not unconsciously doing the same thing in all my stories!

One that really irked me, and which ruined a perfectly good bit of smut was the words "pleasure globes" used in relation to the female characters breasts. *Shudder*.
 
Something I read a few years back pretty much killed the rest of the story. Granted, it was a stroker, little more than a Letters to Penthouse kind of "I never thought this would happen to me" thing.

"With gusto, I dove into her sumptuous fur-burger."

Fur-burger. What an image. Did it have pickles and onions in it, too?
 
Was reading a nice little tale. Well paced, not rushing to get to the sex but giving a story first. Was enjoying it.

It was set in the late summer. The main character is going up to his family's winter cabin to stock the cabin and make repairs before ski season. He was going to be there for six weeks.

Okay. Good so far. Not the most original as a lot of stories start in deserted cabins way off in the woods but... well okay.

Then the writer felt the need to tell what all the guy was bringing with him.

It was about six months worth of food supplies for the whole family, his luggage for the six weeks he was going to be there, all the tools to help repair this cabin, the lumber, the building supplies and...

700 gallons of diesel fuel.

All on a "small" trailer and he had to take it up a mountain road that and I quote "power company trucks couldn't get up.":eek:

I had to stop reading.

That's about 12.7 to almost 13, 55 gallon drums of fuel at as like (390.something pounds) per drum.

Reality your check just bounced.

MST
 
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Yeah, fur-burger is a dinner-ender, no doubt.

And yes, I too hope that I am not unleashing similar evils on the world. Because this sentence will stay with me. It's IN ME now, a part of me. And I worry that I will never be able to scrub it out no matter how much decent prose I read.
 
Sherrilyn Kenyon used something like that to make a joke in one of her novels.

"You have to dip your spoon in her jelly jar"

MST
 
I'm a proofreader by profession, and one thing I've decided is that authors need to write, then walk away, then read what they wrote as if for the first time. Oh, and ffs, SPELLCHECK.

I was reading a “celebrity" story about a celeb I have a major crush on and right in the middle of a really good paragraph, *bam* typo. Just killed the mood for me.
 
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Sherrilyn Kenyon used something like that to make a joke in one of her novels.

"You have to dip your spoon in her jelly jar"

MST

It wasn't just the ridiculousness that made it so bad, it was the timing. It was at like the climax of the story. That is what they trotted out for the culmination, the spark from four pages of friction. It would be like Rhett Butler walking off to, "Frankly Scarlet, I don't give a pudding pop."
 
I'm just pleased not to see my own work mentioned in here.

Yet. There's still plenty of time. I think we're all holding our breath on seeing one of our sentences read back to us.

I do love the ladle and the punchbowl image, though.
 
What often gets me is the overuse of an extended metaphor. Done right, it can be effective. But I've seen it done to the point where it's just plain ridiculous.

She was a sexual candy store, dripping with creamy sensuality. Her breasts were two perfect scoops of vanilla bean, with gumdrop nipples and sugar-cookie areolas. Her thighs were tasty Twizzlers leading to the sugary opening of a cream-filled Berliner . . . .

By that point, I'd stop reading the story and head down to my local bakery.
 
I've written them.

The most recent was mention of a DVD in a story pre-1971.

But even Shakespeare could do it. A striking clock in Julius Caesar?

As for Hollywood movies? A jet aircraft in the shot of a Viking era movie?

Wrist watches in costume dramas based in the 18th Century? Even a digital LED wrist watch appeared in one.

War movies can be the worst for those who like historical accuracy. Weapons, particularly big items such as tanks, artillery and ships, can be seen decades before they were in use. Steve McQueen in The Great Escape jumped WW2 barbed wire on a motorcycle from the late 1950s.

But whatever terms are used for sexual encounters, someone, somewhere will do worse than your worst ever. There is even an annual award for the worst sex scene in a novel. Don't Google it. You will be scarred for life.

But here's one:

“I find myself gripping his ears and tugging at the locks curling over them, beside myself, and a strange animal noise escapes from me as the mounting, Wagnerian crescendo overtakes me. I really do hope at this point that all the Spodders are, as requested, attending the meeting about slug clearance or whatever it is.”
 
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What often gets me is the overuse of an extended metaphor. Done right, it can be effective. But I've seen it done to the point where it's just plain ridiculous.

She was a sexual candy store, dripping with creamy sensuality. Her breasts were two perfect scoops of vanilla bean, with gumdrop nipples and sugar-cookie areolas. Her thighs were tasty Twizzlers leading to the sugary opening of a cream-filled Berliner . . . .

By that point, I'd stop reading the story and head down to my local bakery.
...or go on a diet
 
All the time. Cue up a record needle making a huge SCRATCH. Full stop. Im outta there.

