Protecting the Not-So-Innocent
What to do with those jerks who make your story bittersweet.
Writing memoir and narrative nonfiction means giving your personal and biased perspective, and that includes describing how certain crap-fests went down with certain turd-like conspirators.
I’ve read pieces from fellow writers in grad school and past writing groups that shied away from including external conflict in their personal pieces. If writers included it, there were too many holes, making any conflict sound dismissive or juvenile or, even worse, boring. Kind of like when a toddler is telling you about playground hardship; no one cares because it’s just petty and nonsensical. Goodness, child, make me root for you!
I don't mind looking like a villain and indulging in my need to self-deprecate, so that’s covered. But, like most humans, we have people who acted like jerks during tumultuous times in our lives, and their involvement in our stories is monumental to the plot and important in creating relatability.
Here are a few things I consider when I need reveal the sad and nasty characters of my life in writing:
Don’t forget the good.
I have many Google Notes of long ramblings describing my experiences with a specific former FWB who no doubt took advantage of me. It would be easy to shred him in my stories with strong points proving how self-centered he was.
But there were attributes that attracted me to him. I need my readers to see that sparkle because it helps them understand why I stayed too long, made excuses, and indulged in his brokenness.
In a weird way, my writing should make you fall for his charm and feel privileged to coddle his toxicity with me.
Including the attractive characteristics of people who do wicked things makes them human, relatable, and, as Sheryl Crow knows, a favorite mistake.
Two-factor authentication
No, you didn’t stumble into an article about internet privacy concerns, but feel free to leave your mother’s maiden name and your high school mascot in the comments.
Especially when I’m talking about liaisons via my open lifestyle, I don’t want to use people’s names. Big nope. Some ethically nonmonogamous people are comfortable allowing their relationships to be front-and-center (usually van life, Burning Man types in their 20s), but most treasure discretion.
I also want my readers to know I didn’t fabricate details. As a creative nonfiction writer, truth is paramount. Sure, my admission that the first person I dated after becoming open was a Polynesian-Japanese former English teacher in Seattle could be a total farce, but more details offer more substance.
My rule is to give at least two defining characteristics to my meanies requiring incognito protection. This not only offers more authenticity but helps distinguish between multiple “secret” characters in your personal narrative.
Remembering that this is my version
I can’t say I hate anyone, and I’ve had some bad stuff happen to me. But even the worst offenders will come into my pages at a brutal disadvantage: I’m telling the story.
Keeping my bias in mind and revealing the dark corners of my flawed personality levels the balance… as much as I can.
I’m good at talking about my villainy, but when the established bad guy is someone else, it’s hard not to go on odd tangents about how they should be removed from the planet. If my case sounds too maniacal or the focus is more on the character than on the story, I’ve lost my way.
And, yes, I have lost my way if I’ve created a serial killer of hearts, dreams, and balloons at children’s birthday parties. This can easily happen when I write a rough draft with the sweet sounds of my “When I Want to Feel Like Shit” playlist and my enneagram 8 tendency to punish betrayal. (Totally normal, right?)
I try to keep these above reminders at the forefront when I write about the people who give my stories cringe or pain.
Keep it accurate. Keep it balanced.
Then after laying a fair case, get emotional in the next chapter.
Do you have some baddies in need of protection in your writing? How do you deal with the conundrums that arise when writing about unfortunate events and people?
Desiree McCullough is writing a piece about her relationship with the person she feels an overwhelming need to protect, her husband. (He’s a pretty good guy, though.) She’s done it before, so why not again? Find out more about her at desireemccullough.com or on Twitter.