Details vs. Uncertainty

I don't think I've ever mentioned in this space how I know a famous actress. It's a funny story (not funny-haha but funny-unusual). We met back in 2008 on a commuter plane flight to a regional airport. The plane was a 19-seat Beech 1900, and we sat across the aisle from each other. As the plane flew over the Rockies, we both discovered that this would be a very turbulent flight, as was often the case in smaller planes, though this one was particularly bad. We made small-talk across the narrow aisle just to take our mind off of the bumping and bouncing, and discovered we were both flying into town for the same reason - a wedding (I was with the groom's family, she was a friend of them both). That was a great ice-breaker, and made for an easier flight. During the days running up to the wedding we talked quite a bit, and stayed in touch after everyone got married and flew back to civilization.

Now, the real question is, did you believe me, and what tipped the scales? After all, you as the reader have to draw a line somewhere, but what determines that? After all, I didn't give the actress's name, nor the name of where we flew from or to, other than us flying over the Rockies. However, the tiny little plane we were on can be verified, and anyone who has flown in smaller planes knows those flights can get rough. The scenario is plausible, and nothing happened that was over-the-top. What makes us choose truth versus fiction?

Often, that's what a good story toys with, regardless of whether it was actually truth or fiction. If the reader knows for certain that a story either happened or didn't, they settle into one camp or the other - acceptance or just enjoying a good yarn. However, if the reader does not know for certain whether this story is factual, they pay more attention. Maybe they want to look for plot points that would discredit the story or things that validate other facts they are aware of. In short, they are engaged with the story.

The secret (or at least one of them) regarding keeping the reader suspended over the chasm between truth and fiction lies in the details. For whatever relevance they might carry, details lean the needle toward truth, but they don't confirm anything. Yes, the Beech 1900 is an actual plane that was in service in 2008, but that doesn't prove anything. Turbulent flights over the Rockies are also a thing, and anyone who knows my family history knows my brother got married in Telluride, Colorado, in 2008. These details start taking the story into the solid story camp, and make up for the big question of whether or not I really met and talked with a famous actress.

The other thing that makes stories convincing are believable interactions. Striking up a conversation to get through a rough plane ride is a simple, unpresuming event that, when mentioned, gives the story a tinge of relatability. People often talk in planes - trust me, those conversations can get loud when I'm trying to sleep. The familiar anecdote is always important because the reader can associate with it.

Now, for those people who are still not convinced about this story being true, I offer you this: It's kind of true, kind of false. Yes, I did fly into Telluride in a Beech 1900, and it was a bumpy flight. I did meet a famous actress while there that week, and yes, we talked. We did take the same flight back to Denver, but I have not talked to her since. The point is, I extracted details of the factual part of the story, mixed them with just enough comfortable, familiar interactions, and came up with a story that kept the reader guessing until the end (or perhaps afterward). Most good suspense stories incorporate this blend of facts and subtle omissions to make an interesting tale because the reader becomes a participant in determining the story's believability. Whether it actually happened becomes academic.

Incidentally, did I mention that my stepmother is actually still in touch with that actress? Funny story...