As you may have learned by now, this year’s anthology theme is “True Story.” Editors Amy and Deb invite open interpretation of the prompt and rightly so. Like most human constructs, truth exists on a spectrum, at least insofar as it pertains to literature. On one end of the scale lies biography and other journalistic styles, on the opposite end experimental forms such as fragmented narratives, absurdism and visual poetry that challenge traditional notions of meaning. But does this imply literature that elevates imagery and emotion over linear progression or statistics is somehow less true?
Depends on your definition of truth. Instead of continuing with this endless cyclical debate, however, writers may better serve their work by choosing a personal policy of truth. Rather than using a binary of true versus false when constructing narrative, consider the following elements: authenticity, consistency and transparency.
Authenticity is the beating heart of any work of art. Perhaps the most important question to ask is whether a story rings true to itself. Every genre of fiction maintains a tradition of unique conventions including which tropes readers expect to encounter, where certain beats fall within the narrative structure and how, when or if the conflict fully resolves. Deviating from genre expectations requires a mastery of self-awareness born from vulnerability. Why choose to kill the hero in a thriller, keep lovers apart in a romance or narrow the stakes in fantasy? Most often, breaking the social contract between genre reader and writer alienates both, but if the subversion feels authentic to the story you want to tell, proceed knowing not all readers will accept the challenge. Alternatively, experiment with hybrid forms. Your project may ultimately fall within a different subgenre or category than what you’d intended and that’s okay, too. Leave that level of analysis to the marketing specialists (if that’s you as well, try not to mix up your creator hat with the publicity one) and focus on crafting the most authentic version of the story only you can write.
Breaking the rules works best when you the writer understand what the rules are, whom they serve and why you are sublimating them. To the untrained eye, a Picasso may appear no less chaotic and amateurish than the average kindergartener’s self-portrait, but as with any art form, transcending certain conventions demands discipline and the invention of a new set of guiding principles by which the consumer engages with the art work. A new contract. As any seasoned speculative author can attest, consistency is key. Once established, rules of the alternative world you’ve constructed must be abided or you risk losing credibility and trust. Conversely, cement authority early and solidly by remaining consistent in the logic of your world and readers will follow anywhere.
The first two principles of authenticity and consistency only work with the incorporation of the third: transparency. Not in the writing—no one wants to see the raggedy scaffolding behind the sleek, twisty mystery or multi-generational saga you’ve constructed—but rather from the authorial relationship perspective. Cues like dialogue tags, time and date stamps and chapter breaks help readers navigate stories with numerous characters and points of view, settings and timelines. Techniques such as lampshade hanging, or lamp-shading, a trick writers use to diffuse a dubious story element by simply calling attention to it and moving on, make readers complicit in the fantasy. These subtle bridges between reality and imagination prevent unintended confusion or frustration from the reader.
Whether you choose to write about a real historical character or place flavored with speculative elements (i.e. Abraham Lincoln: Vampire Hunter) or an urban legend so pervasive it must have roots in fact, as long as you remain loyal to the nature of the story you want to tell, breaking/redefining rules with consistency and transparency, you will have captured a grain of truth worth sharing.