Let's talk about sex, baby...

As I'm sure has happened to every playwright since the dawn of time, it's quite often that I'm out and about and am introduced to someone who finds out that I'm a playwright, and they ask me, "Oh, what kind of plays do you write?"

It's by no means a bad question, and I understand that it's asked in an effort to get to know the playwright's work, but I have yet to meet a playwright who enjoys being asked that question (if you do, please chime in).  Yes, it's an opportunity for self-promotion, but I think that's precisely why it stresses us all out so much.

Usually, in that situation, I stammer a bit about writing plays that have something to do with genderqueerness or gayness or re-imagining familiar stories - all of which is true but, of course, incredibly incomplete - and then I am often asked, "So, are they comedies? Tragedies?" which I also never know how to answer, seeing as the saddest of my material tends to get the biggest laughs.

After being asked this question enough times, I've thought of what I'd LIKE to say, but have not yet said for fear of people thinking I am flippant, or immature, or promiscuous, or just trying to be provocative, or fill-in-the-blank. But this is the truest, most complete answer I can think of, and I can elaborate on it more here than I usually can in conversation, so here it is:

I write plays about sex.

I write about sex because when you write about sex, you're writing about vulnerability. You're writing about power. You're writing about people at their most joyful and most anguished. Writing about sex creates the conflict for you: the fear that the sex, and therefore the accompanying comfort or joy or love or acceptance or distraction, will go away. Or the fear that it may never come.

I write about sex because it is nearly universal. Because most people who will see or read my plays will have had, wanted, and/or thought about some form of sex, perhaps extensively.

I write about sex because it is so funny, yet we take it life-and-death seriously.

I write about sex because whenever sex becomes a possibility, so does heartbreak.

I write about sex because when you write about sex, you're writing about gender: how you're allowed to express your gender in pursuit of, or in the having of, that sex. And I write about gay people because they, more than anyone else, have at some point been told they were wrong for wanting the sex they want. (I also joke sometimes that I'm 25% gay, but that's another blog post.)

I don't write only about sex, but sex has been an element in nearly every play I've written so far. I write about sex, but I rarely write sex: there's only one literal sex scene onstage thus far in my work, which is not sexy at all, it's actually a bit scary since it's not totally consensual. I don't write sex because sex isn't sexy enough; the wanting of it, the pursuit of it, the leading up to it, is infinitely more interesting to me.

I know that writing about sex hardly makes me unique, but I also know that I write about sex in a different way than, say, Adam Rapp, or Sarah Kane, or Pinter. I write about sex as a goofy twentysomething feminist/gender activist woman who places a high value on playfulness and compassion.

Also, I think the fact that I'm able to get so much mileage out of writing about sex reveals just how broken our cultural attitude about sex is, or can be. We put it on a pedestal and then guilt trip ourselves about doing so; we equate it with love or self-worth, then are confused when it doesn't give us either of those things. All of which makes for juicy, meaty, delicious subject matter for yours truly to yoink.

As for whether I write comedies or tragedies, well, writing about sex opens you up to quite a bit of both. It took me a few years to accept that my work got laughs, because I was trying to be "artsy" and "deep," which is also another blog post, but for now let's just say I rejoice at the laughter.

So: to answer your question, imaginary party guest, those are the kinds of plays I write. I'd love to send you one.

Anyone else have an answer to that question they've been suppressing?