“Write What You Know”

 “For my part I know nothing with any certainty, but the sight of the stars makes me dream.”

— Vincent Van Gogh

On those rare occasions people ask me for writing advice, I tell them “Write what you know”...and it’s just as valid for game design. It’s one of those trite maxims we parrot as “advice” that, without reflection, means little beyond its superficial simplicity. Yet it’s not an axiom on which to sit complacently, to limit one to writing or designing only based on what they know at that moment. It is a challenge. Write and design what you know...and if you want to work with something you don’t know, strive to know it. Research. The concept is related to another saying worthy of reflection, from Socrates: “The only true wisdom is in knowing you know nothing” (expressed in other times and cultures by various people). And if we know nothing, we must go out and learn something, experience something, so we can draw on that knowledge in our future endeavors...especially activities we do for fun.

I’ve lost track of the research “rabbit holes” I’ve jumped down in the course of my life, interests that inspired me to learn more about particular subjects (notably historical ones) and apply them to my writing and game-design endeavors...or even simply pursuing them for the educational pleasure they provided. My bookshelves offer a road-map of sorts to this lifelong quest to learn more. To understand new-to-me subjects to channel into my writing, inspire my game design, or simply fuel my own enjoyment. Ancient Egypt, nurtured by my visits to the amazing collections at the Metropolitan Museum of Art. Medieval history to better inform (and expand) my enthusiasm for Dungeons & Dragons and other medieval fantasy roleplaying games. The Victorian Era (notably in Egypt and the Sudan) spurred on by such roleplaying game fare as Space 1889 and Castle Falkenstein and later by wargames. Historical eras in American history — the French and Indian War, American Revolution, and Civil War — from personal experiences visiting notable sites and an interest in the history of various places I’ve lived. Numerous aspects of World War II, at first as a general interest, later in my exploration of the pulp genre for roleplaying games, and more recently in service to my pursuit of wargaming. And, of course, games: the history of games of all kinds, game mechanics, and the application of games in education and other aspects of our society. (All this beyond the subjects encompassed in my collection of roleplaying games, board games, and wargames.) These inspirations led well beyond their initial exposure; in many cases they’ve informed my game design and meager fiction writing.

In the realm of fictitious creations “write what you know” seems to have limited relevance; but researching real-world issues can give us a sense of how to create fictitious elements with degrees of verisimilitude. We create “what you know” to a level of realism providing depth to our work. Sometimes we parse real-world knowledge from other areas when building fictitious settings and the characters inhabiting them. The act of exercising our inquisitive nature can grow beyond the real world to extrapolate how a fantasy world might function.

Some of my most enjoyable research projects for roleplaying games drew on my lifelong interest in and research about ancient Egypt: the Raiders of the Lost Ark Sourcebook for West End Games; Afrika Korpse Weird War II for Pinnacle Entertainment; Maxwell’s Egyptian Diary for Castle Falkenstein (alas, never published); and what I might consider my magnum opus, Pulp Egypt (along with various adventures for the above-mentioned work). In many cases my personal interests — and a growing library of reference materials — provided a firm foundation for my writing as well as a launching point for further research about the Victorian era and World War II.

One might argue gamers of all stripes engage in “research” as part of their hobby. Certainly roleplaying gamers spend a great deal of time not necessarily playing the game, but reading rulebooks, sourcebooks, and adventures to familiarize themselves with mechanics and settings — and devising their own materials — in preparation for playing it. Wargamers research history, armies, and engagements before fielding miniatures simulating historical or historically inspired battles. These activities might also fuel additional exploration, both to enhance play and enrich our other experiences.

Certainly a playful attitude or goal can enhance our motivation in any endeavor, but especially learning. Working toward a playable game, entertaining novel, or informative non-fiction piece might seem tedious at times, but the motivation to make something diverting or enjoyable to share with others can drive our creativity. For game-related activities play is a far better motivator because the practical application of that research is some form of playful fun, some level of entertainment even if factual or historical. In most cases we have our own reasons for expanding our knowledge into specialized areas, learning to create something enjoyable...writing stories, plotting roleplaying game source materials, designing games to play. The idea of having fun with a task, of both looking at it and accomplishing it with an eye toward fun, often seems inimical to American capitalism’s focus on serious productivity and profit. Yet a playful spirit helps make tedious tasks a bit more tolerable, at the very least; at most it can transform and improve a project invested with our joy.

The advice to “write what you know” relates to everyone with an inquisitive and creative nature who can benefit from the challenge it presents. The drive to learn, coupled with the prospects of play — in writing and game design — can provide motivation in unlikely places to energize those hobbled by the mundane tedium of our daily duties. It can help us find new material to inspire our efforts, send us onward to new projects, and keep our minds and imaginations sharp for future challenges.

“Knowledge is of no value unless you put it into practice.”

— Anton Chekhov