Pamela is notable for its epistolary style: it is made of letters (primarily written by Pamela) and journal entries that still function mainly like letters—they are simply letters that Pamela does not have the means to send to her parents. The use of letters and journal entries allows Richardson to develop Pamela's psychology. Pamela's writing style is emotional, containing many hyperboles, metaphors, and exclamations to help convey the intensity of her experience.
But Richardson does not entirely empower Pamela to take control of the book. One key feature of his style is the occasional intrusion by "the Editor" of all Pamela's correspondence. The persistent presence of this editor is a reminder that someone (not Pamela) has sifted through all of her writings and cobbled them together to share with an audience. The notion that Pamela's writing is being mediated by an editor introduces questions about authenticity: what is the "real" story underneath not only the editor's mediation, but also Pamela's? Richardson raises the question of whether there is such a thing as an objective reality.
Then again, Richardson also invites readers to reflect on the purpose of fiction, and whether or not the "objective reality" beneath it matters. In the Journal (continued), after Mr. B. begins acting as though he has reformed, Pamela suggests that her story might make for good fiction:
Well, my Story surely would furnish out a surprizing kind of Novel, if it was to be well told.
Through Pamela, Richardson is clearly making a meta-joke about the fact that he is "furnish[ing] out a surprizing kind of Novel." What really matters to him, this joke suggests, is whether the novel is "well told." In the end, if he tells a good story and imparts his chosen morals to his readers, Richardson seems to think that "reality" might not matter.
