The author of a memoir, “Love and Consequences,” purported to tell her story as a foster child in a gang area of Los Angeles. She is in fact the daughter of a prosperous suburban family and graduated from a private religious day school. Nineteen-thousand copies of her book had to be recalled.

It reminded me of the recent scandal of James Frey, whose best-selling memoir had made up and exaggerated accounts of drug addiction and recovery. And the hoaxes of Laura Albert as J.K. Leroy, and Ishmeal Beah, who wrote bogus tales of their lives and misadventures.

Then I opened my daily newspaper and there was an article informing me that a Food Network star had inflated his resume and been fired upon discovery. Now all the blame doesn’t fall on these miscreants. Surely the Food Network could have quickly checked his credentials claiming to have been chef to Britain’s Royal Family and several U.S. presidents. But as the publisher of Mr. Frey’s book said in an effort to get off the hook, “I don’t think there is any way you can fact-check every single book. It would be very insulting and divisive in the author-editor relationship.” 

Huh? What? Say again?

When I was studying journalism back in the Dark Ages, one of the first messages drummed into us was to get your facts straight. Be sure to double-check your sources. And after the big Ws (who, what, where, when and why), we were taught the journalist’s Hippocratic oath of integrity and honesty in reporting.

That training applied later on when I did proofreading and copy editing and writing for advertising agencies, for TV and radio stations, for an international bank and most recently as copy editor for several memoirs. Even now as I assist a friend with a memoir being published by her alma mater, I am impressed by the careful fact checking of the educational institution, because it’s become such a novelty.

We have written 39 columns for this paper. I’m sure we’ve made mistakes. But for every column that includes information, we do our own fact checking. We even fact-check each other’s columns and sidebars. And I’m sure our Executive Editor is keeping a close eye out for questionable statements.

So I suppose you think I am dismayed by these revelations of lying, misrepresenting and poor editorship on the part of the publishers? Was I outraged? Was I even disturbed? No, I was delighted.

Now we can all feel free to write our memoirs, altering the histories of our dysfunctional, broken or boring families and become famous in the process. With this in mind, I proffer the new and improved story of my life. But in the interests of truth, honesty and justice I’ll tell you when I’m lying.

I was born and raised in Chicago (true) in a rich, warm, functional family (who am I kidding).

After a superior educational experience at the University of Chicago (I failed the math part of the scholarship test), I turned to the more diversified opportunity to attend Wright (city) College. A major in journalism and a minor in English led me straight to a business degree (typing and shorthand) and on to a career in a prestigious industry (a company that made slip covers for furniture and is still in business today). Then I married a military officer (yeoman in the Coast Guard) and started my travels around the U.S. and overseas (true).

As you can see, this lying stuff is hard slogging. You have to mix in a little of the truth that can be verified with the upgraded resume details. It’s exhausting, folks. So my suggestion is that when you write your memoir, you just tell the truth. Even though you know your brother Bill is going to say, “It didn’t happen that way.”

In fact, we encourage those of you in the AGE-WISE generation to write down your memories, or record your life stories, or have your grandchildren videotape you recounting the most memorable days of your lives. Many of the community colleges and art centers and continuing education institutions in our area offer excellent short courses in memoir writing to help you get started. Or visit your local library for one of the books on how to put down your life story in an interesting, cohesive way. 

Just remember to tell the truth as you remember it. One of the things about a real memoir is it’s the way you remember it, not your brother Bill. But you might want to stop and get out that old obituary of grandma. I found out mine didn’t die at the legendary age of 100, but 91. I’ll settle for that. Just get the fact right in the paper.