Okay, the challenge is on, though somewhat tongue in cheek. Ben Yagoda, author of The History of
Memoir, has created a way to measure the “truthiness” in published memoirs. He’s interviewed about his “truth” chart in the Christian Science Monitor. You remember—“truthiness” was the term coined back during the
James Frey fray with Oprah about truth and lie in his memoir A Million Little Pieces. You remember, the dressing down on Oprah’s couch.
Many memoirists put the virtual tail between their legs and got quite nervous about writing memoir. “How much do I have to fact check? Sure, I make up some of the dialogue as best as I can remember, but…”
Others wailed, “These are my memories. I can’t prove them!”
Several memoirists have been caught just before publication presenting entirely falsified accounts–Herman Rosenblat who made up the story of a young girl throwing apples over the fence at a concentration camp he was in, and meeting her again in America where they fell in love and got married. He had people crying and Oprah fooled too, and then it was found out to be false. He wanted to tell an inspiring story, he said. The trouble is, he called it a memoir, and it was not true.
Then there was Margaret Jones, whose memoir Love and Consequences told the gripping story of how she’d lived in an LA gang, but it was pulled before publication. It was all made up too. She had fooled everyone–her agent, the publisher, and left bitterness in her wake.
Then publishers got REALLY nervous. “How many liars are going to cost us money this time?” they cynically began to ask. We will tighten the reins and demand proof–fact-checking, background checking, you name it. Memoirists began to get assailed by journalists–whose stock in trade is to tell the absolute truth, making up nothing, about practices such as dialogue and creative scene making. However, their tradition has become somewhat cloudy with the “New Journalism” that uses fictional tools such as…gasp…dialogue and scenes to go inside the story. Truman Capote’s In Cold Blood told a “true” story using fictional means, and other New Journalists have followed suit. Of course, going behind the scenes makes for a good story. Novelists know that, and so do memoirists. We all want to know the inside story, we are curious. Voyeurs, perhaps.
A debate is raging in the creative nonfiction world about whether it’s all right to compress time in a memoir, or to conflate characters. Really, there is a fierce debate between for instance Vivian Gornick, who was called on the carpet of “exact truth” a couple of years ago, and the fierce defenders of exactitude.
Mary Karr’s truthiness is measured in Ben Yagoda’s chart higher than say, Sarah Palin, but Rousseau and St. Augustine rank first as the most truthful. I guess it helps to be male and very dead.
So where does that leave us? The only thing we can do as memoirists is our best to write our memories as honestly as we can. Sure, it might help to research the exact name of the street you lived on when you were ten. After all, the memoir police might fine you for getting it wrong. But who cares?
I don’t care where you lived exactly, I care about who you were, what you dreamed about, and how you spent your days and nights. Were you happy or sad, and what made you that way? I don’t care if the color of the dress your mother wore on June 12, 1983 is “right” or not. Maybe you’ll find a photo that says it was green not red, the way you remember it. Uh-oh–you are a liar!
Not. So do your best to write your story. There’s a huge difference between those who set out to falsify their memoir and those who write their story the best they can, using their memory, their love of writing, and their determination to get the story on the page and invite the reader to stand in their shoes.
That is what our goal should be: to tell the best story we can while being honest with ourselves. Therein lies the rub. Writing with self-honesty is the real work!
For fun, go to the Nieman Storyboard, which is a great resource where you can read about the truth and lie debate, by the way, to see Yagoda’s chart of the truthiness of some well known memoirs.
It’s worth mentioning that you get points off for using dialogue in a memoir! So I guess all teachers of memoir are going to have to reverse their engines? I doubt it–a good story is what we are looking for and what we love.
Keep writing, and get your story on the page–memoir police be damned. (You can edit later.)
I’m going to go back to the black and white photos from my childhood and see if I can figure out the color of my mother’s dress.
Good overview of some of the issues, Linda. There has definitely been a blurring of the lines between fiction and nonfiction. The more we know about the act of creating literary works, and the functions of memory, the more we realize that absolutes don’t work in these discussions.
I recently blogged about the challenges of authenticity in creative nonfiction, and received some very wise comments from writers and readers in reply. It’s important to continue to ask these questions and engage one another in conversations about our writing.
Hi Lorne
Thank you for letting me know about your blog too! Yes, these questions are important for writers to take on–as there will be so many different opinions about your work as a writer, and you have to learn to hear your own story as it evolves. Let’s stay in touch!
–Linda joy
Great post Linda Joy. This man is going to get his 15 minutes of fame — maybe even 15 days, but like many others, he’s doing the memoir niche a favor by giving proponents a chance to air the positives as you have done.
He also calls you on the carpet for reflecting negatively on identifiable people. Well, shucks. How interesting is a story going to be with no conflict? I realize this issue is at the heart of legions of decisions about whether to publish or what to include, but if a certain monster made your life a living hell, how are you going to write your truth without reflecting negatively on that person? When I’m evaluating a story, I use a compassion index. If the author gives the monster the benefit of the doubt — or at least comes to a state of forgiveness, all is well. A lesson is there to be learned.
He subtracts points for writing to prove political or moral positions. Hold the press there! Maybe I need to review the story, but didn’t Augustine have some spiritual agenda there?
He adds points for self-deprecation or self-criticism. Maybe we could substitute self-AWARENESS of our part in creating our situations?
Finally, he subtracts for cliches, flat writing and poor word choices. I think we all agree that’s appropriate, and fortunately NAMW is here to help people enhance writing skills and awareness.
Thank you Sharon for putting in your perspective. I know that this is the stuff of all our classes and workshops–and while it’s fun to poke fun at the truthiness aspect, I’m not sure Ben Yagoda actually teaches it–perhaps he does. But in the trenches, we are trying to get people to capture stories, not just “and then I did this, and then that” and in order to do that, we have to help them develop craft–points off or not for scenes and dialogue. But I agree–paying attention to cliches, flat writing and poor word choices is part of the toolbox of everyone who is learning how to write.
Self-awareness is certainly a side effect of writing a memoir–unless you’re tone deaf to your own story.
Thanks for the bits about allowing the negative feelings in. They are part of being human. But I think he might be trying to say that we should keep the moaning and groaning down–I find that writing in scenes allows for the true expression of what happened, and the complaining factor won’t be there.
More grist for the mill! Yes, NAMW is here to cheer everyone on!
–Linda Joy
Dr. Linda! This post is very timely. We just had a related discussion in the Stanford online creative non-fiction writing class I’m taking. We were specifically discussing whether it is okay to create composite characters in order to avoid too many different characters in a single memoir or what other solutions there are to this challenge. I thank you for your very helpful and gentle approach to this topic. I appreciate your perspective.
Hi Dawn, I’d love to hear what the votes are on composite characters–or was there an agreement about it? Thanks for your post–as it’s one of the major issues that memoirists are debating.
–LInda Joy
So I have this same dilemma but I don’t really care if I call what I write a memoir or fiction. Most of the older members of my family are gone and I really only have a younger brother and sister. The deal is my memories of places are pretty good and general details of what happened are good. Then I add in specifics that seem like it would be what happened. I’m changing names and calling saying it is fiction but it is really fiction based on fact. I’m kind of stymied at this point. I’ve put a few things on my blog under fiction and memoir. I would like to go forth with this because it is really healing to write in this way. I don’t have to worry if it is exactly what happened.
So my question is not so much about the memoir police but the fiction police. Will I get in trouble for stealing the ideas from reality? As a journalist, this is where I find my voice. But I still make up a great deal.
Advice appreciated. I feel stuck here until I know how to go forward.