In a new blog post, Kristen Lamb examines the utility of lies in fiction. “Lying is very useful in fiction,” Lamb writes. “The kissing cousins of the lie—deception and betrayal—can summon some terrible personal demons. Demons so powerful that only the crucible of a strong story problem can exorcise them for good.”
In fact, lies are why we write. “Beautiful untruths keep us hoping, propel us to constantly reach for a better version of ourselves,” Lamb says. “We cling to ideas that love, justice, mercy, compassion will win the day even when the daily headlines prove us fools.” For example, amid the plethora of news stories and true-crime podcasts telling us about unsolved crimes, we love TV crime dramas, in which the murderer is caught in less than 45 minutes.
This is important, because humans are hard-wired to trust. “Human nature naturally assumes we are being told the truth,” Lamb says. If someone takes our money to make us a coffee, we assume they will in fact make us a coffee. If a bottle says it is milk, we drink it without testing first if it is drain cleaner. Truth, therefore, is the assumed standard.”
Science backs this up. Researchers have identified the parts of the brain that activate when we trust someone. “Thus, when people are profoundly betrayed, the deception literally rewires the brain,” Lamb adds. “This is why victims of con artists or people dealing with infidelity suffer almost a personal extinction. If they could be SO WRONG about this situation and it was a lie, then what else have they been taking for granted as true?”
You can see how this plays out in fiction, which is full of cheating spouses, hidden murderers, and secret histories. “Lies are story GOLD,” Lamb writes. And the lies don’t have to involve marriages or friendships. “Think about stories that strip away what we take for granted,” she adds. “The Matrix questions whether our reality is even real. Enemy of the State challenges our notion that our government will always act for the public good. Shutter Island (both book and movie) picked at the trust we place in our memories, our reality and ourselves.”
Want to hook your reader? Rip away their trust. “One of the reasons the unreliable narrator works so brilliantly is because it takes advantage of our VERY human nature to instantly trust and accept what we’re told,” Lamb says. “The unreliable narrator can be used for fantastic effects and are excellent for creating plot twists.” Why? Because when they are well-written, your reader will believe their lies.
Great betrayals also create great characterizations. “Everyone has been betrayed on some level,” Lamb writes. “We all know how it feels to be duped, so we can get very emotional about this topic depending on what we’ve experienced in our past. I promise, audiences definitely have something to contribute or share.”
The final use of the big lie? When your reader sees your character heal, they too will believe it’s possible. “When we read story with a main character who has every reason NOT to ever trust again, and despite the odds, they manage to HEAL? That is powerful,” Lamb says, even if it’s not so tidy in real life.
