I’ve always had a problem with a fundamental element of storytelling — the character’s wants.
Wants and needs largely define a characters anxieties, choices, and behaviors. The wants are usually obvious to the audience and the character. The needs (especially psychological) are often invisible and in conflict with the wants. Growth happens when needs are served and wants move into second place (after sacrifice). A happy ending usually gives the protagonist what he/she wants and needs before the story is over.
One my favorite stories in film (and TV) is Marty, by the great Paddy Chayefsky. Here’s the quote that shows his moment of change:
You don't like her. My mother don't like her. She's a dog. And I'm a fat, ugly man. Well, all I know is I had a good time last night. I'm gonna have a good time tonight. If we have enough good times together, I'm gonna get down on my knees. I'm gonna beg that girl to marry me. If we make a party on New Year's, I got a date for that party. You don't like her? That's too bad.
He steps out and away from the people who, though they love him, don’t want him to change. He doesn’t let them hold him down. He chooses connection. He chooses it hard: I’m gonna beg that girl to marry me.
Huckleberry Finn has a similar moment, choosing a friend (and what’s right) despite what everyone he knows holds tight to (property rights in the form a slavery).
I was a-trembling, because I'd got to decide, forever, betwixt two things, and I knowed it. I studied a minute, sort of holding my breath, and then says to myself: “All right then, I'll go to hell”—and tore it up. It was awful thoughts and awful words, but they was said.
Again, strong words in making what the true right choice is. But I don’t think it was hyperbole. I think Huck believed he was damning himself, even as readers redeemed him.
So what’s my problem?
To me, it has often felt like the game is rigged against wants. It feels like they are essentially nonessential. Like there’s a selfish component. Even worse, it’s hard to imagine them as urgent. While the power of the choice is clear for Marty and Huck, that’s not what happens in most fiction. And it has been difficult for me to find that level of intensity.
But I got an interesting perspective (thanks to a course on playwriting, taught by Lisa D'Amour). Stop thinking wants and start thinking cravings.
The concept is realistic. I suspect we all know people who have thrown away good jobs, friendships, mortgage money, health, and reputations because a craving took over. Drugs, booze, infatuations, revenge, and ambition can become all-consuming. Daily headlines tell the story. Sadly, most of us have seen the corrosive action of cravings closer to home. In real life, we’d probably wish away cravings. In stories, they can replace the milder wants to create compelling dilemmas.
Nurse Jackie is an amazing series for lots of reasons. One is that it illustrates the power of cravings, even as it shows the social context. We have structured ways to help, manage, and restrain people who have lost themselves to addiction, but the choices are heavily weighted toward disaster. And people of great talent and purpose are destroyed. Along with many who care for them.
Of course, it doesn’t always work out that way. But the threat is powerful, more so because of how it reflects the experiences of many people. We worry about Nurse Jackie because her work and wit and charm make her easy to empathize with. Watching the show, I wanted her to triumph over addiction. I cheered as the character “got help,” hoping for a happy ending. But part of me knew she was damned. That the cravings would win.
House, who went on a similar journey and seemed equally damned, clutched at his last chance, friendship, for a semisweet ending. But the writers made it a near thing for him. Cravings created story moments that were excruciating at times.
I’ve long leaned toward the Seven Deadly Sins for genuine character flaws, so I probably should have found my way to cravings and plots and character arcs they bring sooner. I think my journey’s through painful honesty found the cravings in my stories, but only after a lot of stumbling. When I interview my characters, asking them what their cravings are, I’ve found their answers reveal raw story ideas. (Not right away. Interesting characters cooperate anymore than real people do. If I asked you to tell me about your cravings, would you give me a pure and honest answer?)
Now, not every story needs a craving as powerful as addiction to narcotics. A boxer can refuse to retire and sacrifice his health (identity, fear of change). In Amadeus, Salieri wants to strike back at God for choosing Mozart as His agent for beauty (pride). Another of my favorite films, The Apprenticeship of Duddy Kravitz, is about a young man who will do anything to lock up a real estate deal (greed).
If the craving is so strong, there’s a likelihood the character will betray a loved one, the actual focus of compulsion doesn’t matter. (And this can be scaled back for gentler storytelling, say, for younger audiences.) And I’ll note that cravings are a major mechanism in comedy, where obsession with the trivial and self delusion are common. The cravings of comic protagonists tend not to be destructive (except to the protagonists, and not in an extreme way). The humor, forgiveness, and lack of lasting harm allow audiences to reflect on cravings from a safe distance.
One more thing. I think wanting something on Maslow’s hierarchy of needs and putting it in opposition to another of those needs creates powerful dilemmas without cravings. Which is what happens with Marty and Huck. Neither of them want drugs. They don’t covet the property of others or seek domination. They want to belong. They want easy relations with those around them. So if the “good” that’s wanted, the need that does have real value, gets corrupted by resistance to change (Marty) or bigotry (Huckleberry Finn), it works like a craving.
And it can be as potentially damning for the character and riveting for the audience as a craving.
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July courses
July 5-August 1
Crank up the efficiency and get that novel, short story, article or script DONE.
Through exercises, evaluations, tips and technologies, you can learn to write faster. Discover how to break through blocks, get ideas, develop plots, draft and polish in less time without losing quality.
July 5-30
One reason we come to fiction is to experience the changes characters go through. And, while the external journey from maid to princess or farmer to Jedi knight may create engaging challenges, we identify with characters because they learn how to trust others or master their tempers or become their true selves. They go on journeys where they learn who they are and how they fit in. They overcome their flaws, form connections, grow up and heal.
The internal change is shaped and forced by their external tasks, giving them arcs that delight readers. This class will help participants to honestly assess the flaws in characters they love. They’ll look to how hard choices avoided make things worse and how choices faced with courage bring growth, understanding… and credible happy endings.
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