The Ring of Truth: On Creating Authenticity in Fiction

By Michelle Barker

The quality we’re striving for in fiction maybe above all else is authenticity. We want our work to have the ring of truth to it. We are creating, as John Gardner calls it, a fictional dream for our reader that allows them to be completely immersed in the story, and it’s crucial that we don’t do anything to break that dream. One quick way it falls apart is if you don’t get your facts straight.

When you don’t do your homework as a fiction writer, you lose credibility with your readers. So researching—whether it involves details of setting, police procedure, historical data, or even clothing—is important.

Balancing Information with Drama

Here’s the trick. We want our characters to sound like they know what they’re talking about, but we’re also telling a story. Indeed, we are primarily telling a story that (often) isn’t true but that we want to make sound true—so we add information. But the balance of story and information is not easy to achieve. You may have unearthed some cool facts about forensic science that you really want to incorporate into your novel, but unless you do it carefully, that research is more likely to get in the way.

In fact, there’s a paradox about researching that all fiction writers must make their peace with. You have to do your homework thoroughly, but there’s a good chance that, for the sake of the story, a sizeable amount of the research you do will never make it into the novel. This makes it sound like maybe you’ve wasted your time, but the research will show in subtle ways.

(Side note: if you’re writing fantasy, you will no doubt be doing more world-building than research, but many of the same principles apply.)

If you think of research as an iceberg with that tiny tip being the part that gets used directly in the novel, keep in mind that the gigantic piece below the waterline feeds that tip. The more you read about the world you’re building, the more you internalize it, and without even realizing it, you will incorporate details into the background that bolster the authenticity of your novel.

But even the information that does make it into the novel must be handled with care. Information is a form of telling, and while we may be telling a story, the best way to do that is by showing it. Which means you have to find a way to weave in your research seamlessly, so that it actually becomes part of the story. If you don’t, you’re likely to end up with an info dump that won’t engage the reader’s emotions—and therefore won’t engage the reader.

To incorporate research into a story:

Integrate it into the scene as much as possible. Make it relevant to something that is happening in the moment. That way, it moves the plot forward.

Add Tension.  Make the information something that causes problems for the characters. Show their reaction. This engages the reader. If the information matters to the characters, it will matter to the reader.

Write it in such a way that it conveys something about a character’s personality. Then it adds to character development.

Keep it brief. A sentence or two maximum of research-y stuff in one place.

Break it up. Don’t stick all your information in one spot. Sprinkle it throughout a scene. Only tell the reader the minimum of what they need to know at any given moment. Remember, the story comes first.

Using Technical Terms

Making your characters sound authentic means there’s a good chance you’ll have to contend with technical terms and you’ll want to incorporate them smoothly into the narrative.

You're aiming for authenticity, so if, for example, you’re writing about a detective at a crime scene, you’ll want them to use a term like “livor mortis” so that your character sounds like they know what they're talking about. But this term may not be immediately understood by the reader and you don't want to cause confusion.       

There are a few ways to handle this.

Slip the definition in smoothly.

“Livor mortis is already setting,” Dana said. “The blood’s pooled—he’s been dead at least six hours.” So, we’ve elaborated on the term without making it sound like a definition.

Use a second character who doesn’t know the term, putting them in the same position as the reader.

“Livor mortis is already setting,” Dana said.

“Livor mortis?” Hendricks frowned. 

“The blood pools after death. He’s been here a while.”

Don’t define it at all. Trust your reader to either figure it out or look it up.

“Livor mortis is already setting.” Dana moved to the window to check the latch.

Hiring an Expert

When it comes to hiring an expert, much depends on what you’re writing and the extent to which you need your novel to be checked. Most people are pretty happy to answer a few questions. If it’s more than a few, it’s not a bad idea to offer financial compensation, but often they’re just happy to be mentioned in the acknowledgements and get a copy of the book when it’s done. If the questions are more extensive and form the scaffolding of the novel, it’s not a terrible idea to hire someone to read the whole thing and correct it where necessary.

Don’t be afraid to ask for help. People generally like to be consulted as experts, but you should be prepared to pay them if you’re making a significant demand on their time.

Accuracy and Authenticity

There’s an important difference between the constructive lie and the accidental mistake. When you’re using a constructive lie, usually for the sake of the story, you know you’re doing it, and it adds to the story rather than ruining it. With an outright mistake, you break the fictional dream and the reader just gets annoyed.

It’s the difference between using an incomplete sentence as a stylistic decision and writing in incomplete sentences because you don’t know any better.

The constructive lie can be your ally.

Postmortem is a good example of this. Patricia Cornwell knew her stuff. She worked in the Office of the Chief Medical Examiner in Virginia and took classes in forensic science. The research she includes in the novel, as well as her attention to detail, create a strong feeling of authenticity. In addition, the novel is based on a series of murders that actually took place.

However, being a forensic pathologist is not that exciting. When it comes to solving crime, those are the people who spend most of their time doing autopsies or working in the lab—not running around with the detective. While that is accurate, it’s not very dramatic, and it ruins both Kay Scarpetta’s agency in the story and her relationship arc with Pete Marino, so Cornwell did some truth-stretching here and allowed her main character to be way more involved in solving the crimes than a forensic pathologist normally would.

Is that accurate? No.

Is it okay that Cornwell stretches the truth here in the name of drama? I would argue that yes, it is, because it isn’t stretched to the breaking point. In other words, it doesn’t spoil the fictional dream.

When you’re writing fiction everything must be done for the sake of the story. You’re not teaching a course in criminal investigation. If it makes a better story to tell a constructive lie, do it—but let the reader know that YOU know you’re doing it, perhaps by adding an Author’s Note at the end of the book.

One Ring to Rule Them All

In fiction, if there is one ring to rule them all, it is to make your story and characters sound authentic. Make the fictional dream feel real. Don’t pull your readers out of the story with factual errors or situations so outlandish no one will be on board with them. Do your homework. It will pay off in lending your work that essential ring of truth.

Michelle Barker is an award-winning author and poet. She is the co-author of two craft books: Immersion and Emotion: The Two Pillars of Storytelling and Story Skeleton: The Classics. Her fiction, non-fiction, and poetry have appeared in literary reviews worldwide. She has published three YA novels (one fantasy and two historical fiction), a historical picture book, and a chapbook of poetry. Michelle holds a BA in English literature (UBC) and an MFA in creative writing (UBC). Many of the writers she’s worked with have gone on to win publishing contracts and honours for their work. Michelle lives and writes in Vancouver, Canada.