WHEN YOU WRITE WHAT YOU DON’T KNOW
There’s an age-old adage among writers, that even readers have heard ad-nauseum: “Write what you know.”
I’ve heard it all my writing life, it’s been drilled in me from day one. And for some reason, it never sticks. For some reason, when I come up with plots, they involve everything I DO NOT KNOW.
I have two theories on why this is. Either I’ve lived past lives in which I’ve known or experienced these things (Shirley McClain would probably vote for that one), or I’m a masochist (I’m positive my editor and critique partners would vote for this one).
For some reason, I’m always drawn to a Southern setting, even though my sum total of “Southern living” involves four years in Puerto Rico and seven years living in the DC/Northern Virginia area. Technically below the Mason-Dixon, both, but no true Southerner would consider either true South.
But I can’t seem to help it. In Stuck With You, my book out with Bell Bridge this month, my characters had to be Southerners. They also had to be, in order of appearance, lawyer, lawyer, doctor, architect. I’ve never been a lawyer, a doctor, or an architect. But the characters in my head demanded to be such, and so that’s what they became.
Write what I know? Right out the window.
And this is just one book. I’m also not a small-town sheriff, an FBI agent, a high-powered CEO, an animal psychologist, a florist, and any number of characters in my books.
Writing what I know just doesn’t do it for me. I want to be everything I’ve never been, through my characters. Not to mention, everything I’ve ever been isn’t all that interesting (unless you count beer-chugging champion in college, about which we will never speak again).
So in Stuck With You I went for the not knowing a dang thing about any of it. Oh, did I have to consult with experts to make sure I got details right, but for the most part, I just forged ahead and made it all up.
That’s the beauty of being a writer. You get to live the lives of people you’d like to be if you had time to be them all. And you can make up all kinds of things (like the virus that might or might not have infected the two main character in Stuck…trust me, I wish it actually existed). And you can stick to facts as often as you need to.
But I have a friend, a true Southern gentleman, who I asked to vet a book (Send Me No Flowers, coming out sometime next year from Bell Bridge) I 
wrote without asking a single person for help. I just wrote it, drawing on I don’t know what to make it Southern reality in a fictional town. His comment? “Darlin’, you HAD to be a Southerner in another life. Ya Yankee.”
So I’m left to wonder, do I do it because I’m a masochist, who prefers to torture herself by writing what she doesn’t know, or past lives, where she’s been all of those things my characters are, that I definitely am not in this life?
I’m pretty much siding with masochist, who doesn’t want to write what I know. I already know it. What’s so fun about that? But I’m not totally discounting Shirley McClain’s vote, either.
Trish Jensen
One of the things I love about the Internet is that it makes it so much easier to find out the stuff we don’t know! There’s always someone who does. I love living in the now!
Then again, Maggie, you write incredible books about witches and wizards and vampires. Just who on the internet did you consult?
In fact, when you BEGAN the vampire craze, I sincerely doubt that Google existed. Just WHERE did you find these experts?
LOL! Well, I had insider info. Fans say I don’t show up on film, you know.
Oh, Trish, your Southern friend took the words right out of my mouth. Question, do you have Southern relatives? I totally write what I don’t know so I so related to this post. But I have Southern family all over the place, and I confess to a sort of jealousy when I go to Texas or North Carolina and Florida. They are so calm and laid back and their voices. I want to talk like that! I’m glad you wrote what you didn’t know. Can’t wait to read “Stuck with You!”
Great blog. Off to tweet this
Donnell:
I once dated a golf pro from Florida, but his family lived all over the South. We stopped in Alabama, Arkansas, one of the Carolinas, and of course Fort Walton Beach, FL. By the time I got home, you’d think I’d lived in the South my entire life, I picked up the accents that fast. Unfortunately, lost them just as fast once I was home for a couple of days. But I’m SO with you. I just LOVE talking to a Southerner. Which is why I call Bell Bridge a lot. They’re chalk full of ‘em.
I call just to hear them talk. Pretty sure they’re sick of that. One time I recited the entire Tarheel Fight Song once I learned she hailed from NC. My brother and sister both went to UNC, so that was drilled into me.
LOL, Trish, you mean you can call them, and they’ll talk to you
Oh, oh, they should be very afraid 
Seriously, I have some friends who live in South Carolina and we chat once in a while, and I think, why can’t I sound like that. Just so calm, cool and relaxed. If you’ve ever heard Linda Howard speak, it’s just one of the reasons…. Of course my daddy was raised in Big Spring, Texas, and I can pick up his Texas drawl in a New York Minute…. 
I wouldn’t say masochist. How about insatiably curious, instead? For me, the excitement in writing a book is learning about different types of people doing different things in different places. Without that, sticking just with what I already know, it’s hard to stay interested enough to finish writing it.
Tris, I love this and can soooo relate When I did BAPTISM IN FIRE, the sum total of my firefighting knowledge was a big red truck, a hose that spewed water and guys running around in yellow outfits. But I forged ahead. Now I can build incendiary devices (shh, don’t let that become public knowledge). I think every author HAS to step out of their comfort zone and explore things they never dreamed of knowing, much less writing about. It’s what makes us interesting . . . oh, and of course, our books.
