You hear it
all the time at writer’s workshops: write what you know.
I don’t
believe a word of it. Writing about what you know about seems to me a recipe
for repetition and stagnation.
Instead, write what you want to know. The best
writers are inherently curious, always seeking—through reading or travel or
whatever—to learn something new. You could call it research. And those new
things, whether sought out deliberately or stumbled upon by serendipity, often
find their way into a story, a song, a poem, or a book—usually after
considerably more research and curiosity.
Now, this is
not to say you shouldn’t develop some mastery of the subject—know it, in other
words—before you write about it. For one thing, readers who do know can spot a
phony from afar. For another, writers owe readers a heaping helping of honesty,
truth, and reality along with entertainment. And that’s true whether you’re
writing fiction or nonfiction, poetry or plays, essays or songs, movies or
magazine articles.
Texas poet
Larry D. Thomas would never have imagined The
Goatherd had he not been curious about what life might have been like for a
man who tended goats in long-ago Texas. Michael Zimmer would not have written
the outstanding novel Beneath a Hunter’s
Moon had he not wondered about the somewhat obscure Métis and their ways.
We would not have South Pass had Will
Bagley not set out to discover the finer points of exploration and emigrant
travel over the Continental Divide’s easiest crossing. And so on.
Don’t let
your writing be limited by the limits of your knowledge by believing the lie
that you should write what you know. Learn something new. Then, you’ll come to
know what you write—and so will your readers.