MP: Writing What You Don't Know
I woke up wondering what it must be like to know, deep down, that you are loved and wanted and deserve the life you have. Now wait, before you go, "OMG Nezu's emo, let's read something else," I'm not, really; I was thinking about this in terms of characters I'm writing. OK, maybe it's a little emo at its roots, but really this isn't about emo so much as the question of how effectively can you write something you don't actually know.
Obviously I write things I don't actually know all the time. I write characters that are assassins and soldiers, that use magic, that live on other worlds, that have space flight, that aren't even human. I write twenty-something daredevil guys who smoke, pregnant mothers of small children, elderly blind widows, delusional veterans in the throes of PTSD. I put them in situations I've never experienced and hope never to experience, and I do it by careful research and by having their worlds so thoroughly realized in my head that writing them feels as easy and sometimes easier than writing about the world I actually live in.
But my main characters, the core characters, pretty much all have some kernel of self-doubt. Which is fine. I mean, that's what drives character conflict. That's what gives them room for growth. But it's definitely a trait they share with me. And my writer friends all seem to have similar demons that appear in their characters. Somewhere, lurking in every heart, is a terrible voice suggesting that we are not worthy of life and love and happiness. For some it's a roar they can barely hear over, for others it's a whisper that they almost never notice. But it's there, and it shows up in their writing. Our writing.
Part of me wonders if this isn't what makes us human. If I didn't have that voice, would I have compassion? Would I understand other people at all? Or maybe it's what makes us artists. Writers. What drives our creativity.
But I wonder, what would a character who really, truly felt loved and deserving of life and love and happiness, what would he be like? And I'm not sure I can answer that. I'm not sure that's a reality I can imagine well enough to accurately depict.
It feels like n-dimensional space, a concept I can describe in only the vaguest of terms and know I can't really envision. Maybe a handful of mathematicians can wrap their heads around it, but for most of even the best thinkers, it's too far outside of our experience as three-dimensional beings to really grasp. We can, if we try, think of Time as a fourth dimension, but it's not a dimension in which we have freedom of movement in any but a single direction. And once we get to five dimensions, we have to get very metaphorical to embrace it at all.
I can write a happy child; I've known happy children. But adults... Have I ever known an adult who lacked that seed of doubt? Perhaps. Probably. Maybe they're all around me. But I'm not sure I know how to understand them. Not sure I would really trust them. And not confident that my attempts to write them would come out sounding like three-dimensional, real characters.
So that's what was on my mind today. In honesty, I'm not sure I really want to write a well-adjusted, thoroughly content character. The idea sounds dull. So I'll continue with my personal quest for enlightenment, and I'll continue to write characters who are on that quest. Write what you know, they say, right?
Obviously I write things I don't actually know all the time. I write characters that are assassins and soldiers, that use magic, that live on other worlds, that have space flight, that aren't even human. I write twenty-something daredevil guys who smoke, pregnant mothers of small children, elderly blind widows, delusional veterans in the throes of PTSD. I put them in situations I've never experienced and hope never to experience, and I do it by careful research and by having their worlds so thoroughly realized in my head that writing them feels as easy and sometimes easier than writing about the world I actually live in.
But my main characters, the core characters, pretty much all have some kernel of self-doubt. Which is fine. I mean, that's what drives character conflict. That's what gives them room for growth. But it's definitely a trait they share with me. And my writer friends all seem to have similar demons that appear in their characters. Somewhere, lurking in every heart, is a terrible voice suggesting that we are not worthy of life and love and happiness. For some it's a roar they can barely hear over, for others it's a whisper that they almost never notice. But it's there, and it shows up in their writing. Our writing.
Part of me wonders if this isn't what makes us human. If I didn't have that voice, would I have compassion? Would I understand other people at all? Or maybe it's what makes us artists. Writers. What drives our creativity.
But I wonder, what would a character who really, truly felt loved and deserving of life and love and happiness, what would he be like? And I'm not sure I can answer that. I'm not sure that's a reality I can imagine well enough to accurately depict.
It feels like n-dimensional space, a concept I can describe in only the vaguest of terms and know I can't really envision. Maybe a handful of mathematicians can wrap their heads around it, but for most of even the best thinkers, it's too far outside of our experience as three-dimensional beings to really grasp. We can, if we try, think of Time as a fourth dimension, but it's not a dimension in which we have freedom of movement in any but a single direction. And once we get to five dimensions, we have to get very metaphorical to embrace it at all.
I can write a happy child; I've known happy children. But adults... Have I ever known an adult who lacked that seed of doubt? Perhaps. Probably. Maybe they're all around me. But I'm not sure I know how to understand them. Not sure I would really trust them. And not confident that my attempts to write them would come out sounding like three-dimensional, real characters.
So that's what was on my mind today. In honesty, I'm not sure I really want to write a well-adjusted, thoroughly content character. The idea sounds dull. So I'll continue with my personal quest for enlightenment, and I'll continue to write characters who are on that quest. Write what you know, they say, right?