Monday, June 24, 2013

Should You Tell the Whole Truth?

            Anyone who sets out to be a writer soon discovers they have countless friends and acquaintances with stories they believe should be told. They want to tell you the entire, blow-by-blow story of their grandfather’s emigration from Europe, their sister’s struggle with infertility, their aunt’s arrest for embezzlement, and on and on.
            And some of these accounts are actually good, inspiring, entertaining, and even commercial stories.  But not usually the way you’ll hear them.  Every person has several wonderful books and/or movies in them.  The problem is that strict autobiography, with every single detail included for accuracy, does not always make a great tale.  Just as wonderful storytellers know to embellish and embroider here, and subtract there, so should these real-life accounts be adjusted to make them more palatable to others.  And it’s not a crime to fictionalize a story, as long as you’re up front about it.  Obviously if you claim something to be nonfiction, then you have to stick with the facts, documentary-style.
            But most of us are not writing unadorned nonfiction, or testifying in court.  We are making art, as opposed to photography.  We need to learn how to pick out the best berries, and discard the unusable ones.  Maya Angelou once said, “There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside you.”  And she’s right, but a good writer knows that the story can have even more power and impact if you shine it up a bit. Yes, tell your story, make your point.  But leave out the details of your grandfather’s every sneeze, your sister’s aggravation with her hair, your aunt’s fascination with where she parked each day.  Most people’s diaries are not published exactly as written for a reason.  Most of them contain parts that can be edited out—they veer off track, they ramble, they repeat, they contain mistakes.  Cleaned up, some of them might make good reading.  But cleanup is usually essential.

            My husband, Bob, used to host game shows and talk shows when we lived in L.A., and one time he interviewed Nicholas Sparks about his book, Message in a Bottle, which had been made into a movie.  Bob had been grandly disappointed that the protagonist died after finally finding love again, and asked the author why he did that.  Mr. Sparks replied that, quite simply, that’s how it actually happened—it was his grandfather’s story.  But Bob was so upset about this unfair turn of events that it prompted him to write a novel of his own, one with a happier ending.  It was nothing like Sparks’ story, but it made Bob realize the importance of putting the romance first, and the accuracy of historical events second, if they undermine the suspense or the intrigue a reader expects.  Sometimes you simply have to let go of “truth at all costs,” to craft a story people will love.  Now, Mr. Sparks is a widely popular writer, so it’s hard to criticize a choice of his, when so many people follow his work.  But it does make you wonder if he might have pulled in even more readers for that book, if only he had given the story its own heart, its own path to follow, and simply let history be the backdrop.

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