Write What You Know. Or Not.

If you’re a writer, then you often hear advice, solicited or otherwise, on what that means. The people who haven’t written a thing since mandatory high school or college assignments especially love to tell you exactly what it means to be a good writer. Granted, some are avid readers and can share the wisdom of their favorite O’Henry story or Hemingway novel. But most of these people fall into the category of aspiring auteurs who carry ideas in their heads but never put pen to paper.

On the flip side, there’s a whole group of people who know the precise and sometimes painful sensation to stare at a blank screen and, as Hemingway so wisely stated, “bleed on the page.” These people, the ones who have lost lots and lots of their creative blood, all for the sake of the poem, the song, the short story, the novel, the play or the script, have earned the right to give you writing advice.

While I’ve been writing since age 4, it’s only been in the past five years that my craft has really taken on a different level. In some ways, this makes the work more pleasurable. When you develop your voice, you know what sounds authentic and what feels like rubbish. The decision tree is clearer. On the flip side, your expectations of the quality of your work escalate. Imagine discovering a new band, loving just about every song of the band’s first album and, when purchasing the sophomore effort, feeling disappointed. “One hit wonder,” you think.

If you’re disappointed, imagine how the band feels? All the musicians and song writers and producers put their heart and soul into that album. And, for whatever reason, it just doesn’t measure up.

I think that many writers feel the same way. Sometimes, ok, often, I feel the same way. If I write a restaurant review that leaves people salivating for the food, then what is the expectation of my next review? What if the next meal doesn’t resonate with me? Then how can the most genuine words come out and then resonate with my audience?

Sometimes, the most difficult decision is also the simplest: what do I write about next?

The conventional wisdom is to write what you know. Perhaps it is that simple. Perhaps not?

Below is a list of variations on this theme, shared with me by industry experts, two of which I met at the CineStory screenwriting retreat just outside of L.A. Barri Evins is a screenwriting teacher and consultant with Big Big Ideas. If you want someone to kick your proverbial writing toohis, so you can go to that scary place where your writing truths hide, you hire Barri.  Phil Eisner, a screenwriter and creative being who just happenned to pen Event Horizon, incorporates humor into all his wisdom. So that you don’t realize just how big his brain is. Until you do. Novelist Mark Winegardner, whom I finally met this year here in Cleveland, not only wrote Crooked River Burning, but, also, was chosen to be the author to write two Godfather sequels: The Godfather Returns and The Godfather’s Revenge.

So there you have it. Expert writing advice from the writing experts. Because if you’re going to bleed on that page, you might as well know why.