Writing as Adaptation
In my personal blog (Through the Looking Glass), I have been writing an Oscar series, based on my impressions of all the movies that have won Best Picture. I've finally reached the millennium and have watched both "The Fellowship of the Ring" and "The Two Towers" in preparation for watching the Oscar-winning third film in the trilogy, "The Return of the King."
Completist that I am, I'm also watching all the extras on the extended versions of the film my husband owns. In particular, I was struck by a short documentary about the translation of Tolkien's work into a screenplay.
Some changes were, of course, legend, such as eliminating the popular character Tom Bombadil. The filmmakers also contemplated giving Arwen more screentime by having her help with the fighting at the Battle of Helm's Deep. Due in part to a negative reaction from fans, they deep-sixed this idea in favor of incorporating flashbacks to tell more of her love story with Aragorn.
They also made more subtle changes, such as changing which character said a specific speech. For example, they gave a passage about Eowyn, said by Gandalf in the book, to Grima Wormtongue. This, of course, made the passage seem dark and threatening rather than compassionate.
As any writer who has borrowed from real life knows, whether writing fiction or a memoir, we do this sort of thing all the time. We borrow things that one person says and put it in another person's mouth, or our own. We move locations, heighten situations, modify characters.
I have done it in my own columns and essays, and as long as I adhere to the essential truth of a situation, I rarely hear complaints from family and friends.
The question I have for you, as readers, is this: how much can an author change the facts and still call a work nonfiction? Or even creative nonfiction?
And for the writers among us, how much do you borrow from real life?
Completist that I am, I'm also watching all the extras on the extended versions of the film my husband owns. In particular, I was struck by a short documentary about the translation of Tolkien's work into a screenplay.
Some changes were, of course, legend, such as eliminating the popular character Tom Bombadil. The filmmakers also contemplated giving Arwen more screentime by having her help with the fighting at the Battle of Helm's Deep. Due in part to a negative reaction from fans, they deep-sixed this idea in favor of incorporating flashbacks to tell more of her love story with Aragorn.
They also made more subtle changes, such as changing which character said a specific speech. For example, they gave a passage about Eowyn, said by Gandalf in the book, to Grima Wormtongue. This, of course, made the passage seem dark and threatening rather than compassionate.
As any writer who has borrowed from real life knows, whether writing fiction or a memoir, we do this sort of thing all the time. We borrow things that one person says and put it in another person's mouth, or our own. We move locations, heighten situations, modify characters.
I have done it in my own columns and essays, and as long as I adhere to the essential truth of a situation, I rarely hear complaints from family and friends.
The question I have for you, as readers, is this: how much can an author change the facts and still call a work nonfiction? Or even creative nonfiction?
And for the writers among us, how much do you borrow from real life?
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I think the trick is to have a certain amount of real life blended with imagination that makes it all seem real. That's what happens with most of my work and especially with Streets on a Map, my newest novel, which started from an incident and person I saw once and then a healthy dose of imagination.
A.R. wrote: "Some good questions, Alyce.Writers of non-fiction can be sued if they tell lies or blatantly make up information. So, by necessity, they must walk a straighter, tighter line. They can change water to ice or steam, but it must remain as pure and close to the truth as possible or they risk a law suit: or even worse--their reader's trust.
Good point. I can think of numerous recent examples of authors or writers who got into trouble because of falsifying reports, such as Jayson Blair at "The New York Times" or James Frey, who famously fabricated his memoir and gave Oprah Winfrey a headache.
Those incidents are infamous, of course, and serve as fair warning for anyone inclined to follow in their footsteps.
In the realm of personal essays and memoirs, however, I think there is a little more leeway. Think of your grandfather telling a story of the fish that got away; it gets bigger every time he tells it. Like you said, you might change water to ice or steam, but it doesn't change the essential element involved. The important thing is to be true to the essential truth of the tale being told.
I'm also fascinated by the fact that our memories are faulty. When I go through old papers or college photos, for example, I am almost always surprised by names and faces I cannot identify. I casually mentioned this guy named Scoop to my former newspaper editor when I saw her in person, and she said he now owns the paper. But the guy she described was not the Scoop I'd known. It took me a day to realize that the Scoop I was thinking of had been from my days with the college radio, our nickname for a particularly intrepid local newspaper reporter.
It's possible, with memoirs or personal essays, to tell your own truth, which might have been experienced by other people quite differently!
Dale wrote: "I think the trick is to have a certain amount of real life blended with imagination that makes it all seem real. That's what happens with most of my work and especially with Streets on a Map..."What exactly was the incident that sparked your work? I'm always fascinated by how writers are inspired.
The incident was seeing a woman sit down next to the pianist in Centrepoint tavern and start to sing. A whole novel was created from seeing that. Funnily enough when I was relating seeing the incident one time after Streets on a Map was published, my husband who was with me at the time didn't even remember the insident I'd built a whole character and novel from. Guess a writer looks at life differently.The incident with a spider in the novel is almost as it happened.
Dale wrote: "The incident was seeing a woman sit down next to the pianist in Centrepoint tavern and start to sing."It's funny how simple observation of a person can lead to imagining their whole life.
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I'll give my answer to the easy one first. How much do you borrow from real life?
I think most writers, whether they write fiction or non-fiction borrow from real life--or at least do their best to imitate it. Often, ideas come about by the people we meet or things we have seen happen.
People can be indispensable quote machines, carry interesting/annoying quirks, and be a great source of material overall in terms of their personalities, voice, insight, situations.
But I think there is a wide gap, more like a chasm, between what fiction and non-fiction writers can do with said information.
Fiction writers make stuff up. They take the truth and bend it, twist it, shape it, and combine it with new ingredients until it doesn't resemble what it once was. It might no longer be the truth, but it's still a truth. In a way, fiction writers are alchemist. They can take anything they see and turn it into gold.
Non-fiction writers have a different task. Their truth must remain, for lack of a better word, pure.
They often write about things and events that have happened to the best they can remember. They often include real life people (who may or may not remember things quite the same). That type of truth; one that relies on memory and insight, personal feelings, and time...can be very tricky.
How many conversations do you remember word for word? How often do we misunderstand either someone's intentions or meaning? If a great deal of time has passed how has memory of those events changed? How are they influenced by emotion: Aren't we all the protagonist of our own lives?
Writers of non-fiction can be sued if they tell lies or blatantly make up information. So, by necessity, they must walk a straighter, tighter line. They can change water to ice or steam, but it must remain as pure and close to the truth as possible or they risk a law suit: or even worse--their reader's trust.