advice – Kiki Writes About…

One of my younger coworkers has decided to wade into the world of fiction writing and she asked me for some writing advice as she’s never written fiction before. Caught off-guard by the question as I frequently forget that people I know in the meatspace are aware that I’m a writer, what spewed forth from my mouth was a mess of wisdom that probably just confused the hell out of her. But hopefully, she pulled some useful bits from my rambling.

Upon reflection, here are the most important, coherent bits of writing advice from the big mouth of an unsuccessful writer.

Write for yourself. Telling the story that you want to tell, writing the story that you want to read, that’s the best advice I’ve ever heard. Writing can be lonely, frustrating work, but the joy of it is in the creation of something that’s for yourself. There’s also less disappointment when you find out that you’re the only one who wants to read it.
There’s no right way to write. Word counts, timers, pantsing, outling, revising as you go, revising when the draft is done. The only real requirement is that your butt is in the seat writing the words on a reliable basis. Discipline is the key no matter which way you find is best for you.
Not writing is part of writing. Let your ideas marinate, develop, fester, etc. Living with the characters and scenarios and stories in your head, sometimes for years, is part of writing. Yes, eventually what’s in your head has to make it to the page, but until they’re ready to be birthed, letting them cook is still writing.
Writing is rewriting. No first draft is perfect and the worst shit can always be made better with some effort. I take great comfort in that. You don’t have to be perfect. Not on the first draft. Not even on the fifth. Enjoy the revisions.
Write for the joy of it. Sometimes writing is a slog. Trying to get published (if you want to do that) can be soul crushing. Rejection is going to be frequent. Improving your craft is a lot of dedication and work and sometimes it feels like you’re not getting any better. It’s easy to forget the joy that made you want to put pen to paper in the first place. But it’s there every time you get the spark of a new idea or figure out a plot problem or name a new character or get lost in the act of wordsmithing or finally -finally!- finishing that story. If you’re going to write, write for the joy of it. You’ll never want to quit.

My coworker has such a fun idea for a story and I really hope that my blathering didn’t turn her off from pursuing it. I hope that out of that large, tossed word salad I fed her, she found some morsels that nourished her enthusiasm to put this idea down on the page.

I realize it might be ridiculous for an unsuccessful writer to be giving writing advice, but look at it this way…

Just because I’m no good doesn’t mean the advice is bad.

It’s the oldest, most frequently given advice to writers.

“Write what you know.”

Writers have been rebelling against this advice for years now and they usually end up sounding like pretentious twits when they do it (at least that’s what I think they sound like). Their main argument is that if they write what they know, then there will be very boring stories out there. After all, nobody knows about distant planets and alien races, wizards and fairies, and what’s really going through a murderous ghost’s mind. That’s why it’s garbage advice. People HAVE to write what they don’t know.

To which I say, oh bullshit.

I’m embarrassed by the number of writers that seem to think there’s only one way to interpret this advice. I learned in high school that things can have many different interpretations. In fact, you can interpret some things to mean exactly what you want. Sports fans, politicians, and religious members have been doing this sort of thing for years.

So instead of writing off this old bit of advice as obsolete, let me show you how I interpret it. Because I do write what I know.

First of all, I write a story, whatever it is, because I know that story. I might not know certain specifics like Chicago street names or the exact make of a revolver or how long it takes before rigor mortis sets in (that’s a lie; I do know how long that is), but that’s okay. That’s what research is for. But I do know my story. I know my characters and their motivations and their circumstances. Things might change in subsequent drafts, but for that first run, I write what I know.

Secondly, I write what I know in my life, too. I write about small towns in the middle of cornfields because I know that. “Spillway” is set at a lake I went to as a kid. “Another Deadly Weapon” features a car wash in my hometown and the main action takes place in a house across the street from where I live. The tree in “Bigger Than a Squirrel” is the tree across the street, too. The garage in “Game Night” is my garage. The walk home in “Wearing of the Green” is a walk I’ve done dozens and dozens of times. The town in Night of the Nothing Man bears a striking resemblance in places to my hometown. I know all of those things.

But you don’t.

And even if you do, I’m hopefully presenting them in a new way to you. If you think that’s impossible, ask my friend Natalie about that car wash.

“Write what you know” isn’t bad advice. In fact, it’s very good advice.

If you interpret it that way.

Tag: advice

Writing Advice From an Unsuccessful Writer

Writing–Write What You Know