When Lying Is Truth
S. Andrew Swann is the pen name of Steven Swiniarski. He’s married and lives in the Greater Cleveland area where he has lived all of his adult life. He has a background in mechanical engineering and —besides writing— works as a Database Manager for one of the largest private child services agencies in the Cleveland area. He has published 23 novels over the past 18 years, which include science fiction, fantasy and horror. His latest SF novel, released by DAW Book this February, is Messiah, the final volume in his epic space opera, the Apotheosis Trilogy.
I am a liar.
I spend my time telling lies to people who sincerely wish to be lied to. That is the job of the storyteller, to take the lie, the fiction, and tell it just well enough that the audience, for the sake of the story, believes it even though they know it’s a lie. When it’s done at its best, people will proclaim that the story’s true despite knowing it is no such thing.
How the hell does anyone pull that off? Especially when the story is something as far removed from the here and now as my book Messiah? How does one keep the reader a willing participant in the fraud when the fraud is an apocalyptic space opera set five-hundred years hence, covering events that didn’t happen, and in some senses could never happen. How does someone make a genetically-engineered tiger plausible enough of a protagonist that the reader never questions him?
How does one go about suspending that disbelief?
It’s all in how you choose your lies. Whether you write a post-singularity allegory, a medieval historical fantasy (with or without werewolves), or an episode of CSI, what carries the day for the reader in the end is how well constructed the lie is. If the readers believe that the author has deliberately created the untruth to serve the story, they will accept it. 
However, once the lie seems accidental, or careless, or contradictory, the writer loses the reader’s willing collaboration and the entire fabrication falls apart.
To avoid that fate, here are two simple rules of the well crafted fictional lie:
1)      Lie only about what you are lying about. Leave facts alone. In the universe of your story, the lie is itself finite and well defined, and everything outside it should remain as the reader knows it. This goes for the laws of physics, world history, and human nature whenever not explicitly altered for the sake of the story.
2)      Lie about anything. But should you lie twice, the second lie should not contradict the first. Any apparent contradictions should be resolved showing that the two lies are, in fact, just different views of a single, more complex lie.
Or, what it really boils down to; the reader expects you to know what you’re lying about. If they believe that you constructed this elaborate deception, knowingly putting every fraudulent detail in its proper place, they’ll follow you into a universe of talking tiger men, zero gravity sex, and star-devouring gods. If they sense that some of the lie is simply carelessness, lack of research, of just a stupid mistake, it can render a PTA meeting in Des Moines, IA completely unbelievable.
February 6, 2011
Posted in: Guest Blogs
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6 Responses
Tweets that mention Buried Under Books » When Lying Is Truth -- Topsy.com - February 6, 2011
[...] This post was mentioned on Twitter by SAndrewSwann, Creatures 'n Crooks . Creatures 'n Crooks said: When Lying Is Truth http://j.mp/gbGQOo via @AddToAny [...]
Great article Steve! I hate it when an otherwise good book throws me out with contradictions or makes a leap that’s just to far to be believed because the groundwork wasn’t laid.
Thanks. I think there’s an attitude with some folks that if you’re writing fiction– especially fantasy– that because you’re making some stuff up, you can make everything up. Just because you have a wizard about isn’t going to change the way a medieval economy works, or change the basics of who can effectively wield a 2-handed sword or where such a weapon is appropriate.
Genrewonk » Swann about the web - February 7, 2011
[...] I have a guest blog post up at Buried Under Books, wherin I try to tell the truth about [...]
Please tell me that when you listed Alexander Hamilton as an American President in Messiah, you were trying to find out if anyone was reading the Appendix.
Consider it a subtle clue that the whole Moreau/Confederacy universe is set in an alternate history
Seriously, Mea Culpa time, that’s an unintentional goof that must have crept in at some point. You’re the first to notice it. His entry must have gotten the wrong biographical slug.
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