Motivation: The Driving Force

By Vitora

Everybody wants something. Whether it’s the latest hairstyle, or another lollipop, or a million dollars, or revenge upon all vermin (who, of course, killed the entire extended family way back when), each and every one of us is striving to reach a goal. And this trait goes for characters as well—if Matthias had never wanted to be a warrior, he would have never searched for the sword, and Redwall would have fallen into Cluny’s claws. But he did want to follow in Martin the Warrior’s pawprints, and so the Abbey was saved. Goals like these—commonly and collectively known as motivation—make a story meaningful and interesting.

If all your characters did was sit around all day, dreaming about their…well, dreams, it would induce many yawns from your readers. Besides, it would get the character (and the story) no where. (Remember that school project? And how you dreamed about it, thought that would get it all done…and then got your report card?) Motivation can’t just be an elusive feeling—it must be such a strong presence that your character just has to jump up and do something to reach his or her goal.

Let’s look at an example. This is just a basic story summary from a random book on my shelf, The Iron Ring by Lloyd Alexander.

When Tamar, the young king of Sundari, loses a dice game, he loses everything—his kingdom, its riches, and even the right to call his life his own. His bondage is symbolized by the iron ring that appears mysteriously on his finger. To Tamar, born to the warrior caste, honor is everything. So he sets out on a journey to make good on his debt—and even to give up his life if necessary. And he enters a world where animals talk, spirits abound, and magic is everywhere…

This is just what’s on the back cover of the book. Now, if I gave you a pen, could you circle Tamar’s motivation? Hopefully, the answer is yes. I’ve actually made it easy for you and put it in bold.

Looking at those twenty-five words (out of eighty-eight total—a nice percentage of motivation vs. fluff), you get a very clear picture of what Tamar wants, why he’s going on a quest. This is essential to a good story—a very clear motivation for the main character. But how can you apply this to your own stories?

Try writing a summary similar to the one above. Don’t make it over one hundred words, and don’t stop to think about it much. Then go back over it and highlight the motivation. An example:

Marus is content—he has his father’s farm and a bachelor’s carefree life. But when Kaya the rat and Rorthar the wolf, both intelligent animals who possess the power of speech, enter his world with news of a strange land called Tiova, the young man is forced to make a decision: keep his peaceful existence…or leave a dying country to its inevitable doom. His decision, influenced by the gentle guidance of the knight Sir Kuulok, will change his life forever.

Short and sweet, that’s how you want it. All right, so the motivation in this example isn’t as clear-cut as the first one. But it still gives the reader a taste of what the story’s like (a quest of sorts), what the main character is after (seems like Marus would rather be left alone), and a tiny hint of what the outcome is (he’s going to be changed, so one can safely assume that he’ll help Tiova out). Take a look at your summary now.

If you can circle the motivation, good job. You’ve got a clear-cut goal in mind and you’ll probably end up being able to write the entire story (given time and junk food enough). If you can’t, you’d better sit down and think hard about why you’re even writing this story in the first place.

So, you can’t circle the motivation. Big troubles. What then? Well, there are many basic goals that can be modified to fit your particular story, and I’ll list a few here:

A family member or friend will be harmed if the character does not [insert action here].

A famine/flood/war/giant peacock is devastating the land, and the character is able to do something about it.

[Insert object here] is lost, and the character must find it.

Those are some of the more important goals; there are hundreds of tiny goals wrapped up in any decent novel—hey, when you gotta go, you gotta go. Or when the character is hungry, say, they head out to order from the nearest pizza place. I suppose that “motivation” can also be characterized as “need.” Everyone needs something, to reword my earlier statement, whether it’s a quick bathroom trip or someone to love them forever. No matter what you write—even if it’s poetry or non-fiction (in both cases it’s often the author’s goal that has to show through)—, remember that motives are what drive all literature.

Now, I’m hungry. I think I’ll go get some pizza.