Tell the Fucking Truth, by Josh Stallings

Give us your writer’s manifesto.

Ok…

Fiction is the lie I use to tell the truth. 

This has been my motto since I started writing. I thought it was wise and therefore by discovering it I by extension must be wise. Then the internet came along with is damn fact checking. And I discovered this statement about truth has many variations and has been around a long time. 

In1923 Pablo Picasso said to a reporter, “Art is a lie that makes us realize truth, at least the truth that is given us to understand.” That’s smart, I like that he includes that the artist can only pass on what they understand to be true. 

In 1926 Jean Cocteau wrote, “I am a lie that always tells the truth.” That’s also pretty good. There is plenty more evidence of the non-uniqueness of my motto but none that make it less true so I’m keeping it.

Before continuing I need to lay out some definition of what I mean when I say “truth.”

I am not concerned with the mathematically provable facts, they remain in the realm of non-fiction. I look for the amorphous feelings, the emotional historical ephemera. In that context “the truth” is personal and is fixed in a particular moment. As solid as it feels, it is also changeable. The longer I live the more I understand this. As a young man I was so sure that everything I felt was a fact. And they were, until they weren’t anymore.

I was afraid when I got sober it would kill my ability to write. For me, getting sober and staying sober is a lifetime practice of rigorous honesty. To be honest, means to continually be discovering what my truth is. When I was still drinking I wrote with a very judgy specter over my shoulder. I was afraid that if I let too much of myself slip on to the page the world would hate me. Villagers would gather pitchforks and that would be it. Part of getting sober was to write out every despicable thing I’d done — scary proposition— and then to read it to my sponsor. I was sure when I was done he would agree I was an incurable monster, and dump me. What he said was, “Sounds a lot like my story. You’ve got more guns, I’ve got more knives, but the feelings are the same.” That moment was the beginning of my journey to becoming a sober writer.

Truth is personal. Truth is changeable. Truth is the only reason to pick up a pen or keyboard.  

Question everything.

 

Certainty is wasted on youth. Wisdom is recognizing the ever growing sea of things I don’t know. My father saw the artist’s place in the village was to go out into the darkness, the realm of spirits and sprites and hunt for the unknown. He saw us as kindred to shamans. We go where others fear to and bring back artifacts, paintings, poems, stories.

For us to do this vital task, we need to stop letting Google and newspaper reporters do our research for us. Question what they say. You hear there’s a homeless problem and want to write about it? Then go out and meet some homeless people. Do it for real and you’ll discover there is no such thing as homeless people, there are just people with different levels of roof and wall security. Make new friends. 

“We don’t have a housing problem, we have a mental health problem.” I read that in a respected newspaper, has to be correct, right? Bullshit. Spend a week on the street and I guarantee you will be clinically mentally ill. The big masthead paper got the cause and effect backwards. Does it matter? Yes. If mental illness causes homelessness then we can blame the homeless for not getting help. If being unhoused causes mental illness then our capitalist free-market take everything pirate ship of an economy is to blame. 

Don’t base your work on other writer’s work. Even the best authors only give you their truth. We already have their books, we need yours. Think before you write. Talk to real humans. Recognize we all have agendas. Listen with an open mind and a cynical eye. Check on your own biases and privileges, particularly when writing about people that aren’t you.  

Question everything, and discover your truth in the matter, then write it. 

Live your life.

Socrates by way of Plato's Apology said, “The unexamined life is not worth living.” 

I say, “the un-lived life isn’t worth examining.” Life is messy and can be scary but if you want to write about it, you need to get out and live it.

Be motherfucking fearless.

Write what scares you. Write honestly. Write too close to the bone. This is hard to remember when faced with selling your work. What I need to write may not be what the market wants, or it may be exactly what the market wants. The market isn’t a monolithic beast, it’s people. It is also irrelevant to what I need to write. I’m not taking a tough guy write only nihilistic noir stance. Sometimes an idea that scares me is comic or joyous. In this cynical world the bravest move can be to write sincere hopeful truth. 

Do what scares you. Let your pounding pulse be your guide. Life is too short to spend a minute writing things that don’t matter to you.

*** 

After thought: I realize I don’t really know what a manifesto is. I was going to title this piece “Requiem for a Unabomber” because that was the only manifesto I could think of. I know what the dictionary calls a manifesto, but I keep seeing it as a notebook scribbled in blood and madness. If you have a favorite manifesto, drop me a note, I’m always game to learn.