Whose Story Is It?

My friend Matthew Noe pointed me to this thoughtful essay on what a writer's obligation should be to real people who appear in their stories. I've faced that question myself so I left this response on his post, which I thought worth sharing in a post of my own.

It's an interesting and important question, especially for those of us who occasionally tell nonfiction stories. 

As mentioned in the piece, I think the first responsibility a writer owes to all the real people in their story is to get it as right as you can. I treat everything I do as journalism (even my fiction), and aim for accuracy while understanding that objective truth in human interactions can be impossible to know and everyone has their own perspective. Sometimes people tell me I got it exactly right; other times they say, "Well, that's not how I experienced it, but I understand how you did." I can live with that.

Also, to put it coarsely, you have to decide who and how much you're willing to betray. People live their lives in your presence with no expectation you'll be recording and broadcasting the details. Nobody is always at their best. I believe Alison Bechdel has talked about that in relation to her mother and family.

I often cite the example of my graphic novel "Mom's Cancer," in which I was not willing to betray my mother. If she hadn't supported the story, or it had caused her a moment of concern or anxiety, I would have killed it and no one would have ever seen it. On the other hand, I decided to include my stepfather in the book regardless of what he thought of his portrayal, which wasn't entirely complimentary. So you have different levels of pain you're prepared to inflict and take, and I urge memoirists to think that through before publication. It's one thing when it's on manuscript pages in your desk drawer, quite another when it's printed in thousands of books around the world.

With both "Mom's Cancer" and "A Fire Story," the predominant response I get from real people who appear as characters is some measure of gratitude for telling their story. Many are indifferent, a few are even sort of proud of their "celebrity" and brag about it to their friends. I can't recall anyone getting upset. Partly that's because I'd never use a book to deliberately make someone who's peripheral to the story look bad or settle a score. Villains (incompetent doctors, bureaucratic insurance weasels) are anonymous composites.

That's a line I draw that other nonfiction writers or memoirists wouldn't. Everybody's got to figure out where their lines are and ask themselves, "Can I live with the consequences?"

If it helps you sleep at night, there's always the quote by Anne Lamott: “You own everything that happened to you. Tell your stories. If people wanted you to write warmly about them, they should have behaved better.”