Writing Creative Nonfiction: Objective Facts v. Personal Truth

Readers who are not writers may wonder what “creative nonfiction” is. Many writers wonder also. How can nonfiction be creative?

I recently attended a program at The Writer’s Place in Kansas City on Creative Nonfiction. Our presenter was Kate Meadows, a freelance writer and editor.

The definition Kate used for “creative nonfiction” was “telling true stories in a meaningful way.” Under her definition, I hope this blog is creative nonfiction.

Creative nonfiction looks for the real story behind the facts. It is more than the “who, what, where, when, why, and how” of journalism. Those are the facts.

In creative nonfiction, the story matters more than the facts. Creative nonfiction moves beyond the ostensible objectivity of journalism (is any journalist really objective?) to find and articulate the author’s perspective.

Many of my posts tell stories about my life and the people and places and objects in it. Other posts tell stories about historical figures and events. I try to craft these posts to give my perspective on my family and on history.

After I’ve written some of the family stories on this blog, I’ve had relatives tell me, “That’s not the way it was.” And that may not have been how it was for them. I tell the stories as I remember them and the truth as I see it.

That’s all I can do.

One of the important issues in writing creative nonfiction is the difference between fact and truth. As someone who has worked in the legal and Human Resources fields for many years, I understand that difference.

The words of the legal oath—in which witnesses are sworn to tell “the whole truth”—are impossible to satisfy. No one person can tell “the whole truth.” We can only tell our own version of the truth, the portion of the facts that we saw or heard, and what it meant to us.

In a conversation at work about an employee’s performance, for example, the words that a manager says to the employee are fact. The meaning behind those words, however, is truth. There is only one set of objective facts, but there can be many truths. The employee may believe “My boss thinks I’m no good,” while the manager intends to be encouraging—“Here’s how you can do better.”

Perhaps my experience is what has led me to want to write personal essays and editorials, though I’ve never wanted to be a journalist. I want to tell the story as I see it. I do not want to stick to the facts. I want to shape the story.

Authors of creative nonfiction use fictional devices to tell their stories. They craft scenes into a satisfying story arc, with beginning, middle, and end. Like short story writers and novelists, they use plot, dialogue, voice, selective description, and figurative language to get at the meaning of the story.

Kate suggested that as we write creative nonfiction we answer the questions:

Intentional use of my personal perspective on the story I tell gives me the “so what”. Tales of the emigrants to Oregon in the mid-19^th century fascinate me because of our ancestors’ courage in seeking a new life. I want to convey my awe to readers as well, and I hope that we all learn courage by hearing these tales of earlier times.

Almost by definition, if I’m writing about something, at least I care about it. As I tell a story, I try to point out universal themes that we all experience in our lives, and I hope that my readers then care as well. (And that more people come across this blog and are moved to follow it.)

And the why now? I often have a reason for when I time my posts, but not always. Sometimes it’s because it’s near a relative’s birthday or a holiday. Sometimes I just need something to meet my Monday/Wednesday posting schedule.

And sometimes it’s because I just attended an interesting workshop and want to pass along the tips I heard.

Writers, what does creative nonfiction mean to you? How do you honor the truth, when you know you only have a part of it?