Adam Gopnik says there’s no escaping stories, or the pressures to tell them. Gopnik cites Jonathan Gottschall’s new book, “The Storytelling Animal,” for a scientific take on what makes stories work and why we like them.

Gottschall’s encouraging thesis is human beings are natural storytellers – we can’t help telling stories, and we turn things that aren’t really stories into stories because we like narratives so much.

Everything – faith, science, love – needs a story for people to find it plausible. No story, no sale.

We usually like stories to have morals at the end. Religions are so successful because they tell moralish stories, though some of their stories are nice and some are not nice at all. But they last the distance.

Really good stories, like really good wines, really do drink well for a longer time.

What Gopnik finds interesting is what makes the good ones so different from the dull ones, and whether the good ones really make us better people, or just make us people who happen to have heard a good story.

It’s the subtle, surface differences that make all the difference. The question of style is actually the whole of the subject. Students of the mechanics of storytelling like William Empson, Samuel Johnson, Lionel Trilling, Virginia Woolf, Edmund Wilson, and Randall Jarrell, all brooded long and hard upon stories and their subjects.

Wilson, for instance, tackled the problem of the boring modern story at great and lucid length, ending with the intriguing conclusion that each age has its own acceptable boredoms, with Joyce’s boredoms being no greater than Sir Walter Scott’s.

Good stories are strange. Good stories are not built on some specious universality. It’s that they make claims so astonishing that they seem instantly very different from all the other stories we’ve ever heard.

Good stories are startling. A sensitive, educated man is mad with lust for an eleven-year-old girl! Yikes! (Or, Yuck! Which is the same reaction with a slightly different sound.) lt isn’t Miss Havisham who is turning him into a gentleman? It‘s that convict all the way back from the first chapter? Are you serious?

This power to astonish is true even of seemingly long or esoteric stories that no one is said to read. The way to Swann’s house and the way to the Guermantes house turn out to have been the same way all along? It took us so long, and so many long sentences, to find that out – but it was worth it.

Good stories startle us with their strangeness, but they intrigue us by their originality, and end by rewarding us with the truth, after an effort.

It is the shock good stories offer to our expectations, not some sop they offer to our pieties, that makes tales tally, and makes comtes count.

Grabbing onto the future means letting go of the past.

Marshall Goldsmith’s book “What Got You Here Won’t Get You There” is all about how successful people can become more successful. It’s not about being more of a prick. It’s not even about trying harder.

The personality traits that brought you success (personal discipline, saying yes to everything, over-confidence) are the same traits that hold you back from going further. If you want to go further, you’re going to have to develop some new traits like learning to listen to lead, and not letting over-confidence make you over-commit.

You don’t need to learn what to do. You need to learn what to stop.

Goldsmith has a stack of stinging counter-intuitive insights. He tells some revealing stories about executives coming to terms with their shortcomings. One story is about Goldsmith dealing with a senior manager who complains about the employees not getting with the program, not understanding the company’s mission and overall direction. It’s a critical issue.

‘What the hell’s wrong with them?’ asks the manager. ‘I’ve spelled it out for them in a hundred meetings. I’ve even summarized it in a memo.’

Goldsmith has heard this before, but figures it’s best to take it step by step.

‘So how was this memo distributed?’

‘By email, of course. It went to every single person in the company.’

‘Okay, my hunch is the method of distribution is really all you know about this. How many people actually opened the email and read the memo?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Of those, how many do you think understood the memo?’

‘I have no idea.’

‘Of those who understood it, how many believed it?’

The manager looks out the window, and shakes his head. Goldsmith presses on.

‘And of this dwindling group of believers, how many remembered it?’

Another sorry head shake.

‘That’s a lot of unknowns for something you regard as vital to your company’s existence.’

The manager is lost for words.

‘You thought your job was done when you articulated the mission and wrote the memo – as if it was one more item on your to-do list for the day. You checked the box, and you moved on.’

Yep, stinging insights.

Goldsmith goes on to explain the failure of managers to see the enormous disconnect between understanding and doing. Most leadership development revolves around one huge false assumption – that if people understand then they’ll do. That’s not true. Not even close to true. Most of us understand, we just don’t do.

Goldsmith recommends following up to ensure the message hits home. Once you send out a message, you ask people the next day if they heard it. Then you ask if they understood it. Then a few days later, you ask if they did something about it.

If the first follow-up question doesn’t get their attention, the next one will, and so will the last one.

