Here’s what my husband did   He recounted, in vivid detail, the anecdote as told by Pauling.  He then presented the documentary evidence that disproved Pauling’s story.  He didn’t do that to show that Pauling had a faulty memory or to show off what a meticulous research he himself was.  He did it because Pauling’s erroneous story illuminated something about him -- which, after all, is the purpose of biography.  After recounting the anecdote and the reality of the Pauling’s father’s arrest, he added this sentence, at the end:  “His son’s fond mixing of memories reveals his image of his father as a sympathetic protector who suffered because of loyalty to his son.”

In other words, although the story Linus told was not true in the sense of being factual, it was emotionally true.  But not just that:  In its flawed factuality, the anecdote revealed a bigger truth than the event itself.  It revealed how Linus perceived his father at the time and how he needed to remember him.  That perception is tremendously important.  The story Pauling told becomes even more important, more potent, when you find out it wasn’t factually true.

So really we are talking about two kinds of truths:  factual truth and emotional truth.

As narrative nonfiction writers, should we care about both?  About either?  About neither? Which truth, whose truth should we tell?

This is not an easy question to answer.  It is maybe more difficult today than ever before, as factual truth has taken a beating – from Random House to the White House.

We live at a time when Reality TV is scripted and edited and everybody knows it, and it is still called Reality.

We live at a time when nonfiction, the label, the title, is suspect. When something is published as nonfiction – that is, fact, reality – that is not the end of the conversation, but the beginning. 

Today we have the infamous but certainly not singularly culpable James Frey, who wrote a nonfiction book which turned out to be, in some important aspects, fabrication.  We have a presidential biographer inserting imaginary characters in a work of nonfiction.  We have an acclaimed memoir written by an edgy teen which is later discovered to be the concoction of two middle-aged writers – not just the book itself but the author, the persona is a complete fabrication.  What are we to make of this?

Have we gotten to a point where there no difference between truth and fiction?

I am here to say there is a difference.  And, as a true believer in the power and authenticity of nonfiction, I am here to fight for that difference.

This is not to say that in fiction, in everything from pure fabrication to misremembered events there cannot be great truth…great emotional truth.  Of course there can be. 

But I think our responsibility as tellers of other people’s stories is to find and verify the factual truth while appreciating, honoring and learning from the emotional truth.  We enhance the emotional truth when we pay attention to the factual truth.  We do not have to sacrifice factual truth for emotional resonance, just as we do not have to sacrifice factual truth for dramatic storytelling.

No sacrifices are necessary.  We can have both factual and emotional truth, both factual truth and dramatic storytelling.  It takes work.  It takes diligence.  But it is work we must do.

Here are ten guidelines for the narrative writer:

1. Remember that we are in the nonfiction business. And proud of it.
2. Recognize that there is factual, literal truth – that may or may not be independently verifiable – and emotional truth.
3. Remember that factual truth does not have to be, nor should it be, sacrificed in favor of emotional truth.
4. Recognize that factual truth – or lack thereof -- enhances emotional truth.  Knowing that the story Linus Pauling told about his father is not true makes it even more poignant than if it were true.  If my husband had just accepted and told this story as literal truth, he would not only have been remiss in his duty to nonfiction, but he would have ended up writing a passage that had LESS power than it does.
5. Determine what is verifiable and make an effort to verify.  Names, dates, places, descriptions can often be checked in documents and reports, press clippings, reference books, maps, scrapbooks, photo albums. 
6. Listen carefully and openly to divergent stories, different tales told of the same event by different participants.  Don’t disregard conflicting information.  The conflict itself is interesting to the story.
7. Find the factual truth if you can
8. Understand the emotional truth that lies beneath it…either beneath the literal truth or, if the story turns out not to check out, the emotional truth underneath the falsely remembered story.
9. Balance the two for a story that has both authenticity and resonance.
10. Do your part, with every story you write, to hold the line.  Readers, citizens need to get back a sense of confidence that what is presented as nonfiction IS nonfiction.