In the ongoing evaluation of the pros and cons of writing fiction in which I engage, the pros always outnumber the cons.
It’s not so much the fame or big piles of money, if you can believe that.
In all seriousness, I count myself among the fortunate few who’ve discovered something they enjoy and finagled a way to pursue their passions.
Granted, I haven’t yet explored all the other possibilities. But I remain convinced there are few things more satisfying than the act of creation involved in writing fiction. You invent some characters, plop them into a setting and then ponder the implications of a question that begins “What if … .”
What if a reporter who’s laid off at a Denver newspaper takes a job as editor of a small town weekly in northwest Colorado? What if a search for gold bars hidden a century ago in a mountain lake results instead in the discovery of a ghastly corpse lashed to rock?
Then the magic begins. Characters take on lives of their own and insist on doing things their way. Their story turns out differently than what you expected, but is all the more compelling as a result.
There’s yet another pro to writing fiction, though. And that’s the opportunity it affords to learn new things. Let me explain.
By definition, fiction involves imaginary people and events. It’s possible to fabricate nearly everything. J.K. Rowling proved that in the wizarding world she built for her Harry Potter series. The most inventive fantasy and science fiction writers do.
I prefer in my own endeavors to write mysteries to mix fact with fiction.
That sort of approach requires research — but as a welcome byproduct, the collection of an eclectic assortment of information.
In the process of writing two novels featuring an investigative journalist and history professor, I’ve learned about transmountain water diversions, business incorporation filings and the factors that go into establishing time of death for corpses recovered in water. I’ve also learned about the outlaw Butch Cassidy, the Overland Trail in Wyoming and the operation of the San Francisco Mint in the late 19th century.
I’ve spent a lot of time recently researching dinosaur fossils and even dinosaur evolution. And, no, I’m not trying to write some sort of sequel to “Jurassic Park.” Like I could even if I wanted to.
Realistic details and historical events help make the implausible seem not only plausible, but also likely.
In making characters more authoritative, they become more believable. If your novels feature a driven investigative journalist and brilliant history professor, then those characters better know what they’re talking about and, especially, what they’re doing.
Of course, a lot of what writers pour into their fiction comes from personal experiences. You really do write what you know. In that respect, every novel is autobiographical to a certain degree.
I chose my protagonist and setting in large part because I used to work as a small town newspaper editor in northwest Colorado.
I was excited as well to incorporate some of my experiences as a scuba diver into my latest work in progress. I know what it feels like to dive into a lake with poor visibility and nearly freezing water temperatures. Spoiler alert: It’s mostly miserable.
Although I’ve covered some murders as a newspaper reporter, I’ve never solved one. Come to think of it, I’ve never found any treasure, either.
But that’s where research comes in handy.
There are a lot of pros to writing prose. But if I’ve learned one thing from writing fiction, one of the best pros of all is the opportunity to learn new things.