[DON'T] Write What You Know

by Charlotte Levine Gruber

Ten years ago I began my writing journey. Crime fiction is my genre of choice, so it was no surprise to me when my emerging story headed down the dark path. 

The Self + The Path by Hartwig HKD

When I approached the soggy middle, I joined a local writers group. The speaker that day was a creative writing professor who said, “Write what you know.”

I thumbed through my pages (yes, a hard copy).

• My protagonist was a single dad with two teenagers. 
• Another POV character was a teenage thug. Also male.
• I had no real clue how they fit together.

I went to the writers group a few more times and learned how to punctuate dialogue, but pretty much didn’t know how to fix my project. I began another story, and this time I followed the professor’s advice and wrote what I know. But of course, what I know isn’t really that interesting. I have an MBA and worked in bankruptcy. But I filled pages and pages of bankruptcy information. 

Good thing I have beta readers and critique partners making snarky comments. Even my sister confessed to skipping those blocks of text.

Now I’ve been writing long enough to question that first visiting professor. He may have been talking about beginning writers, or, gasp, perhaps I misunderstood. 

Because really?

The Boy Who Lived by Beth

Is JK Rowling the boy who lived?

Stephanie Meyers in love with a vampire?

Or EL James… well…let’s not go there.

The Creative Writing Director at Harvard University, Bret Anthony Johnson, argues against writing what you know. He states; 

“For me, it’s the difference between fiction that matters only to those who know the author and fiction that, well, matters.”

Read Johnston’s article—it’s enlightening. 

As a genre fiction junkie, I often feel that literary works put out by Iowa graduates are beautiful and memorable but I still prefer Janet Evanovich or Stephen King.

Even so, I happen to agree with Johnston. Writing what you know is not the same as knowing what you write. Research is key, as is transporting yourself to the page. Or more specifically, transferring your emotions to your character, or learning to see the world through their eyes.

Photo by Dawn Ellner

I shelved that first manuscript. In a rewrite of my second project, CODE OF SILENCE, Hank Phillippi Ryan told me, “It’s not enough to describe this scene. You have to BE Andrea.”

Of course, Hank is right. Seeing the world through your character’s eyes allows your reader to do the same. Engaged readers don’t want to put the book down. 

So write what you know how to feel. 

But the rest? Make it up. And have fun doing it. At a writers' convention Jonathan Mayberry bragged that he got to go to work everyday in his pretend world with his pretend friends. 

And what could be better than that?

Furthering Your First Pages

by Charlotte Levine Gruber

Photo by Stephen Poff 

We all want the magic ingredient that keeps readers turning pages — whether the reader is a agent, an editor, or a fan, what holds their interest? 

As a writer I’ve gotten lots of advice how to begin, and how not to begin my story. 

• Never have a prologue. 
• Start with action. Or don't start with action—why should readers care if they don’t know the characters?
• Don’t start with a character waking up, talking on the phone or getting an email. 
• Put your main character on page one. 

Weeding through such conflicting advice is challenging, and ultimately, only you know what works best for your story. But lets face it. We have to start somewhere. 

Do you need a prologue? Most often, the answer is no. But in certain instances, a prologue can be an effective device.

A prologue can provide the story question right up front. It may relate to a scene near the end of the story, and the story itself then shows what led up to this moment. This enables you to introduce your characters in a more leisurely fashion, and your reader's experience with 'meeting' them will be enhanced by foreshadowing of what is to come. Marg McAlister has an excellent example of this type of prologue on her blog. 

A prologue can be used to introduce a certain character's viewpoint on one occasion only. The rest of the book may be told from just one other viewpoint, or from several different viewpoint characters that are in some way removed from the one you've used in the prologue. The prologue can bypass the danger of viewpoint violation. 

J.K. Rowling’s first book, Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, is told in a close 3rd person POV (Harry’s), but her first chapter is quite different, told when Harry is a baby. This chapter switches between omniscient and 3rd person POVs. Rowling may have considered setting this information aside as a prologue because of those different voices and the ten-year lag between it and the next chapter, but she didn’t do it. The information contained in those first pages is critical, it helps to set the story up. Had it been a prologue (at 17 pages) what do you think would have happened to Harry Potter? 

My critique partner, Christina Dalcher,  wrote about the Prologue Problem on her blog this month. She has an impressive list of bestsellers that all have prologues. Another book I’ll add to her list is the Book Thief (Markus Zusak). And I’ll admit that I loved the book, but skipped the prologue.

As Christina points out, most agents and editors hate prologues. Our in house-agents concur and add that established authors have more craft under their belt and more clout with publishers. My recommendation do what works. Never say never. And don’t give anyone a reason to skip pages.

How do you like to start a book?