Honesty in Writing by Kathie Giorgio

 

Honesty in Writing

 by

Kathie Giorgio

 

            Many of us were taught as schoolchildren that the difference between fiction and nonfiction was the truth. Nonfiction was true; fiction was not true. Nonfiction was real; fiction was fake. This is a very simplistic explanation supplied during our more simple time in life…childhood. But even when I first heard this, I questioned it.

            Ramona, in Beverly Cleary’s fabulous books, wasn’t real?

            Black, the horse in Walter Farley’s The Black Stallion series, wasn’t real?

            The pig in E.B. White’s Charlotte’s Web…well, okay. There was one that tripped me up as I considered this as a child. But when I considered it, I realized that the animals in Charlotte’s Web, the pig, the rat, the spider, etc., only spoke to each other. The humans didn’t understand them. So yeah…sure, they were real.

            As a writer, I’ve never written fairy tales. I have written magical realism, even before I knew what magical realism was. But mostly, I focus on literary fiction, with social change on a variety of topics. And because of that, I’ve always written the truth – at least, as interpreted by me.

            I very much remember the first time I was told that a writer should always give the reader a break if they were writing about something difficult. If it was dark, include humor here or there, lighten the load. Have a goofy, accident-prone character running through the story.

            I just couldn’t – that wasn’t telling the truth of the story. If my character was experiencing a crisis, he or she wasn’t getting a break. Humor didn’t belong.

            Then I heard the term “naked fiction”. This meant that the writer just flat-out told the truth. Period. No breaks, unless the breaks were the truth.

            I think this is really important. If you have a point to make, make it. Don’t bury it. Say it. Write it.

            In my new book, The Birth Of A Widow, I really had to talk myself into sticking with my own beliefs. This was different for me – I write everything, fiction, essays, poetry, but this poetry was as intimate to who I am, how I think, how I feel, as I could get. There were times I was tempted to give me a break, and so the reader too. But that would not have been honestly talking about the grief experience, especially the shocking death of a spouse.

            I was on the Oregon coast soon after Michael died, and I was walking by the ocean when a realization hit me like one of the ocean waves.

            My husband didn’t die.

            He was killed.

            And I realized that, even in speaking about everything that happened, I was quietly tucking this truth behind me.

            Tucking away the truth isn’t how you reach out to the readers who absolutely need to hear you, share with you, feel connected to you.

            So I told the truth.

            I always will. It’s what makes fiction real.