What does 'write what you know' mean?

You’ve heard this phrase, haven’t you? It crops up in writing circles all the time, and I’ve definitely used it in my developmental reports on more than one occasion. Write what you know. Such a simple little line, only four words, and yet I would argue that it’s probably one of the most misinterpreted pieces of writing advice there is.

So let’s break it down. What does ‘write what you know’ mean?

What writers think it means

The immediate interpretation of this advice is usually ‘don’t write about anything you haven’t personally experienced’. And while this is true, writers tend to apply it to the wrong aspects of their writing, and that’s why the phrase rankles some. It sounds like we’re saying you can’t write police procedurals if you’ve never worked in the force. You can’t  write about serial killers if you’ve never committed a murder. You can’t write an office romance if you’re single and never worked an office job.

If this really was what the advice meant, then I could understood the frustration. It would limit the type of stories each person is ‘allowed’ to write down to a very select few that, let’s face it, wouldn’t be all that exciting to read. Not to mention that the entire speculative genre couldn’t possibly exist! Just a hunch, but I don’t think Rebecca Yarros actually has experience as a dragon rider, and I doubt Andy Weir has grown potatoes on Mars.

What ‘write what you know’ actually means

Many years ago, a writer on Twitter rephrased this piece of advice in a way that I think makes it a whole lot more clear (and I’m afraid the tweet has since been deleted, so I can’t give proper credit, sorry!). They said, instead of ‘write what you know’ you should ‘know what you write’.

You don’t have to work in the police force to write a procedural, but you do need to have researched that industry well enough that you can write about it with expertise and accuracy. That might mean reading every procedural you can get your hands on, watching every police show on TV, or going direct to the source and getting help from someone who actually works that job.

Writers of fantasy don’t need to have been whisked off to the fae realm, but they do need to know about popular fae lore. Andy Weir hasn’t been to Mars, but he did do his research and a lot of his science has been deemed credible by experts in the field.

So that’s free rein, right?

Ehh… no. There’s an important caveat to note here, one every writer should be aware of. No matter how much research you put into a certain topic or detail or character, there are some stories that simply shouldn’t be written by those without the lived experience.

For example, I – in contention for the title of the palest woman in Somerset, UK – should not be trying to write a story about what it’s like to live as a Black man in America. I could research until my fingers bleed and my eyes fall out, but that doesn’t make me better positioned to write that story than an actual Black man living in America. And while there are no fae lords who keep missing out on publishing opportunities in favour of the humans writing stories about them, there are Black writers who get overlooked all too often.

Not only could I not do this kind of story justice (and why would I even want to try?!), but I also have to acknowledge the privilege my skin colour provides me. It doesn’t take spending much time in the writing industry to see that publishing has a diversity problem, and the number of opportunities for Black books is incredibly small – none of those opportunities should be given to white writers. And if this sounds incredibly obvious, know that this has happened. More than once.

The issue can get a little trickier when it comes to claimed identities. Similar to the point above, opportunities for queer authors are a lot fewer than cis-het authors, despite the incredible success of many queer books. But there have, unfortunately, been several instances of authors being forced to out themselves to ‘prove’ they had a right to write a queer book. And don’t even get me started on the bi-erasure of authors in hetero-presenting relationships. None of this should be happening. Ever.

Write diversely with sensitivity

None of this is to say that you shouldn’t include diverse characters in your stories. Straight, white authors can – should! – have an inclusive cast in their books. The male pilot of your spaceship having a husband affects the story as little as it would giving him a wife. But if the story is about being queer or a different race or ethnicity to their own, it’s worth that author considering a) why they feel compelled to tell such a story, and b) whether they’re taking an opportunity from someone better placed to write on the topic.

And if you are going to include diverse characters, this is where sensitivity readers play a vital role. They can review the parts of your story that relate to their identity and advise you on the authenticity of your characters. You don’t know what you don’t know, and the best representation lies in the details.

Know what you write

Ultimately, if you want to write a story with an element that you don’t have direct personal experience with, that doesn’t mean you can’t write it. It means you should learn as much as you can about that element so you can present it to the reader in a way that makes them believe you are an expert. When you approach a topic with experience (lived or researched), it shows in the writing.

So next time you hear this piece of advice and it grinds your gears a little, switch it around – to write what you know, you must know what you’re writing about.