For new writers, it can be scary to try writing about subjects outside their own fields of expertise. But what if I told you that you don’t have to be an expert in a field in order to write about it at all? In fact, many writers write about subjects they’re not experts in, and, if done earnestly, this approach can reach readers in ways that experts in the field might not.
Take a look at the field of photography, for example. Susan Sontag and Roland Barthes wrote two books—On Photography and Camera Lucida, respectively—that are widely considered to be some of the best guides to the field of photography. The only thing is, neither of them were photography experts, and they had never written extensively about photography before publishing these books! Susan Sontag was primarily a critic, writing essays and books about all sorts of subjects, ranging from beauty standards for women and even the intersection of high and low art. Roland Barthes was also mainly an essayist and published work about literary theory and philosophical topics such as semiotics and structuralism.
So how did these two authors come to write about photography? For Susan Sontag, On Photography began as a single essay where she explored some of the moral and aesthetic problems caused by photography’s presence in culture. The essay quickly became more complex and expansive, and over the course of five years, Sontag wrote a series of essays discussing the traditions and meaning of photography throughout history. In her eyes, photography posed questions about culture she wanted answers to, and writing essays about its history, traditions, and politics led her to the answers she desired. For any beginners in a field, this notion of wanting to learn more about a field you have questions about probably rings true. Sontag proves that asking those questions and seeking the answers yourself can lead to a whole book on the subject—and one that is arguably better suited for amateurs, since it was written by one.
Meanwhile, Roland Barthes wrote Camera Lucida under much different circumstances. While he did seek to find the essential nature of photography—similar to Sontag, though through a more existential lens—Camera Lucida is as much a reflection on death as it is on photography. Written after his mother’s death, Barthes channeled his grief through investigating how specific photographs moved him personally, rather than analyzing those photographs on a technical level. He wasn’t an expert photographer by any means, but he was an observer of photographs, so he could attest to how they made him feel and try to figure out why. As a result, the reader discovers the spectacular and surprising connections he draws between photography and our own mortality. This new way of seeing the field of photography may never have happened if there wasn’t a grieving philosopher to explore it.
So what does that mean for us writers only beginning to enter the writing sphere? Sontag and Barthes were already established writers when they wrote these books, but I think their bravery to write about a new subject, and the subsequent impact of their work, is a great lesson for us. New perspectives are essential to learning, and your unique knowledge and experiences could lead you down new pathways as you approach an unfamiliar subject.
A well-trained writer can tackle many subjects, and your knowledge and experience of that subject, no matter how novice or little, might reveal unexpected insights that field has been waiting for.