How journalism helped me write my pandemic novel

In the newsroom, I pursue the truth; when I’m writing fiction, I employ a different kind of honesty, writes Clémence Michallon

There is a wonderful alchemy between journalism and fiction writing (Getty/iStock)

I have a confession to make. For the past six years or so, I have lived a double life. I have been writing about facts by day as a journalist… and making things up at night.

What I’m trying to say is I’ve been writing fiction. In the mornings before and in the evenings after work. In the darkness of my apartment in the early hours of the morning or in the crowded cars of the New York City subway (this changed with the pandemic, but I used to write on the Notes app during my commute).

It has all been great fun. There have been rewards along the way, too. Releasing my first novel in French (my native language) last year was one. Finding out a few days ago that I’m going to publish my first novel in English with Knopf has been another, oh-so-joyful development. I’m so excited that I get to keep working on this story. I’m so excited that I get to share it with readers. In case this wasn’t clear: I’m just so excited.

There is a wonderful alchemy between journalism and fiction writing. Obviously, fictionalising isn’t something you can do in a newsroom, but the way in which you think about language when you’re weaving a story can help you think about interviews and features in a new way. In turn, the topics I cover as a journalist inform my understanding of the world – and of the worlds I build in my spare time. I’ve written about true crime and serial killers and other forms of violence a good amount as part of my job at The Independent. My upcoming novel is a psychological thriller shaped by my interest in all those things – the darker, twistier forces that I tend to obsess over until I wrestle them into a narrative of my own.

As a journalist, I am laser-focused on accuracy and truth – yes, even when writing about a Marvel film or a Netflix show. Novel writing touches on a different kind of authenticity. It’s creative work, driven by emotional honesty rather than facts. And often journalism, too, is creative, calling for those facts to be interpreted in new ways in order to get the bottom of a strange piece of news or the reason why a predicted slam-dunk movie turned out to be a box office flop.

The events described in my novels never happened, but they can still tell a truth.

Yours,

Clémence Michallon

US culture writer