- Requiring 30 minutes of continuing flushing with cool tap water after contact with skin
- Being corrosive
- Causing severe burns after only brief contact
- Requiring a warning label with instructions of how to treat skin after contact
- Needing to be keep out of the reach of children
- Thinking Win/Win
- Causing dermatitis
But what I know is boring.
That was my response the first three or four hundred times I heard the universal advice to creative writers, “Write what you know.” The first time I heard it, I was crushed. I thought the advice was a death sentence to any dreams I had of writing. I was a 14 year old freshman who didn’t even know who he was, so how could anything I knew be worth telling?
I refused to believe this to be good advice for a long time. I found myself pointing out how some big names in writing seemed to do just fine without adhering to this advice.
Stephen King didn’t, couldn’t “know” vampires, possessed cars, undead pets and children, or girls that started fires or destroyed proms just with their thoughts, but he sure seemed to be successfully writing those things.
Tolkien didn’t know any elves, dwarfs, faceless eyes, wizards, dragons, goblins, orcs, or hobbits.
Ray Bradbury didn’t know any electronic grandmothers.
I just figured since all these established writers were writing about things beyond the realm of what one can possibly know and it was only teachers and textbooks telling giving me this repeated advice, “Write what you know” translated into “I’m not a writer, so I don’t really know what to tell you about how to write well.”
I went on thinking this for probably somewhere around four more years, writing some of the crap I described in my bad story ideas. I thought I was being creative and escaping that dreaded, limiting advice of writing what I know. And then Ray Bradbury had to really throw me off.
It was my first year or two of college and I was at a bookstore, probably while I was supposed to be in class, looking through the usually disappointing “how –to” section of writing books. Most of these books of how to get published or how to write a best-selling novel are by authors I’d never heard of and the couple of times I took the time to look up what level of success the author has had, the only books they’ve had published are the how to write books. Look up a handful of the unrecognizable names in this section and you’ll see what I’m talking about. This day, however, I saw that my favorite author at the time had put one together. I remember thinking How did I not already know about this? as I snatched it up.
I knew I’d not only learn a ton from this book, but I was certain Bradbury’s teaching would tell me how I was tapping into this resource of imagination and pushing beyond the mere limits of human knowledge. Guess what the first chapter said.
Write what you know.
Maybe not in those exact words, but that was the message. He was preaching to tap into your zest or gusto, if I am remembering the words correctly. When I read that, I thought I was on the right track. When he started saying that I writer that didn’t know himself couldn’t possibly tap into the zest in him, that’s when things got a little shaky. I tried my best to pretend I didn’t know where this was headed, but when he pointed out that the only way for your writing to seem real is addressing your real fears and your real dreams and your real desires and your real loves and your real passions… I couldn’t duck the message any longer.
I still didn’t get it though. It was just seen as Bradbury turning his back on me, joining the ever-growing list of people telling me that I had nothing to offer the literary world. The message was spelled out so well by Bradbury, but I still was not getting it. And I still didn’t for maybe another six or seven years. Not completely anyway.
My story Nick was my first real experience of following this much feared and hated advice. It wasn’t a conscious effort. I didn’t decide Alright, I’ll give this writing what I know thing a try. I just got into the idea deeply enough that I wasn’t trying for anything other than telling the story. No gimmicks or attempts to write in a similar style to whatever writer I’d most recently been interested in. No molding a voice or forcing the story to be some cutting edge eye-opener.
The story started off in what has become my favorite way a new idea becomes a story. I just found myself wondering What would happen if…In finding the answer to what would happen if, the story just kind of unfolded. By the time it was done, this story about a man and a dog reflected the futility I felt in taking a loved one to rehab only to have them check themselves out days later, my views on materialistic people, and probably some of the subconscious reasons I’ve taken a career path that is not exactly the norm. I didn’t plan any of that, but the subjects came up, so I had to include what I knew about those parts of life.
And you know what? I STILL didn’t get it. Not until a couple of people I knew read it and made comments like “This line is so you,” or “I can totally hear you ranting just like that.” I reread the story and thought that they were right. I would say things like that. It was one of those moments were several past events all click together and make you embarrassed for not getting it sooner.
