Purposeful Prose Advice Column: Write What You Know?

Dear Purposeful Prose, 

I’m getting a lot of conflicting advice on this. I’m writing my first novel, and I promise it matters that I’m white and bisexual. My main character is based off of a friend of mine from Mexico, and she said that I could fictionalize her story if she could read it first. Two characters do drag and one of them is trans. I don’t fully understand the experiences of all of my characters, and I’m not claiming that I can, but I want to give good rep. I decided to ask people who hold similar identities or the same identities to my characters to beta read, but I’m getting some pushback. I see a lot of people saying that they’ve been burned by writers who have failed to represent. Any advice would be appreciated. Thanks!

“Write what you know” is a common piece of writing advice because it can feel easier and more comfortable to write according to your own lived experiences. I’m not the kind of editor or reader who believes that all representation is good representation. As I’m sure you understand, how you treat characters with backgrounds outside of your own matters. Sometimes, writers will rely too heavily on stereotypes or make a statement that implies internal biases (unconscious biases often play a role in this). Before I start giving you advice on this, I am also white and queer-identifying. 

To begin, make sure that each character, especially the marginalized characters you include outside of your identity, have a why. Be honest about why you’re including them in your story. Having them play a supporting role can be effective, but there’s a balance to strike. Consider whether your characters are meant to fill a stereotypical role, regardless of whether it’s positive or negative. This article by Katharine Chan elaborates on the harm of positive stereotypes. In this excerpt, a colleague of hers had asked for help on Microsoft Excel: 

“I entered his office and looked at the screen. It was a relatively easy issue to fix. I did my thing and he thanked me. I felt proud of myself as I walked back to my office. I sat down in my chair and I looked around. I shared the space with three other research assistants, all non-Asian but with very similar educational backgrounds. 

Excel is something I am proficient in and had in my CV. But I couldn’t help but wonder if he asked me for help because I was good at numbers or because I was Asian?”

Chan explains that she thought about this a lot, that she worried about whether she was genuinely recognized for her accomplishments or because she was being stereotyped. Many in her position don’t always have a way of knowing, partly because there might have been unconscious biases involved. So, the co-worker might not have been aware of his stereotyping when he asked, but it still might have played a key role in this ask. When you’re writing your characters, think of the actions and words of your characters as tasks you’re asking them to complete. Why did you ask them to complete that task as opposed to someone else, and do you run into any difficulties in answering that question? 

I recommend sending your intentions for your characters to your beta readers ahead of time to make sure you get the feedback you need. 

If your beta readers call you in, listen. I don’t know the degree to which you’ve fictionalized your friend’s story, but if effective representation is your priority, the feedback you get directly from the beta readers who belong to the communities you’re writing in will be gold. If you’ve done enough research to understand the expectations and assumptions that can present themselves, it will show. These cannot be ignored. 

Not a lot of people know this, but I love a good horror novel, and Lovecraft Country by Matt Ruff is incredible, combining Lovecraftian horror (by the way, Lovecraft was incredibly racist) with Jim Crow era America. 

Matt Ruff is, himself, white, but his work was praised by Black readers who would often assume that he shared their experiences. A big part of how this book works is through its research, how expectations are acknowledged, but they don’t make the characters. To better explain without spoiling, some authors will write Black characters whose only objective and purpose is to talk about what being Black means to them. That can be the purpose of a story, and a good one, but Lovecraft Country is very intentional about its characters having vested interests and concerns inside and outside of that. 

More than anything, your characters are people, and from what I understand, they’re based on the stories of real people. “Intersectionality” is a term developed by Kimberlé Crenshaw in the late 1980s, and now, it refers to how we all carry multiple constructed internal identities. One’s religion, race, gender, class, age, etc. can carry degrees of privilege, show a lack of privilege, and they all carry meaning. 

Let’s say, for example, that two of your characters were trans. One of them grew up in a comfortable home and received support that the other did not. Their walks of life are different, so they should not be expected to react to situations in the same way. Every person’s experience of their own identity will be distinct, first of all. Your trans character who grew up in a supportive family might experience their own hardships, and those hardships should realistically look, feel, and be dealt with in a different way from the trans character who did not have the same privileges.

I do encourage you to continue to seek advice and to research further into this subject. The fact that you are taking the time to look into this and working with beta readers in the communities you’re writing about is a good sign! 

If you have a writing or editing-focused question, I would be more than happy to dedicate a post to you. Contact us with any questions you might have or to schedule a free consultation with yours truly!

All submissions will remain anonymous unless you explicitly request for me to include your name.