Today we continue the series in which award-winning nonfiction
authors discuss the joys and challenges of writing narrative nonfiction
and expository nonfiction with a fascinating essay by Candace Fleming.
Thank you, Candace.
A
few years back, a middle-school student confronted me with a scene from my YA
narrative nonfiction book The Family
Romanov. He read it aloud to me:
After evening prayers, the family went to bed.
But Alexandra didn’t go right to sleep. Instead, reclining against a large
pillow and with her husband snoring beside her, she read into the wee hours. Wouldn’t the Russian Court be surprised if
they knew their straitlaced empress loved racy, romance novels? They’d be even
more surprised to learn she consumed them along with tins of her favorite
English biscuits. Crumbs of buttery shortbread, like snowflakes, sifted down
between her monogrammed sheets.
Unconcerned, Alexandra fed a few bites to Eira—her beloved terrier—who
lolled at the foot of the bed. These middle-of the-night hours are the
empress’s refuge. Swathed in silk and silence, she could forget the turmoil
beyond the palace gates. She could forget her responsibilities. Reaching for
another cookie, Alexandra turned the page
“This
can’t be true,” he concluded. “This isn’t nonfiction.”
“But
it is,” I countered. I’d written that passage with unwavering devotion to the
truth, with accuracy, understanding, and context. It was all 100 percent true.
Every detail could be attributed to a reliable source.
That
middle-schooler looked skeptical. Are you?
I’d learned about those biscuits from an affidavit made by one of the Romanov chambermaids:
“The Empress had a fondness for English biscuits which she consumed between the
sheets while reading late into the night.”
I’d
learned about Eira from a letter written by the Romanov children’s nurse: “Eira
sleeps at the foot of her bed, receiving tastes of the Empress’s favorite
English biscuits like a bad-tempered royal.”
How’d
I know it was shortbread? Monthly household receipts from Fortnum & Mason’s
for “shortbread fingers.”
And
that detail about Tsar Nicholas’s snoring? It came from his friend Sandro’s
diary; “Nicolai’s snore was mighty, constant and loud.”
Alexandra’s
friend, Anna, clued me in about those romance novels: “In private [the Empress]
reads stories about love… [some are] quite naughty.”
And
the physical description of the bed came from photographs. (Yes, there are
actually pictures of Alexandra reclining against that big pillow). Additionally,
when I traveled to Russia, I saw for myself how she and Nicholas slept in twin
beds pushed together. I also saw her monogrammed bed linen.
Needless
to say, I do a LOT of research. I don’t need to create details. I discover
them.
But
let takes another look at that scene. There is more going on than strict
adherence to the facts. I’ve also written with pace, rhythm, and flow. I’ve
tossed in the dips and twirls that made the scene read like fiction. And I’ve
told it with meaning, so that the scene—like the entire book—stands in for a
larger message.
This,
I realized, is what had confused that middle-school student. In his experience,
nonfiction often reads like an encyclopedia; history like a textbook. It is
just the facts, with no emotion or human connection. No meaning. This is one of
the reasons it is difficult to believe that narrative nonfiction is completely
true. Textbooks and encyclopedias train us not
to insert meaning into our factual information.
But
meaning is intrinsic to storytelling—even, or perhaps especially, when telling true stories. My job when writing
narrative nonfiction is to sift through the information, take select parts, separate
them from everything else, and arrange them so they have meaning, context, and
emotion.
It
is not fiction.
It
only reads like it.
Candace
Fleming’s titles include the Sibert Medal-winning Honeybee: The Busy Life of Apis
mellifera as well as the YALSA Excellence in Nonfiction Award-winning The Rise and Fall of Charles Lindbergh.
A recipient of the Los Angeles Times Book Prize, she is also the two-time
winner of both the Boston Globe/Horn Book Award and the Sibert Honor. Her 2021
nonfiction titles are The Curse of The
Mummy (Scholastic) and What Isabella
Wanted (Neal Porter Books/Holiday).
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9 Responses
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, Candace. I love how you give meaning, context, and emotion to the facts. The best narrative nf reads like a … story.
I loved The Family Romanov. The incredible amount of detail speaks to your research. And the skill with which you weave it all together demonstrates your mastery of this form.
Love this look at how Candy's writing is so well-researched that it might make something seem made up but isn't. I was so fortunate to learn more about her techniques in the excellent class she taught for the Writing Barn (which I highly recommend)!
I loved this book. Now, I see how you so cleverly integrate the fun facts into your story. The way in which you choose the sentence structure, the images to instill by placing factual bits into enticing ways the emotion sets forth. All of your skills come together and you give us all a treat to read. Thank you Candace.
I love how you weave facts together. I hope to take one of your workshops someday.
Thank you, Candace!
Emotion is so important in non-fiction bios! Thanks for sharing how you wove the facts into an interesting narrative.
This is brilliant! Thank you Candace!
Emotion is so important in non-fiction bios! Thanks for sharing how you wove the facts into an interesting narrative.