Controversy, and purposely stirring the pot. Bring emotion into it.

Stories are about emotion. One way to get those emotions flowing is to create controversy. It doesn't have to be political, or spiritual, or anything especially egregious. Controversy can simply be putting in a situation that we would all agree is brutally unfair--being accused of theft when the accuser is the one actually thieving. What happens with the audience is an emotional response, it heats them up, enrages, and hopefully creates a deep connection with the story.

I've listened to master oral storytellers work their craft. It's incredible. If you ever get the opportunity, take it. It's a dying art form, but well worth the effort. What really amazes me is how they take the words and create such emotional depth. Especially, they turn the central conflict into a controversy that brings the audience and the story together. It's incredible. In their spellbinding oration, the unfairness becomes even more dynamic and palpable. As they speak, they watch their audience and respond accordingly, pushing harder at whatever resonates the most.

It comes down to conflict, but controversy isn't necessarily a fight and can be a setting itself. The environment may simply be against the characters in a way that puts them at odds with everyone else. Ray Bradbury's fantastic classic, Fahrenheit 451, is just that--the main characters thinks differently than those around him and thus the conflict centered at the book is born. The controversy actually drives the story.

Perhaps it's a careful slicing of the idea of controversy and conflict, but I think it's an important distinction. Controversy is the basis for so much more, and isn't just a fight. That breeds powerful emotions, which is what makes stories so powerful.

- M

Whistle while you work, whistle while you play!

Ever tried whistling more than a single note? I grew up whistling, and have been told I'm pretty good at it. I don't deny it. I love whistling songs, and having a good time by myself. It's relaxing, and let's me sing my favorite songs without having the vocal range to do it by voice. More still, it let's me play with music and that's something I believe very strongly in. Music makes life better in every way.

Disney popularized "Whistle while you work" and it stuck in the popular imagination, not that I've ever seen anyone whistling at work really. Actually, I used to do that as a janitor when I thought I was alone (apparently not always, since people commented about it). The concept is a good one though, because it speaks about being happy about what you're doing. That's a great idea. We should all enjoy our work, even when it's hard and backbreaking.

I suppose the conclusion is to ask: What do you do to make your life happy? Whistling is only one thing we can do, but there are many options available to us. Enjoying what you do is more than an emotion, it's a commitment. Life is like that, rewarding our commitments with joy. Maybe not jump in the air joy, but a satisfaction of something done well.

- M

Motivation. What makes you tick?

Why do you do what you do? What makes it worthwhile? If someone stopped you on the street, could you answer? Have you thought about it? It's amazing to discover the passion you have when you stop and consider why you do things. Otherwise, why do anything? We all have our reasons, and for the most part they are powerful indeed.

Stories are the same way. Without clear motivation the people inside fall somehow flat, they just don't seem real. Audiences seek characters they can connect with, even if they don't actually like them. It's part of human resonance, where we seek out commonality. As a voracious reader, I many times really despise a character, but mainly because I have a really strong resonance with their motivations and actions. It works the other way too, where I love a character but can't somehow get a connection. Jurassic Park was like that--I absolutely loathed the little girl, but specifically because of how much I understood her motivations... still didn't make her any less whiney.

Show, demonstrate, layer the story with motivations and audiences will love it. As hard as it is to understand Batman's motivations, we all understand grief and the desire for vengeance. Those small parts blend together and create something far larger and powerful. We long for a story to make us feel, taste, and touch. Place us within their motivations, and we will fill in the gaps ourselves. After all, storytelling isn't a one way process; the audience is as much a part of the story as the teller.

- M

Death, danger, imminent peril. Are your favorite characters safe?

We all know that the main characters rarely ever die, and even when they do it isn't necessarily permanent (either it was all a ruse--somehow faked--or they get brought back). I remember reading about early Hollywood movies where one of the principles was that nobody ever died on screen. But, when a movie inevitably made it happen, there was such shock in theatres that women feinted, men rushed out, and it rocked the entire industry. Still, the main characters are the only ones who regularly make it through the whole thing.

That isn't to say there is anything wrong with it. After all, as an audience, if I've spent hours, days, even months, connecting with the characters I sure want to see them stick around. Besides, it wouldn't be much of a story if there weren't protagonists that the story is about. It's natural to let them live. However... that doesn't mean they can't be in imminent peril of death and destruction. I think audiences like the feeling of the characters brushing up against disaster and making it through, while others around them fall to their doom. It's like a roller coaster--you don't expect to die, but it sure feels like it and gets your heart racing.

