Book Notes: Telling True Stories: A Nonfiction Writer’s Guide

Sometimes it’s helpful to look to other fields and disciplines for insights you can apply to your own. Frans Johansson wrote a whole book called The Medici Effect on how to combine ideas from different fields.

I think businesspeople, for example, should study journalism to gain insights on how to conduct interviews (market research) and how to tell stories and create narratives (all marketing is storytelling).

I recently read the book Telling True Stories: A Nonfiction Writer’s Guide. It is the assorted wisdom from many long form non-fiction writers. Below are my notes.

In my notes you’ll find out the best question to ask when interviewing someone (it’s the same question you should ask after a long lunch with a mentor), why Malcolm Gladwell writes 10,000 word profiles after spending only a few hours with the person, why to embrace your writerly quirkiness at the outset, and Robert Frost’s golden rule of writing.

All are direct quotes from various writers.

Profile Writing

After I have edited a profile, it must pass a test before I consider it finished. I ask the writer to give the piece to a reader who knows nothing about the subject. That new reader must be able to answer two questions, each in one sentence. First: How would you characterize this person? Second: At the end of the piece, do you know whether or not you like the person?

Often, I can get what I need in the first few hours I spend with the subject. Anything more than that is unnecessary and could even be harmful. I write ten-thousand-word profiles of people with whom I’ve spent only a few hours. – Malcolm Gladwell

Psychologists talk a lot about the difference between samples and signatures. For example, you would need only about five seconds of a Beatles’ song to identify it. Their music has a signature. With a very small slice you can know something profound about it.

I write profiles about ideas because I’m deeply skeptical of the legitimacy of writing only about the person. Profiles need to be more sociological and much less psychological. Many profiles that are written about individuals ought to be about subcultures. The individual is a means to examine another world—the world in which that person lives. When we limit ourselves to the individual’s personality, we miss the opportunity to consider larger questions about society and subcultures. – Malcolm Gladwell

Reporting

The best question a reporter can ask a source: “At the end of the interview always ask, ‘Who else should I see?'”

While reporting, you must lose control so you can accumulate the facts. While writing, you must exert maniacal control over those facts. You begin by being laid-back and hanging out. Take the great inhale so that when you exhale, you will have among your notebooks that detail that conveys so much, so economically. Weave that detail into the warp and weft of your hard facts.

“Curiosity is a muscle. The more you use it, the more it can do.”

Observation, the art of watching, is one of the most underrated elements of reporting, especially in newspaper journalism. The natural impulse is to ask questions. Sometimes that is wrong. It makes the reporter the focus of attention. Be humble. It honors the person you’re trying to observe.

Non-Fiction Writing in General

Start with your quirks—the idiosyncrasies, stubborn tics, and antisocial mannerisms that set you apart from others. To establish credibility, resist coming across as absolutely average. Who wants to read about the regular Joe? Many beginning essayists try so hard to be likable and nice, to fit in, that the reader—craving stronger stuff, a tone of authority—gets bored.

“A hen would fall asleep in her hand as she drew the hatchet back to chop its neck.” – Great description

The book’s language had to suit the occasion. You don’t “hype up” in the wake of tragedy. You underwrite, letting the events speak for themselves. You treat everyone with respect.

Read good detective fiction. I don’t think anybody does narrative structure better than good detective writers.

I wanted to spend more time with people who were not necessarily newsworthy. I believed then—and I believe now even more—that the role of the nonfiction writer should be with private people whose lives represent a larger significance.

This is the type of nonfiction that I indulge in, hanging around people. You don’t necessarily interview them, but you become part of the atmosphere.

Using Quotes

That’s my first rule about including a subject’s exact words: Do it sparingly. Using fewer quotes makes me a more disciplined and thoughtful writer. It forces me to think harder about my job and take better control of the story.

The best quotes, of course, aren’t stand-alone quotes at all, but dialogue. I try to include dialogue even in stories about the city council. Dialogue is easier for people to read than straight narrative, because that’s how we listen to the world and how we communicate. Dialogue opens up a bit of space on the page, gives the story some breathing room.

Voice

The way you tell a story over dinner is true to who you are, whether that is deeply analytical or extremely witty. At such moments you aren’t self-conscious, and you aren’t thinking about your editor. You can’t invent a voice. And you can’t imitate someone else’s voice, though trying to can be a good exercise.

Voice is—as the word itself tells us—the way a writer talks. You are speaking to your readers.

Inspiration

Joseph Conrad, a prolific writer, said there are only two difficult things about writing: starting and not stopping.

Robert Frost said it best: “The art of writing is the art of applying the seat of the pants to the seat of the chair.”

Good writers are most often plain ol’ writers who go the extra mile and then a few more.

On Criticism

A few thoughts and quotes on criticism.

1. Seth Godin says ignore your critics (you can never make them happy) but also ignore your fans (they don’t want you to change and change is often necessary). I say, Listen to a few select critics and a few select fans — the informed, thoughtful ones — and ignore all the rest. Let me know if you figure out how to do this.

2. Tucker Max muses on haters and worshippers and thinks worshippers can be as dangerous as your critics. He says ignore your critics who are usually fueled by envy:

No matter what, someone is going to try to put you down or tell you that what did sucked, or that it’s not good because of [insert spurious logic here]….You cannot be all things to all people, and no matter how great you are, someone will hate you. Even if you are perfect–literally perfect, with no reason for anyone to do anything other than love you–some people will hate you simply because you ARE perfect. Such is envy; it is all about how the envious person sees themselves and ultimately has nothing to do with you.

