When approached to discuss what I look for in a creative nonfiction submission, my immediate response was: “Are they writing about cats? If not, then Bye, Felicia.” Seriously, you have no idea how indescribably happy I would be reading all about your crazy cat lady ways and the beautiful felines that illuminate your lives. Sadly for me (although maybe not-so-sadly for you), I know that’s an unrealistic expectation.
So what do I really look for when I’m reading creative nonfiction? Well, first things first: Did you get my attention? Not unlike my hopeful attempt to catch your attention through my crazy cat lady anecdote, a label I proudly wear, starting your own piece with a well-crafted beginning is a surefire way to make sure that I make it all the way through your narrative. Like I tell my college freshmen in our composition class, the set-up to their piece is one of the most important ways to ensure that your audience reads the whole thing. An effective opening, I think, catches its audience’s attention and hints at what I’m going to read about later in the piece. Sure, that sounds easy enough. And yet, you’d be surprised at how often my students resort to cliches: “From the beginning of time,” “Today’s society,” or “Oxford English Dictionary defines X as…” These ineffective hooks exist in creative writing, too: “‘Twas a dark and stormy night,” for example, or “My mama always told me, ‘Life’s like a box of chocolates.’” I’d rather read about a cat that has absolutely nothing to do with the story than dialogue from characters I don’t even know or the weather happening during the moment you’re introducing us to. What I’m trying to get at is the more finessed the set-up is, the more likely I’ll be able to get deeper and deeper into your narrative.
In terms of content, I need to be able to believe what you’re telling me. Not only should I be engaged through your compelling set-up, then, but I should also be reading about something nontrivial that doesn’t fall flat as the narrative progresses. Defining significance is obviously subjective, but if the moment was one of importance, I need to feel and understand why. The submission doesn’t have to be out-of-this-world strange, which isn’t to say that it can’t be, but it should be compelling and engaging. Most of all, it should be believable. I want a glimpse at a moment that made you uncomfortable, that made you grow, that made you struggle, that actually happened. A story about becoming a cat, for example: Cool, bro. I really hope that happened to you (and let’s face it, I’d be super envious if it did), but there’s a fine line between a dream about being a cat and literally becoming a cat.
What isn’t believable is your impeccable memory for entire conversations that happened among the characters. Not to throw shade or anything, but creative nonfiction, to me, requires a certain amount of introspection and relies more heavily on the events that drive the plot forward. Passive dialogue is your friend. “‘Meow,’ the cat said,” versus, “The cat meowed.” While I hate to take agency away from your cat, or whoever else is making an appearance in your submission, I get a little suspicious when I read long conversations or directly quoted monologues. I’m more concerned about what actually happened and how it affected the characters in the midst of these things.
Of course, these are all merely guidelines: I realize and acknowledge that there isn’t an exact formula we can use to create the perfect piece of creative nonfiction. And honestly, I trust your judgment to write something that works and your skill to craft an engaging text, but I also trust my ability to culturally situate your text. That’s my job as a literary critic. (I know, I’m saddened by the inability to be a professional crazy cat lady, too.) Ultimately, I think what I’m trying to say is: “Are you writing about cats? If not, then Bye, Felicia.” I just want to know all of the cats.
-Joshua B. Jones