Striving for a character arc

In fiction, the classic character arc has the protagonist struggling with a character flaw. The plot gives the character something they want, something that they can get only if they overcome their flaw. At the climax, of course, the character overcomes their flaw and we all go home happy.

But I've always felt drawn to stories with what might be called a circular arc: the character struggles with their flaw but is ultimately unsuccessful in changing themselves.  I believe that people do not change much and, when they do, the change is a slow process that rarely results from a single stimulus. This is backed up by research and I've wanted to express this in my writing.

These aren't popular endings, and, in fact, I'm often unsatisfied by this kind of a story. It comes down to being a cathartic exercise for the writer instead of creating a truly compelling story. But it still makes me uncomfortable to change an ending to make the story more likable.

Rather, it made me uncomfortable until I connected it to Lisa Cron's theory in Wired for Story. She says we evolved to like stories because they give us practice without having to have all the actual experiences. Could reading stories where the characters overcomes their flaw similarly be a way for us to practice overcoming our own?

Scarcity and Incentives

When one of our children has earned enough glass "gems" to fill up her reward jar, she can choose a 'special thing.' There are limited choices: go see a movie in the theater, buy a book at the book store, go to the Butterfly Pavilion or get to have a meal at Noodles and Company. Over the four years we've been using this system, our three kids have all used the first three options.  However, no one has ever chosen the fourth.

Why not? We rarely go to movies, the kids rarely get to purchase anything new and we reserve the Butterfly Pavilion exclusively for these special trips. Going to Noodles and Co for a meal, however, is not a rare event.  Why would the kids waste a once-every-few-months 'special thing' on something they're likely to get every month anyway?

There is a larger truth, here, too. If you use incentives to affect your children's behavior, it is good to start from a base of scarcity. If they get candy every night after dinner, are they going to be motivated by an extra piece? If they get to go to a movie every month, will they be motivated by going again? If they get thirty minutes of screen time every day, is the promise of an 'extra' show going to make a difference? If Grandpa brings a toy whenever he comes to visit and Mom brings one whenever she returns from a business trip, is the promise of a new toy going to motivate the kid? If they get a dollar a day allowance, is a new toy going to offer any incentive over what they can purchase on their own?

Here are a few guidelines we've used concerning incentives:

1. Choose something they want. Sometimes it can be naturally connected to the behavior but it doesn't have to be. You are introducing an external motivation and once you tell them it's connected, it is.
2. Small, repeated incentives are more likely to be effective than one grand item. This seems to have two causes: A) repeating a behavior makes it a habit and B) the parent is more willing to withhold a small reward that the child has a chance to earn again. 
3. Withholding the incentive when the behavior does not meet expectations is as much as part of it as rewarding when it does. If they can get the reward either way, why would they bother to behave?
4. Scarcity breeds opportunity. It is worth the difficulty of restraining them from excessive sweets, toys, movies or whatever in order to use those (which you wish to use) as incentives when you've decided a behavior is truly unacceptable.

The gem jars are a successful system for us (kids now 4 and 8 years old). One of the best parts is that I'm willing to make them take a gem out whenever a rule, no matter how small, is broken. We give three gems a night (one for going to bed without a fuss, one for not waking us up during the night and another for staying in bed until they're supposed to get up) so, if a kid has a nightmare or a leg ache, they only lose one of three. Still getting two gems doesn't feel like a punishment yet the philosophy is reinforced: they only get the gems they earned. 

One other incentive we've used was a reward chart for our 4 year old when she was awake for hours each night. I printed out an excel spreadsheet with 4 rows x 7 columns; at the end of each row was a picture of a piece of the Halloween costume she wanted: Elsa wig, Elsa shoes, Elsa dress and Elsa make-up.  It was about 5 weeks until Halloween when we started, so we could afford to *not* give her some stickers at the beginning (see point 3!). She ended up earning all the rewards and, after a month of practice, gained the capability of turning on her light and reading if she woke in the middle of the night. Half-way through, her sisters decided it wasn't fair that she was going to get a purchased Halloween costume, since we usually make them, and asked for reward charts of their own. In this case, buying a few items was well worth the resulting behavior. But again, if the were accustomed to getting costumes that they asked for, the incentive wouldn't have worked so well.  Scarcity breed opportunity!

Art for survival

To survive, we must tell stories 

--Umberto Eco The Island of the Day Before

Wrapping an emotion in words until it is encapsulated in a poem is a technique I discovered as a teenager and still use to avoid being overwhelmed. In this way, poetry has been important in my life. However, research into people's preferences in art and brain chemistry indicate that art may truly be crucial to humanity's survival.

On the TED Radio Hour's episode What is Beauty?, philosopher Dennis Dutton brings up
an experiment by Alexander Melamid. He analyzed people's taste in art and found that the universally desired landscape was one that was perfect for survival on the African savannas. For example, people prefer pictures of trees with a low branch, which would be advantageous in escaping a predator and always want water in the picture. So we find beautiful that which we need for survival.

Wired for Story by Lisa Cron claims that humans like stories because, as we put ourselves in the place of the protagonist, we are practicing dealing with situations we've yet to experience. "It's a human universal,"  she says in a Tedx Talk. Stories feel good because they are so crucial for our survival.

