I think it’s very important to write outside ourselves. You can write well the other way (Hemingway did most of his writing — some of it great — about himself), but a lot of writers pay much too much attention to the “write what you know” rule and don’t explore other paths.
I think I’ve been doing this, in my usual disorganized way. As I mentioned in my comment on Kristan’s blog, I’ve spent 40+ years writing about two women — an internationally famous reporter and amateur detective, and a lunatic mass murderer — and I’m pretty definitely none of those things.
And I can safely say that, in six decades on this planet, there hasn’t been even a single day when I’ve wanted children. But when the abovementioned detective and her assistant unexpectedly adopted a daughter, I was fascinated to put myself in their position and figure out what would happen next.
And then there’s the Golden, who have appeared in three of my stories so far. I’ve definitely never known anybody like them. Maybe that’s why I keep writing about them.
What’s the point of being a writer if you don’t see how far your imagination can go?