Ah yes, this classic piece of writing advice. We’ve all heard it. We’ve all puzzled over it. And at some point, most of us have misunderstood it entirely.
Back when I was a bright-eyed, overly enthusiastic new writer (which, let’s be honest, mostly meant aggressively typing terrible prose at 2 AM), I took write what you know a little too literally. Which led to a minor existential crisis.
Because here’s the thing—I don’t know anything about piloting spaceships, hunting monsters, or surviving a post-apocalyptic wasteland (yet). Did that mean I couldn’t write about them?
Of course not.
New writers agonise over this one, but I promise—you don’t have to. You’re already writing what you know, even if you don’t realise it. (See what I did there?)
What "Write What You Know" Actually Means
At its core, this advice is about authenticity. It’s about pulling from your own emotions, experiences, and observations to give your writing depth.
It doesn’t mean you should limit yourself to writing only about things you’ve directly lived through (because, frankly, that would be a bit dull). It means taking what you do know—feelings, relationships, struggles, victories, fears, dreams—and weaving those into your characters, settings, and stories.
Your protagonist might be leading a rebellion in a dystopian wasteland, but their fear of failure? That’s something you know. The way they second-guess themselves, or hesitate before making a tough decision? You’ve probably been there.
And that’s the key—real emotions make even the wildest fiction feel believable.
Emotions Are Universal—Settings Are Secondary
Readers might not have faced down an intergalactic warlord, but they have experienced:
✔️ The gut-punch of heartbreak
✔️ The crushing weight of grief
✔️ The fiery rush of anger
✔️ The stomach-knotting terror of impending disaster
Infuse those emotions into your world—your medieval kingdom, your haunted house, or deep space—and suddenly, it doesn’t matter where the story is set. Your readers will connect to it.
Because at the end of the day, it’s never really about the spaceships or the monsters. It’s about the people inside them.
But What About the Details? (A.K.A. The “I Need My Character to Have a Hobby” Dilemma)
Say your protagonist needs a hobby. Maybe they build model trains. Maybe they’re really into archery.
If it’s something you’ve done before? Great! You can write about it with insider knowledge—the feel of the bowstring under your fingers, the patience required to glue tiny train parts together without losing your mind.
If you have no idea about the hobby? That’s what research is for.
Same goes for professions, cultures, and historical settings. If you’re writing about something you haven’t personally lived, then dive into books, articles, interviews, first-hand accounts—whatever you can get your hands on.
Write what you know, but don’t be afraid to learn what you don’t.
Personal Experience = Instant Authenticity
There are parts of your life that no one else can replicate exactly.
Maybe it’s a profession you’ve worked in, a city you grew up in, or a family dynamic that shaped you. These personal experiences naturally seep into your writing, adding layers of realism that research alone can’t always achieve.
But here’s the thing: you don’t have to be bound by them. Writing what you know doesn’t mean being stuck in your own life—it just means using what you do know as a foundation.
"Write What You Know" in Non-Fiction
This advice isn’t just for fiction writers. If you write non-fiction—personal essays, memoirs, blogs, or opinion pieces—then writing from experience is even more important. Your perspective is what makes your voice unique. Your insights and observations are what set your writing apart from everyone else’s.
Which is why sharing your experiences—to educate, entertain, or inspire—can be incredibly powerful.
(Also, let’s be real—if you write about something you genuinely understand, it makes research a lot easier.)
Writing to Make Sense of Life
Sometimes, writing is less about the reader and more about the writer.
A lot of us write to process emotions, to make sense of things, to capture a moment before it slips away. Writing lets us look at our experiences from a distance, helping us untangle things that feel overwhelming.
And, let’s be honest—some of the best fiction out there exists because an author was working through some deep emotional stuff.
(Therapy is expensive. Writing is free.)
So, Should You Follow This Advice?
Yes! (With a few caveats.)
✔️ Use what you know to make your stories feel real. Even the weirdest, wildest fiction needs an emotional core that readers can connect with.
✔️ Research what you don’t know. You don’t have to personally experience everything—but you do need to get the details right.
✔️ Don’t let this advice limit you. Writing is about exploration, not confinement.
So the next time someone says write what you know, don’t stress. You’re probably already doing it—and if you’re not? You’re about to learn something new.
What’s the Most Confusing Writing Advice You’ve Ever Heard?
Have you ever struggled with write what you know? What other classic writing advice makes you roll your eyes?
Drop a comment—I’d love to hear your thoughts!
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