Research like this brings a whole new meaning to using art for survival. We strive to find the most beautiful landscape... because it has all the elements necessary for our survival.  We crave the character arc... because it gives us a safe way to practice our skills. Although raw survival might be different in the modern age,  the need for beauty hasn't diminished and neither has the ability of art to satisfy that need.

Review: Search and Rescue in Colorado's Sangre de Cristos

Part thriller, part how-to manual, part philosophical treatise, this collection of true stories provides a window into the realities of Search and Rescue.

Full of useful tips like how not to go off the route on descent, how to keep warm in frigidly cold environments and how to slow the bleeding from multiple head wounds, the stories leave the reader with respect for the risks inherent in the mountain environment and an understanding of just how difficult and dangerous a rescue can be.

The author shows the care and respect that the men and women of SAR have for each other, as well as for the victims who they recognize as not much different from themselves.


Goodreads
Amazon

Parenting: It ain't easy

I just dropped my kids off at my parents house for an overnight. It is great timing--we had planned to go to my husband's co-worker's  fiftieth birthday party but I'm suffering from a cold and so am going to stay home. The prospect of an evening reading in bed is glorious.

However, before getting home to the comforts of my bed, I had to navigate the who-sleeps-where fight the kids immediately fell into when we arrived at my parents.  There are four beds in their partially finished bedroom, which should easily accommodate three kids but, of course, they all wanted the same one. I was feeling poorly enough that I conducted the interaction mostly from a supine  position on my parents' living room floor. It would have been so nice to escape, but that would have meant my parents had to deal with the fall-out. And, probably, the youngest would have gotten her way simply because she was the most insistent on getting the favorite bed and my parents would have felt bad making her feel bad.

I'm appreciative enough of my parents' babysitting that I don't want them to have to deal with any more negativity than is necessary. And I know the little one's bad attitude about not getting what she wants is a sign that she gets what she wants too much of the time. So it was up to me, no matter how sick I felt, no matter how much I just wanted to leave, to make the decision (random drawing, which the littlest lost) and deal with the consequences.

It got me thinking of something I've learned about parenting, which sounds obvious: it ain't easy.  One of the unseen advantages to having twins as our first kids was that we expected it to be hard. Just because humans have been having babies for thousands of years doesn't mean it is easy to be a parent.

It's often most difficult right at the moment I'm least equipped to deal with it. But I believe those are the moments that count the most. If I took the easy way out (in this case, give the younger one the desired bed), what would she learn? Mom's sick + I throw a fit = I get my way. In the future, when I'm not sick, she'll probably be a good experimentalist and test if throwing a fit alone equals getting her way. So giving in this time will mean more fits to deal with. It might seem logical to say "I'll just deal with it then, when I have more energy" but I believe that giving in once will result in ten more tests: she'll throw ten more fits before she's convinced that it won't give her what she wants.

So, even though it was the last thing I felt like dealing with, standing up to her today is an investment in the future. Her future, obviously, because one of the most important skill a person has is dealing with disappointment. But also in my future: it ain't easy now, but if I stay strong, it will get better.

The other key is taking care of myself so that I have the strength to do what needs to be done. For me, this means daily exercise and predictable times to work on my hobbies. It is admittedly easier with financial resource but there are ways to do it with less: child care swaps with friends/neighbors (the kids call them playdates), gyms like the YMCA that offer two hours of free child care every day to members, and simply trading off with the other parent. Insisting on time for myself is one of the best ways to guarantee my kids will get the best parent I can be at the moments it matters the most.

Short Review of Good News by Edward Abbey

An interesting (and terrible) vision of the future of the American Southwest. The ending was surprising, given how the characters were clearly delineated as good and bad.

My review on Goodreads

Creativity in Motion

During my childhood, we drove to South Dakota at least once a year to visit my grandparents. It was a day-long drive, about four hundred miles from my Colorado home. On one trip in my teenage years, I was laying in the back of the van wishing I was traveling with a group of cool theater kids instead of my family. (Sorry, Mom, Dad and K). That was the inspiration for my first novel-length story (with characters oh-so-realistically named Sun, Earth, Moon, River, Star etc.)

The resurgance of writing in my adult life occurred on the California Zephyr, somewhere in western Colorado. As the train clacked through isolated mountains and sage-brush covered hills,  I felt the urge to move to this rural setting. Imagining how the actual experience would shock me out of my idealism, I started typing a story of a young, urban couple who attempt to take over a Western Slope orchard.

I haven't looked back on either of those stories in years but now I recognize that it was no coincidence both ideas came while traveling. There is something about moving through space that sprouts ideas in my mind. My latest theory is that scenery in motion is so information dense that it stimulates the brain to make unusual connections. However it works, I've started to use it to my advantage while writing.

Running, walking or riding my bike seem to produce similar results. In fact, the idea of the novel I'm working on now came while hiking up to work on a snowy day, as pictured below. (I know I have the worst commute in the world :/ ).  I use this to my advantage, schedule outdoor exercise at the beginning of my writing time or taking time to jot down notes directly afterward. If I remember to think about the story, I frequently figure how to make something work and I'm pleased with the efficiency of getting exercise while working on a story. It's double good!

Addendum: my husband pointed out that, since aerobic exercise is believed to immediately promote new brain cell growth in adults, there is even a positive impact during the post-exercise writing period.

And neuroscience research on how our brains get more creative during unfocused, downtime.