One of the rules for writing fiction is that the events must be probable in order to be believable. After all, in fiction we try to imitate life — to a certain extent at least — even if the world in which we create is openly imagined.
As readers, we require that a plot operates in probable patterns, whether we’re reading literary fiction, genre fiction, or some other kind. If there are too many improbable “coincidences” in a row, our willingness to suspend disbelief (Coleridge), is strained a little too far, and over the inordinate amounts of happy or misfortunate happenings, we tend to say to ourselves “That could never happen” as we shake our heads.
That is fiction. It exacts probability.
But what about improbability in creative nonfiction? It is, after all, the genre of fact and truth of life. The genre in which we are not only trying to imitate life, but indeed represent it, in all its fullness and quirks.
And yet the truth about life — one of its quirks — is that improbable things happen to everyday people all the time. Things that you would resist believing if they didn’t happen to you. But we still believe them.
And so I wonder: why does fiction misrepresent our lived experience in this way? Why can “improbable” things happen in life, and we can accept them to a certain degree, but we can’t in fiction? I’m sure that each of us has at least one story we could tell from our own lives that go against probability, even in seemingly small — but hugely improbable — ways.
A little over a week ago, I received an email from WordPress editor Cheri Lucas Rowlands, who wrote to say she’d selected my essay, “The Role of Imagination in Creative Nonfiction” to be featured on WordPress “Discover.” Now, I’ve seen the posts featured on Discover on my WordPress Reader, along with their dozens (if not hundreds) of comments, and many, many more times that in “likes.” I couldn’t even fathom the amount of traffic such exposure would generate.
So I’ll ask you: What would you think the probability was of a small (73 followers) blog being selected for promotion by a team whose “Editors’ Picks” reach over 20,000,000 followers? Slim probability, very slim indeed. Improbable enough that you would never dare to put such an event in a work of fiction.
What if I further told you that the blog in question had been in operation for just over six months, and the writer was blogging for the first time with this endeavor? And that she wrote in and about the largely-overlooked genre of creative nonfiction? The slim probability has, in all probability, probably dwindled to practically nothing. This would be a bad plot, perhaps one that might appear in some third-rate movie. One in which the blog’s unprecedented exposure was the opening scene, and the lucky break for this little-known blogger who would then proceed to “make it big” in the blogging and writing world, in general.
Well, this is real life, not fiction. And it’s definitely not a movie.
When I received the email, I was excited as any half-wit might be. But then I went through the motions of incredulity. Really? I wondered, thinking about my short tenure as blogger and my small but faithful following. I’d seen scams before. So I re-read the email, trying to decipher the sender’s intent on sending it to me, and checked the sender’s email address, looking for the tell-tale signs of this being fake.
Oddly, there were no spelling mistakes. And there was a legitimate-looking e-mail address. And the writer had referred directly and intelligibly to the content of my blog post. Whoever it was, they were good.
But then I noticed a “Cheri Lucas Rowlands” (same name, same picture) had “liked” my post – one of nine bloggers at the time, I believe.
Was this for real after all?
Of course, those of you who recently followed my blog because you saw my post featured on “Discover” already know the answer to my question.
But I hope the point is not lost on you.
I would like to suggest that improbability is what gives creative nonfiction its veracity. Perhaps it even requires a careful writer to acknowledge that such a thing would never happen in fiction.
What makes good fiction, and what makes life work, are two entirely different things. Or perhaps, more accurately, they are at different ends of a spectrum of dis/belief. It follows that creative nonfiction follows life. And life is unexpectedly improbable, against all odds.
Since my post was featured yesterday 24 hours ago now, I’ve received dozens of new followers, many comments, hundreds of likes, and even more traffic because of my exposure from my day on Discover.
Do I think this will change my life, and/or revolutionize the way I blog? Will this be the ticket to my “making it big” like the protagonist in some blog-themed movie?
Probably not. I’m not deceiving myself, even in my humble imaginings.
Most likely, today will be very similar to my day-before-fame. I’ll continue to publish my blog posts, respond to my readers’ comments, and keep on going pretty much as I had before.
I write creative nonfiction. And this is real life, after all.
Question: What makes writing believable to you?