I dont like phrases that sound like Al or Peg Bundy would say them. "Damn her tits looked good."
"I really need to get some."

Its not erotic. Not sexy. Just Bundy.
 
What often gets me is the overuse of an extended metaphor. Done right, it can be effective. But I've seen it done to the point where it's just plain ridiculous.

She was a sexual candy store, dripping with creamy sensuality. Her breasts were two perfect scoops of vanilla bean, with gumdrop nipples and sugar-cookie areolas. Her thighs were tasty Twizzlers leading to the sugary opening of a cream-filled Berliner . . . .

By that point, I'd stop reading the story and head down to my local bakery.

I can be guilty of this.
 
I've written them.

The most recent was mention of a DVD in a story pre-1971.

But even Shakespeare could do it. A striking clock in Julius Caesar?

As for Hollywood movies? A jet aircraft in the shot of a Viking era movie?

Wrist watches in costume dramas based in the 18th Century? Even a digital LED wrist watch appeared in one.

War movies can be the worst for those who like historical accuracy. Weapons, particularly big items such as tanks, artillery and ships, can be seen decades before they were in use. Steve McQueen in The Great Escape jumped WW2 barbed wire on a motorcycle from the late 1950s.

One I always remember was a poster for Dangerous Liaisons, featuring Michelle Pfiffer and John Malkovich kissing. In the pocket of her period-perfect dress you could see a roll of breath mints.

I have a tendency to pick out glaring historical errors in films. Gladiator killed me, as much as I liked the story and the action.

But whatever terms are used for sexual encounters, someone, somewhere will do worse than your worst ever. There is even an annual award for the worst sex scene in a novel. Don't Google it. You will be scarred for life.

But here's one:

“I find myself gripping his ears and tugging at the locks curling over them, beside myself, and a strange animal noise escapes from me as the mounting, Wagnerian crescendo overtakes me. I really do hope at this point that all the Spodders are, as requested, attending the meeting about slug clearance or whatever it is.”

That is, uh, pretty bad . . . .
 
Bulwer-Lytton Contest 2013:

When the slinky redhead slunk into the throbbing, strobe-lit nightclub, Elwood’s eyes fastened on her the way a toilet plunger will fasten onto a hard surface if you shove it down just right, but her returning glance, while smoldering, was actually more caustic and burned his tender ego the way liquid Drano can burn your hand if you spill some on it, having disregarded the manufacturer’s warning. — Jeff Treder, Springfield, OR
 
Bulwer-Lytton Contest 2013:

When the slinky redhead slunk into the throbbing, strobe-lit nightclub, Elwood’s eyes fastened on her the way a toilet plunger will fasten onto a hard surface if you shove it down just right, but her returning glance, while smoldering, was actually more caustic and burned his tender ego the way liquid Drano can burn your hand if you spill some on it, having disregarded the manufacturer’s warning. — Jeff Treder, Springfield, OR

Just like it takes acting skill to portray a moron, it takes talent to write something that bad.

So you tell us not to Google it, then throw it at us anyway. Thanks, Ogg. Thanks a lot. :p
 
Bulwer-Lytton Contest 2013:

When the slinky redhead slunk into the throbbing, strobe-lit nightclub, Elwood’s eyes fastened on her the way a toilet plunger will fasten onto a hard surface if you shove it down just right, but her returning glance, while smoldering, was actually more caustic and burned his tender ego the way liquid Drano can burn your hand if you spill some on it, having disregarded the manufacturer’s warning. — Jeff Treder, Springfield, OR

Now that's romance!
 
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You have PTSD, Pretty Tacky Smut Disorder. Youre a WOUNDED WANKER.
 
I'm just pleased not to see my own work mentioned in here.

Actually, I'm still trying to decide if mine has been. :eek:

For me, as a reader, I don't think it's so much a single sentence so much as the juxtaposition of it against what else the author wrote.

I've learned the hard way not to think I've heard/seen it all. But, I'm pretty well up on most of the vernacular when it comes to describing the parts of the anatomy and the actions that can be performed therewith. And I have a little bit of a tendency to be something of a "phrase snob" I suppose in that I attribute certain choices to a certain gender/age/locale/setting.

In one particular instance, I was reading along and suddenly a forty year old woman who had been gently coaching a teen popped out with "suck on my giant funbags!" Which could have been ignored if it had come out of his mouth, or if she had described them as something other than "breasts" or "bosom" or "teats" (as opposed to "tits") sometime in the preceding six or more paragraphs.

Oh, and Beast? Would that be, "... Rhett walking off into the sunset declaring, "Frankly, my dear Scarlett, I don't give a pud pull," considering the venue? ;)

And Slyc_Willie... you would have preferred "... went down to the crab shack for a little sea food..." (and sadly I can't take credit for that one as I think I recall reading it in a story)
 
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