Writing What You Know

"When I began to write the stories of my collection Zlateh the Goat, I knew that these stories would be read not only by Jewish children but by Gentile ones as well. I described Jewish children, Jewish sages, Jewish fools, Jewish bridegrooms, Jewish brides. . . . The writers try so hard to be international
–to produce merchandise which appeals to all-that they appeal to no one." - I.B. Singer


When I was a child watching TV and and reading books, there was one particular consistency I was aware of between the characters: every kid had a best friend. So I thought I was supposed to have a best friend, but I never really did. Until I was 12, I spent most of my time in groups of people that had very few kids my age, so my "best friend" was usually just the only boy I knew who was the same age as me. When I was in larger groups of kids, I would (and still do) tend to talk to and get to know lots of people without getting intimately close to anyone, or latching onto any one person over others. But since all these fictional kids I watched and read about had these super close friends, I assumed that every kid in the world except me had one or two friends who were at least as close to them as any member of their family.

Then I read Bruce Brooks' The Moves Make the Man. At one point in the narrative, the protagonist, Jerome, is describing his social life and he says that he never really had a best friend either. He goes on to list, like 9 "buddies" he has, and he also counts his brothers and mother as friends, but he says he's never had a bosom-buddy. My eyes were opened. I realized I wasn't weird. (I would later realize I was weird for a whole different set of reasons.) There were other kids in the world like me! I mean, I knew Jerome was a fictional character, but the fact that the author would write that must be an indication that he thought it was real. Maybe Jerome's social life resembled his own. I suddenly felt like it was perfectly okay that I'd never had a best friend.

That was also the moment when I decided it can be beneficial to write about experiences that may seem unusual. First, as Springer explains, even if your audience can't relate directly, your story will have more universal appeal when it's rooted in some specific, real place. Second, if you can relate to something, there are other people in the world who can relate as well. And it might feel really good for them to see themselves in a character, when that might be unusual for them. You can show someone they're not alone in their experience.