Are my books fiction or memoir? Well, both.
When I wrote my first book, I meant to publish it as a novel. I sent three chapters to a well-known French author. She read the chapters, and advised me to publish it as memoir. With hindsight, maybe that was not the best advice.
Of course, all writing is autobiographical.
“Madame Bovary, c’est moi” said Flaubert.
My favourite Junot Diaz – his novels feel autobiographical, many others, too. But are they?
So Lucie in my books is me, my thoughts, my way of thinking. Many other characters are real people in my life, but their names, stories and descriptions are fiction. Lucie’s life is not my life. She is not me and I am not her.
And now I have my sequel almost ready for publishing, and I am re-writing my “Woman with (no) Strings Attached”, mainly making it shorter, both to be published at the same time sometimes next year probably.
And in the sequel again, the old disclaimers are true:
I copied and pasted this two from “The Book Designer”
- This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events, locales, and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.
Not coincidental, but fictionalised all the same. I took real people’s thoughts, characteristics and some stories, and put them into blender of my imagination together with lots of thoughts, people and stories I made up. The result is something which feels real. But is than not what good fiction should do?
Remember “Memoirs of the Geisha”?
The writer was an American man, not a Japanese woman. Yet, it felt real.
Hopefully, my books feel real, too. They must do. I recently started blogging my 100 words blogs- from a closed group of fellow writers. Every week, I try to condense one of the chapters of my sequel to 100 words.
Some time ago, one of my sons phoned me to ask if I was all right. He seemed worried. I did not understand. “Why shouldn’t I be?” I asked. Then I realised that he read my blog.
Blog about a sad woman in love. He was relieved to find out that like a lot of my writing, it was pure fiction.
Maybe I should take this as a compliment to my writing. That it is very much like true life. But it is fiction, and unlike the woman in my sequel, I am happy.
But as the wise Julie Maloney from Women Reading Aloud says. “Remember, it is fiction!”