Backstory: The Story Behind A Truth Stranger Than Fiction

WARNING: This entry con­tains spoil­ers about the nov­el A Truth Stranger Than Fic­tion. Con­tin­ue read­ing at your own risk!

Most of my mys­tery nov­els, and my fic­tion in gen­er­al, start from a ker­nel of an idea, a fac­toid, an image.

I see or hear some­thing that piques my inter­est, but what­ev­er it is I sense it’s just the tip of the ice­berg; there’s a sto­ry there. At this point I file it away (usu­al­ly writ­ing it down, of course), for­get about it and move on with what­ev­er I’m cur­rent­ly writ­ing.

Some­time dur­ing the win­ter of 2006-07, I saw a doc­u­men­tary about the moon that dis­cussed the exis­tence of the iso­tope Helium‑3 embed­ded in the moon’s soil, or regolith, and how then-Pres­i­dent Bush (“Dubya”) had vowed years ear­li­er to send us back to the moon, osten­si­bly to col­o­nize it and begin min­ing the Helium‑3 for nuclear fusion ener­gy pro­duc­tion back on Earth.

(NOTE: Because this piece is about the sto­ry behind the nov­el, I won’t be going into the sci­ence of Helium‑3 fusion. If that’s some­thing that inter­ests you, you can view a page of the Helium‑3 resources I con­sult­ed, or you can lis­ten to sev­er­al inter­views I gave about the book, or you can read a pre­vi­ous blog entry.)

As I said at the open­ing of this piece,  most of my fic­tion begins with an idea, a fac­toid, an image. Nov­el­ist Vladimir Nabokov sug­gest­ed that nov­el­ists were like birds build­ing nests—gathering twigs and string and bits of fluff—and that it was unclear whether the bird visu­al­ized ahead of time the nest it was going to build.

But I don’t think birds build­ing nests is the right anal­o­gy for nov­el­ists; birds gen­er­al­ly gath­er their mate­ri­als and begin nest-build­ing imme­di­ate­ly; nov­el­ists tend to gath­er their mate­ri­als over years, and speak­ing for myself, I think of myself as more akin to the junk col­lec­tor-cum-inven­tor in the orig­i­nal Mad Max films—I col­lect inter­est­ing things, things that I sense will be use­ful down the road, things that can be com­bined with oth­er inter­est­ing things to cre­ate some­thing new and spe­cial.

Sub­con­scious­ly I sup­pose (because a “plot” for A Truth Stranger Than Fic­tion was not in my con­scious­ness), after see­ing the moon doc­u­men­tary in the win­ter of 2006-07, I began my col­lect­ing, but I didn’t write a first draft of the nov­el until 2013. By then, how­ev­er, I was brim­ming over with inter­est­ing ideas, fac­toids and images that I’d col­lect­ed. Here, in no par­tic­u­lar order, are a few that I’d filed away over those six years:

  • The phe­nom­e­non of “fan­girls,” and par­tic­u­lar­ly women read­ers who fall in love with authors.
  • Katy Perry’s cot­ton can­dy pink-and-blue hair for her Cal­i­for­nia Gurls album.
  • The dis­cov­ery of the Bakken For­ma­tion in North Dako­ta and Mon­tana, and the use of frack­ing tech­nol­o­gy to extract oil and nat­ur­al gas from shale.
  • The low cost of mod­ern GPS trans­ceivers.
  • A remark by a friend in adver­tis­ing who, upon return­ing to the U.S. from Chi­na, said, “They love Ken­tucky Fried Chick­en over there.”
  • A favorite scene in Clint Eastwood’s Dirty Har­ry, when he’s on the rooftop work­ing the bolt on a Weath­er­by .458 mag­num and says to his part­ner, “When I say now, you hit him with the light.”
  • The pop­u­lar­i­ty of the fast-food chain Shake Shack—especially its orig­i­nal loca­tion in Madi­son Square Park in Man­hat­tan.
  • The joy of being in Paris with some­one you love, and the sense that you haven’t tru­ly lived until you while away sev­er­al hours in a café.
  • And, final­ly, being in the vestibule between two Amtrak train cars, observ­ing what a dan­ger­ous space it real­ly is (lots of spaces and slid­ing met­al parts that can shear off fin­gers), and not­ing to your­self that, so far as you know, in all of mys­tery and thriller lit­er­a­ture and movies, there has nev­er been a fight scene in a train vestibule; on a train, yes, there have been many (e.g., From Rus­sia with Love, The Spy Who Loved Me and, more recent­ly, Spec­tre), but nev­er a train vestibule.

Of course when I wrote the first draft, not all of the above ideas, fac­toids and images appeared. In fact, the frack­ing detail didn’t get onto the page until the third draft or so, when I was stuck as to how the Helium‑3 idea con­nect­ed to the rest of the book.

So there you have it: some­thing of the sto­ry behind A Truth Stranger Than Fic­tion. But the nov­el itself is far bet­ter than my descrip­tion of it.

My descrip­tion of it is like “a guy who knows the guy”; the nov­el itself is “the guy.”

Which one would you rather meet?

I thought so. If you haven’t read the nov­el already, you can go to this page to read a sam­ple, or click on one of the links there to sim­ply buy it.

By Chris Orcutt

CHRIS ORCUTT is an American novelist and fiction writer with over 30 years' writing experience and more than a dozen books in his oeuvre. Since 2015, Chris been working exclusively on his magnum opus. Bodaciously True & Totally Awesome: The Legendary Adventures of Avery “Ace” Craig is a 9-episode novel about teens in the 1980s. It’s about ’80s teens, but for adults (in other words, it’s decidedly not YA literature), and he’s applied this epic storytelling approach to the least examined, most misunderstood, most marginalized narrative space in American literature: the lives and inner worlds of teenagers.

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