Celebrate Nonfiction

Exploring the Joy of Nonfiction Reading and Writing

Nonfiction Authors Dig Deep by Tanya Lee Stone

Today we continue the Nonfiction Authors Dig Deep series with an essay by author Tanya Lees Stone. Thank you, Tanya.

I
am on a mission to rid us of the term nonfiction. It is meaningless.


Why do we describe an entire genre
of literature by what it is NOT? It
tells us nothing about what it IS.

I
no longer say “I write nonfiction.” Instead I say, “I tell true stories.” The
latter sparks excitement. Rightly so.

A
true story is a real adventure. It is something that actually happened, in need
of being captured, told, passed on. That’s what history is, after all. A
collection of true stories about ordinary people who have done extraordinarily
wonderful—or horrible—things that have shaped our world. And my entire
motivation for writing them comes from discovering a true story that so enthralls
me I can’t wait to share it with other people. (It likely also makes me an
incredibly annoying dinner party guest. “Did you know that Alexander Calder invented the mobile?!”)

Telling
these stories depends on all the tools we use for fiction—character development,
plot, setting, dialogue—with one crucial addition. The tool that allows me to
tell an exciting story without making anything up is research. To understand the
depths of this real-life character, to put myself in his or her shoes, to find
the nuances of the plot, to become enough of an expert to do them justice, that
research has to go deep. It has to get personal. Intimate, even.

There
is a magnitude of secondary sources, of course, but it’s the primary sources
that feed me. I’m especially enamored with in-person interviews and any amount
of extended time I might be lucky enough to spend with a person I’m writing
about.

It’s
in the quiet spaces, in between the formal interviews, that you have a chance to
learn about a person. To watch their body language and their facial expressions
in conversation, to talk about topics unrelated to your book; to know them. By the time I emerge from the
research, the subjects I’m studying practically feel familial.

Research
is another term that doesn’t necessarily connote excitement. But if you call it
what it really is—exploring—it takes on a whole new feel. When I think about my
roots in research, I realize I have been
doing it since I was a little girl.

Growing
up on the beach in Milford, CT, my sister and I conducted research every day. I
mean, what else do you call calculating how long it would take to walk the
long, skinny sandbar out to Charles Island before the tide might strand us
there, or how much seawater we should add to the shale we just crushed in order
to make a paste that could cool the sting from a jellyfish?

The
things I learned then are as clear and memorable to me as the personalities and
quirks of the people I have been lucky enough to explore in the books I have written.

In
Almost Astronauts, for example, deep
and varied research yielded me facts, insights, and emotional information
enabling me to write the opening lines to the book:

“One woman stands alone, off to the side of
the crowd. She paces back and forth—agitated, excited, impatient. From the
back, it is hard to tell her age; her faded brown leather jacket and blond
ponytail reveal nothing. But if she were to turn to glance at the group of
women on the observation bleachers behind her, you would see the lines of time
etched on her face. You would see a smile tinged with sadness.”


It reads like fiction but is grounded in fact.

Achieving
this kind of intimacy in true stories takes time. For me, it doesn’t come until
I am fairly far along in the writing process. My early drafts are a bit of a mess
for a while, truth be told.

There’s
a whole lot of reading and thinking and writing and re-writing, trying to make
sense of who this person really is and what is really going in the intricacies
of their life. As I revise, I dive back into the materials again and again,
searching and re-searching.

Inevitably—and
often just when I’m convinced I may never properly capture this person’s story—a
moment of understanding unfolds; it shows itself to me. It says: pay attention, this is what the story is really
about, and this is why it matters to you.

It’s
a difficult phenomenon to describe, but unmistakable when it occurs. From that
moment on, I know where I’m going. I can proceed with the business of getting
what’s in my head and in my heart onto the page.

Tanya Lee Stone is best known for
telling the unsung true stories of women and people of color. Her work has
earned many recognitions, including an NAACP Image Award (Courage Has No Color), a Sibert Medal (Almost Astronauts), and a Golden Kite Award (The Good, the Bad, and the Barbie). Girl Rising: Changing the World One Girl at a Time was her 100th
book. Forthcoming books include Remembering
Rosalind (Franklin) and A Story
of War, A Story of Peace.

3 Responses

  1. You're so right. I'm going to try to replace nonfiction with true stories in my job choice and vocabulary. Thanks for the insights!

  2. I love this post! I'm getting ready to write a new picture book biography and have been pondering that "moment of when understanding unfolds." Thank you!

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