For a while, no characters were safe. There was a trend where main characters fell even in the early stages of a story, and more still afterwards. But, the shock of it happening quickly dulls and it's not as horrifying as it could be. I think such things should be used sparingly, surgically, to throw a wrench in the audience's mind so they stop guessing ahead and focus on what's actually happening. A good surprise will do that, and let's the author be sneaky in the background.

- M

Hiding. Secrecy. Keeping things out of sight. How much is too much, and how much is too little?

Funny how hard something so simple can be. Hiding things is one such idea. Mysteries are commonly built completely around the hiding of facts/suspects/motives so the audience is strung along the wrong path until the story pops the conclusion. Of course, it isn't only mysteries that do this, but there is still the trouble of how much and when? It's interesting to study how different authors accomplish the task, and the success they find. Now that I mention it, this isn't even true only of stories, but also games and all kinds of other things (Hide and Seek is more about hiding in a strategic spot more than a highly camouflaged spot).

In my mind, the importance of secrecy is curiosity. As an audience, I want to know and am willing to wait and find out, and then as a participant I want to do a good job hiding stuff, and finally as an author I want to think it all up. All those things work together and makes magic happen. It's dazzling to witness someone like Agatha Christie do it so well--my favorite is still "Ten Little Indians" which continues to be a top seller in mysteries.

So, what's the answer? How much is too much? How much is too little? The answer is like asking why something is a favorite--because it is. What I mean is that a complete answer isn't really possible; it's more a feeling than anything else. We all do it, with flavors and colors, cars and movies. We know what we like, but can't really express why we do. So, my suggestion is to keep the secrecy where you personally like it and go with it. After all, shouldn't stories at least benefit yourself as you experience them?

- M

Real heroes, who also happen to be celebrities

When I was a kid, I grew up around celebrities like Audie Murphy (his life is chronicled in the movie "To Hell and Back") and others. They lived the life they portrayed on screen, and they weren't ashamed of demonstrating their courage time and again. There was an abundance of heroes to look up to, people who had integrity; people kids wanted to grow up into. I think we still need those heroes today.

Prince Harry is a modern hero like this. He put his determination on full display and joined the military. Sure, he's a prince and so isn't quite treated the same as any other soldier but he is in harms way and willingly put himself there. That takes guts, and is laudable. Many celebrities speak out about their particular cause, but rarely put themselves at risk. I understand. It takes courage, and the willingness to sacrifice.

Probably the biggest quality of a hero is accepting the consequences for their actions. They don't shy away from bad or good. If they choose to do it, then they will take the results. It's more than simple courage; it's complex and reasoned beyond emotion. The true hero steps into the breach without complaining that's it's unfair and someone else should do it. They take responsibility. No matter what, they try--sometime failing--and try again until they succeed. True heroes are worthy of imitation, because they actually are examples to follow.

- M

Cartoons: Bugs Bunny, Yosemite Sam, the Roadrunner, and crazy mishaps that make everyone laugh.

There is a rare joy in old time cartoons. It's as though the writers unhinged their brains and let whatever burbled up onto the screen to cavort and carry on. I loved them as a kid. Some of my fondest memories are waiting for Saturday morning cartoons to roll through. Such things are a simple joy, and hard to really pin down as to why. I think the biggest thing for me was watching ridiculous creatures doing ridiculous things in ridiculous places. I don't know how many times I've seen Wiley E. Coyote windmill in the air before plummeting down and making a shaped crater in the valley floor, but each time is enjoyable.

I doubt any kid ever thought it was real, but that's besides the point. The point was pure fun, no matter how crazy or outlandish. In some ways, it was better when it went off the rails and flew into complete insanity. Classics like "What's Opera, Doc?" where the cartoons took the epic Ring Cycle from Wagner and turned it into a brilliant comedy. I see the same sort of imagination in Pixar Shorts, and other smaller studios. It's good to see.

Humor is a distinctly human quality, and I'm glad. There are a lot of wild and fantastical cartoons out now, and I guess I'm a bit out of touch since I don't watch them. Still, it warms my heart that cartoons are still around and changing to match the desires of new audiences. Hope continues through the younger generations, with their own imagination and zaniness.

- M