You Can't Make This Stuff Up

1. Defining Creative Nonfiction: True Stories Well Told

The banner of the magazine I’m proud to have founded and I continue to edit, Creative Nonfiction, defines the genre simply, succinctly, and accurately as “true stories well told.”

Literary craft applied. Creative nonfiction is the art of presenting factual prose about real people and events in a compelling, vivid, and dramatic manner, much like fiction. The goal is to enthrall readers with truth as much as they are by fantasy, using literary techniques such as scene, dialogue, and description. This genre has seen unprecedented growth, becoming a dominant force in literary and publishing worlds, recognized by institutions like the National Endowment for the Arts.

Beyond mere reporting. While often incorporating journalistic elements, creative nonfiction transcends simple fact compilation. It seeks a "larger truth" by allowing writers flexibility and freedom to explore subjects deeply, often becoming part of the story themselves. This personal involvement creates a unique magic, offering both satisfaction and self-discovery for the writer, and a richer, more nuanced understanding for the reader.

Not fabrication. The "creative" aspect refers to the imaginative way ideas are conceived, situations summarized, personalities defined, and information shaped, not to inventing what didn't happen or embellishing facts. Brilliant thinkers like Albert Einstein and Abraham Lincoln demonstrated that truth, accuracy, and creativity can coexist. The cardinal rule remains: "You can't make this stuff up!"

2. The Unbreakable Rule: You Can't Make This Stuff Up

The cardinal rule is clear—and cannot be violated. This is the pledge the writer makes to the reader—the maxim we live by, the anchor of creative nonfiction: “You can’t make this stuff up!”

Credibility is paramount. The bond between writer and reader is built on trust. Fabricating facts, no matter how minor, or failing to diligently verify information, severely damages this credibility. Examples like James Frey's "A Million Little Pieces" and Stephen Glass's fabricated articles for "The New Republic" illustrate the severe consequences, including ruined reputations and canceled publications.

Truth vs. Fact. While facts are verifiable details (e.g., the number of floors in a building, a date), truth is often personal—what we see, assume, and believe, filtered through our own lens. Multiple truths can exist for the same event, as demonstrated by conflicting eyewitness testimonies. However, this subjective truth does not grant license to alter verifiable facts.

• Fact: Can be confirmed through research (e.g., weather reports, archival photos).
• Truth: Personal perception, memory, and interpretation.

Protecting yourself. Writers must be responsible for their own credibility. Publishers typically shift responsibility to authors, requiring contracts attesting to veracity. While disclaimers and permission forms might offer some legal protection, the ultimate safeguard is meticulous fact-checking and unwavering honesty. As the "Creative Nonfiction Police" (a metaphorical conscience) reminds us, we must police ourselves, treating subjects with respect and adhering to ethical boundaries.

3. The Pendulum Swing: From Personal to Public Narratives

The ideal creative nonfiction piece is one where the pendulum stops somewhere around the middle—a public subject with an intimate and personal spin.

Personal narratives (memoir). One extreme of the creative nonfiction pendulum is the "personal" or "private" narrative, primarily memoir. These works focus on one aspect, period, or incident in the author's life, offering intimate self-revelation. Examples like Kathryn Harrison's "The Kiss" or Frank McCourt's "Angela's Ashes" reveal the power of personal stories to connect with readers, even if they draw criticism for "navel-gazing."

• Memoir: Focuses on a specific period or theme in one's life.
• Autobiography: Covers the entire span of one's life.

Public narratives ("big idea"). The other extreme is "public" or "big idea" creative nonfiction, which explores broader issues, subjects, or other people's stories. These pieces, often found in magazines like "The New Yorker," aim to inform and enlighten a larger audience about topics like science, politics, or social issues. Examples include Michael Pollan's works on food or Dexter Filkins's books on war.

The universal chord. The most effective creative nonfiction often merges the personal and public, striking a "universal chord." This involves taking a public subject and giving it an intimate, personal spin, or conversely, using a personal story to illuminate a larger societal issue. Susan Sheehan's "Is There No Place on Earth for Me?" personalizes the "big idea" of mental health care through the story of a schizophrenic patient, making it relatable and impactful.

4. The Creative Nonfiction Way of Life: Immersion

Through immersion, a writer can see the story as it happens.

Experiential research. Immersion is a fundamental technique where writers deeply embed themselves in the lives of other people or foreign situations to gain intimate knowledge and firsthand experience. This allows the writer to "own" a public story, seeing the world through the subjects' eyes and capturing spontaneous actions and dialogue that interviews alone cannot provide.

• Examples: George Orwell's "Down and Out in Paris and London," John McPhee's "The Pine Barrens," Susan Orlean's "The Orchid Thief."

