P is for Phoney

And for the Pixies

There's an interesting debate going on over at Pimp My Novel about how factual memoirs should be. This is an old problem, fiction in memoir, that keeps resurfacing. The latest kerfuffle revolves around Three Cups of Tea author Greg Mortenson. The WSJ has a piece here with specific allegations against him, but they are basically of two counts: Greg Mortenson made up parts of the story in his memoir and he misappropriated funds due to his charity.

Obviously the misappropriated funds is black and white - it's just wrong, no question.

But making up stories is a harder thing to prove, to qualify.


I met a mom at a PTA event recently and she told me she was a writer too, but that she wrote non-fiction. We got to talking about writing groups and decided to start one up together.

OKAY. We actually met at a PTO event, but I changed it to PTA because I thought that was something more people would understand (Parent Teacher Association/Organization, for the un-kid initiated) And she actually told me she was a teacher at a community college, then told me she wanted to try and write non-fiction someday. I tightened that bit up, made it less boring. Also, can 'recently' be 'over a year ago'?
Finally, we did talk writing groups, I had already started one, and she said 'no thanks' to joining mine.

See? Even in this no-account blog, I'm embellishing, adding, editing to make things seem better than they are. I do it all the time when I'm talking to people, when I'm pretending to listen to family tell stories I've heard a gajillion times before. I'm dissembling. LYING.

Where is the line of truthiness? Where is the art (short for artifice) in the memoir? What's an acceptable lie, one that doesn't hurt someone? What's unacceptable? One that makes the author seem more heroic, admirable, marketable than she really is? Is it intent that matters?

This is a subject that fascinates me because I feel like I'm a pretty good liar (as I've mentioned before). I try to lie for good, not evil by being a writer, but I would never write non-fiction, I couldn't trust myself. And, despite being a liar, I have an adverse, visceral reaction to people like James Frey. If you're going to be a liar, for chrissakes be honest about it.

What do you think about fiction in memoir? How stringent should the standard for factuality be? What is a lie too far?

Wednesday! 3.23.11

I was trying to figure out, yet again, what to call this wednesday segment of links and the phrase 'Lancelot Link, Secret Chimp' popped into my head. I never watched it but my friend Joyce would always bring it up in high school during lunch. That was a time in my life when my brain was very sticky and I'd pretty much remember anything. So, for that reason, Lancelot Link Secret Chimp is taking up valuable, ever dwindling space in my head. And now, I bequeath it to you.

First, he pisses Oprah off, now James Frey's going to bring down the wrath of God. Jesus wept!

I think this is a cool idea, I just wish I'd heard of it on March first instead of a week before it ends. I need NaNoEdMo (National Novel Editing Month), I just don't think I can squeeze any editing into a week. But maybe you can? Good luck!

Finally, Laura Miller over on Salon talks about the new Bradley Cooper movie Limitless and how it relates to concepts of writer's block and the creative impulse. This is good because it makes the movie seem less stupid and fluffy, though it undoubtably is. When I take myself over to the Regal Cinema to see it, I will be telling myself I'm watching for contemporary portrayals of writer's in Hollywood. Or, wow, Bradley Cooper looks like a younger Ralph Fiennes.