Why ‘Keeping it Real’ is Hurting Your Writing

I heard the word “springboard” the other day and it made me flashback to the summer I was nine years old and went off the high dive for the first time at the community pool.

Except that I didn’t. What really happened was pure humiliation: I climbed the long ladder for what felt like ages, shuffled to the edge of the diving board, looked down, and froze. Uh-uh. There was no way I was jumping. With shaking knees, I backed up and started down the ladder, which was a slow process because I had to wait for all the kids behind me to back up too. And then I went home.

That’s my true story.

If I were to fictionalize that moment, I might add the jeers and taunts of bratty, impatient kids. I might describe how, on my way down, I caught the eye of the boy I liked from school, the boy I didn’t know was at the pool until I glanced up and saw him staring at my flaming red face. Or I might think about how I had bragged to my father, who was never home or always distracted when he was, that I went off the high dive every day and that today would be one more day of lying.

That’s all made up, but which versions are more interesting?

If I want my story to rise to the level of dramatic action and I stick with the true version, the result is the equivalent of a belly flop. It lands on the page with some of the necessary force, but none of the finesse. It’s an abrupt, cringy moment that’s here and gone rather than a tale of sublime or memorable achievement.

And this is where it gets tricky writing fiction based on true events; that pesky thing called reality always wants to drown out artistry.

So often I hear, “But that’s the way it happened!” The goal seems to be recreating true events as faithfully as possible on the page.

Don’t fall for that trap.

As my mentor, Jerry Cleaver, writes in his book Immediate Fiction, “Fiction reflects reality—the truth of reality. But fiction is not reality. It’s concentrated, intensified reality. It’s the essence of reality. In a sense, it’s more real than reality. It certainly reveals more truth than everyday reality. And it’s never as mild as reality often is.”

At the recent Chicago Writers’ Association conference, novelist Kathryn Craft said that writers can get carried away with the feeling that they’re channeling their characters (guilty!). “I’m being true to my character,” you might say. “That’s what she said!” It’s easy to feel that the voice of God is flowing through you.

But that approach is more akin to taking dictation than writing dialogue. You, as the author, can and should take back your power. Just because your character says something to you doesn’t mean it belongs in your story.

Craft said, “Writing a novel does not mean your story is any less true. It may not be factual but the Truth can be more compelling than the facts.”

And if you’re writing memoir? Certainly “keeping it real” is the goal, and the facts will be necessary. But they’re still like rungs on a ladder, leading you to a higher view, and ultimately encouraging a more courageous leap than you were perhaps capable of in “real life.”

Think of your writing as a long climb toward a higher view. Reality is the springboard. Good storytelling requires the leap.