You hear it in most foundational storytelling classes, dozens of bestselling writer’s instruction manuals, and in countless online videos and opinion pieces.
“All stories are basically the same one story.”
Or three stories. Or ten. Or whatever number the author of the piece makes up. Regardless, the incalculable cultural wealth of five thousand years of written human history, spanning tens of thousands of distinct societies, can supposedly be summarized by a small number of basic plot outlines. Had we not all been taught this idea in school, we would laugh at it.
I think most people who advocate this approach to storytelling mean well. When I was a beginner, the vagaries and subjectivity of the storytelling art form were pretty intimidating. An assurance that no really, it’s all very simple, we can quantify it, we can pin down all the rules, helped to ease my fears. This is the appeal of the idea that there’s only one basic story to many storytellers who write by it. And to be fair, Joseph Campbell’s original work, which popularized the idea that there’s only one story, is genuinely fascinating.
Campbell studied comparative mythology. After examining numerous past and present societies around the world, he realized that many of their cultural myths contained similar elements. He distilled these elements into a single story structure he called the “hero’s journey,” or the “monomyth.” Campbell’s intent was to describe, and to unify: “Hey, look at this interesting thing I found. It must mean all …
Imagine yourself as a young person named John, who was born and lives in Ridgway, Colorado, where you love the small-town vibe and spend much of your free time hiking and horseback riding. All your life, you’ve wanted to become a firefighter, settle down, and start a family. You haven’t found the right person for that yet, but you’re trying. You enjoy living in a tightknit community that shares your values, and are fairly extroverted and active in that community, volunteering at a food pantry, an animal shelter, and your church, and leading a local Boy Scout troop. You like curling up with a good history book before bed each night.
This is who you are, and you love who you are.
But there’s a problem. Your friends, family, and random strangers on the street all seem to think you’re a completely different person. Everyone calls you “Steve” instead of your actual name. They think you were born in New York City and are spending a year in Ridgway with your parents to escape the stress of your job as a public defender. They think you enjoy big city life. In reality, you wouldn’t be caught dead even vacationing to a big city.
You get weird looks when you go horseback riding because everyone knows (or thinks they know) you’re a video game aficionado who is rarely seen outdoors, even though you’re outdoors all the time. As a guy who wants a long-term relationship, you have trouble finding dates, because …
Imagine we take a baby from one part of the earth and transplant it into a new environment in a completely different culture, with drastically different material circumstances, on another part of the planet. Maybe it’s a baby born in Singapore, and we transplant it into a family in the middle of a warzone in Yemen. Imagine we know that in Singapore, it would have grown up to be a successful MD. Do you think that outcome is as likely now, with the baby’s new surroundings?
Or maybe instead we take a baby born in that Yemeni warzone and transplant it into a family in Singapore. Will its future be more or less bleak now?
This isn’t a difficult thought experiment to imagine, and it makes the influence of environment on a person’s life circumstances immediately clear. An argument that our infant transplants would live similar lives to those they’d have lived if we hadn’t relocated them would be quite an uphill battle.
The idea that a person’s environment and culture play a role in how their life turns out is called social determinism, and it’s one of the foundations of the science of sociology.
Our parents and culture pass specific values and beliefs to us. Our society may support us with schools, physical and mental health care, public transportation, and other rungs on a ladder we can climb to health and wealth. Or it may let us fend for ourselves.
The world treats us differently depending on our sex …
I made the same appeal on Facebook after Trump won in 2016, and most people took it as an anti-Trump political post, which wasn’t how I intended it. So maybe now that the Democrats have won the presidency, I can make my case with credible impartiality. Here’s the pitch:
Whether Republican or Democrat, the President of the United States should not exist.
I may be an oddball for suggesting abolishing the presidency, but I’m in good company. Pulitzer-winning historian Barbara W. Tuchman suggested the same in a controversial 1973 New York Times article. A sizeable contingent of our nation’s founders weren’t too hot on the idea of a president, either—at least not a president with any power. They wanted to get far away from the monarchy they’d fought a revolution to escape, and were worried the president would become a king.
Eventually, they compromised with the Federalists. The executive branch was charged with implementing laws created by congress and interpreted by the courts, but it could not create laws or interpret them itself. The president was never meant to unilaterally rule over the country.
Since the creation of the executive branch, though, the powers of the president have increased considerably, especially in recent decades. We citizens, and our growing political polarization, are partially to blame for this. When our own party’s president in office, we’re content to let them bully the other side, cast aside institutional norms, and test the limits of checks and balances because we …
Let’s run a thought experiment. To start with, I want you to hold two things firmly in your mind. The first is your moral identity: your politics, your religion, your general moral outlook on the world. Think of the top four or five moral issues most important to you, and imagine how much better the world would be if we took serious, large-scale action on those issues.
Secondly, think of your opposition: the people who want to stop progress from happening on the issues that matter to you. Consider what motivates them to be so hostile toward your moral views. Remember all of the unnecessary harm they cause in the world. Imagine what a better place the world would be, and all of the beneficial improvements society could achieve, without their obstruction.
During this exercise, you’re not allowed to attribute anything I say about you to your opposition, and you’re not allowed to attribute anything I say about your opposition to you. What I say you do, you do, and what I say your opposition does, they do.
So now, holding both your own moral identity and your opposition’s antagonism firmly in your mind, and remembering every major moral outcome that’s at stake, let’s begin.
I am offering you total control over all governments, businesses, and other institutions on the planet Earth. Under this offer, every single person who holds any kind of power in the world must answer to you, and it’s ultimately you who okays or vetoes every …
Charlie: I’m going to decide what is true based on what my group thinks is true.
