“Write what you know.”
How many times have we writers heard that?
Like so many of these snippets of pithy advice tossed around, there is an element of truth in this advice.
Writing what we know is easier. And easy is a good place to start for the beginning writer.
Writing what we know asserts our authority. It gives us the confidence to stand upon our ideas and eliminates the all too common experience of writer’s imposter syndrome that we all feel at one time or another.
Writing what we know can bring a depth of emotional experience to our words that theoretical learning just can’t reach.
But if we only write what we know, what are we ever going to learn?
If we only write what we know, how easy will it be for us to slip into boredom?
If we only write what we know, where is the space for our curious creative spirit to roam free and discover new and exciting landscapes?
If we only write what we know, what happens when we’ve written about everything we know?
Write what you don’t know is just as valuable advice. But since it’s not an easy thing to do, we’re likely not going to hear it tossed around by the writing sages so freely.
Write what you’re curious about.
Write what you’d like to know.
Write what you can find out about.
Experience something new and then write about that.
Research. Read, watch, interview, listen, explore.
Investigate.
Consider.
Inspect.
Speculate.
Write about what sparks that intuitive fire of interest and connection.
After all, it’s the case for many a writer that we only see what we know once we’ve written it down.
