I Knew, But No Longer

"Write what you know," they said. "Write about something that happened in your life. Write what you know." So I tried. I really did. But I found that I don't know anything. Or at least anything that I can write about, and write well, when I'm trying too hard to write what I know.

I've learned much from the past, and this is one of the many things I discovered. I simply shouldn't write what I know. Who really wants to know about what it's like to wake up at 3am? I know I don't, and wish I'd quit trying to discover it. Who wants to know what it's like to stare at a computer monitor all day? Ok, who doesn't already know that one, anyway? Who wants to hear about the mollecular weight of Hydrogen and it's effects on the continuing existence of an endangered species of squirrel in the hippogriff-infested jungles of Zoombowow? Me too, but that's not something I know.

I tried writing what I know, and learned that it doesn't really work. Then I listened to several authors (good authors, even, I claim) speak. And not a single one of them claimed to write what they know. Most rather claim that they write to find out where the story's going.

Of course, I'm not going to claim to be a good author, nor am I even going to attempt to try. Creativity isn't my field, however much I pretend. No, when I write I write to see where the story has been. If my memory weren't so bad, then I might write about what I know.