Commonplace Book Blog 
Improbable events are believable to me. So many have happened in my life (maybe younger people wouldn’t believe it).
In my non-fiction book in progress, my protagonist encounters a man he knows from a town close to where he lives, twice: once in the jungles of Panama on his way to the gold Rush in California, and again on the dock in San Francisco as they are both heading home more than two years later. They travel home together. A completely unplanned event. If I wrote it in fiction, who would believe it?
LikeLiked by 1 person
What I like so much about your example is that there is not just one improbable event, but a *sequence* of improbable events. Meeting someone you know once like that in a totally different place is improbable; twice, almost impossible. Or it would if it were in fiction! It seems like a really neat story!
LikeLiked by 2 people
Great blog! What makes writing believable to me is what becomes a compound of emotion and what makes me think about what has been written. If the circumstances with the characters make me stop and think and express some sort of personal emotion, I believe in their plight no matter how extraordinary the situation may be. Their veracity becomes mine; their life becomes something to which I can relate.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Believable writing creates an emotional reaction in us – that’s true for me, too. I also like what you said about believable writing causing us to think. If there’s emotional and intellectual depth, then there’s a believability, “no matter how extraordinary the situation may be.” I really like that idea! Thank you for sharing!
LikeLiked by 1 person
What makes writing believable?
Honest, respectful, entertaining writing where we feel drawn to the author and develop a trusting reader/writer kinship or “penship” if you prefer. Because of this trust we know we will not be fooled.
LikeLiked by 1 person
This is a great point! I agree – especially in creative nonfiction, there has to be a mutual relationship of trust and respect between the reader and writer, or else nothing the writer says is going to be believed – or it’s at least going to be questioned. That kind of writer (one we can trust) is called the “reliable narrator,” but I think it has more to do, as you say, with just being honest: there’s respect for the reader, entertainment as well, because the writer is concerned about the reader’s experience of reading, not just his own of writing. I realized I’m going on about this – I’m just really engaged with what you wrote! Several essayists have pointed out that there’s no room for “unreliable narrators” in creative nonfiction where so much of the craft is dependent upon honesty.
I love the way you coined the term “penship” for that trust relationship between reader and writer. Thank you for your engaging and thoughtful comment!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Heather,
Perhaps “believability” is seated in the observable sincerity of the author about the specific described circumstance, and more to the point, with the emotional connection that the author makes with the reader. Whatever the topic. This blog subject really got me! Your vulnerability about reality tied to the notions of fiction and non-fiction raises the emotional quotient for me and therefore your believability. Then again, your sincerity always comes out in the blog entries that you publish. So, did you win the lottery?
My thoughts today,
UJ
LikeLiked by 1 person
Yes, I kind of won the blogging lottery. Except that I didn’t need to gamble in order to do so! Thanks for your kind words about my post UJ, and my writing in general.
I like what you wrote about the emotional connection between the author and reader – it makes me think about the “penship” relationship that Mary-Lynne spoke about in a comment above. I’d not considered vulnerability being a way in which a writer can, ultimately, be believed, but that makes sense to me.
You mentioned something else that I’ve been wondering about lately, and that’s about sincerity. Yes, I agree that believability can be “seated in the observable sincerity of the author” (I really like how you put that). But my question is: how do we know a writer is being sincere? (It’s an honest, *sincere* question, though I realize it might sound otherwise). I’ve been thinking about that since an acquaintance told me recently that a talk I’d given at church had been “sincere.” That kind of took me back when she said that, and I wondered – “How does she *know* I was being sincere?” I was, but it struck me then, and I’ve been wondering about it since, how we discern sincerity in another person. When someone is speaking in front of you, there are audible clues (tone of voice) and physical clues (gestures) to help make a decision about that. But with reading, it’s solely the words on the page you must go off of. I’m not sure exactly what the distinction is between sincerity and believability . . . for some reason, in my mind, sincerity seems to be a level up from believability. Anyhow, my purpose of this part of my response is not to self-centeredly wonder how *my* writing might be sincere (though I do appreciate your finding my writing sincere!), but rather to ask the more general question of: how do we as readers discern sincerity in others’ writing? What is it about it? And maybe it goes back to what you said about emotional connection and vulnerability, in which case, it kind of comes full-circle. But I am still thinking about it!