Elizabeth, I won’t tell on you if you don’t tell on me. Incendiary devices, eh? Everyone hear that? She can set the fires and I can put them out by chugging beer and blasting them.
So funny, Trish! For some reason, my characters always sound southern in my head. And my only southern claim to fame is a few visits to Florida! The south just seems so much more interesting than my vanilla life up north. Good luck with the new release!
I take write what you know in a somewhat different sense. I think of it in terms of emotions, desires, challenges. I may never have lived in Regency London but I know what it’s like to feel shy or uncertain, to have to look at what I’m drawn to vs. what I feel I owe my family, looking at old beliefs and letting some go, etc.
Good blog, Trish. I don’t believe in that adage. I can’t only write what I know, or I’d just be staring at a blank page.
Bill, so would I, so would I.
Trish,
Much more fun.
I was a small-town newspaper reporter for 7 years, and I’ve never done a book featuring a journalist. Have no interest in it at all. I did that already. I want to make up stories now.
So I get what you’re saying completely.
–Teresa
Great topic, Trish! I was born in Virginia (back before all the Yankees moved in) where my parents had loved their whole lives–Mama’s people back almost to Jamestown–but Daddy was a career Air Force officer, so we lived lots of places. Basically, I’m a dyed-in-the-wool outsider, which makes me an observer. I think my writer’s vision got its start that way. I don’t know much, but I watch, and boy to I listen. When I’m wading into a story, I seem to instinctively come up with a touchstone character who’s an outsider.
“Loved” their whole lives. Ha! Maybe so, but they also lived there until they didn’t. They set out on their own. And when my time came, I followed suit. No wonder I write romance!
Kathleen:
I SO relate. I wasn’t a military brat, but a business brat. My dad was a “fixer.” He worked for huge corporations who sent him in as Prez to one troubled company after another. He’d stay long enough to clean house, fix what ailed them, choose a new regime, and it was off to another hurting company. Other than the first four years of my life in Puerto Rico, we lived nowhere for more than two to three years. Not only did I learn to be a loner, I learned to be an observer. I’d watch everyone in school, decide who I wanted to be friends with, then go for them. Mostly took about six months for me to decide. My dad, now older, feels a boatload of guilt for doing that to us. I’m not upset with him, because I too became an observer. Maybe my only regret is that I can’t say, “My best friend since first grade.” But what the heck. I’ve know my best writer friends for longer than it took me to make it to college.
Trish, what a great blog. Love the fact that you call the Debs just to hear them talk! I married a Yankee and moved “up North” many moons ago, so our kids are Yankees with Southern blood. When I talk to my relatives in TX and LA, I slide right back into that slow and easy way of speaking. My family loves me anyway. But they won’t eat okra or collard greens.
As for writing what I know, not so much. When I was researching cattle breeding and AI (artificial insemination) for a Texas family saga I’ve never finished writing, I sure did learn what I DIDN’T know!!
Great topic! How dare you write about people and places you don’t know!
I, of course, tread a higher ground. I only write about tenth century
Vikings that I know personally, Cajun men (never been in Southern Louisiana), Navy SEALs (I wish!), or vampire demons (in my dreams).
And, yes, I have noticed that Southern drawl.
Sandra:
But see, I’ve seen you with all of them, so of COURSE you’re writing what you know. I mean, duh! Ivak is her latest, people, but don’t tell her hubby.
I think it was Anthony Grooms (“Bombingham”) that said, “Don’t worry about writing what you know, WRITE WHAT YOU CAN IMAGINE.” I love that! For my forthcoming novel (title still TBD) I ventured far out of my comfort zone into the world of viruses and biowarfare. I might as well have been doing research for a Master’s degree. But I did it, and I loved it, because that’s where my imagination carried me. That’s where my story was. And as Steve Berry likes to say, his number two rule in writing is “tell a good story.” (His number one rule is “there are no rules.”)
And even when we don’t realize it, we always tap into those things we do know even when we don’t know *laughing* — how exciting and brave and creative for you to have done this. And love the cover.
I was born in West Virginia but since my stepmother adopted me, I didn’t get to live there for very long – so, when my books were placed in WVA and South Louisiana(where I did live for a long time), I had to do a lot of “guessing” and some research, and drawing on scant memory of a few visits there- and my bio-mom’s voice when we’d talk on the phone. I wanted to get it right! It’s fun but scary to “write what you don’t know.”
Obviously your friend is a true gentleman, and gosh, if he’s anything like that Rob Townsend character, look out!
Le Saturday smoochies to you, darlin’!
What =I= know might seem exotic to someone else, but to me it seems pretty boring. Writing fiction is about exploration. Why explore a world I already know? May as well explore a world that’s new to me.
I absolutely agree! To all our explorations …
When I was in acting school, I always had a problem with “The Method.” Meaning a teacher of mine said you had to find an experience you’ve had, relive it and then and only then would you be a believable performer. I don’t think you have to “know” to know. The most exciting journey of all, at least to me, is to put myself in another mind, another pair of shoes and walk, run, faint, growl or just rest there.
To only write what you know is a riddle to me. When I give voice to a character, especially a 19th Century one, I try to feel her/him without demanding of myself that I be like her/him.
It is sad to think we as writers are expected to limit ourselves in any way, unless we are writing a memoir.
This blog site is so thought provoking!
Jane