Sure, King doesn’t know all these monsters But King does know what scares him. It just so happened to be vampires and monsters with clown faces and getting lost in the woods and rabid dogs and S&M gone wrong and cell phones and… man, the guy has issues. Anyway, he takes these characters and gives them his fears. He doesn’t have to know these events first hand, just how he would react to them.
It took all that time to learn that all writers have to know is what scares them. Or thrills them. Or interests them. Or appalls them. Or… just the stuff life has taught them. It doesn’t limit a writer to telling only what has happened in his life. It just means that in order to ring true, to talk the reader into suspending disbelief and really buying into the fiction, it has to reflect something of the writer. Something he knows.
(Scene opens with two kids unwrapping the coating off batteries, crushing some red pills, and donning gas masks)
Mike – “Gee, Donnie, I never realized how easy it is to cook meth. I mean, we found all this stuff around the house…except the anhydrous.”
Donnie – “Yeah, we’re gonna make a killing!”
Voice from unseen speaker – “A killing is right!”
Donnie and mike – “QUICK KICK!!!”
Quick Kick – “That’s right. And I’ll be the first one to kick that crazy idea out of your head of becoming methamphetamine distributors. Didn’t you know that congress as well as local authorities have been cracking down on meth related crimes and handing out the stiffest possible sentences? You might even be tried as adults.”
Mike – “That would send us to prison. I don’t want to be someone’s girlfriend before I’ve even had my own first girlfriend!”
Quick Kick – “I haven’t even told you the statistics regarding meth lab related fatalities and the likelihood of you becoming hooked on your own product.”
Donnie – “Wow, we had no idea the treacherous road we were about to embark down!”
Quick Kick – “And now you know…”
All three together – “AND KNOWING IS HALF THE BATTLE!”
-
(Scene opens with two college kids signing up for credit cards at an on-campus kiosk)
Ralph – Turtle, check it out… free t-shirts and Frisbees!
Turtle – Just for filling out a credit card app? I’m in, dude.
(Off screen voice) – You’ll be in for more than your counting on.
Ralph & Turtle – GUNG HO!!!
Gung Ho – That might be me, but I’m sure not gung ho for the idea of a high interest rate credit card.
Ralph – “But…. free stuff.”
Gung Ho – “Heck, son, you’re only going to cut the sleeves off that t-shirt and the only time you’ll ever wear it is in your intramural basketball games. The real issue here is these cards have an adjustable interest rate and that rate starts out at just over 20 percent.”
Turtle – “I’ve never had a credit card before, but that seems like a lot.”
Gung Ho – “Sweet Custer’s Ghost, it IS a lot! And I know what you’re thinking…’I’ll only use it for emergencies.’ Well, you get the munchies after a little partying and all of sudden, Taco Bell suddenly falls into that emergency category. And you’re gonna look me in the eye and tell me the next kegger party wouldn’t go on your credit card if cash was short?”
Ralph & Turtle – (Sheepishly) “No, sir.”
Gung Ho – “Let’s do a little math here… let’s say your new credit card funds just one weekend binge. Between kegs, cups, pizza, a Denny’s hangover breakfast, some new CD’s you just had to have, and the set of collectors edition Highlander swords you and your retarded drunken buddies thought would be ‘kick ass’ to have hanging in your apartment, you drop $600 bucks, playing it conservatively. Well, with interest, that weekend becomes $720 by the time the bill comes around. Minimum payment is the interest alone. Could you two Sallies afford more than the minimum payment while in college? (Before the two can respond) Of course you can’t! So that’s three more years of paying $120 bucks, or more if the interest rate adjusts, and then you still owe the $600 principle. And that’s only if you never use the card again!”
Ralph – “I had no idea the kind of mess we’d get ourselves into!”
Gung Ho – “Well, now you know…”
All three – “AND KNOWING IS HALF THE BATTLE”
-
(Scene opens with a guy at a video rental store holding two DVD display cases)
Tom – “I just can’t decide. I’ve been wanting to see Children of Men, but everyone says Borat is hilarious…”
(Tom notices a dark figure standing next to him silently)
Tom – “Whoa, Snake Eyes, you scared me.”
Snake Eyes – (Stands motionless for a moment, then points to the Borat case)
Tom – “This one is good, huh?”
Snakes Eyes – (Nods head)
Tom – “I didn’t know… but, now I do, right?”
Snake Eyes – (Nods head)
Tom – “And knowing is half the battle?”
Snake Eyes – (gives a thumbs up)
