Creative Nonfiction - Fall 2017

i know that exploring the harmonies between science and religion is not the

kind of subject your average literary magazine might focus on for an entire issue—

and maybe that is why I am particularly excited about this issue of Creative Nonfiction.

Longtime readers may remember our 2014 “Telling Stories that Matter” issue,

which featured essays coauthored by science-policy scholars and creative writers.

That issue grew out of an innovative program called Think Write Publish (TWP)

in which science-policy scholars and creative nonfiction writers worked together

to write collaborative essays that turned the scholars’ research into creative

nonfiction. In the process, the scholars taught the writers about the complicated

process of designing policy, and the writers helped the scholars use narrative to

communicate their ideas and work to a broader audience.

The program has gone through several iterations and has received funding

from various sources, including the National Science Foundation, but its ongoing

mission is to open new avenues of communication between experts and the public,

who will be impacted by their ideas and achievements.

I have spent my whole professional life writing and teaching true stories—non-

fiction narratives. I’ve written about robotics and medicine—narrative books

about transplantation, pediatrics, veterinary medicine, and mental illness—and

I’ve come to realize there is a lot about such crucial subjects that the general

public does not—cannot—understand or appreciate unless scientists, engineers,

physicians, policy professionals, and other experts communicate their expertise

effectively. And, if you ask me, the most effective way to communicate is

through story.

I created TWP with David Guston and Dan Sarewitz, two of my colleagues in

the School for the Future of Innovation in Society at Arizona State University. It’s

kind of a quirky name for a university school, but it pretty much captures SFIS’s

broadest mission, which is to help our students envision and build the world they

will want to inhabit.

Long before joining ASU, I had observed that creative writing programs tradi-

tionally focus on craft—story-writing technique—sometimes to the detriment of

the content of the story, the reason for writing. Of course, craft is important; after

all, it’s craft that separates creative nonfiction from... well, regular nonfiction.

But sometimes I wish creative writing programs would focus equal attention on

the substance of stories and encourage their students to tackle weightier subjects in

greater depth.

Of course, any kind of writing brings challenges, and I don’t mean to suggest

that what is more typically considered creative nonfiction—personal stories about

family, hardship, disability, grief, discovery, living, and growing in a runaway

world—is in any way light on substance. And of course creative nonfictionists do

write about science—from astrophysics to genomics and everything in between.

We write about religion, too, especially in the United States, where freedom to

believe in and practice (or not to practice or believe in) whatever spiritual activity

What’s the Story?

The intersections

of these two ways

of understanding

the world are rarely

examined—and

when they are, the

primary narrative is

one of conflict.

Continued on Page 3

From the Editor

LEE GUTKIND