Perspective Positions

By
Thomasnovels

I know you know that old scene. As soon as I describe it, you’ll see it in your mind’s eye and will know exactly what I’m talking about. Picture a guy on the phone, talking to a sex line operator who’s getting him all hot and bothered with nothing more than softly spoken words (or barking out orders, depending on his preference). (Why do we say bothered? No orgasm has ever bothered me. “Excuse me, Miss, I hate to bother you.” “Oh no bother, go right ahead.”) You just know that when the scene shifts, she’ll be a fat, middle-age woman in curlers and a nightgown instead of the nubile vixen he’s picturing in his head. Sometimes that’s how I feel. I’m a fat, middle-aged woman (sans curlers and nightgown) operating the keyboard to produce the same effect in readers with written words.

Words create pictures in our heads. I’ll prove it. Think of some of the profiles you’ve read on those dating websites. (Be honest. I know you’ve looked.)

Male - “Hi. I enjoy long walks on the beach, road trips and cooking romantic dinners for us to share in front of the fire.”

Female – “Hello. I love cuddling on the couch, candle lit nights, hitting the flea markets and am family oriented.”

Feeling pretty good about these two people? Picturing those romantic evenings? Here’s another perspective of the same profiles.

Male – Long walks on the beach means he wants to go fishing. Road trip translates into his elderly parents live out of town and he has to go cut their grass and take them grocery shopping on weekends. Cooking and dinner in front of the fire is trickier. Could denote a pass through McDonald’s drive-thru before going tent camping or he sets the smoke detector off every time he walks in the kitchen and calls the fire chief by his first name.

Female – Cuddling on the couch means she works two jobs and passes out as soon as she sits down. Candle lit nights indicates she’s trying to save on the electric bill. Shopping at flea markets could mean fun or signal money problems. Family oriented translates into her adult children still live at home with her or she has a herd of little ones and she’s looking for a replace daddy.

(Cynical, aren’t I?) The point of all of this is when we read or hear words, our mind attaches our own pictures from our own experiences (or fantasies) to their meaning. So when I read a book and you read the same book, it’s not really the same book at all even though the words don’t change on the page. We are picturing the scenes from our own perspectives.

When I read something from the late 19th or the early 20th centuries, there’s so much descriptive detail in there, I find myself wanting to skip ahead just to get back to the story. (No comments, please. I love those books just like the rest of the devoted readership.) Paragraph upon paragraph of details right down to the last leaf hanging on the tree. (And of course, there was no sex back then.) Maybe pre-television readers didn’t have as many pictures as we have floating around in their neuron networks. I know a few commercials I wish I could flush out of my head.

When I write a sex scene what I’m picturing and writing is not what you’re reading and seeing. “Her dress slipped to the floor exposing her braless, bare breasts” or “She yanked his belt open and lowered his zipper so fast, he suffered a moment of fear before she freed his penis and took him in hand”. See? I didn’t have to tell you where they are at, what time of day it is, what color their clothes are, what the circumstances are or what size their body parts are. Your mind did that for me (and you). And just like with the sex line operator, you didn’t picture me (jeans and tee) sitting here (dark dusty apartment, laptop glowing screen) thinking the pictures, forming the words, pushing the keys and controlling your libido through the Internet.