The Doctor is In

Every Friday I turn this blog into a couch and invite Dr. Sue O’Doherty to dispense some writerly therapy. If you have questions for her please writer her Dr.Sue at mindspring.com. And also please be sure to checkout the newest backstory from David Wellington at my other blog.- MJR

From Dr. Sue: I occasionally give workshops and seminars in my Brooklyn Heights office on topics of interest to writers. If you would like to be notified about upcoming events, email me at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.

Dear Dr. O'Doherty,

I have been asked to contribute to a number of themed essay anthologies, and they make me uneasy because even though I think of myself as an honest person, every time I sit down to write a personal essay I find myself being untruthful in large or small ways. Maybe this doesn't matter to readers, if my essay is interesting and serves the purpose at hand, and is essentially based on true things, but to me it feels wrong. Yet I am good at writing these essays, and I do have things to say, and the exposure and attention are helpful for my so far modest writing career. How can I either learn how to stay on the truthful path or get more comfortable when I veer off into the underbrush of creative, very creative, nonfiction?

Sometimes a Little Too Creative

Dear Sometimes:

Many writers find their internal, imaginative worlds to be at least as compelling as external reality. If we are writing about our first day in kindergarten, and an event that occurred in the first grade would illustrate the point of our story perfectly, we don’t hesitate to alter time. We feel justified in doing so because the symbolic or emotional truth of the story is enhanced, even though the facts may be compromised.

In my experience, though, readers, especially those who are not writers themselves, feel differently. Certainly, they seek a compelling story, but if that is their sole requirement they are more likely to look in the fiction section. People frequently read essays for extra-literary reasons. They may be living through, or about to enter, the situation dealt with in the essay, and hoping to benefit from others’ experience. A parent whose child has been diagnosed with a serious illness, for example, may look for inspiration and hope to other parents’ accounts of how they coped with this devastating circumstance. These readers trust that you have undergone the experience you are writing about, and that your story is honest on a literal, as well as an artistic, level. They may not care whether you wore a red dress or a purple jumpsuit to kindergarten, but they expect you to care, and to tell them honestly what happened to you, how you dealt with it, and what it means to you. Lying—and purposely rearranging or inventing facts to improve a story is lying, no matter what else we may call it—is a betrayal of this trust.

Having said that, I must also point out that memory is a notoriously slippery phenomenon, and any attempt to nail down the objective truth in a memoir is a losing proposition. Six friends can attend a party where a couple gets into an argument, and when they compare notes later, there will be six different versions of the event, some diverging dramatically on important points.

If there is such a thing as objective truth, it is unlikely that it exists in our memory banks. Memory does not function as a repository for isolated facts, but rather as a tool to help us make sense of the world and prepare ourselves for new experiences. Thus, we are constantly interpreting, revising, and editing all of the information our senses take in, according to past experiences and projected needs.

Take the example of the friends who witness an argument at a party. One friend may have been the victim of domestic abuse. She will most likely look for signs that someone is in danger, and she may exaggerate these without realizing it. If a man lifts his hand in an angry gesture, she may be convinced that he was going to hit his companion, or even that he did hit her. If this witness associates a certain color—say the yellow walls of her bedroom—with the abuse, she may “remember” that one of the combatants was wearing yellow, or that the party took place in a yellow room.

Another may be romantically interested in the same man and believe he is defending himself valiantly against his companion’s vicious attack. She may “detect” signs that he has “seen through” his companion and will soon break up with her. A third friend may have emotional associations to the subject of the argument—say, whether he did or did not jump on the punch line of her story—and interpret and recall the interaction accordingly. Every witness will have her own focus, and if each were to write a truthful essay describing the argument, the essays would disagree. The friends might accuse one another of fabrication, each believing that her version is the one valid story.

I think the best you can do is to write as honestly as you can, from your own experience. Verify your facts to the extent that you can, but don’t drive yourself crazy if someone else remembers the events differently. If you find that your story can’t be told well without altering the facts significantly, decline the invitation and write it as a short story instead. You will feel better about yourself, and your decision will contribute to the overall integrity of the essay writing genre.

I know that others have different viewpoints on this compelling topic. I’ve been told that my stance on this question is rigid, more appropriate for reports of scientific research than for a creative field—and also inconsistent, since I have published at least one essay relating a family story that my brother insists (rightly, I now believe) couldn’t have happened the way I remember it. I would be happy to read others’ thoughts in the comments section.

Susan O’Doherty, Ph.D., is a clinical psychologist with a New York City-based practice. A fiction writer herself, she specializes in issues affecting writers. Send your questions to her at Dr.Sue at mindspring dot com.

Comments

[Amra Pajalic]

I realised I was a fiction writer because every time I tried to write non-fiction I'd exaggerate or change things around so that it read better and had a better sense of drama. It was boring as non-fiction and needed to be spiced up. I've included some of my personal memories in my fiction and once it belongs to the character I have trouble remembering what was mine and what's my character's memory.

I agree with Dr Sue's advice. While memory is notoriously slippery and unreliable there is a difference between deliberately spicing things up as opposed to remembering differently. If you can't write non-fiction without crossing the line then you need to stop and focus on fiction.

These days non-fiction has fallen into disrepute with all the "creative" remembering by authors. My motto is you have your word or reputation once. If it's tainted you can't ever get it back again. You might have the short-term gain of a publication credit but the long-term damage could be irreparable.

[Dr.Sue]

Amra, thanks, you put it powerfully. Thanks for linking to your blog, as well--lots of food for thought!

[katharine weber]

It seems that the looming issue of our age is honesty, wherever we look.

[Dr.Sue]

Steven Hendlin asked me to post the following comment:

Hi Sue,

I agree with your so-called "hardline" position but I would have been even firmer. You initally gave a pretty firm "don't lie" answer and then seemed to qualify it and backpeddle...the person is blatantly and purposely lying in the creation of a non-fiction piece. This has nothing to do with idiosyncratic memory but a conscious, willful intention to lie to make it more interesting. Isn't this exactly what all the fuss was about with Frey?

Don't be afraid to nail these people when they ask for your opinion--every bit of wiggle room you give is interpreted as making room for them to rationalize and justify their behavior.

Regards,

Steven Hendlin

[katharine weber]

Wow, do I disagree with you, Steven Hendlin. Rather than "nailing" people who seek her advice, Sue offers sympathetic and insightful commentary, rather than lecturey and adversarial corrections. Do you have some dislike or distrust for writers?