Writing is storytelling—in a way, the art of painting—and it’s full of choices: pastel words for whimsical tales, charcoals for mystery, acrylics for the graphic novel. Sometimes, the right words, by necessity, are heavy, blue words for raw stories. A Forgiving Fire is the story of Johnnie Roy Houston—a negro teen caught up in 1950 Jim Crow justice, and for this story, the right words include the n-word.
It took time to come to this decision. But I drew on my experience as a TV reporter, advertising copywriter, fiction and non-fiction writer, and preacher to develop three diagnostic questions to guide me through composing this “as-told-to-memoir.” Hopefully, through my asking these questions, the story chose the right colors, and, in the end, landed in the best gallery for its display.
The Diagnostic of Integrity
First, I ask, “Is the word truthful to the story?” In other words, would the character say it? Is the raw word consistent with the setting? Does the word advance the scene to advance the story? In A Forgiving Fire—a true story—Houston, jailed twenty-six years for a crime his twin committed, fights a choice: exact sweet revenge on his brother or forgive him and be fully and finally free. On page 71, as a pack of bloodthirsty lawmen swarm, the protagonist—nineteen-years old, black, and badly beaten—reads the contrived confession shoved in his swollen face. The lawman gets angry that Johnnie wants to read the document:
“Now Houston, I told you we ain’t got time for this. You’re gonna sign this confession, and we’ll be through for the night, or we can put another knot on your head.” There came another hit with a blackjack, this time across the side of my face, knocking the sound right back into me. “Oh, you’re gonna sign it, nigger. We ain’t got all night . . .”
In small town Texas, 1940s, the law would use the n-word as naturally as they would say, “Good morning,” “How’s the weather?” or “How’s the missus?” In painting Mr. Houston’s story—betrayal, injustice, the horrors of prisons, and bittersweet freedom delayed in the free world—the absence of the n-word would paint with pastels a story that calls for darker tones. Any other storytelling would not be truthful storytelling. Forty-eight times, Harper Lee chose the n-word to tell the story of Tom Robinson in To Kill a Mockingbird. Johnnie Houston’s plight required the same truthfulness.
The Diagnostic of Audience
The second diagnostic question is, “Who is the appropriate audience?” With question one in view, for the sake of the story, the truthful word is not always the right word for the right ears. Some words are fitted for certain audiences. A Forgiving Fire is no children’s fable, no Christian Bible study or morning devotional. It is a colorful, gritty, honest tale of a man, like Joseph of Genesis, who was brutally betrayed by family, wrongly treated by justice, and abruptly abandoned by broken promises. For Johnnie, prison was no picnic; its residents, no angels:
There was an inmate who stayed in trouble. He kind of reminded me of Ray. Trouble was his best friend, too. You could count on him pissing off a boss and taking the punishment that came with it. On this day, he said under his breath, “Fuck you. I ain’t moving a damn thing.” (p. 110)
F-bomb language is prison language, not language for tender ears. So, out of necessity and truthfulness, A Forgiving Fire is better suited for a general, adult audience, even though this story is a story of fate, faith, and forgiveness, no less spiritual than the Joseph narrative. It’s full of life lessons all readers can benefit from—in their appropriate time and place. For me, the right choice is to pitch the manuscript in that wider and more crowded worldly arena. What I lose in terms of modesty and market share of the church garden, hopefully, I will gain in terms of veracity and impact on the indelicate town square.
The Diagnostic of Subtlety/Balance
The third diagnostic question to help you decide when the n-word or f-bomb are the right words is this: “How much is too much?” Your answer should draw a balance that best serves your purpose and style. Is your aim to paint a picture or take a polaroid? A polaroid is literal, indicative, lacking subtlety, journalistic. Prison plays a major role in the story of Johnnie Roy. And the truth is, prison life is violent, cruel, and sexually deviant. One could describe the reality of prison sodomy in all its gory details—an f-bomb here and an f-bomb there. It would be a truthful polaroid. But does it serve your purpose? Painting with stealth can also be effective “showing”:
I laid my head down that first night when they called, “Lights out!” and that noise slowly died down. The room grew almost dark, dark enough to see outlines, and quiet enough to hear the shuffling of feet and the squeaking back and forth of cots rocking, the muffled sounds of grunts and whimpering. (p. 105)
“How much is too much?” is subjective. Such is the challenge of raw language as the right language. It is a learned sensibility. I learned from my journalism and advertising days that, often, less is more. What’s more poignant: showing the small, covered corpse of a child killed by car at a school crossing or a photo of a toddler’s single shoe lying in the street? Subtlety can be powerful.
In A Forgiving Fire, the n-word appears thirty-seven times. Is it gratuitous or the right balance for the truthfulness of the life and times of Johnnie Roy Houston? In comparison, the n-word appears in Mark Twain’s Huckleberry Finn 219 times. Who’s to say he was heavy-handed with his stroke of the brush? The context of the times plays its part in our culture’s appetite for the over-the-top
In storytelling, sometimes the right word is the raw word, like the n-word—a word I’d like to remove from the palette. But I don’t get that choice as a storyteller. For the sake of the story, the painting chooses the paint.
Olin Fregia is an ordained minister, Bible communications specialist, speaker and writer. He formerly served the campus pastor and religion instructor at Jarvis Christian College. He holds a Bachelor’s of Science degree in Mass Communications from Lamar University and a Masters of Theology degree from Dallas Theological Seminary. Prior to coming to Jarvis, he was news photographer, reporter and anchor for KFDM-TV in Beaumont, Texas; a branch manager and creative director of a New York-based advertising agency in Dallas and Houston. He owned and published a weekly magazine and was a print and on-camera talent for national and regional commercial clients through several talent agencies in Dallas. He has recently completed A Forgiving Fire, a manuscript and screenplay and is seeking representation for both works.
© 2019 Olin Fregia