Actually, that’s not true. Some characters remain resolute and unchanging. That’s their role.

But typically we like our main character to go through a transformation, an arc. Uncovering their flaw is key. When it mirrors the theme, everything aligns and the stars shine just that little bit brighter.

Dave Herman is a British screenwriter and script editor who knows a thing or two about character flaws. Knows that the main character’s flaw is key to their transformation. So a well-defined flaw is an invaluable guide during the writing process.

Your main character probably has a few flaws. Pick one.

Your main character’s main flaw is an essential ingredient in a screenplay because it’s what stops them from achieving their goal. It’s the thing they’re most reluctant to face up to, because of the pain or loss involved in really acknowledging the flaw and then changing. (Yes, just like real life.)

It’s also what the antagonist latches onto and uses to make things increasingly difficult for the main character. But the flaw isn’t just important for writing the story, it’s also an essential ingredient in a good logline. It’s the essence of the description of the main character, and as such it indicates what kind of arc the main character will have to go through for there to be a satisfactory resolution to the story, regardless of genre.

That’s Herman’s take. Here are three questions he asks to uncover that flaw.

1. How does the story end?

If you know how you want your story to end, where does that leave the main character? What are they capable of (physically, emotionally, spiritually, morally, etc.) at the end of the story, that they weren’t capable of at the beginning? How have they managed to turn their flaw into their strength? Knowing how your story ends allows you to reverse engineer the main character’s arc, and determine what the most appropriate flaw is to start with.

2. What is the antagonist’s goal?

Every great antagonist has their own story, something they are trying to achieve which is being obstructed by the main character. The main character is going to battle it out with a force that knows them well and is hell-bent on stopping them, particularly by hitting them where it hurts most. Often the antagonist essentially wants the same thing as the main character, but has a diametrically opposed moral worldview. If it’s clear what the antagonist wants, then the main character’s flaw is going to be just what they need to get the job done.

3. What makes the main character’s goal so hard to achieve?

What specific thing does the main character have to achieve for us to know the story is over? What do they have to win, conquer, escape from, retrieve, deliver, refrain from, etc.? And what makes it so much harder for them to achieve this than for anyone else? Why is this the worst possible situation for this character to have to deal with? I mean, none of us wants to be buried alive or stuck on a hijacked plane, so that level of generic, primal emotion works on a plot level. But what specific difficulty does this particular goal raise for the main character in this particular story? The specific reason why achieving the goal is difficult for the main character is intimately linked with their flaw.

Two pretty simple questions you can’t really wriggle out of.

Of course, you can. But you’ll only disappoint yourself. You’ll try to rationalize your way out of it with logic and whatnot.

You might fool yourself for a while. But no matter what you do, you always come back to those two questions.

They’re the only questions that matter

Is capitalism cramping your style?

Thought you had it made when you started flying private? Think again. The joys of being the lead passenger can be short lived and a little on the cramped side.

“The Problem With Private Jets” is a high flying corporate story. It’s what you won’t find in the glossy brochures.

Do you have any idea what jet fuel costs these days?

★★★

‘Wouldn’t you commit a crime to avoid waiting in another Southwest check-in line?’ Slate

‘Clipped social satire set amongst the Gulfstream set.’ Amy Borge

‘Sly, comic take on the perils of capitalism.’ James Buchner

1,200 words / 5 minutes of cruising pleasure

If you like, you can read the free copy below at your leisure.

Buckle up and share this story with your friends.

“THE PROBLEM WITH PRIVATE JETS” (FREE STORY)

 
It’s not always plain sailing.

Take private jets. Cool, right? Until you get the bill. Forty-six thousand dollars for a cross country flight with a couple of pals doesn’t seem so bad until you get hit with the fuel levy.

A private jet flies on Jet-A kerosene-based fuel. You probably don’t know this but the price per gallon has quadrupled in the past eight years. It’s always more expensive on the coasts and always cheaper in the Midwest. But who flies to the Midwest?

How much fuel do you need? Depends on the model you’re flying. The bigger the private jet, the bigger the load. The forty-eight thousand pound Gulfstream G550 burns through four hundred gallons of fuel every hour. More if you’re flying hot and high to get wherever you want to go faster. It can take you from Chicago to Rome in record time except you need to top it up with six thousand gallons when you get there.

Then there’s the insurance levy, hangar fee, two pilots, one attendant and catering. Gluten free sandwiches? You’ll pay double for those.

