Part three of the series on Discovery Phase: Document Requests
Document requests are fairly simple on the surface. Videos, legal documents, audio tapes, and other items may be crucial to the discovery of admissable evidence in a case. They add dimension and complexity to the story and can serve to verify certain facts.
Documents can be incredibly useful for creative nonfiction as well. But be prepared. They can also surprise us. I recently received a box of family photographs from my mother, only to discover old, crumbling papers detailing the lives of my great-grandparents and grandparents. There were legal papers, property deeds for relatives I never knew existed, death certificates, receipts for coffins, maps, photographs, and ship schedules, printed in German. The family myth had always been that my grandmother immigrated to the United States from Germany, albeit under ambiguous circumstances. The documents showed that it was, in fact, my great-grandparents who had immigrated, and that Grandma was actually born in Iowa. (She apparently returned to Germany for some time, and then returned to the United States during WWII. This could account for the confusion).
What I came to understand was that I actually had something invested in the original story - emotionally and psychologically. It was part of my identity. What did it mean that Grandma allowed this myth to exist? Why had she lied in her own diary, which she left to me after she died? Or did she lie? Were the documents the ultimate authority, after all? Why should I believe a birth certificate over her own diary? Why did any of this matter at all? What did it mean for my sense of self and family?
So know this: If you ask to see the papers, you may not like what you see. Or your sense of reality and identity may shift. This is good. It means you are onto something.
A few years ago, I requested my medical charts in order to verify certain dates, as well as the names of medications, tests, and therapies I had tried. The charts were enormously helpful in that regard, but they also introduced a whole new set of facts. I learned doctors' opinions of me as a person (not just as a patient), as well as the degree of surveillance I had undergone while in the hospital. I also learned how family members did or did not support me in my quest for healing. (Again, family myths were destroyed). The lesson is that documents are rarely simple or easy. They may verify dates or other facts, but they will complicate others. In other words, they contribute to the adversarial, dialogic process described earlier on this site. They do not resolve it.
Consider this for your own writing. How might your old diary complicate your current memory? How might your medical charts reveal family politics you had never before considered? If you find the obituary for a loved one, will it reveal something you did not know? Did your (now divorced) parents videotape their wedding? Is it strange to see their early romance documented on video? Does this complicate your understanding of their relationship? Look at documents as a way to confront difficult memories, truths, and lies. They are rich sources of information, inspiration, and personal growth. And they can help you along in the writing process.