3. “Honest criticism is hard to take, particularly from a relative, a friend, an acquaintance, or a stranger.” – Franklin P. Jones

4. “To avoid criticism do nothing, say nothing, be nothing.” – Elbert Hubbard

5. If you feel too tied up in the good or bad opinion of others, perhaps it’s time to declare your own independence day.

6. One of my all-time favorite quotes is from Theodore Roosevelt:

It is not the critic who counts; not the man who points out how the strong man stumbles, or where the doer of deeds could have done them better. The credit belongs to the man who is actually in the arena, whose face is marred by dust and sweat and blood; who strives valiantly; who errs, who comes short again and again, because there is no effort without error and shortcoming; but who does actually strive to do the deeds; who knows great enthusiasms, the great devotions; who spends himself in a worthy cause; who at the best knows in the end the triumph of high achievement, and who at the worst, if he fails, at least fails while daring greatly, so that his place shall never be with those cold and timid souls who neither know victory nor defeat.

7. We value feedback more when it comes from someone who knows what you’re going through — whose face is also marred by the same dust and sweat and blood. Basketball players respect criticism more when it comes from a fellow player. Authors respect book criticism more when it comes from fellow authors, not because another author is necessarily going to be more perceptive but because a fellow author has an appreciation for the effort and the process and as a result delivers the criticism with due decency and empathy. Most bloggers, when entertaining broad criticism about their approach or style or rigor, probably value less feedback from those who do not publish themselves — people who are not putting themselves out there in a public and permanent medium every single day, not putting forth half-baked ideas in pursuit of the whole idea, not writing just reading, not engaging just lurking, not joining the conversation in the ring but rather shouting from the sidelines whenever they happen to feel particularly irked or impressed.

The lesson, then, seems to be that if you’re giving criticism to someone do so in areas where you can relate or have credibility or shared experience — if you don’t, and most of the time you won’t, then precede your critique by proactively acknowledging your distance to the matter. Then you needn’t feel like you must water down the critique itself. The chance your feedback gets listened to goes up exponentially.

You almost always need to do this when giving criticism to a self-styled “busy” person. Busy people — yes busyness is as much a matter of identity as it is a matter of time availability and schedule — tend to think they are uniquely, extraordinarily busy, and that this busyness affects all aspects of their life. Proactively say, “You must be really busy in ways I don’t understand,” observe the knowing nod, and then get to the criticism.

What Did You Learn at the Meta-Level?

Qualifying questions with "at the meta-level" means that the answer should be quite general in its implications.

You might ask me after I returned from Switzerland the other week, "What did you learn at the meta-level?"

A wrong answer is: "Zurich is a pretty city."

A possible answer is: "National pride is unaffected by the health of the economy." Or: "56 percent of the value of a trip is in the memories, not the actual travel."

Asking people what they learned from an experience is always illuminating. It tests how reflective they are (do they even ask themselves this question?), whether they are able to abstract general lessons from a specific experience (that is, answer at the meta-level), and whether they can separate out and discount the lessons rooted in unique circumstances (the lessons not generalizable).

(Hat tip Tyler Cowen, in an email, for this insight and the travel example above.)

Farmers Didn’t Invent Tractors. They Were Busy Farming.

There's a cliche in innovation / entrepreneurship which says, "Scratch your own itch." That is, solve problems that you know really well. Choose markets you know really well.

But a lot of innovation doesn't come from the people who know the industry the best. That's because the closer you are to how something works now, the harder it is to imagine a new and better way of doing things.

In pondering why millions of dentists haven't been able to figure out that flaxseed oil helps your gums, Seth Roberts channels Jane Jacobs in this excellent observation:

For a long time, Jacobs says, farming was a low-yield profession. Then crop rotation schemes, tractors, cheap fertilizer, high-yield seeds, and dozens of other labor-saving yield-increasing inventions came along. Farmers didn’t invent tractors. They didn’t invent any of the improvements. They were busy farming. Just as dentists are busy doing dentistry and dental-school professors are busy studying conventional ways of improving gum health.

Jacobs also writes about the sterility of large organizations — their inability to come up with new goods and services. On the face of it, large organizations, such as large companies, are powerful. Yes, they can be efficient but they can’t be creative, due to what Jacobs calls “the infertility of captive divisions of labor.” In a large organization, you get paid for doing X. You can’t start doing X+Y, where Y is helpful to another part of the company, because you don’t get paid for doing Y. A nutrition professor might become aware of the anti-inflammatory effects of flaxseed oil but wouldn’t study its effects on gum health. That’s not what nutrition professors do. So neither dentists nor dental-school professors nor nutrition professors could discover the effects I discovered. They were trapped by organizational lines, by divisions of labor, that I was free of.

Bottom Line: Sometimes the big improvements come when you scratch someone else's itch.

When to Trust Your Gut

Trust your gut instinct the most when it tells you not to do something.

If your intuition is to work with person X, maybe it's right, maybe it's not. But if your intuition is not to work with a particular person, you should probably heed it.

Positive intuitions are more easily corrupted by biases such as wishful thinking.

For example, when assessing a potential hire, you may be sexually attracted to the person. This is going to positively affect how you view the person and may contribute to a positive hunch on the person's qualifications, even if you consciously know your desire to have sex with her/him shouldn't affect your decision.

On the other hand, if you're not sexually attracted to the candidate, you're not going to have a negative intuition on the person. It's neutral — a non-issue. Any negative hunch you do have is probably going to be grounded in something meaningful or relevant.

Bottom Line: Listen to your gut in the negative more than in the affirmative.

Related Post: Asking Questions in the Negative: What Do You Regret? How Did You Fail? There is a penetrating quality to negative framing.

(The above insight comes from Auren Hoffman.)