The Chronicle of Higher Education has an interesting story about how much of non-fiction has to be true.
From the piece...
As I’ve said before (trust me) lying was the cornerstone, the bedrock, the weaving and shaking but nevertheless enduring foundation upon which the life of my family was built. So I’m not sure I’d want to make an argument against lying, even in creative nonfiction.
I'm teaching a CNF course this semester, and several of the students -- they're a smart bunch -- have already asked how much of their writing has to be "true."
It's a good question and not one that's limited to the classroom.
After all, why settle for fact? Why not make a story out of ordinary, found incidents, the way some artists make sculptures out of wrecked cars or fabricate fabulous images out of dirt, blood, and rust? Isn’t the most charming person the one who makes you believe you alone are the most interesting person on earth? Does it matter that, strictly speaking, you are about as interesting as bubble wrap? Don’t we choose -- for our leaders, for our celebrities, for our icons -- those who are willing to supply us with a vision; don’t we believe in the vision itself rather than checking the eyesight of the one providing the vision for us? So what if the actuality turns out to be slightly different from how you found it; so you changed it. So who cares, so long as you made it better?
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