It is fair to say nonfiction has the upper hand in the classroom, as it is seen as the more truthful and realistic form of writing. Nonfiction does present the facts of the real world, but fiction has its own valid methods of seeking truth, while digging more deeply into that newly found truth.
It seems to me young adults have been convinced nonfiction reading and writing will serve them better later on in life, as most jobs lean heavily on exposing the truth through analytical writing and research. In a sense, we are encouraged in high school to write in a style that is formulaic and static, teaching students to operate like machines and hide from their imaginations. Now more than ever, I think a stronger focus on creative writing and fiction in schools is imperative, as we are surrounded by people and outlets who validate what we want to hear. Further, our minds must be challenged so that we may better understand ourselves.
Rivka Galchen explains that techniques of fiction are especially constructive now because “it’s possible that we as a culture suffer from a particularly debilitating case of thinking we know much more than we know.” This confirmation bias worsens our false sense of knowing, for “we inhabit fanciful castles of facts.” It is comfortable just to read the nonfiction that supports what we think; it does not make us question our beliefs. But it does create a perception that we know everything we need to know and that which we know is the truth, the undeniable truth. Reality has a way of concealing the truth and fiction has a way of uncovering these hidden truths. Galchen argues we have an inability to fully grasp what fiction is “saying,” causing us to be “less preemptively defended against it or biased in its favor.” She writes: “We are inclined to let it past our fortifications. [Fiction is] merely a court jester, there to amuse us. We let in the brazen liar and his hidden, difficult truths.” We shy away from the unknown. We are afraid of fiction’s ambiguity so we deem what we do not understand as insignificant. Yet, we should celebrate this mystery, rejoice in its complexity and contemplate our own inadequacies in the process.
There is no doubt fundamental English classes lay a strong foundation for the language. Nonfiction has a critical place in the existing curriculum, as it is imperative for students to be able to read a complex nonfiction text or write a research paper. Assembling factual evidence requires practice and is a crucial skill for life. Yet, we must use fictional reading and creative writing as a way to challenge our minds and reference our imaginations from time to time. Psychologist Jenni Ogden asserts in her article on the link between brain and creating writing that “creative writing is one of the best exercises we can do for the aging brain.” Steven Pinker goes on to say, “Fictional narratives supply us with a mental catalogue of the fatal conundrums we might face someday and the outcome of strategies we could deploy in them,” suggesting that creative writing can help the mind grow and prepare us for what life has to throw at us.
Creative writing demands introspection and self-reflection, both of which are absolutely imperative for personal growth and self-acceptance. We seek new perspectives when we write creatively, for we come across questions about ourselves that we may not be able to answer. We slowly unearth who we are, who we are not and who we may want to be. In the words of Tom Schulman, screenwriter for “Dead Poet’s Society,” “We read and write poetry because we are members of the human race. And the human race is filled with passion. And medicine, law, business, engineering, these are noble pursuits and necessary to sustain life. But poetry, beauty, romance, love, these are what we stay alive for.”
Creative writing allows us to tap into this passion and imagination we all possess, even if it resides in our deepest recesses. It unleashes beauty and truth and validates the power of the English language.
Lucy Siegel is a Viewpoint writer.