I’m in the process of writing a book about gastrobots with neural processing chips. I am not a scientist, engineer, programmer; I don’t have a background in tech. I know as much about AI as the next person who reads articles and engages with the discourse. I am not qualified to write a nonfiction book about gastrobots with neural processing chips.
Does this prevent me from writing fiction about them?
Some of my favorite novels are written by experts, and it shows. In Kristen Miller’s THE CHANGE, I was unsurprised to see that Miller had a background in the advertising industry because of the realism of the scenes that took place within that world. In another book I recently finished, FUTBOLISTA, by Jonny Garza Villa, the author’s familiarity with Mexican futbol culture was evident in each word.
Then again, too much knowledge can be a problem, too. In some of my recent science fiction reading, I’ve noticed that the knowledge of particular areas (especially quantum physics) can bog down the prose to the point of making me wish I were getting college credit for my efforts.
When I feel insecure about my work-in-progress, it causes me to stumble, to think, “Shouldn’t I only write about Classics majors and the Mid-Atlantic and difficult mother-child relationships? Someone who is an expert in gastrobots and NPUs really ought to be writing this, not me.”
But then, I remember that this book is told from the perspective of a woman who doesn’t know about gastrobots and NPUs, or not much, anyway. What she does know is being a Classics major, about living in the Mid-Atlantic, and about trying to navigate mothering a child who constantly surprises her.
I can write that book. I’m uniquely qualified.