"Think globally, act locally." When choosing an immersion subject, it's advisable to select topics with national or international relevance but to find a local connection. This proximity makes it easier to be present when crucial events occur, as demonstrated by the author's immersion in Pittsburgh's organ transplant center or Carnegie Mellon's robotics institute. This approach maximizes access and minimizes "parachuting" in and out, which can hinder deep understanding.

Beyond the subject. Immersion often reveals unexpected layers to a story. Buzz Bissinger's "Friday Night Lights," initially about high school football, became a profound exploration of racism and misplaced priorities in a Texas town because he moved his family there for a full season. This deep dive into community life broadened the book's appeal beyond sports fans, illustrating that immersion is ultimately about understanding people and their interconnected experiences.

5. The Writer's Discipline: Passion, Practice, and Persistence

Michael Jordan, one of the world’s greatest living athletes, once explained his philosophy and outlook on life: “I have missed more than 9,000 shots in my career. I have lost almost 300 games. On 26 occasions I have been trusted to take the game winning shot and I missed. I have failed over and over again in my life . . . that is how I have succeeded.”

Sacrosanct schedules. Writing is a demanding process that requires consistent effort, not sporadic bursts of inspiration. Establishing and adhering to a regular writing schedule is crucial for progress and production. Whether it's early mornings, late nights, or stolen lunch hours, finding a quiet, comfortable time and place to write, free from distractions, is essential for cultivating clarity and momentum.

Practice makes better. Like musicians or athletes, writers must continuously practice to hone their skills and maintain high standards. Every draft is practice for the next, and even final manuscripts are opportunities for improvement. The author's "rope test" experience in the Coast Guard serves as a metaphor for life's challenges, emphasizing that persistence in the face of perceived limitations is key to achieving one's potential.

Passion fuels the journey. Beyond discipline, a deep passion for people, words, knowledge, and understanding how things work is vital for a creative nonfiction writer. This intrinsic drive helps overcome the inevitable frustrations, tedium, and self-doubt. As Joan Didion noted, writing is a way "to find out what I am thinking, what I am looking at, what I see, and what it means," transforming the act into a rewarding journey of self-discovery and impact.

6. Reading Like a Writer: Understanding Structure

Editing takes place in several phases, but it almost never starts with the line of prose, the sentence, or word choice.

Beyond the words. To truly evaluate one's writing, it's essential to develop two distinct reading skills: reading like a reader and reading like a writer. Reading like a reader involves stepping into the audience's shoes, assessing if the message is clear, the story engaging, and the emotions evoked as intended. This "over the shoulder" perspective helps identify points where readers might disengage or misunderstand.

Architectural perspective. Reading like a writer, however, means examining the "blueprint" or architecture of the piece. Before refining individual sentences or word choices, a writer must consider the overall shape, structure, and flow of the narrative. This involves analyzing how scenes connect, how information is introduced, and whether the piece forms a cohesive and compelling whole.

The "yellow test." A practical exercise for understanding structure is the "yellow test": highlighting all the scenes in an essay or chapter. A well-structured creative nonfiction piece will typically have 50-70% of its content highlighted, indicating a strong foundation of "little stories" that drive the narrative. If a piece lacks sufficient highlighted scenes, it signals a need to return to the drawing board and rethink its fundamental construction.

7. Scenes as Building Blocks: Show, Don't Tell

Writing in scenes is one of the most important lessons for you to take from this book—and to learn.

Action drives engagement. Scenes are the fundamental building blocks of creative nonfiction, representing specific incidents, experiences, or happenings captured cinematically. A scene must contain action—something, however subtle, must occur to advance the narrative and engage the reader. This "showing" of events, rather than merely "telling" about them, makes the prose vivid and memorable.

Dialogue and description. Effective scenes rely heavily on realistic dialogue and intimate, specific details. Dialogue reveals character and communicates information authentically, allowing readers to "eavesdrop" on conversations. Description, particularly through intimate details that readers might not easily visualize on their own, transforms abstract ideas into concrete, unforgettable images.

• Dialogue: Captures authentic speech, reveals character.
• Intimate Details: Specific observations that symbolize larger truths (e.g., Sinatra's arthritic fingers, Provenzano's diamond ring).

Inner point of view. Creative nonfiction writers can also make the "leap" into their characters' heads, showing the world through their eyes. This technique, mastered by writers like Truman Capote in "In Cold Blood," requires deep research and intimate knowledge of subjects to credibly reconstruct their thoughts and perceptions without fabricating. It adds profound depth and empathy to the narrative.

