As a writer, I tolerate error, poor performance, failure. So what if I
fail some of the time, if a story or an essay is no good? Sometimes
things do go well, the work is good. And that’s enough.

It’s just this attitude I don’t have about sex. I don’t tolerate
error, failure—therefore I’m anxious from the start, and therefore
I’m more likely to fail. Because I don’t have the confidence that some
of the time (without my forcing anything) it will be good.

If only I could feel about sex as I do about writing! That I’m the
vehicle, the medium, the instrument of some force beyond myself.

I experience the writing as given to me—sometimes, almost, as
dictated. I let it come, try not to interfere with it. I respect it,
because it’s me and yet more than me. It’s personal and transpersonal,
both.

I would like to feel that way about sex, too. As if “nature” or “life”
used me. And I trust that, and let myself be used.

Susan Sontag

“As Consciousness Is Harnessed to Flesh: Journals and Notebooks”