Thanks for sharing your thoughts, UJ!
LikeLike
Heather, I’m over the moon for you! 🙂 ❤ As far as your question, first of all, that's a good question. Ha. I'll have to think on it a bit to fully articulate it. In nonfiction, I guess it's believable to me when it I can relate to something the writer is going through/sharing/thinking on in a small, but universal sense. We might have very different lives, but we can learn things from each other through the writing. Maybe with fiction, I need it to be very specific, not generic, because then it seems fake…like specific details of life, deep characters, and the character's inner life needs to move S-L-O-W…coming to the realization about certain things, falling in love, new jobs/moves etc etc…because I think those things aren't usually very fast, we wrestle with those decisions constantly. So all around the character it could be moving fast, action, issues, problems, but internally and how he/she acts is going to be slower. I used to read so many books where everything INTERNAL is happening SO fast…instant attraction and relationships, instant superhero circumstances, etc etc…those ring false to me now and tend to elicit a groan or eye-roll for cheesiness.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks so much, Amy! 🙂 I really like what you wrote about relatability being connected with believability. I guess if we’ve experienced something similar to what we read about, we can discern truth from our own experience in it, even if it’s “in a small, but universal sense,” as you say. I think that’s the beauty of our common humanity. And I like what you wrote about fiction as well, about being specific or it seems fake. I hadn’t considered before about the need for a character’s interiority to move slowly, but that makes sense to me – because that’s generally how life works, too. And great distinction between LIFE and EVENTS moving fast versus the interior life at a much SLOWER pace. I have to say, I chuckled a bit what you wrote about your experience reading the fast-moving-interior kind of book now. Perhaps it was a moment of similar recognition! 🙂 Thanks so much for your comment!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I was thinking a little bit more about creative non-fiction and I thought of an example, not a writing example, but it works I think. I follow this extreme sports/nature photographer on Instagram, Chris Burkard. His photographs are UNREAL, he travels the world, and you can imagine all sorts of things about how he lives etc and I never in a million years would have thought of he and I would have anything in common. Well, Instagram eventually created the Insta-stories feature, you know the short videos that disappear after 24 hours. He does all sorts of silly, down to earth videos, he’s a dad, and husband, and all the horrors/pain/logistics of traveling with a camera/film crew and kind of dangerous situations they put themselves in. Those videos make me look at this guy as HUMAN and totally relate-able to ME, like he and I could be friends, a backwoods country woman with lots of children that travels only occasionally. So, all that to say is that, I want that sort of feeling with my creative non-fiction writing…a grandeur and beauty, yet a down-to-earth, yeah-me-to-feeling. I’m still working on that, but anyway. 😉 Blathering.
LikeLiked by 1 person
What a wonderful example, Amy! It’s so neat that the photography that seems unreal is made real (or at least, the life of the photographer is made real) because of the behind-the-scenes look at him. It sounds like, while what he does for a living is pretty extreme, the other aspects of his life are completely normal and so he’s relatable as a person. I love that you shared this example! And a great way to look at it as a guide for your own writing. I guess that’s the challenge of writing: to have a completely different experience from someone else, but still connect with them in a meaningful way. Great comment. Thanks for sharing!
LikeLiked by 1 person
Congrats on getting discovered. I agree the chances are slim to none that it will ever happen. I can’t imagine how many blogs those editors must read every day and then narrow them down, but I’ve read there’s millions and millions of wordpress blogs, and only about 1000 get featured every year. You’re in a select group.
LikeLiked by 1 person
Thanks for your congratulations, Jeff! Those are humbling numbers. There are only a handful of WordPress editors, after all. Yes, it’s a privilege to be featured, but I hope I don’t let it go to my head. It would ruin my writing! 🙂 In all seriousness, I do think it was largely a matter of luck . . . not quite the right word, but something akin to it. Thanks again for your congrats! 🙂
LikeLiked by 1 person
See, I don’t think its improbable at all that your article was chosen. As a writer you have an excellent way of reaching people and making them really think. And think deeply. You create a desire for even those of us that aren’t as articulate, to really understand and contribute to your thoughts. I would never have guessed that you were just some small blogger with less than 100 followers. I didn’t research but after reading what you wrote I said to myself, “now this is a professional writer who puts my writings to shame.” But your sincerity shows in your words, as you were told, and it comes off in the humility in which you write. You speak as if you are on the same level as every one of your readers when clearly your writing is superior to many of us.