8. The Creative Nonfiction Dance: Weaving Story and Information

The objective of the dance is to embed information inside the scene or story so that the movement between blocks is seamless.

Style and substance. Creative nonfiction is a dynamic interplay between compelling storytelling (style) and informative content (substance). The "creative nonfiction dance" describes the rhythmic back-and-forth between scenes (story) and explanatory information. A writer draws readers in with an engaging scene, then provides relevant facts or context, before returning to another scene to maintain momentum and prevent information overload.

Seamless integration. The ideal is to embed information directly within scenes, allowing readers to learn and observe simultaneously without interrupting the narrative flow. This approach ensures that facts are not merely presented but are experienced, making them more memorable and impactful. For instance, a character's dialogue or actions can naturally convey complex information.

Purposeful communication. This dance serves a dual purpose: to excite readers with action and to educate them with precision. By strategically interweaving story and information, writers can communicate complex ideas to a broad audience, even those without a prior interest in the subject. This method transforms the reading experience into an engaging journey of discovery, where entertainment and enlightenment are intertwined.

9. The Art of Reconstruction: Bringing the Past to Life

It’s a given that a writer of creative nonfiction takes some license in recreating a circumstance, event, or memory—as a friend might do when telling a story to another friend.

Recreating, not creating. When writing about past events or deceased individuals, creative nonfiction writers engage in "reconstruction" or "recreation." This involves drawing on memory, interviews with living witnesses, and extensive document research to vividly portray scenes and characters. The key is to remain true to the spirit and verifiable facts of the circumstances, even when filling in details that weren't directly observed.

Meticulous research. Writers like David McCullough, in "The Great Bridge," meticulously use existing documents to create dramatic historical narratives. Rebecca Skloot, for "The Immortal Life of Henrietta Lacks," combined archival medical records with interviews of Henrietta's family and doctors to reconstruct her life and the context of her cells' discovery. This deep research allows for credible and compelling recreations.

Journalistic reconstruction. Even in traditional journalism, reconstruction is common. Kevin Sack's Pulitzer-winning "Shared Prayers, Mixed Blessings" featured a vivid church confrontation that he "reconstructed" from multiple interviews, not direct observation. While surprising to some, this practice is accepted when thoroughly researched and verified, demonstrating that powerful scenes can be built from diligent reporting, even if the writer wasn't physically present.

10. Framing and Focus: Guiding the Reader's Journey

Frame is the overarching narrative, the reader’s journey, scene to scene from start to finish.

Structural narrative. The "frame" provides the overarching structure or plot that connects individual scenes in an essay or book, guiding the reader's journey from beginning to end. It's the larger story that gives shape and order to the smaller, more specific scenes. Frames can be chronological (e.g., "a day in the life"), or they can employ techniques like starting in the middle and looping back, as John McPhee often does.

"What's at stake?" A compelling frame often establishes "what's at stake" for the characters or the writer, creating suspense and keeping the reader engaged. Whether it's the outcome of a fish surgery in "Fixing Nemo" or the potential seduction in "Last Tango in Westwood," this inherent tension drives the narrative forward. The frame makes a promise to the reader that the writer is bound to keep.

Focus and elasticity. While the frame is structural, the "focus" represents the essay's theme, meaning, or thesis. Ideally, the frame should reflect the focus, with most scenes contributing to the central idea. Stories (scenes) are elastic; they can be stretched to contain a lot of information and other scenes, but they must always serve the overarching frame and focus. Parallel narratives, where two or more primary stories unfold simultaneously, can add depth and tension, offering multiple entry points for reader interest.

11. The Relentless Pursuit of Clarity and Revision

Your work is never good enough; it can always be made better.

Writing is rewriting. The process of writing is inextricably linked with revision; they happen simultaneously and continuously. A "first draft" is merely a starting point, and true writers commit to revising and rewriting until their work achieves its highest potential. This iterative process involves constant refinement, from broad structural changes to minute word choices.

The "drawer phase." After completing a draft, it's crucial to step away from the manuscript for a period—the "drawer phase." This distance allows the writer to return with fresh eyes, shedding initial attachment and critically evaluating the work from a more objective perspective. Submitting work prematurely, before it has undergone rigorous self-critique, risks rejection and missed opportunities.

Clarity and efficiency. Revision also involves a relentless pursuit of clarity and efficiency. Every word, sentence, and image must serve the story and the reader, avoiding jargon, ambiguity, or unnecessary repetition. As Ernest Hemingway famously rewrote the ending of "A Farewell to Arms" thirty-nine times, the goal is "getting the words right"—polishing prose until it is as precise, evocative, and impactful as possible.

Last updated: September 16, 2025