It’s Stupid Advice Saturday! Last week we talked about how said is, happily, not dead. This week’s victim: “Write what you know.”
On the face of it, this is actually not bad advice. We all have unique experiences in this world – unique perspectives and stories of our own that need telling. We should write them! The problem comes when this advice is misinterpreted as a strict instruction, or even a restriction, rather than a way to deepen your connection to your own work.
Most artists, at some point in their lives, will paint what’s outside their window. But if you told an artist to paint only what’s outside their window – or, to use a more accurate metaphor, instructed them to always make it the central focus of their art – they’d laugh you right out of the room. Writers are the same way. Yes, we all have unique knowledge, experiences, and opinions, but there’s no rule that says you have to focus on those things in your writing. Bring them to the table, absolutely. There’s no way to avoid that. But the type of things you enjoy writing are not obligated to have anything to do with your day-to-day life. For most of us, they don’t.
Just once, as an experiment, try writing 500 words about a self-insert protagonist who lives in a carbon copy of your hometown. They have your same day job and same family and same problems. Every piece of their identity is also yours. One of two things will happen, and they will happen quickly: you’re either going to get horribly bored, or horribly overwhelmed.
When I first started writing novels, I took this advice way, way too seriously. I overthought it to an almost ridiculous degree, as is my custom with anything utterly meaningless. It didn’t change the stuff I wanted to write or bring me any new ideas. It just made me feel incredibly insecure about my writing, because the things I was writing weren’t about things I’d been through. I was writing about cities I’d never been to, problems I’d never encountered, and experiences I’d never had. But I didn’t want to write about things I had been through. Whenever I did, it usually crept in subconsciously, or because I was learning something cool in science class and thought, “Damn, you could totally use this for evil – that’d make a great novel.” I didn’t realize that when people who know what they’re talking about say “Write what you know,” that’s exactly the kind of writing they mean. In short, they aren’t talking about the setting or the characters or the mundane details: they’re talking about emotions, ideas, and themes.
Integrating your own lived experiences into your writing is awesome. The fact that every person’s books have a grain of themselves in them is beautiful. We all have a story to tell that is completely our own, and a perspective to bring to others that no one else is able to, because it draws on a life that has been lived only by you. And on the flip side, telling others’ stories based on pure assumptions without doing your research can be hugely problematic.
The thing is, none of that means you have to write what you know. Your book is not bad if it has nothing to do with you or your life. You are not Doing Writing Wrong if you know absolutely nothing about your subject material when you start out.
And if you’re still not convinced, read this great article full of hot takes from 31 other writers who are way better at this than me.
Happy writing, whether you know what you’re writing or not.