Autofiction
Writing is a far deeper pool of techniques, skills, and types than I ever imagined. I am always learning new aspects, and I recently discovered a book form called autofiction. This is a portmanteau of autobiography and fiction. (Yes, I had to look up the word portmanteau.)
The idea is that if a person has a boring life, they can write an autobiography and spice it up with untrue details. Another way of looking at it is to take the life of an average author as a starting point and then go somewhere amazing. I am seeing many new titles in this area, which suggests it’s a popular reading trend.
This makes a lot of sense because who would not want their life to be more exciting? Plus, a writer could go on an adventure without leaving their house, live in another country, or fix serious problems.
I also see the reading appeal. “Hey, if this person can write about improving their life, I can imagine how much better my life could be.” It sort of gives the reader permission to think more of themselves, which is always good.
And I think writing autofiction might be fun and beneficial because a person knows their own life, and we all have imaginations. So recording those thoughts on paper would be easy and interesting. Plus, a huge ego boost. “Why, yes, I am a world-class poker player.”
Still, I am not sure what to make of this type of book. It seems a step beyond the “based on a true story” kind of work. After all, in autofiction, the author could be a vampire, a world leader, or a superhero. It’s all fair game.
This leads to a question: how would an author see the result? “This is a much better version of me.” “This is who I wish I were.” “I have always wanted to be a badass.” “I can get out of any awful situation.” “My life is so much better now.” I suppose my reaction is, “Well, go out and be that person.” So, it seems this class of book isn’t for me, but I do see the appeal.
Would I ever want to write autofiction? No, and I have five reasons why. First, I write the kind of books I want to read. Second, this type of book seems dishonest.
For example, I have never served in the armed forces, so claiming that I joined the Marines is a slap in the face to those who served. Yet I am sure the book description clearly states that the work is autofiction. And I am sure the book begins with a disclaimer paragraph stating that only small parts of it are true. Thus, readers know what they are in for. Still, I dislike claiming to be something I am not because I have learned the ultra-hard way that this practice is a slippery slope that only leads to pain for everybody.
The third problem is a little more interesting. Let’s say I did write an autofiction. Um, who is the real me? Am I living a lie? Did I join the Marines? Now, I am not so sure.
The fourth problem is what I call “writing in the Tom Clancy universe,” which is when a story starts in reality and then branches into fiction. For autofiction, let’s say the story began in 1955. The real person was born, grew up, and fictionally entered politics. Then, in 1981, they became president instead of Ronald Reagan.
Did this new president meet with Mikhail Gorbachev? And who was president in 2015 during this alternate timeline? Inserting a big change into the real timeline introduces many problems. Meaning things would get exponentially more confusing as time progresses in the real world.
Fifth is the clash with reality. Let’s make Bill rich! He started a business that was 100 times more profitable than Microsoft. Nice! Well, would he still be married to his dear wife and have a wonderful daughter? Because billionaires like Bill Gates do not travel in the kinds of circles where my wife and I met. So writing such a book would insult the people who matter to me.
Putting my negativity aside, what would I change about myself to make an exciting story? I suppose there are obvious things, like being wealthier, more popular, or making my past a little brighter. Yet, a good read requires adventure.
As a kid, I imagined myself as a race car driver. At the time, the closest thing was riding a dirt bike, and that was a lot of fun. That seems like a logical improvement. A long-standing goal has been to start a business.
Err, that’s not real adventure. So, something big would have to be injected into my life for a good story. How about a natural disaster survivor kind of story? That could work. Treasure hunt? That too. Get involved in an international conspiracy? Also works.
These plots fit well with my writing style: taking an ordinary person and throwing something exciting their way. So I could write an autofiction novel, but there is a hidden problem.
It turns out that I have a secret writing trick. My “ordinary person” is not actually ordinary. Take my second book, Pushed to the Edge of Survival. The female lead is introduced in the first chapter as an average teenager. (I actually over-emphasized her negative qualities.) As the story unfolds, she is revealed to be ultra-courageous, highly intelligent, and deeply intuitive. Meaning, while she has flaws, she is far above average in many areas. My story absolutely would not work without this kind of solid character. Another way to look at it is that I designed “an average character” with extra attributes to support my story.
I, on the other hand, am a plain person. Of course, I don’t give myself enough credit. I do not like to brag, but I do have above-average qualities. The problem is that my “base existence” is not large enough to be shoehorned into any of my plots. I simply do not have the attributes or circumstances to pull it off.
Well… Could I invent that starting point? Perhaps as a child, I took karate classes. My grandfather might have been in the CIA and taught me his spy techniques. Maybe I have some obscure skill, like a photographic memory, or a hobby of reading hieroglyphics. Or, like the movie The Long Shot, wrote an obscure paper that was key to saving the world. That is the idea of autofiction.
I took a walk to think about this subject, and indeed I could alter my past enough to throw myself into an action scene. And I suppose this would make for an interesting read.
True, but trying to alter my real past seems like far more work than starting with a blank sheet of paper. Still, I can see a point where I ran out of ideas and used my history as a starting point. So, I guess this kind of book is a possibility. Nah. The blank page is calling to me.