You’ve probably noticed there’s a lot of private jets on the market. After everything that happened they became the symbol of excess. For a struggling company an obvious way to save money is to sell the odd jet. It looks good for the shareholders.

It’s mainly window dressing. Usually the jet is put up for sale at a price so high nobody will buy. The company appears frugal. The boss flies as usual. Everyone’s happy.

A private jet is great for getting work done. You can use your laptop throughout the entire flight. You can keep your phone switched on during take off and landing. There’s broadband multilink on board and satellite communications. There’s even a fax machine. Which can be handy if you like signing and sending contracts the old fashioned way.

Having your own private jet has some solid tax advantages. You can register your private jet as your principal domicile like _______ _______ did so you never have to pay income tax to any particular government. You’ll be flying all the way to the bank.

Buying a new private jet will set you back between ten and fifty-million dollars. Your broker will tell you to budget two thousand dollars per hour to fly. Your accountant will tell you to double it. Your financier will triple it.

Sure you can save money by buying pre-owned. A Falcon 2000 will give you wide-body cabin comfort with unmatched fuel efficiency. Dassault built two hundred and thirty Falcon 2000 aircraft between 1995 and 2006. So there’s a few to choose from. Resale values have fallen forty-five per cent in the past two years to around ten million dollars. A record low.

But before you reach for your checkbook you need to factor in maintenance costs. Maintenance on the Honeywell CFW738 engines cost almost six hundred dollars per hour. Six-hundred and fifty dollars per hour for those with more than five thousand hours. A, B and C series inspections can cost up to one hundred and sixty-thousand dollars to complete. You don’t want an engine exploding mid-flight.

Then there’s the interior to factor in. You need to set aside at least half a million dollars to refurbish. Even without the 24-karat gold plated cup holders, ashtrays, seatbelts and faucets. I’m not sure what it is about private jets and gold plated taps. It’s like an unwritten law.

The timber tends to Brazilian mahogany. The more highly polished the better. (All the better to catch your reflection.)

They don’t really understand understated. Even the bird’s-eye maple and walnut burl ends up glitzy. You can have your decorator come in but they usually get swamped with the all the technical details and you end up with an interior that looks like a flying brothel. Without the bar.

Everything that goes into a jet has to carry the Federal Aviation Administration seal of approval. Like the bronze eagle _____ _____ fastened onto the cabin wall. Cost thirty-eight thousand dollars to fabricate a special mount that met with FAA regulations.

An eagle? Who wants an eagle in their private jet? Just look out the window.

I know what you’re thinking. When you’re flying a lightsize or midsize private jet you always have to crane down to look out the window. It’s a pain in the neck.

The problem with private jets is there’s never enough headroom. You can’t stand up without smacking your head. It’s hard to feel on top of the world when you’re all hunched over. It’s embarrassing.

Ever been in a Learjet? It’s like flying in a coffin. (Quick joke. What’s the difference between an A320 and a beaver? Four thousand trees per hour.)

Sure you can get to smaller airports with a private jet. That’s probably the main reason you fly them. You drive right onto the tarmac, step out of the car and step in. You don’t see anyone. Except maybe some head of state.

Teterboro Airport is just twelve miles from midtown Manhattan. There’s no line ups, no security hassles, no delays. You drive up, you hop on, you fly off.

It’s kind of beautiful when you think about it. I fly private therefore I am.

If you don’t want to splurge on a whole private jet you can always chip in for fractional ownership. You basically buy a share of a private jet. Which sounds swell until you want to fly on a holiday. Christmas? You’re kidding, right? You’ve got to book Christmas five years out and they’ll change the schedule at the last minute.

You’re sharing a private jet which is not really that private. It’s like timeshare in the air.

Charter flights offer more options than part ownership because you can book a jet anytime to anywhere. Hire a whole aircraft and it’s yours to do with what you want. Just don’t be surprised if the seats are covered in avion blonde leather and the attendant is called Nicole.

Private jet services are essentially glorified taxis. They fly business men in bad suits between small airports with excess runway capacity.

They use entry level private jets. Very light and very, very small. (The Russian spare parts? Don’t ask about the Russian spare parts.)

Cabins on entry level private jets are very crammed. So take pain killers and book a masseur at the other end. Also don’t be surprised if you find chicken bones wedged in the seat cushion.

So much for plain sailing. You may as well spread your wings and fly first class.

At least the extra headroom is free.

Where’s your head at?

