Resisting the Urge to Borrow Tragedy

It has been said that there is nothing so difficult for a writer as having had a happy childhood. Writers seem to thrive on (and even bask in) having a troubled past. Abuse, neglect, and dysfunction are often seen as a prerequisite to authentic writing. But if you had a happy childhood, in which your parents’ love for you was never in question, the only sibling rivalry was an occasional tussle over a toy, or the only tragedies you experienced were those common to all youngsters (that first break-up, acne, a bad haircut, an embarrassing rumor), the compulsion to write may be there but the needed backlog of emotional turmoil and strife will be sorely lacking.

I suppose this comes from collision of the old advice to “write what you know” and the general consensus that stories without conflict, those in which the protagonist has a fairly good time floating through a peaceful life, are simply boring. How can you both write what you know and write dynamic, interesting stories if all you know is good times?

I agree that you do need a conflict in a story to make it compelling. But I recently admitted to my husband that I am often reading a book or watching a movie, and when I see the conflict beginning I screw up my face and think, “Man! I was really enjoying this! Why’d they have to go and ruin it with conflict?” Like someone who has just been released from a lifetime of hiding some dark secret from a judgmental world, he responded with a resounding, “Yes!”

Both of us had been suffering in silence, tormented by the fact that sometimes we would just like to enjoy a pleasant story in which nice characters enjoy life so that we can enjoy it with them in whatever setting the story happens to be. A few little foibles here, maybe a slight miscommunication with funny consequences there, and we’ll all trot happily to the end of the story with smiles on our faces the entire time. No repressed memories of hideous sexual abuse coming to light, no secret previous life that comes back to haunt characters, no kidnappings, no life-threatening escapades. Just a happy story.

Having admitted to this literary shortcoming, I do understand that, even if there are other secret “happy story” lovers out there still in the closet, for whatever reason those stories do not sell (though maybe that’s because they are no longer written/published). People pay to experience strife secondhand. The popularity of the horror genre; films about natural disasters, war, or terrorism; and dramatic true stories of surviving abuse are all proof of this.

But all you would-be writers out there, take note. Those who write these stories do not all experience firsthand the exact situations they are writing about. If you really needed to “write what you know” there would be no fantasy or science fiction stories. For that matter, there would be no historical fiction! You can write stories about things you’ve never experienced provided you do the research to make them believable. A good story can stand up no matter the time frame or world, real or imaginary, in which it is set. A fantasy story exploring themes of personal friendship, racism (or speciesism), and true love could also be set in modern day America, 17th century China, or on the planet FR-73. All it takes is a theme or conflict that rings true to readers.

While there unfortunately needs to be conflict, it doesn’t always have to be huge, over the top, or even obvious. My favorite stories are often those that are character-driven rather than plot-driven. Sure, the occasional action film is great fun, but it seems to me that the stories that stick with me are more about the characters than what those characters are doing. And those stories can be written by all of us, even if we did have a happy childhood (as I did).

Even though I grew up with both parents in the home. Even though the only people who died in my life were old and the deaths were expected. Even though I was never homeless, never went hungry, and never witnessed a terrible crime. Even though I didn’t struggle in school. Even though my life was pretty cushy, I did experience the mild strife that everyone experiences. I had friends who stabbed me in the back. I was taken advantage of. I said mean things to people that I regret. I did have my heart broken. I was confused by things. I did stupid things. I struggled with knowing what to do with my life.

And even though these are all very small struggles compared with those of many people throughout the world, they are true struggles. I can write the truth about the little things—and I know that because these struggles are so common, there will always be readers who want to read about them because they identify with them. I can’t identify with someone whose house is haunted by demonic forces or whose family is murdered (thank God). But I can identify with someone who feels left out, is regretful about how they treated someone, misses that childhood feeling of wonder, or worries about wasting time on frivolous things. So that’s what I should write about.

Write what you know, because what you know—however little—is important.