Story, story? Story! Once upon a time? Time, time!

Self Deception, from Google Images




For years, there have been debates over the writing of fiction, given the dictionary definition of the word. Is it possible for a story to be completely fictional, can stories directly inspired by an author’s experiences also constitute fiction, if the work is saturated with the author’s experience but portrayed in made-up circumstances, does it become fiction with breadth or thinly veiled autobigraphy?

The debate goes on…

Meanwhile, in Poland, author Krystian Bala has been jailed for 25 years after police found that his novel, published a few years ago, is actually an account of a murder he committed.

In a random internet discussion, a police officer found that the book being talked about bore striking resemblance to an unsolved case back at headquarters, put two and two together, launched an investigation, and boom, case solved! The novelist was the murderer…thank God this particular po-po happened to be a book geek, huh? The original news story is here if you’d like to read it.

In the light of this, skeptics of the ‘purity of fiction’ appear to have been proven right – ain’t no story like a true story. And it makes me wonder about writers and this whole writing business, whether it be poetry, prose, drama or songs: who are we kidding? We’re not making things up, we’re yanking things out of the core of our beings, reaching out from internal discomforts, and begging, pathetically, to be listened to. The reason we insist it’s all made up, is that in our glittering mental images of ourselves, there’s no room to acknowledge the neediness and insecurity that’s mirrored back to us on paper.

Apparently, Krystian Bala killed Dariusz Janiszewski because he suspected the ad agency exec was having an affair with his ex-wife. Now picture Mr Bala at his book launch, being interviewed (hypothetically of course!)

Interviewer: Mr Bala, what inspired your new book? How did you come up with the concept?

It would be bullshit if he said anything other than…

Mr Bala: This dude was messing with my wife, and I got insanely jealous so I popped him off and chucked him in the river. This book was the only way I could deal with it and face the pain.

You and I know though, that this soul-baring scenario could never happen. He denies all charges of murder as we speak, just as the rest of us gloat at our character’s failings, and rejoice in their not being our own.

On the flipside, I could just be giving him the benefit of the doubt with all this romanticised nonsense. What if he's just a twisted sicko who found a way to get his vengeance on his wife's alleged lover, and make some cash to boot? I guess we'll never know.

Hmm.