I bought this book because it reviewed well on Amazon.com. It was a mistake. This book is for people who do not know anything about writing and who think for a second, “Maybe I’ll write a book,” perhaps because they’ve lived through some trauma. The premise for my complaints is this: The book was overly simplistic and it attempted to provide motivation.
Overly simplistic: “A metaphor is a way at getting at a truth that exists beyond the literal." This is the first chapter, which then goes on to describe, in five separate sections, the five senses.
Motivation: Miller and Paola give ideas of things to write about, like to write about your earliest memory. “It’s important for you as a writer, particularly a nonfiction writer, to think through what is different and important in your world, and what historical events formed the canvas for the fine brushstrokes of your own life.” Why would anyone attempt to write a creative nonfiction piece if they have nothing to say, if they have to consider the things in their life they could possibly write about? I can only conclude that the anticipated audience here is high school and college students who have to write for a required course.
That being said, I could see the book being helpful to someone who is a complete beginner to writing or who needs some basic help for a writing course.
Annie Dillard’s The Writing Life is referenced a fair amount, and that the authors liked this book should have been an indication for me that I was, again, reading the wrong book.
The most fascinating aspect of this book occurs in chapter eight: The Particular Challenges of Creative Nonfiction. Miller and Paola ask, “Does ‘nonfiction’ mean ‘no fiction’?” and soon after have a section called The Permutations of “Truth: Fact Verses Fiction. They explain the basic argument, that some believe creative nonfiction should be entirely factual, while others believe the word “creative” allows it to be as fictional as the writer decides, as long as it is someone tied to something that happened to the writer in reality. It’s a valid argument, and one that has been going on in the literary world for some time. When Oprah and many other readers of A Million Little Pieces discovered that the author, who had published his book as a memoir, had not had many of the experiences he wrote about in first person, they felt outraged and betrayed.
Miller and Paola make an excellent point, explaining that, as a creative nonfiction writer, you should cue the reader in, by making it clear what is fiction and nonfiction: “Once you set the terms of the discussion—once you situate the reader in that boundary zone between fact and fiction—then you most likely will be free to go wherever you wish.” This is solid advice, allowing the writer to write nonfiction with fictional elements, while not betraying the trust of their readers. Another option, of course, would be to publish your work as fiction, although it has both fictional and nonfictional elements. I believe this would allow greater freedom. Miller and Paola note with criticism that works published as fiction with nonfiction elements receive none of the scrutiny of the opposite: works published as nonfiction with fictional elements. I believe that fiction functions like a dominant trait, and once it’s added to the mix, it’s colors take over.
There is a section in chapter eight called Emotional Truth Versus Factual Truth that illustrates the slippery slope in memoir writing. The authors are not referring to perception when they use the term emotional truth, but rather being true to the emotion that memories hold. If a memoir writer remembers feeling shock and sorrow at a funeral, the emotion of shock and sorrow will be held to, but not necessarily the “factual truth,” such as what the casket looked like. Another point is that memoir writers may want to combine several people from their past into one character or change the order of events around for some purpose, perhaps to illustrate an important theme better. I think that this is perfectly okay, but the book should be labeled “creative” nonfiction, rather than simply nonfiction.
I think that when the term “creative” is added to nonfiction, it should allow the writer to use fictional elements. Miller and Paola show the argument as fiction vs. creative nonfiction, when they should show it as fiction vs. nonfiction. When a memoir is labeled nonfiction, I believe it should be true to reality as much as is remembered, and then true to perception. In this case, the author may be the only one who knows that he was true to his memory and to reality.
I found this to be good advice:
Miller and Paola give some helpful advice about revising: “Read the piece aloud and see if the prose has momentum. When does it lag and become plodding? Those are the sections that probably haven’t been refined enough.”