: Re: Can a scene be written to be disorienting and not be too confusing to readers? I've written a scene in a short story where the character and her party are suddenly attacked in the night.

@Shelton455

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The short answer to your question is yes.

However, you've got decide who you're writing for. You can't satisfy 'all readers'. If you clarify the story for Mills and Boon readers, lovers of Tolstoy will have no interest in your work.

What you are doing is going from dream state to being aware, with a confused state in between. Eventually your character will understand (or not) what was really happening and the narrative will explain it the reader.

You're going to suffer the age-old problem . . . When things get a bit weird how long will they put up with your shenanigans?

I have used similar scenarios many times and I disagree that the confusion should be short.

Example:

Carlene has been arguing with her footballer boyfriend, Stuart. Stuart goes off the play in a football match.

Carlene goes home, cries, then takes a shower. After her shower Carlene looks her body in the mirror and briefly wonders why Stuart doesn't want this. She decides that she's 'hot' and 'sexy as fk' and if he doesn't want her - fk him. She plays herself some sexy Motown music and jumps into bed.

[The story switches scene to spend time with Stuart in his football match. When we return Carlene is bed with Stuart's arch rival, Danny].

Carlene felt the weight of Danny's hand on her shoulder, encouraging her to roll onto her back. She complied without hesitation. His touch was much gentler than Stuart’s, but still, she felt his strength. By comparison, his soft caress felt smooth on her skin. Each stroke left a trail of goose-bumps in its wake. He didn’t have Stuart’s rough builder’s hands. His gentle kisses on her neck caused her to shudder. She felt fingers trace her breasts until her nipples hardened. This man was so gentle. He knew how to make a girl feel good. His lips pleasured her neck whilst all the time his hand patiently made its way south. She gasped as his finger expertly found the spot – he knew what he was doing. He could read her mind; slow and gentle when she wanted it that way, other times quick and lively. Her body responded. She arched her back and released a muted moan. She felt to explode as nimble fingers excited and teased her, all the time the gentle caress of lips on her neck. She braced herself, held her breath, and responded to the internal stimulation by thrusting her hips forward. "Please, be careful. Don’t . . . Please, I can’t afford to get pregnant," she whispered. "I’m not on the . . ." At the end of the journey to the edge of her world she extended her arms fully and her body tensed as she clung to a moment of time. The bubble burst. The moment was lost. Two breaths later, realisation slapped her, and panic set in. "I said don’t!" she screamed, and tried to push him off. Her hand met no resistance. There was nobody there. Carlene awoke, sweating, alone with her hand between her legs. She sat up in bed. "What the? . . ." She brushed her hand across her neck. A moth took flight. Carlene sat perfectly still listening to the sound of her own breathing.

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