We are placed in a precarious position as creative nonfiction writers. We have an obligation to teach and to entertain a person, while still staying loyal to truth. Sometimes this is a simple task--like those memorable moments where a situation in your life ends like a blockbusting film's final scene. But the majority of our life isn't that ideal. Sometimes, the truth isn't as profound as you wish, and it even may contradict the message you're trying to portray. How does one work with materials that don't quite seem to be the perfect fit? That's when the ethical question invades the writer's conscience: what details are crucial, and which can I tweak? Where is the line between truth and artistic-intuition?
The view point as a reader is a bit callous and unforgiving--when we hear nonfiction, we assume that we are being fed truth, history, and facts. We don't realize that such intricate expectations prevent the writing from being sensible or enjoyable. Writers have to tweak some information, blur some timelines, and magnify emotions--this isn't due to a devious nature, it's a creative demand. Just as a writer's audience would complain for being fed half-truths, they would riot over dull or confusing writing. HOWEVER. A writer must not use their responsibility to create satisfying, creative works as an excuse to deceive, or a means of making stories based on fantasy and calling them history. If one is a talented writer, they will discover a method of making their truth more fascinating than fiction.
No comments:
Post a Comment