You Know More Than You Think

“Write what you know,” especially for a rookie fiction writer, is more than sound advice; it’s almost tautological. When you pick up a debut novel, it’s a good bet that you’ll find the author has been inspired by people and places she knows and her own personal experiences and professional knowledge.

Despite the occasional raised eyebrow of a reader and the inevitable question “is this autobiographical?,” there’s absolutely nothing wrong with using real life to envision and enrich characters, setting, and plot. The writer’s imagination is still critical for transforming the real into the fictional. But writing what you know is like wrapping yourself in a security blanket that allows your creative powers to soar within the bounds of authenticity.

Six years ago, when I began writing my first novel, Unreasonable Doubts, I’d recently left my job of nearly two decades as a criminal defense attorney. I was brimming with conflicting emotions: excitement about starting a new phase of my life, fear about leaving my hard-won identity as an attorney behind, confusion about what my future held. I also had a ton of stories in my head. I

Imagine twenty seasons of your favorite television legal drama, replete with office politics, strong personalities, gruesome crimes, and after-hours love interests. I was ready to tackle a novel, to turn that raw material into a romantic legal thriller that would be the page-turner that few real-life legal jobs actually are.

But what happens for novel number two? I had no interest in writing a sequel. Writing Unreasonable Doubts had been both exciting and therapeutic, but it was time to leave that part of my career and my life behind. What was next when I’d exhausted writing about what I knew?

The obvious answer, at first blush, is to write about what you don’t know. This can entail a switch in genres. My debut was contemporary fiction in a legal setting; my new novel, My Name Is Layla, is a middle grade novel, aimed squarely at the tween set. Gone are the courtrooms and the judges, the criminal law and procedure, the handsome sociopath. My protagonist is no longer my doppelganger.

Layla is a thirteen-year-old girl struggling with undiagnosed dyslexia, living in a financially stressed and complicated family situation in a small town where everyone turns out for the high school basketball homecoming because that’s what there is to do. In other words, I knew nothing about Layla’s problems or circumstances. This is what I learned.

Research the specifics. 

When the story begins, Layla is in eighth grade, weighed down by years of underperforming in school because of her language-based learning differences. I don’t have dyslexia; nor do my children. Should that have precluded me from depicting a character with reading difficulties?

I wanted to write with credibility and feeling about a child dealing with these issues, without pretending to be an expert about a complex neurological condition. I did just enough research to understand the symptoms of the disorder and how reading specialists might help a child overcome them and experience academic success. I spoke with a writer friend with dyslexia, and I spoke with a parent of a child with dyslexia who had attended a specialized school. And I read a lot on the internet. I learned enough to give a voice to my character, without getting bogged down.

Dig deeper for the universal truths.

On the surface, my personal experiences as a child couldn’t have been further from Layla’s. Layla dreaded school, was underappreciated by teachers and bullied by peers, and her working single mom didn’t have the luxury of free time to zero in on Layla’s issues. In contrast, I loved to read, connected with my teachers, and enjoyed the laser focus of my parents.

Rather than trying to write Layla based on a narrow view of what I knew from my own life, I reached inside to explore the yearnings underlying the story: frustration, a longing to be heard, respected and accepted, a deep need to connect with parents, siblings, teachers and friends, and the sweet exhilaration of a first crush. These are universal emotions that resonate with everyone on some level, regardless of age or circumstance. Writing about Layla’s aches and aspirations is writing what I know, what we all know.

Don’t be afraid to make mistakes.

When you diverge from writing about what you know, you’ll inevitably get some stuff wrong. Writing my legal thriller, I was intimately familiar with the law and courtroom procedures that formed the backbone of the novel. But when I wrote Layla, I made mistakes, simply because I didn’t understand the current constraints of the curriculum in schools, for example, or the procedure for testing kids for special needs services. I was focused on the story, and because the story was set in a world I did not “know,” there are some aspects that are not factually accurate. You will make mistakes too. It comes with writing outside your wheelhouse. Let it go.

My new novel, Both Are True, brings me home again – back to New York City, back to Family Court, back to the law. I’ve returned to the world I really know, but I’ve gained perspective by taking a break and writing about a different world. I hope my writing has been enriched by the experience.

The bottom line is that you know a lot more than you think. You may have to fill in some gaps with some research, and you’ll still make mistakes. But if you write from the heart, you can’t go wrong.

—

Both Are True, Reyna Marder Gentin

Judge Jackie Martin’s job is to impose order on the most chaotic families in New York City. So how is she blindsided when the man she loves walks out on her?

Jackie Martin is a woman whose intelligence and ambition have earned her a coveted position as a judge on the Manhattan Family Court-and left her lonely at age 39. When she meets Lou Greenberg, Jackie thinks she’s finally found someone who will accept her exactly as she is. But when Lou’s own issues, including an unresolved yearning for his ex-wife, make him bolt without explanation, Jackie must finally put herself under the same microscope as the people she judges. When their worlds collide in Jackie’s courtroom, she learns that sometimes love’s greatest gift is opening you up to love others.”This moving novel examines what it means to start over-with surprising consequences.” -Nicola Kraus, bestselling co-author of The Nanny Diaries

“Compelling women’s fiction with just the right blend of romance and a quick wit . . . you’ll be rooting for these perfectly flawed characters.”–Rochelle Weinstein, Bestselling author of This Is Not How It Ends.

“Gentin deftly weaves a story of a complicated relationship with fascinating legal insight, exploring themes of parenting, love, and all the difficulties and nuances involved with both.”-Susie Orman Schnall, author of We Came Here to Shine

“Poignant and funny, Both Are True is a love story you’ll think about long after the you turn the last page.”–Elyssa Friedland, author of Last Summer At The Golden Hotel

“A thought-provoking legal drama, Both Are True asks hard questions and wholly engages the reader.”-Sally Koslow, author of Another Side of Paradise

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Category: Contemporary Women Writers