What Is Creative Non-Fiction?

Tucson Weather Today

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I almost screwed up yesterday while lounging on the loafers' bench outside Fry's Supermarket. Seated by my side was an elderly female welfare recipient who was doing sentinel duty at the nearby sand-filled cigarette-butt urn, watching out for any newly stubbed out butt that might arrive. Her name, I think, is Mary... or it might be Shirley -- she's about 60 years old, painfully skinny and always wears what used to be called flour-sack dresses. -- Anyway, she occasionally begs me to buy her a package of filter-tipped menthol cigarettes, to which I always tell her that I would never buy cigarettes for anyone.

The near screw up I mentioned came about when Mary asked me, "What's yer sign?"

Instead of sensibly answering, "Taurus," and letting it go at that, I loudly proclaimed, "You mean my astrological sign? Ah! I don't believe in that stupidity."

You see, I wasn't feeling my best. I had just walked a mile. And my stomach was still objecting to the heavyweight bout going on between the two thickly battered fried chicken breasts I'd consumed less than an hour before, and Mary, sitting right beside me, was indulging in her usual phlegm rattling cough, which did nothing to ease my discomfort.

She glared at me open-mouthed and said, "What do you mean, stupid? Lots of people believe in it. Even kings and presidents."

I stared right back into her face with its sparse set of brown-stained teeth, which was much too close to mine, and said, rather loudly, "Anyone who believes that astrology is a valid science is either ignorant or downright stupid."

"Oh yeah," she said, "How do you know that? I believe it and I ain't stupid."

I began to lecture about how the locations of the individual stars relative to each other, forming recognizable shapes, was determined by the location of the observer, and thus constellations were observable as mythical creatures or objects symbolic of astrological signs only to denizens of Earth, while observers in distant stellar systems would not see the same star-shapes that we do.

But pretty soon I noticed that Mary was moving her eyes about in a vacant sort of gaze over to the butt-less urn, then down to the bare pavement, then back to the urn, and it was apparent she was no longer listening to me.

"Are you going in the store," she asked me.

"Pretty soon," I told her.

"Treat me to a pack of menthol filters, would you?" she said.

I told her, "After smoking for almost 30 years, I quit cold-turkey on April 12th of 1985 at twelve noon, and I would never buy any cigarettes for anyone... never ever."

"But we're friends," she said, as she once more looked over at the urn.

I just sat there and shook my head. She stared at my face.

"What's yer sign? she said.

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BORN ON THIS DAY

Lou Costello

Born March 6, 1906

Died March 3, 1959

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So . . . What exactly is Creative Nonfiction?

I have to admit that my previous understanding (misunderstanding) of Creative Nonfiction was the incorrect definition many others besides myself harbored of it, of it being a fictionalized account of a supposedly nonfiction piece of writing. Or a fraudulent essay, of sorts.

Perhaps the best and most concise true definition I have encountered was proposed by Lee Gutkind:

Although it sounds a bit affected and presumptuous, "creative nonfiction" precisely describes what the form is all about. The word "creative" refers simply to the use of literary craft in presenting nonfiction--that is, factually accurate prose about real people and events--in a compelling, vivid manner. To put it another way, creative nonfiction writers do not make things up; they make ideas and information that already exist more interesting and, often, more accessible.

Here is the full article . . .

Additionally --

An interview with Lee Gutkind at Bookslut in July 2005 contains more information about Creative Nonfiction.

Now that I know what Creative Nonfiction really is, this might be the time for me to jump in and get my feet wet, as the old cliche goes; maybe this is a thing I can do, and do well enough, to appear in the pages of a recognized, respected, and reputable publication.

Or maybe not . . .

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I found a word I was unsure of
its meaning, so I looked it up.

risible

RIZ-uh-buhl
Adjective:
Meaning: Such as to provoke laughter.
Synonyms:
ludicrous - ridiculous - laughable - comical - funny

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Entering words, sentences, paragraphs and selected photographs or images into this blog is perhaps a questionable method I employ to ensure that I write something every day. Whether any specific entry is mildly entertaining, intensely interesting, or pedestrian and boring as hell is irrelevant. What is meaningful to me is that I have written (created?) something that day.

Maintaining this daily blog, like going for a two-mile daily walk, has now become a regular habit. Whenever I inadvertently skip a day from either habit I feel guilty and command myself to get my ass back in gear.

Habits can be both helpful and harmful.

How's that for a profound observation?

(Profound but probably not original.)

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An unfortunate thing about this world is that the good habits are much easier to give up than the bad ones.
--W. Somerset Maugham