Write what you (don't) know

“Write what you know” sits riiight up there alongside “show don’t tell” on the shelf of misguided writing advice. As humans, we collectively know a lot, but as individuals, we don’t know that much. For instance, do you know how to pull off a heist? Survive in the wilderness? Lie about your secret family or lover?

Perhaps you do. Perhaps you lived to tell the tale about how an ex-partner was out for blood once they discovered your cheating ways, so you fled into the woods and began your new life as an outlaw robber. Sounds riveting! But I’ll bet to write such a story, you’d still need some outside knowledge to help fill in gaps and bring certain details to life.

Our lives are rich with experiences that can fill blank pages for days. But if everyone followed the “write what you know” advice, entire genres like fantasy or sci-fi simply wouldn’t exist. There is nothing wrong with writing what you don’t know. Your job is to make it known. Do your research—especially when it comes to writing about other lived experiences. The further you are from that lived experience, the more respectfully you must tread. Get feedback from people who’ve lived it, work with a sensitivity reader, conduct primary research, and check your assumptions. Good rules of thumb for any realm where you know little.

Conceiving of new ideas is the literal basis of imagination. So don’t let some pithy little saying limit yours!

Now go write,
Jamie

Pick an experience you know little about (freediving, childbirth, insomnia, being a huge flirt, being a bird of prey, being shipwrecked) and tell us what it's like. Now—and this is meta—reflect on where your knowledge gaps were, and how you navigated them.

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“I want to discover what I know.” — Flannery O’Connor