The Whole World

I’ve recently begun working with a client who has published two non-fiction books about violence and violence prevention, both with major publishers. He wanted, however, to write a novel about the subject, a psychological thriller, to be exact. He brings a level of expertise, after all, to the mindset of aggressors and victims, and fiction has the potential to reach a wider audience than his academic work. He’s got what I think is a good story; unfortunately, it still reads like non-fiction.

It's a strange problem to address, as it’s not necessarily easily remedied by merely instructing him to do more showing and less telling and include as much sensory detail as possible, though all that will help. I’m particularly aware of the difference between fiction and non-fiction these days as I work on a new project of my own. Technically, the stories I’m telling are true, are memoir, but I want them to read like fiction. This requires a kind of creative forgetting on my part. Yes, I’ve lived the experiences I’m describing, but I have to write them as if it’s the first time I’ve seen them in my imagination, the way I would if I were dreaming a new story about someone who isn’t me.

To do this successfully, I have to let go of the idea that I know anything. To be clear, I usually feel like I know a lot, as do most people who’ve been doing this living thing for almost sixty years. In fact, I depend on what I’ve learned to get about in the world. You could say it provides me with a level of security. Or at least that’s what I tell myself. The more creative storytelling I do, the less I believe my real sense of safety and well-being grows from all the hard lessons life has taught me.

The only way I can write is if I’m discovering, and if I’m discovering then I can’t know. The less I think I know, the more I can discover. It’s pretty humbling, frankly, but the reward is great. There is something so inherently mysterious about life. I’ll never solve it, but I can know it. That is, to see a memory or a moment without judgment, to just behold it, is to glimpse the totality and integrity of the world. All the safety you’d want waits within that perception, for nothing there is out of place, including me.

Check out Fearless Writing with Bill Kenower on YouTube or your favorite podcast app.

Everyone Has What It Takes: A Writer’s Guide to the End of Self-Doubt
You can find William at: williamkenower.com