I went to my niece’s graduation recently, an event worthy of congratulations and very happy all around, but it was also notable in that she graduated with the same major as I: English with a concentration in creative writing. While I was sitting there waiting for her name to be called, I couldn’t help but think of the things I’ve learned about writing outside of school, or any of the classes I’ve taken since. I’m sure I am a far better writer for having gone through them, but there are a few things that no teacher, no class ever seems to cover, perhaps because they’re seen as so basic no one ever talks about them (or perhaps they really are that basic and it just took me a long time to learn them). There are two that come to my mind:
“Write what you know.” If you’re writing a romance novel about a pizza chef whose girl just dumped him for a fireman, and you happen to be a short-order cook whose girl just dumped him for a movie stuntman, then writing what you know is pretty straightforward, just change the names. But if you’re writing an adventure novel about a World War I infantryman whisked one million years into the future, well, how many of your friends has that actually happened to? Fortunately, writing what you know doesn’t mean that you have to know everything you write.
In an early scene in The Invisible City, my protagonist is walking through a field. It so happens that I have walked through fields in my time, so I was able to visualize my character’s experience. I know how to walk through a field, so I’m writing what I know. The fact that this walk takes place a million years from now is not relevant. Similarly, later on my character has problems relating to a woman. In fact, he makes a complete fool of himself. I defy any adult male not to be able to write that scene from his own experience.
The upshot is, writing what you know doesn’t require you to know everything you write. It only requires that you know enough about what you’re writing to give your story verisimilitude. The speculative elements of your story will seem strange to everyone, because none of your readers has ever traveled through time. But everyone has made a fool of himself at some point, so write that and put another name on it. If your reader can identify with your character at that moment, he is much more likely to follow you through whatever time portal or black hole your story encounters.
Next time: The Amateur’s Guide to Showing Versus Telling.
Graffiti on the Walls of Time 