Things Your English Teacher Won't Tell You

How To Keep It Real, Or At Least Fake It Well

There is an old saying that sooner or later every aspiring writer is going to encounter: Write what you know. But, what exactly does that mean? Does it mean that you are limited to only writing about things that you have direct experience with? As a student can you only write stories that happen in a school? Or if you worked at McDonald’s three summers ago do all of your novels have to feature fast food? Of course not! But, if you do have direct experience with something it means you can be creative and find ways to work those experiences into your writing.

I’ve been fortunate to work in an industry – cattle ranching – that is an absolute goldmine of experiences for a writer. But take my word, it isn’t all about cowboy stories and wild west adventure. Most of my time is spent doing really boring, mundane things like fixing fences, digging ditches, repairing broken machinery and filling out paperwork. The days spent on horseback up in the mountains are, sadly, few and far between. But that doesn’t mean that all of the other boring things I have done don’t find their way into my stories, too, It just takes a little creativity. Instead of trying to replace a rusted out bolt on a broken tractor, for instance, my protagonist might be struggling to replace the mounting brackets on the reactor core of a stranded starship. Different setting, but the swearing and bleeding knuckles remain the same.

Everything you do, every little out-of-the-norm experience can be fuel for the story mill. Everything Remember, what seems boring to you might be new and unusual to someone who has never done what you do on a daily basis. And don’t just look for the big items in your repetoire of memories, because it is the subtle things, the little bits of jargon or habit, that will leave the reader feeling confident that what you are showing them is the truth. In the world of fiction writing this is called Suspension of Disbelief, and it’s important If you as a writer cannot convince me as a reader that you know what you are talking about, I will probably lose iinterest in the story. It’s the reason I have a hard time watching contemporary Westerns. I can spot in the first five minutes of the film if the writers and the production team know which end of a cow eats and which end poops, just like a cop can spot a badly done police drama or a soldier spot a fake war movie. The Big Action migt be fine, but the small details give it away.

But what if I desperately want to write about something outside my experience? Does Writing What You Know mean I am limited to only things and places I have personally witnessed? Not to worry! This is where research comes in.

We live in the golden age of research. Never before in the history of the world has it been so easy to find the answers to questions both profound and trivial. Practically any information we need about a subject is as close as a mouse-click or an “Okay, Google,” away. Just be aware that what you find online might not be the whole story or, for that matter, remotely close to the truth. Simply because something is posted on a Wiki or Tweeted with authority does not mean it isn’t utter garbage. Use multiple sources and verify, verify, verify! And if there is doubt, leave it out!

Dig deep. Try to find the little details that only someone who has been there could possibly know, even if the reality is you haven’t done exactly what the characters in your novel are doing. For instance, I have never been on a Knight’s quest, but I have spent a lot of time in the saddle and done enough back-country camping that I can probably write a convincing seen about it.

Martine staked the horses in a grassy patch near a lightning split oak, and hoped he hadn’t left the ropes too long. As tired as he was this evening the last thing he needed was one of his mounts to get a leg cut, or worse, break loose and leave him afoot tomorrow. He brushed their backs as well as he could, then dragged the saddles and packs next to the fallen log he was using as a windbreak and rummaged through them for the last of his food. He had had no time to hunt today, and if there were any wild berries or fruits left this late in the season, Delacroix’s army had stripped them weeks ago when they crossed the high pass. He thought about building a fire but decided against it, the effort beyond his weary body. Besides, the night was calm and he doubted there would be a frost. He bit into a stale piece of hardtack, the salty lump of dough growing bigger in his mouth as he chewed, and tried not to think about what they were eating back home in the garrison tonight.

All right, it’s not great fiction, but hopefully you read the little details without really noticing them, taking for granted that the scene I laid was based on some reality. Our hero didn’t simply unsaddle his horses, he had to stake them out and hope he had done it right. He didn’t build a tent because a tent would just take up space in his pack saddle that could be used for other things and he didn’t build a cheery campfire because making fire takes a lot of effort and time when you don’t have matches or a lighter. And he certainly didn’t enjoy stew for supper. (The ubiquitous ‘stew’ is one of the most laughable cliches in bad Fantasies and Historical Fiction. Cooking stew over an open fire takes hours to simmer and a lot more ingredients than most people would bother stuffing in their saddlebags!) Martine’s camp is rough, his food barely edible and his body so tired all he wants is something to chew on, a drink of cool water and a chance to sleep a few hours before he hits the trail again.

Details. That’s what Writing What You Know is all about.