You’re the best -Bill
September 16, 2026
The idea is that if a person has a boring life, they can write an autobiography and spice it up with untrue details. Another way of looking at it is to take the life of an average author as a starting point and then go somewhere amazing. I am seeing many new titles in this area, which suggests it’s a popular reading trend.
This makes a lot of sense because who would not want their life to be more exciting? Plus, a writer could go on an adventure without leaving their house, live in another country, or fix serious problems.
I also see the reading appeal. “Hey, if this person can write about improving their life, I can imagine how much better my life could be.” It sort of gives the reader permission to think more of themselves, which is always good.
And I think writing autofiction might be fun and beneficial because a person knows their own life, and we all have imaginations. So recording those thoughts on paper would be easy and interesting. Plus, a huge ego boost. “Why, yes, I am a world-class poker player.”
Still, I am not sure what to make of this type of book. It seems a step beyond the “based on a true story” kind of work. After all, in autofiction, the author could be a vampire, a world leader, or a superhero. It’s all fair game.
This leads to a question: how would an author see the result? “This is a much better version of me.” “This is who I wish I were.” “I have always wanted to be a badass.” “I can get out of any awful situation.” “My life is so much better now.” I suppose my reaction is, “Well, go out and be that person.” So, it seems this class of book isn’t for me, but I do see the appeal.
Would I ever want to write autofiction? No, and I have five reasons why. First, I write the kind of books I want to read. Second, this type of book seems dishonest.
For example, I have never served in the armed forces, so claiming that I joined the Marines is a slap in the face to those who served. Yet I am sure the book description clearly states that the work is autofiction. And I am sure the book begins with a disclaimer paragraph stating that only small parts of it are true. Thus, readers know what they are in for. Still, I dislike claiming to be something I am not because I have learned the ultra-hard way that this practice is a slippery slope that only leads to pain for everybody.
The third problem is a little more interesting. Let’s say I did write an autofiction. Um, who is the real me? Am I living a lie? Did I join the Marines? Now, I am not so sure.
The fourth problem is what I call “writing in the Tom Clancy universe,” which is when a story starts in reality and then branches into fiction. For autofiction, let’s say the story began in 1955. The real person was born, grew up, and fictionally entered politics. Then, in 1981, they became president instead of Ronald Reagan.
Did this new president meet with Mikhail Gorbachev? And who was president in 2015 during this alternate timeline? Inserting a big change into the real timeline introduces many problems. Meaning things would get exponentially more confusing as time progresses in the real world.
Fifth is the clash with reality. Let’s make Bill rich! He started a business that was 100 times more profitable than Microsoft. Nice! Well, would he still be married to his dear wife and have a wonderful daughter? Because billionaires like Bill Gates do not travel in the kinds of circles where my wife and I met. So writing such a book would insult the people who matter to me.
Putting my negativity aside, what would I change about myself to make an exciting story? I suppose there are obvious things, like being wealthier, more popular, or making my past a little brighter. Yet, a good read requires adventure.
As a kid, I imagined myself as a race car driver. At the time, the closest thing was riding a dirt bike, and that was a lot of fun. That seems like a logical improvement. A long-standing goal has been to start a business.
Err, that’s not real adventure. So, something big would have to be injected into my life for a good story. How about a natural disaster survivor kind of story? That could work. Treasure hunt? That too. Get involved in an international conspiracy? Also works.
These plots fit well with my writing style: taking an ordinary person and throwing something exciting their way. So I could write an autofiction novel, but there is a hidden problem.
It turns out that I have a secret writing trick. My “ordinary person” is not actually ordinary. Take my second book, Pushed to the Edge of Survival. The female lead is introduced in the first chapter as an average teenager. (I actually over-emphasized her negative qualities.) As the story unfolds, she is revealed to be ultra-courageous, highly intelligent, and deeply intuitive. Meaning, while she has flaws, she is far above average in many areas. My story absolutely would not work without this kind of solid character. Another way to look at it is that I designed “an average character” with extra attributes to support my story.
I, on the other hand, am a plain person. Of course, I don’t give myself enough credit. I do not like to brag, but I do have above-average qualities. The problem is that my “base existence” is not large enough to be shoehorned into any of my plots. I simply do not have the attributes or circumstances to pull it off.
Well… Could I invent that starting point? Perhaps as a child, I took karate classes. My grandfather might have been in the CIA and taught me his spy techniques. Maybe I have some obscure skill, like a photographic memory, or a hobby of reading hieroglyphics. Or, like the movie The Long Shot, wrote an obscure paper that was key to saving the world. That is the idea of autofiction.
I took a walk to think about this subject, and indeed I could alter my past enough to throw myself into an action scene. And I suppose this would make for an interesting read.
True, but trying to alter my real past seems like far more work than starting with a blank sheet of paper. Still, I can see a point where I ran out of ideas and used my history as a starting point. So, I guess this kind of book is a possibility. Nah. The blank page is calling to me.
You’re the best -Bill
September 16, 2026
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