Alex: Please no. There are methods of deciding what’s true that are reliable, verifiable, falsifiable, testable, and open to revision when incorrect. They are much better than believing something is true just because your group believes it’s true.
Charlie: Sure, but those methods have flaws.
Alex: They do, but the people who use those methods are constantly working to correct the flaws. People who use group allegiance to decide what’s true don’t do that.
Charlie: The only reason my group doesn’t do that is because my group is flawless.
Alex: Really? What makes you sure? Put another way: If your group’s ideas ever did have a flaw, how would you know?
Charlie: I’d know because my group knows everything there is that’s worth knowing about.
Alex: There are many other groups who feel the same way and are clearly wrong. What makes your group different?
Charlie: This conversation is making me uncomfortable. You’re just out to try and control what other people think, aren’t you?
Alex: I’m trying to explain why group allegiance is a bad method of determining what’s true. That’s not the same thing as me attacking your specific group.
Charlie: No, you’re arguing in favor of objective truth, which doesn’t exist because all methods of determining it are flawed, and simultaneously does exist because my group is right about everything.
Alex: That’s not what I’m saying. I’m saying we need to …
In 1996, Chinese scientists noticed a larger-than-usual number of wild geese dying from avian influenza, a well-known but mild disease that had been found in bird populations for over a century. The outbreak soon spread to chicken farms, where chickens began to die by the thousands. By the time it became apparent that this wasn’t the ordinary avian flu, the first human cases had been reported in Hong Kong.
This new strain of the H5N1 avian flu, dubbed HPAI, for Highly Pathogenic Avian Influenza, appeared to only strike workers on chicken farms. Millions of chickens were culled in order to stop the outbreak, and millions more have been culled during periodic outbreaks in the years since. In 2003, the outbreak began to spread to birds around the world. Today, tens of millions of birds are infected worldwide, including some in the United States and Canada. Commercial turkeys in South Carolina were found to have HPAI just last month.
HPAI kills about half of all humans who get it. Fortunately, it only spreads from bird to person, not from person to person. But when researchers exhumed bodies of survivors of the 1918 flu pandemic (the one that killed around 2% of the world’s population), they found ten mutations the virus had undergone to give it sustained human-to-human transmission. The avian flu, today, has gained eight of those ten mutations. It only needs two more. With its high prevalence in wild birds and abundant opportunities to share genetic material with other …
A lot of advice in the indie publishing community centers around writing speed. If you want to build an audience, they say, you must write X number of books per year. Readers of self-published books tend to be voracious and you need to write quickly to appease their bottomless appetite for more books, or they’ll lose interest.
I think there’s some truth to this. Even well-known, traditionally published writers need to write at least one book each year or two (unless they’re George R. R. Martin). And I’m glad that there’s such a market for indie publishing. But I’ve always found the indie world’s preoccupation with writing speed a bit discouraging, because I can’t write that fast.
Often, a distinction between artists and businesspeople is central to the discussion of writing speed. Most authors fall somewhere in the middle of the two camps, and most people at the extremes are civil. But occasionally you find some highly opinionated writers who think everyone in the other camp is an idiot.
On the one hand, you have authors who write for the sheer art of it, to express and communicate and tell the best possible stories, and who are happy to take their sweet time writing, because they’d rather write well than fast. When they aren’t being friendly, they look upon the business-oriented writers as moneygrubbing hucksters out to make a quick buck, in the game more to build their personal brand than to add anything of meaning or value to the …
You may not see it happening yet, but drones are already changing everything. They’re searching woods for lost hikers, surveying land and crops, catching poachers, inspecting infrastructure, locating forest fires, and even catching criminals. We race them and snap photos with them. In the near future, they’ll walk our dogs, respond to our medical emergencies, and transport our cargo. And they’re revolutionizing innumerable other fields of work.
Drones’ abilities will cause some of our jobs will disappear, of course. But their net benefit to humanity seems substantial, and scarcely a day goes by without a news article praising their potential to aid us in our work.
But drones are revolutionizing every sector of the economy—not just the legal ones. And there’s been far less discussion about drones’ potential to aid criminals in their work.
Using drones for crime hasn’t caught on in a big way yet, but drones are undergoing changes that will make them far more useful to criminals than the clumsy quadcopters we use now.
Drones are getting smaller. Various militaries are already using drones the size of a dragonfly, and it’s only a matter of time before this miniaturized tech hits consumer shelves.
They’re also becoming more powerful, able to carry objects, and can stay afloat for extended periods of time, recharging their batteries with solar power. With the emergence of ubiquitous 3D printers, drone components will become far cheaper and easier to create at home. And at some point, drones will become so …
My first day of high school scared me senseless. My openness to new experiences has grown by leaps and bounds over the years, but back then, in the middle of a new place, with new faces who were older, smarter, and much more outgoing than me, I wanted to crawl back under my bedsheets and stay there until summer.
But I found a kindred spirit on that first day of high school: a stocky kid who was just as shy as me, and with whom I happened to share most of my classes. He looked out of place, and I felt out of place, so I sat next to him, and I made my first high school friend. His name was Chris.
Chris, as I learned after talking with him, was a Star Wars fan. This alone forged an immediate bond between us, because as a thirteen-year-old, I imbibed everything Star Wars like a wampa imbibes tauntaun meat. But Chris and I also laughed at all the same jokes, agreed on all the same political issues, and reveled in each other’s weirdness. We hit it right off.
Together with our friend Dustin, we became the school’s resident A/V geeks. I documented this story in another blog post, where I wrote about some of the horrible movies we made together. But what I didn’t emphasize in that post was how seriously. fucking. into it. we were.
We loved movies. Especially the big summer tent poles. Chris exposed me to a …