Like Tooth Extraction With a Roll of Duct Tape and a Pocket Knife

writer's block
by Inger Klekacz

Writers are always told to write what you know.

Which is all well and good until you enter the realm of women writing m/m romance or men writing f/f. Or, hell, virgins writing erotic romance of any kind (and yes, they do exist). Yet many of these books that are written by people who likely don't have intimate knowledge of these types of relationships are brilliantly done, evoking deep responses from the readers, and not necessarily from their tingly parts. And let’s not forget space travel, werewolves, time travel, vampires, fairies, magic and monsters… So the question is, what makes these books so good?

Well, I can't speak for others, but I know that as far as I'm concerned, not only is it because I'm clearly a genius (ha-ha), but also because I still apply the old axiom to my writing, and work in what I know at every opportunity. I’m not an expert on men in love with men, but I like to think that I’ve got a pretty damn good handle on romance, and people want to be loved. People seek partners, and sometimes they avoid partners at all costs because their lives are just that messed up, but love finds them anyway – I get to help two friends go ring shopping in the near future, despite the one’s insistence for years that he was “done” with dating and romance and just going to be monogamous with his right hand for the rest of his life – and yes, the emotional wiring is different, thanks to the vast complexity of the human condition, and therein lies the real challenge. The true heart of writing what you know while still exploring new and/or different realms and possibilities.

In every character I create, I place a kernel of truth. Something that I believe and identify with and can build upon. It might be something as simple as a competitive streak, like I did with Dominic Taylor in Winner Takes All, which grew and became a defining factor for him; there could have been any number of ways to get Matt in bed, but instead, he does it with a bet. And can’t even make himself back down when he knows it’s got all the potential to blow up in his face, because there’s that need to win. I dislike competing, but it doesn’t mean that I don’t have that drive to win, to do better than the other guy, to hang on like a rat terrier until the prize is effing mine. I just took that and gave it to Dom; but I knew it, as well as I know myself.

Sometimes this tactic can backfire on me, though. Jenny and I have been working on a novel lately, and one of the characters is introduced at the funeral of his wife. I had to dig deep for those feelings, picking at a personal emotional scab until I was able to find a way to put into the words the unimaginable desolation of having to face a world without your loved one in it. It’s a large part of what’s taking so long with this novel, in fact, because I have to do my part in passes, a little at a time, a forced catharsis that rather resembles dental surgery without drugs.

But damn, I’m so proud of it already.

So I’ll keep on writing what I know. But I think next time I’m just going to go with something easy. Maybe a love of cats.

What about you? Do you believe in writing what you know?

And, because it wouldn't be one of my posts without an extra visual aid:








See you next month, when I'll have hopefully figured out Blogger.

Love,

Elizabeth

PS: I have a new adventure I'm embarking on, opening on Tuesday. I've banded together with some talented and wildly entertaining writers to form a small group blog called Dirty Birdies. There are no content restrictions, just nine authors being themselves, writing what we know. Even if "what we know" is nothing more than a Top Ten list of "Hell yes, in a heartbeat" do-ees.

There will be contests and shenanigans, and we'd love for you to come on by!