Write What You Know

“Can I write ________ ?” 

This question is everywhere on social media and writing forums, often posed by new writers. I think the culprit is one of the most common pieces of writing advice that gets thrown around: “Write what you know.”

But what does that mean, exactly? 

First, the answer to “Can I write ________ ?” is always yes. Because there are no writing police to come and stop you. Which only proves that, “Can I write ________ ?” is not the question you should be asking. Once you change the way you pose the question, it will be much easier for you to get an answer that is actually helpful. 

I remember my first writing class in college, how scary it was handing out my work for the first time to my classmates, wondering what they would say. I have had someone take one look at my cover page and burst out laughing at my title. (To be fair, it was awful.) I have had people completely miss the point of what I was trying to say, but I’ve also had people praise my writing, often within the same discussion. So, I think when people ask “Can I write ________ ?” what they are really asking is “Can I write ________ well?” Well enough that they don’t get ridiculed because it doesn’t ring true, well enough to avoid a scolding for inaccuracies in their portrayals, well enough to not get laughed out of their degree program, well enough that agents are not mailing their pages to each other as the worst thing they have ever read, well enough to not get in trouble. (Or maybe that’s just the people pleaser in me.)

Essentially, writers are asking for permission to write something that they fear writing. But why do they fear it? Usually, because they don’t know it—they are lacking something (perspective, knowledge, skill, information, etc.) and they’re afraid they’re going to screw it up. 

“Write what you know” is sometimes taken too literally. It doesn’t mean that I can only write characters that are 41-year-old mothers who live in Colorado or that every one of my protagonists has to be a writer. If we were to adhere to the literal interpretation of “write what you know,”  we would have no fantasy, no sci-fi, no murder mysteries (I hope), no historical fiction. Instead, writers should “write what they know” emotionally. A faerie or an alien or a human in love are all still in love, and that love is what the story is about. 

Sometimes, the “Can I write ________ ?” question centers around writing a character identity that the writer doesn’t share. This is a big, nuanced conversation, but the bottom line is that there are no writing police to come and stop you. That being said, once again, “Can I write ________ ?” is not the question you should be asking. It’s “Should I write this? Am I the right person to tell this story?” And again, I would argue that the question (and answers) all come down to one thing: writing what you know emotionally. Because if you do not have the same emotional experiences as the characters you are trying to write, how will they resonate with your reader? 

Writing what you know doesn’t make the writing easy. Because your character isn’t you. Think of your character as a lens to view your emotional knowledge through. Yes, you as the writer know these feelings of love and guilt, joy and grief, relief and loss and so many more. But your character has their own flaws, their own history, their own emotional experience. Your job is to fit the two pieces together—your emotional knowledge with your character’s—to create a scenario on the page that will make your reader believe your story in their heart. It’s an intricate puzzle, but it’s magic when it clicks. 

So, can you write ________ ? 

Only you can answer that question.