Writing it 'Slant'

Some thoughts on Creative Non-Fiction vs Narrative Non-Fiction, and the beginning of a series of posts about all things fact-based storytelling.

What separates Creative Non-Fiction from non-fiction? What’s the difference between Creative Non-Fiction and Narrative Non-Fiction? The boundaries between forms and genres are continually being re-negotiated but an absence of absolute consensus (when is there ever such a thing? And when is it necessarily a good thing?) but I won’t default to the ‘it’s all semantics’ or ‘who are you to say’ pseudo-enlightened cop out because that helps nobody and achieves nothing. Of course it’s semantics, what isn’t?

The next step is to interrogate those semantics. To find why one thing might not be considered another; to come to a better understanding. It might seem liberating for about ten seconds to live in a life without categories but then you realise the chaos that ensues when nobody knows where to find your book online or in a shop; anytime you have to describe what it is you write to a friend, a reader, to the trade; or for your own sense of identity as a writer.

We categorise for a reason. It helps us organise our perceptions, store vast amounts of information and quickly navigate the complexities of the world. However, that’s not to say that categorisation can’t be lazy or incomplete, especially when we categorise things we don’t really know about or the boxes we put things in become too restrictive. And that, I think, is the real reason why people so often resist categorisation.

I like being a writer of Narrative Non-Fiction; it’s where I’ve found my niche, before this I was flailing about for two decades without really knowing who I was, what I was all about or where my true strengths were as a writer. It’s something I have a PhD in – and I’m only one of the few to be able to say so because it’s not something that was traditionally able to study as a PhD.

A growing sense of the genre has important practical applications like degree programmes and modules, research journals, funding proposals, publications and publishers and a growing community that self-organise around their chosen genre.

It would be very difficult to write Narrative Non-Fiction without first having some kind of understanding of what it is, what it isn’t and what differentiates the form from more conventional examples of Fiction or Non-Fiction.

As for who are you to say: Readers, Writers, Editors, Publishers, Librarians, Booksellers, Critics, Teachers, Lawmakers, Journalists, Subjects of the work and pretty much anybody else interested or connected with the impact of non-fiction narratives are all entitled to their opinion.

Having some kind of omerta isn’t going to help anybody or progress the discussion further. Categorisations can and are useful but only so much as they’re part of a discourse that’s ongoing, inclusive and ready to adapt and change as people’s responses to the form adapt and change.

In today’s post-truth kind of world, understanding how narrative non-fictions can shed light on complex issues is just as important as how we understand we should read these texts and not fall into the same truth-bending, sensationlised, kayfabe re-arrangement of reality to suit our stories.

For me, having some kind of definition to use is useful to help you define what it is you’re doing and to signal to others what it is you think you’re doing or trying to do. It can also be just as useful to have a definition to work against as it is to work with. This kind of dialogic tension is really useful when trying to achieve any kind of self-definition.

In the world of Narrative Non-Fiction, this can be incredible important not only for artistic or commercial reasons, but also for political, personal and ethical ones too. The implicit pact you make with a reader is not just a legal one, but one made person to person based on trust.

Especially in our Protestant, Puritanically-rooted culture in which the book is a moral object, people soon get very pissed off when you present something as true and it’s not or not quite true. James Frey was forced into a public humiliation for exaggerating elements of his ‘memoir’ A Million Little Pieces and forced to apologise on Oprah who felt ‘duped’ (she later apologised for her over-reaction), whereas hiding under the camouflage of autofiction Karl Ove Knausgaard was able to write pretty much at total liberty, only having to change a few names and details. The distinction between autobiographical and semi-autobiographical can be seismic.

Over the next few months while I work on a kind of true crime meets social history of Class and reportage non-fiction narrative about the Shannon Matthews kidnap, I’ll be posting about the various issues and questions that pop up when you’re writing Narrative Non-Fiction. Partly to share anything useful I find, but also to think out aloud, to pose questions and engage in discussion about the subject and think about things in new or different ways.

I’ll be thinking about things like:

How do you know what your themes are and why do you need them?

How do you know the story you’re working on, is the story you should be working on?

How do we go about researching our subjects?

Who’s story is this to tell? And how do I tell one person’s story without involving others?

How much creative license do you have or should you have?

How much access do you need? And what do you do if you don’t have access?

When is it time to let a story go?

How do you pitch and write proposals?

Are you the right person to write your story?

So, anyway, before we get started proper, let me have a go at defining my own category.

Creative Non-Fiction and Narrative Non-Fiction are terms used almost interchangeably. I prefer the latter – why? Well, firstly because anything suffixed by Creative sounds instantly wafty and airy; it also has something faintly patronising about it, as it Non-Fiction isn’t creative (it is).

Which leads to a further complication, in that plenty of ‘straight’ Non-Fiction contains plenty of creativity, interesting allusions, symbolism, subtly of tone and voice, etc. Basing the category on creativity alone risks making such a blurry distinction it’s not fit for purpose. I guess one thing the term has going for it is this: it works as an umbrella for hybrid forms that aren’t narratively driven, so verse/prose hybrids or things more lyrical or anti-narrative in flavour, but I prefer the term Narrative Non-Fiction for the kind of writing I do.

There’s no messing around there, so no backdoor aesthetic judgements. It’s Non-Fiction written like a Narrative. And what’s a narrative? Well, in a dramatic sense it’s not just summarising or reporting events (which people often get muddled up with) it’s the use of characterisation, dialogue, setting, arcs, scenes and beats. Yet every word written, every statement declared, every assertion will have been backed up by credible and or multiple sources. It’s not just based on real events and characters; it dramatises what happened. Where you deviate or make your own suppositions, these are flagged up within the text if you’re using autofictional devices say, or reserved for the afterward.

Not every story in the world will fit neatly into these distinctions’s but the vast majority will, so there’s some utility there. It’s writing Non-Fiction not like journalism, but in exactly the same way you would approach a novel or a screenplay, it’s just that the subject matter is factual. It’s the difference between a biopic and a documentary. It’s Narrative Non-Fiction.