“It is strange, the morbid inclination we have to derive satisfaction from the fact (usually false and always irrelevant) that a work of art is traceable to a ‘true story.’ Is it because we begin to respect ourselves more when we learn that the writer, just like ourselves, was not clever enough to make up a story himself?” -Vladimir Nabokov, via Janet Malcolm, The Journalist and the Murderer. 

Alex Siegman