Writer’s Notes · The craft of personal storytelling
Writing About Real People Without Ruining Thanksgiving
Being related to the narrator should not automatically make you the villain.
The family story has always been funny. Your uncle tells it at cookouts. Your sister supplies the part he forgets. Everybody has heard it often enough to know when the laugh is coming. Then you put it in an essay, and suddenly somebody wants to know why the entire internet needed to hear about the rental car.
The story has changed audiences. A familiar group brings affection, history and the ability to object from the other end of the table. A stranger meets your relative only through the version you publish. That gives the writer a considerable amount of control.
Writing about real people well requires attention to that imbalance. You can tell an honest story while examining your own perspective, checking the details and deciding what the piece actually needs to reveal.
Decide what the story is yours to say
Begin by naming the part you experienced directly. You were in the car. You heard the argument. You waited in the driveway. Those are different starting positions from hearing about the incident years later.
Also distinguish what someone did from your explanation of why they did it. “She left before dinner” describes an action. “She left because she never cared about us” claims access to an interior life. Maybe the second statement is how you felt. If so, make the feeling yours rather than presenting it as an established fact about her.
A useful revision might read, “When she left before dinner, I took it as proof that she did not want to be there. I never asked.” That sentence leaves room for your hurt and your uncertainty. It also gives the narrator something to answer for.
Write the scene with yourself still in it
Personal stories become suspicious when the narrator always has the best line, understands everyone's motives and behaves with uncommon restraint. Before submitting a draft, look for the facts you omitted because they made you less appealing.
Were you already irritated? Had you volunteered advice nobody requested? Did you ask a question whose only acceptable answer was the one you had prepared? A small admission can change the reader's understanding of an entire exchange.
This is especially useful in humor. A joke at your own expense can make room for the reader without requiring another person to stand there and absorb every blow. The goal is not to assign everybody equal blame. It is to resist editing yourself into a witness who somehow played no part in the event.
Check a detail before building an argument on it
Memory is material to work with, and some parts of it can be checked. Look at the dated photograph. Read the email you still have. Ask the person who drove whether the stop occurred before or after the restaurant. A mistaken sequence can make someone appear careless when the original circumstances were different.
When accounts disagree, identify the disagreement. “My brother remembers this differently” can be useful context if you explain what differs and why your account is limited. It should not be a decorative sentence that dismisses his version without considering it.
Take care with dialogue. Exact quotation makes a strong promise. If you remember the substance but not the words, summarize the exchange. If a passage reconstructs a conversation from memory, make that clear rather than giving every speaker a suspiciously elegant script.
Private details have to earn their place
A detail can be true and still contribute little to the story. Ask what the reader loses if you remove it. Sometimes the answer is only a little gossip. That is a useful cut.
Consider an invented essay about a disastrous holiday meal. The forgotten rolls, disputed oven temperature and argument over who moved the serving spoon may carry the scene. A relative's unrelated medical history probably does not. The first group helps us understand the meal. The second asks someone else to pay for an effect the story does not need.
Changing a name may not make someone unrecognizable to the people who know them. Read for the whole portrait: job, location, family position, distinctive event and identifying habits. Decide deliberately what to include. This is an editorial question about the story you are choosing to put into the world.
Have the conversation before the surprise
When practical, tell the person what you are writing and show the relevant passage before publication. Be clear about what you are asking them to check: a date, an exchange, a factual detail or whether a personal disclosure makes them uncomfortable. Listen to the answer without turning the conversation into an argument you intend to win.
They may spot an error. They may dislike an accurate portrayal. They may tell you something you did not know that changes the scene completely. Those are different responses, and they deserve different consideration. You still have to make an editorial decision about the piece.
Writing for private circulation is another option. So is waiting. A draft can be useful before it is public. You can explore difficult material on the page without deciding that everybody must read it by Friday.
The questions become especially important across a whole memoir. My memoir work begins with voice, memory and trust because a book asks readers to spend a long time inside one person's account. For a quieter way into personal material, try starting with an object.
Before publishing, read the piece once as the person in it. You do not have to agree with their likely response. You do need to understand what they will encounter. Then read it as a stranger meeting everyone for the first time. Make sure you have introduced people, not merely distributed parts in a story where you already know who should win.
