Writing Wednesdays
Write What You Don’t Know
By Steven Pressfield | Published: June 2, 2010
[Writing Wednesdays is taking a break this week. Here's a favorite from last year. ]
Probably the most classic kernel of writing advice is “Write What You Know.” On the surface, that seems to make a lot of sense, and I’m sure it has worked for thousands and thousands of writers. It didn’t work for me.
When I was a beginning writer I had two literary heroes: Jack Kerouac and Ernest Hemingway. A lot of aspiring writers in my era had those guys as heroes. Kerouac and Hemingway weren’t so much my heroes for what they wrote (though that was a big part of it); it was more the ethic under which they did their writing.
Their stuff seemed to be really true. They took it from events they had really lived, people they had really known, wisdom and insights they had garnered in real life. I admired that. It seemed manly and honorable and hairy-chested. I strove to do that myself. I hacked out three novels, none of which saw the light of publication, that were my version of that ethic. The books weren’t terrible. There was a lot of good stuff in them. But they weren’t any good either. They never rose to the level at which I could in good conscience ask another human being to read them.
What saved my life was dumping that ethic. I was living in New York City then, down to about twenty bucks, had just finished the third of those manuscripts and was showing it to friends and getting back that plastic frozen smile when I asked them what they thought of it. I was about three days away from hanging myself. Then from somewhere I got the idea to try a screenplay. For some reason, the change of medium freed me. It gave me permission to make stuff up. I decided to try a story and characters that had nothing to do with me and nothing to do with my real life.
It worked. Here’s my theory on why:
The part of us that we write from is far deeper than our everyday selves. In fact it has nothing whatsoever to do with our everyday selves. It comes from the Muse. It comes from the unconscious. It comes from some place we only tap into in dreams or intuition or inspiration.
Good things happen when we write from that place.
When we write only what we know, we limit ourselves to territory we’ve already covered. When we write what we don’t know, we launch ourselves into terra incognita. That’s where the good stuff is.
The first piece I ever did following this advice was a screenplay about prison. I’ve never been arrested; I don’t know anything about life behind bars. But when the script was done and I showed it around, people would tug me aside and whisper, “Hey, man, where’d you do time?”
That was a revelation to me. And it’s proved itself again and again. In writing, when I make something up completely, the reaction is often, “Wow, that was convincing as hell.” When I write from reality, people tell me, “Dude, I didn’t buy that shit for a minute!”
It takes a little madness to write what you don’t know. It’s like leaping into the deep end. But it’s also tremendously liberating. I’m reading a wonderful book now called Improv Wisdom by Patricia Ryan Madson, who for years was one of the star teachers of drama at Stanford. Her thesis is “Don’t prepare, just show up.” In other words, trust in the mystery. Open your mouth and see what comes out. I’ve heard Jackson Browne say that he writes songs to find out what he thinks about something. In other words, he doesn’t know going in.
If you’re a writer (or any kind of aspiring artist or entrepreneur) and you find yourself stuck, a good trick is to just write (or enact) something completely from left field. If you’re a man, try something in the voice of a woman. Write something from another century, from Mongolia, from Mars. Just plunge in and wing it.
I’ve found, in more than one instance, that I can write characters who are more intelligent than I am. I don’t know Tom Hanks or Meryl Streep but I’ll bet if you or I met them, they’d be the nicest, most decent people imaginable. Yet look at the range of characters they’ve played–and been completely convincing doing it. I’m sure Anthony Hopkins is a wonderful, sweet guy. But he scared the crap out of me as Hannibal Lecter.
There’s stuff “down there” in all of us. It’s vast and deep and limitless. That’s the vein we need to mine as artists and as entrepreneurs. I’ve heard start-up businessmen say the two qualities they needed most in their initial ventures were arrogance and ignorance. You gotta be a little crazy (or desperate) to write or do what you don’t know. But there’s great wisdom and magic in that act. It demonstrates faith in the universe, in the Muse, in the source of all inspiration. And that faith, almost invariably, is rewarded by the cosmos and vindicated by events. I recommend it.
[This week's signed "War of Art" goes to Patricia Ryan Madson, not for any specific quote but for her terrific book, "Improv Wisdom," which is an inspiration to me. Thanks, Patricia! Everyone else, keep sending in them quotes!]
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Thank you thank you thank you.
Fascinating idea, going against the grain of “Write what you know.” I do like the idea of “if you don’t know it, learn it” … but as you’ve noted, research can also be a heavy form of resistance.
And to support your theory, I was writing a new script, one based on several autobiographical elements. Stuff poured out of me, easy as pie. But I needed bridge scenes to connect elements, so I created characters and actions that never happened in real life.
