What You Know

Have you ever heard the phrase, “write what you know?”

It’s another piece of writing advice that bubbles up from time to time. Maybe it applies better to nonfiction, but I don’t see its relevance so much in the world of fiction. Taken to the absurdist position, if we only write what we know then our stories are less fiction and more personal experience.

I take the saying more as writing about things you’re familiar with. For example, it would be tough for me to write a story set in Siberia. I’ve never been there, although that’s not a prerequisite, and I haven’t done any research about it other than hearing it’s cold and desolate. Could I write a believable story about Siberia? Probably, but I’d have to know more about it. Writing a story set in the desert Southwest of the United States? No problem, lived there a quarter of a century. It’s what I know.

Imagination is what compels us to write fiction. Maybe the question is more along the lines of writing convincingly. Can I write a story set in Siberia and convince you you’re there? Not today. If I did try it my descriptions would lack the types of details readers need to immerse themselves in the overall story. Can I write a story that makes you feel cold? Sure. Can I write a story where you feel the frosty bite of a brutal, unrelenting Russian winter and how it’s different from a New England blizzard?

Should we only write about what we know? Sounds extremely limiting to me. Should we writing convincingly about our characters, settings, and scenes? Absolutely.