Creative nonfiction helps us…
1) to become more humane.
When Milkweed Editions brought out my first book, Ecology of a Cracker Childhood, printed in its pages was their credo at the time. It said,
"We publish with the intention of making a humane impact on society, in the belief that literature is a transformative art uniquely able to convey the essential experiences of the human heart and spirit."
I believe this too.
2) to counteract lies.
My teacher William Kittredge had an unusual theory about literature. In the mid-1990s he postulated, to my class, that creative nonfiction was increasingly popular—so much so that it was absorbing fiction—because of, of all things, capitalism.
Corporations need to sell us things, so they have to advertise. They say, If you buy this, you'll be popular. You'll smell good. You'll get dates. Boys will like you. Girls will like you. You'll like yourself. But advertising is mostly a bunch of lies. Therefore, corporate culture is systemic dishonesty.
Corporations have taken on the job of telling us their stories and those stories become our dominant narratives—new iPhone, second home, Sugar Daddy, latest model, bigger lips, nicer clothes, fancier car. In a confusion created by an industrial life we lose track of our own stories.
This causes all of us to absorb stories with our radar flipped on, because we have to choose constantly what stories make sense and what do not. Therefore, we read creative nonfiction for its truth. We read it to avoid being lied to, to avoid being oppressed. We seek to reconcile ourselves with what we know to be true and to distance ourselves from falsehoods.
3) to find each other.
Besides needing a cadre of consumers, capitalism needs a work-force, so it asks Americans to give up homelands, neighborhoods, families, clans, and landscapes, to travel wherever we're needed for work. We leave the familiar and beloved for educations, internships, jobs, careers. We leave our hometowns and our homes. We never go back. Because of this, philosopher and author Kathleen Dean Moore surmised, in a now-classic interview in The Sun Magazine with Derrick Jensen in March 2001, that "we lead lives not of quiet desperation but of relentless separation."
Literary nonfiction is one antidote to a vast and growing isolation wrought by separation. It invites us into the homes and minds and landscapes of others, places increasingly hard to enter. We read it to find out if another human has learned something that will help us live more meaningful and happy lives. We read it to be together. We read it to hear other people's stories, since the front porches and post office steps are disappearing.
We are people starving for story.
4) to change outcomes.
I believe that most of us constantly seek to transform into better editions of ourselves. We want the world to transform into a better version of itself. I believe in the power of literature to change one life or the entire world.
These 4 reasons make the pen a dangerous instrument. They are why oppressive governments kill writers first. Because of them, a story can be TNT.
I have a favor to ask. Would you please share this post or this newsletter with someone you think might benefit from it? I am very grateful.
Join Me for a Fun Open Mic
Next Monday evening I’m hosting an hour-long Open Mic Live via Zoom. There is only time to read for 2-3 minutes per person, and we still have some slots open. Please write me if you’d like to read, and I’ll get you on the list. My Magical Craft TA Kate Van Cantfort will be facilitating. There is no charge (except for the positive ions you’ll get from hearing people’s stories!) If you want to join me in listening and enjoying, here’s a link to register. No cost.
How to Write in Scenes | Free Webinar This Sunday
Scenes are the building blocks of both creative nonfiction and fiction. So make sure you know what one is and how to construct one. Even if you’re a journaler writing for your own wellbeing, knowing how to write a scene will elevate your work. This free hour-long webinar “How to Write in Scenes” will be Sunday, July 23, 2023 from 7-8pm Eastern Time. Bring your journal because we’ll spend 10-15 minutes writing. Ninety-nine seats are available and 18 have been claimed so far, as of today. One has your name on it. Totally free. Live via Zoom. Register here.
Journaling Earth Grief | By Donation
This online mini-course starts Sunday, Aug. 13 and runs for 5 weeks. For one hour on Sunday afternoons live via Zoom I’ll guide you through readings, journaling prompts, and other writing exercises to process solastalgia, or eco-grief. I’ll hold a space open for narratives of sorrow. The time is 5-6 pm Eastern Time, and session dates are Aug. 13, Aug. 20, Aug. 27, Sept. 3, and Sept. 10. The vibe will be open-hearted, inclusive, and hopeful. There is no fee for this course. Register by donation—you decide. Here’s the link.
I Have a New Website
I found a wonderful designer from Oregon, Dana Harvey, who is part owner of Modern Masters. Mostly they work with healers and spiritual teachers, but they took me on. Dana walked me through a couple of sessions on branding, designed the website, then scheduled multiple sessions to teach me how to make edits and updates. I feel as if we became friends during the process, and working with Dana has been a joy. I’m still in training and we’re sanding down some corners, but the website is live and rolling. The branding photography came from Michelle Holloway of Savannah, Georgia, who was also a real treat to work with. Other photography was by Silas Ray-Burns, my son, who is a culture photographer & videographer in Northampton, Mass. and who operates under the name Crumbstarz. I highly recommend all three of these small-biz gurus.
My upcoming workshops and courses are listed on the website. I highly recommend the one on nature & place-based writing that starts in the fall. Here’s the link if you want to take a look. If you spot a glitch will you please let me know?
Be well. May the mysteries come when you need them, and may the sunlight throw gilded motes upon your work.
Thank you for an evocative piece on these compelling reasons to write creative nonfiction. I agree with what you say but did want to suggest it's not just modern capitalism and not just America that asks people to, as you say, "give up homelands, neighborhoods, families, clans, and landscapes, to travel wherever we're needed for work".
In America, 19th century "pioneer" grandmothers have become latter-day legends. In the Caribbean, there are newly unearthed stories of the struggling Indian entrepreneur who followed the British Raj with his box of wares (along with the indentured labour and other "coolies" of the empire). In the late 20th and early 21st century, it is jobs, fellowships, reporting stints that lead us to leave home.
As someone who left my native India 30 years ago, swapped my Indian passport for US and UK (India doesn't have dual nationality) and have lived and worked in 10 countries, home is where I've planted a tree...and told a story.
These days, my bread and butter comes from copywriting, mostly for the furniture industry in NC, but I am so ready to separate my self/writing from "corporate culture's systemic dishonesty."