I know you can guess what happened next…
At the table read, everyone proclaimed the entirely fictional section the best stuff in the script. The other stuff … eh.
Back to the drawing, uh, outlining, board!
I just picked up your book “War of Art” yesterday – knowing nothing about you. I cannot put it down! You are the messenger of what I needed to hear, you have a true gift with words. Down with RESISTANCE!
Thanks, Steve.
I read “The War of Art” last night and could see myself throughout. No, I’m not an ex-marine, but a grandmother of three who has lived for years in an intimate relationship with the killer named “Resistance.” The novel is written and waits for a publisher; the play resides in a file cabinet and has for 20 years; the short story collection floats around in cyber space under an umbrella of anonymity called Amazon.com. And, now the muse you speak of eludes me as I begin my memoirs, which, if you are correct, already exist in that higher plane waiting only for me to bring them forth. Thank you dear friend, for your story of perseverance. I am now inspired to give you what I’ve got.
Thank you for this.
When I was in third grade, I wanted to be A Writer. I am not sure if anyone ever told me “write what you know”, but even at that young age, I knew that I didn’t know much! And so I figured I needed to grow up and have some sort of experiences so that I would be able to write about them.
I suppose that’s true to some extent. Hopefully you know more and have experienced more at 15 than you have at 8. But even as I got older, I never felt I knew enough about anything in order to be capable of writing about it. Instead of giving me confidence of any sort, it made me fearful. It limited my imagination to what I did know. It closed me off.
Even after I became an adult, I never felt I knew enough.
I’m 41 now. I haven’t thought of being a writer in years. Aside from school assignments, I never did write much. (Journals don’t count.) And my imagination is so closed off now that I can’t imagine writing even if I tried.
Everything counts. You sound like a writer, pick up a pen.
Mr. Pressfield,
I have just picked up your book, “The Afghan Campaign” and holy shit! It hit me like a ton of bricks. I had to force myself to be reminded that you were writing about 330 B.C. and not present times.
So far, much of the book strikes me as very eerily familiar. I was impressed with the explanation of the name Kandahar as I had not heard that before and spent quite some time in Helmand Province. I remember reading Matthias’ first experience with a cordon and search (I remember my own as well). One woman had a knife …I immediately connected with this.
The following took place in 2002 somewhere in Pashtunistan. We were not welcomed into this particular square and had to enter by force. We seperated the men from the women and children and the men were questioned. They gave up the location of their weapons cache. While this was going on, my buddy and I were searching a room which had in it a bassinet suspended from the ceiling. Inside the crib was about a dozen soviet handgrenades. The women became restless and pushed the children away from them. The men, centered in the courtyard noticed the women becoming frantic and they themselves became irritated. I had taken up guard of the men.
The decision was made to have the women searched, which as you can imagine was not popular among the tribal men. A grenade fell from a woman’s garments and hit the ground. She became very hostile and reached inside her garments for the other. She was attempting to pull the pin. I can only imagine that it was her husband in front of me kneeling on the ground who began cursing us and attempted to get up and fly to her relief. I hit him in the back of the head with the butt of my carbine and he fell. The grenade was wrestled from the woman and not one shot was fired.
Mr Pressfield,
Though I am not a writer, I am an artist that stopped practising years ago who is trying to regain the passion. I am going to try to apply your lesson to my painting (at this point I need all of the help that I can get!).
Your comment about writing on subjects outside of your world sometimes being more believable was most interesting as I have just finished reading Killing Rommel and the scene in which Rommel appears really stood out to me in its accuracy of his character.
A few years ago I met a veteran of the RCAF that was attached to a British squadron flying Hurricanes in the Desert campaign. He was shot down on one outing but safely baled out of his stricken aircraft. Not long after landing, he was picked up by a truck of Italian soldiers (who treated him as a celebrity) and taken prisoner. After a day or two under their charge, he was told that Rommel was coming to inspect the Italian garrison and that he would have the honour of meeting him.
Sure enough, the Italians presented him to Rommel and a brief conversation followed in which Rommel was incredulous that a Canadian flyer was in the desert. After the pilot explained how his route to the desert , Rommel shook his hand and wished him good luck.
I could not believe how you so accurately captured Rommel in the book!
Fantastic post. I find that it’s helpful to write about what I experience and then to augment my real experiences with a slightly more intense tone.
If you invent two or three people and turn them loose in your manuscript, something is bound to happen to them – you can’t help it; and then it will take you the rest of the book to get them out of the natural consequences of that occurrence, and so first thing you know, there’s your book all finished up and never cost you an idea.
- Mark Twain