How to Write about What You Don’t Know in Personal Nonfiction

Writing personal nonfiction—memoir or the personal essay—generally requires us to approach our subjects from a first-person point of view. Since we are telling our own stories, we naturally refer to ourselves as “I” and speak as ourselves. We write as factual human beings about our actual lived experiences.

By writing in first-person, though, we limit ourselves to our own perspectives only. Unlike fiction writers, who can exercise omniscience by delving into the thoughts and feelings of multiple characters in their stories, personal nonfiction writers can express only our own thoughts and feelings. When writing about personal experiences, perhaps involving conflicts with others, we cannot report what others think, feel, desire, or intend because, of course, we do not have access to that information. We cannot read their minds. We can only describe their overt behaviors—what they said, what they did. 

Given this limitation, how can we provide readers with a compelling portrait of the others who inhabit our memoirs or personal essays? How can we write about the things that we cannot know about them?

We can do this through speculative writing. We can practice what author Lisa Knopp calls “perhapsing.” In an article written for Brevity Magazine, “‘Perhapsing’: The Use of Speculation in Creative Nonfiction,” Knopp provides us with an example of this technique of addressing the unknown through speculation.  She offers as an example an excerpt from Maxine Hong Kingston’s Woman Warrior, in which Kingston writes about her aunt, a woman she has never known, who became pregnant in China while her husband was away for years in the U.S. When the aunt gives birth, villagers raid the family’s household, destroying their belongings and killing their livestock.  Through the use of perhapsing in the lines below, Kingston speculates about how the aunt became pregnant.

Perhaps she had encountered him in the fields or on the mountain where the daughters-in-law collected fuel. Or perhaps he first noticed her in the marketplace. He was not a stranger because the village housed no strangers. She had to have dealings with him other than sex. Perhaps he worked in an adjoining field, or he sold her the cloth for the dress she sewed and wore. His demand must have surprised, then terrified her. She obeyed him; she always did as she was told.

While Kingston’s readers understand that the above thoughts are hypothetical, they are led to consider, along with Kingston, what may have happened to the aunt and what might have motivated her. Perhapsing allows personal nonfiction writers to explore the characters in their narratives without claiming to know what they think and feel or what drives them to behave the way they do.

Speculative writing can also be used when we discover gaps in our memories of events or when we lack information that is significant to our stories.  At those points, we can imagine events and details—we can fictionalize our nonfiction—using verbal cues to signal to the reader that what we have written is speculation. Knopp suggests using words such as “maybe, suppose, if, might have, could have, possibly, imagine, wonder, and perchance” to clarify to our readers that we are imagining details.   

Since most personal nonfiction writers adhere to their understood obligation to tell the truth and provide a factual account of our experiences, we can engage in speculative writing to help us flesh out the others in our stories, interpret their actions, and explore the possible why’s and how’s of their behaviors. 

If we don’t know, we are free to speculate. 



7 responses to “How to Write about What You Don’t Know in Personal Nonfiction”

  1. Thank you, Georgia. I can’t wait to employ “perhapsing” to solve some major blocks I’ve been struggling with.

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    1. Thank you for reading, Frank. Please let me know how your “perhapsing” goes. I have found it useful in trying to understand people with whom I’ve had conflicts.

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      1. A bridge building and rift healing skill for sure… and something we should all be practicing every day. Thanks & Peace.

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  2. Another fantastic lesson, thank you. Now I’m imagining all of the fun I can have with perhapsing. I can envision creating whole scenes within my head that I can attribute to others with a “maybe”. I don’t think it’s like I never knew I could do this, I just never thought of it. I think it can be a fantastic way to develop other ‘characters’ in memoir writing.

    On a completely different topic, at a recent writers group meeting, the ‘instructor’ gave an overview of creative nonfiction. She suggested that nonfiction writing only becomes creative nonfiction when fictional elements are added to the story. In my mind, creative nonfiction is to take primarily true events and convey them with creative storytelling conventions. Because I consider my writing creative nonfiction, her implication is that I’ve taken liberties with the story, which I pretty much never do without disclosure. How do you define creative nonfiction?

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    1. Your question sent me to the textbook that I have used in the past for my advanced writing classes (which, where I teach, is a course in creative nonfiction) for its authors’ definition of the genre. The book is *Creating Nonfiction* by Becky Bradway and Doug Hesse. It’s been around for awhile, but I find myself turning back to it when I teach.

      According to Bradway and Hesse, creative nonfiction:
      1. is distinguished from fiction in that it claims to tell the truth;
      2. has a strong authorial presence–the author is present in the text and is in relationship with the subject of the writing;
      3. has a narrative trajectory, so it involves storytelling of some kind;
      4. is written in prose, but with a poet’s attention to the structure of the writing, so that how the author writes the text is as important as what the author says.

      I think the instructor at the writers group offered a pretty limited definition of creative nonfiction, although what she said is certainly part of it.

      For me, the most important part is the authorial voice and the presence of the author in a nonfictional text.

      I’ve been using the term “personal nonfiction” to refer to creative nonfiction in which writers reveal things about themselves that people normally keep private. (I’m planning to write a book about personal nonfiction writing, but right now my teaching load prevents me from making much progress on it. )

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  3. Thank you for this, Georgia. What a liberating way to consider storytelling about family and events that matte in a way that’s both compelling and clear about the voice and perspective used. “Perhapsing”. I love this and Knopp’s suggestions about how to frame it all: …”using words such as maybe, suppose, if, might have, could have, possibly, imagine, wonder, and perchance to clarify to our readers that we are imagining details”. 🥰

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    1. Whoops…thanks for understanding my comment even though I misspelled the word ‘matter’. 😉

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