Your question: What makes writing believable to me as the reader? I think its in the sincerity in which they write. I don’t need you to speak a bunch of big words and spew facts, just be a humble writer who thinks of their readers and their characters they write about. Many of us would love to win the lottery but we know that its very unlikely to happen, write about something that although may be improbable or even impossible and make that believable, now that is what we want to read. Someone traveling back in time, we know thats not possible but our heart makes it believable because of the romantic in us. Its funny because winning the lottery is more probable than traveling back in time and yet I to me I can except that in a story and when written well I can imagine it so clearly that it becomes believable. Imagination is a powerful tool. When you are writing you have to envision the readers and write for them. So if you know your readers are looking for facts and aren’t looking for imagination, then write about winning the lottery, the rest of us will settle for the improbable or even the impossible.
LikeLike
Thanks for your kind words about my writing! It’s wonderful to hear that what I’ve written has made others think and want to respond – it’s one of the highest compliments I know!
I like your idea about envisioning readers. Having a “conversational style” in one of the characteristics (or goals?) of essay writing, and so if I’ve learned how to do that, it’s because I’ve tried to envision or create a kind of relationship between writer and reader. I think a lot of what you wrote about, particularly sincerity, is what we all want in a face-to-face relationship with someone. Makes sense to want the same as we read!
That’s an interesting point: that maybe as readers we kind of hunger for the improbable, even the impossible. I wonder why? There’s the romance part of it, as you wrote. And maybe when we read about improbable things happening to other people, it satisfies some hope in us that an equally improbable (but not implausible?) thing could also happen to us? I don’t know. I’m thinking more about it!
Thanks for your comment!
LikeLike
I found this post timely (though I’m also here because of your discover feature 🙂 ) because I’m at a point where I’m trying to figure out what makes my writing believable – to me. I would think many (most? all?) writers grapple with “is this what I want to be sharing? more, less?” “is this the way I want to do it?” “is following this rule important to me – is breaking this other one necessary?”
As others have mentioned, I think sincerity and authenticity need to dealt with and accepted in all their mess for both the writer and reader to feel the words’ truth.
Congrats on the discover and looking forward to reading more from you!
LikeLike
That’s a great observation: as writers, we ought to be sure we believe what we’re writing ourselves. And maybe a focus on portraying our writing how we want to portray it (accurately and with sincerity, for instance) will then alleviate the problem / question of whether others might believe us, too. Retrospection will probably result in believable content – for us and others. I really like that.
Thanks for your comment, and your congratulations!
LikeLike
Some great reflective comments in this thread. Coming late to creative nonfiction through a memoir piece and finding it a liberating genre. I can actual time travel and represent a past that I believe to be true. Believability, reliability, trust in the writing is more convincing when tied to indisputable facts – a bomb dropped on a community on December 23rd 1940, the last woman in England to be hanged for murder, a football team in a plane crash, a birth, a death, a marriage…all also potentially dry as dust though without emotion and narrative energy in the writing. Sincerity is, as you say, much trickier. I find it a difficult term as it can appear, at least to me, as ‘head on the side’ insincerity. I prefer authenticity. Authentic writing captures the sense of probable with the sense of possible or even the impossible – lightning striking twice or three times – perhaps even in the jungles of Panama or the dock in San Francisco?!
LikeLiked by 1 person
I really like your term “authenticity” and how you describe it – “the sense of probable with the sense of possible or even the impossible.” Authentic would necessarily encompass believable: if a writer is authentic on the page, the reader will pick up on that and see the writer as believable. I agree, there are some great comments on this page! Thank you for contributing your own as well! 🙂
LikeLike
When the facts become fiction, that is highly probable. 20M readers in WP following us because we were discovered, highly unlikely.
LikeLike