Travis Alber believes the phenomenon of social reading, whether it means pushing commentary out to social networks or spinning out conversations alongside the content, will grow significantly in the next five years.

1. Content will become more dynamic and retrievable.

2. Presence will become relative.

3. Open system will beat out closed loops.

4. Everyone will be a critic. (Oh, great!!)

5. Word of mouth will be recordable, distributable and more important than ever.

One the morning of December 21, 1970, Elvis Presley personally delivers a hand-written letter on American Airline stationery to a security guard at the northwest gate of the White House.

In the letter, Presley states that he wants to meet with President Nixon and give him a gift. He also indicates his desire to gain the credentials of a federal agent in the war on drugs.

After a brief discussion with Presley and his bodyguards, Nixon Aide Egil Krogh is convinced of Presley’s sincerity and of his potential value in the fight against drug use by young people. A 12.30pm meeting is approved for the next day.

Presley arrives at the northwest gate of the White House at 11.45am for his meeting with President Nixon. Krogh meets Presley and his bodyguards and leads them to the Oval Office reception area. At 12.30pm Krogh and Presley join the president in his office.

When he first walks in, Presley seems a little awe-struck. But he quickly warms to the situation and begins showing the President his law enforcement paraphernalia including badges from police departments in California, Colorado and Tennessee.

White House photographer Ollie Atkins enters and fires off 28 shots. They are identified as Roll 5364, frames 02 through 23, and Roll 5369, frames 12a through 17a. Roll 5364 photos depict Nixon, Elvis, and Nixon staffer Egil Krogh.

The meeting is kept secret until January 27, 1972, when the Washington Post columnist Jack Anderson breaks the story.

Of all the requests made each year to the National Archives for reproductions of photographs and documents, one item is requested more than any other. It’s neither the Bill of Rights or the Constitution of the United States, but the iconic photograph of Elvis Presley and Richard M. Nixon shaking hands.

The President and the King.

Smart readers who appreciate their satire on the sharp side love kicking back with the latest from Stefano Boscutti.

Whether it’s a short story, screenplay or novel, Stefano aims to push the drama a little further, a touch faster. Although sometimes he just floors the pedal to the metal and prays he doesn’t crash. So buckle up, kids.

Many of the stories are about men (yeah, it’s always men) who’s wild ambition gets the better of them. It’s seems to be a theme.

Stefano recently published “Boscutti’s Don Simpson,” a novel on Hollywood super-producer Don Simpson who pretty much single-handedly ruined the film business. It started as an award-winning screenplay and then wrote itself into a novel.

He’s currently researching and writing (and sweating) a screenplay on maverick filmmaker Orson Welles. It started out as a biopic mirroring his film “Citizen Kane” before it took on a life of its own.

Like to be first to see new stories, screenplays and novels? Click the tab on the bottom of the screen to follow or add your email address on the bottom of the page to subscribe.

Stefano Boscutti lives in Melbourne, Australia. To ask him anything, email stef@boscutti.com

Orson Welles attended Todd School for Boys in Woodstock Illinois from 1926 to 1931.

Welles is pictured here in the top left below a window of Grace Hall, the 1915 Prairie Style building where the actor and director lived as a student. He studied film and radio in the basement studio.

As a student, Welles collaborated with Headmaster Roger Hill to write the “Everybody’s Shakespeare” series of plays that provided a simple adaptation for high school student’s Shakespeare productions. Between 1932 and 1942 over 100,000 copies of these plays were sold

An active member of the Todd Troupers theatrical group, Welles often returned to Todd after graduation to assist with theatrical productions while studying at the Chicago Art Institute.

Welles made his little-known first film at the school when he was 19. “The Hearts of Age” is an eight-minute silent short, which he co-directed with William Vance in 1934. The film stars Welles’ first wife, Virginia Nicolson, as well as Welles himself.

You can now view it on YouTube. The plot about old age and mortality is a series of cryptic expressionistic images connected with rapid-fire editing, arguably influenced by surrealism and the work of Jean Cocteau.

Welles plays Death.

The studio head strides across an acre of finely clipped lawn towards the administration building, cigar clamped in his mouth. He’s clutching a sheet of paper typed with the weekend receipts. He’s fuming.

No, it wasn’t a good weekend. It wasn’t close to a good weekend. Dismal is more like it.

Why had the audiences stayed away in droves? What had he ever done to them?

He stops. Something is wrong.

He turns and peers up at the open windows of a large two-story building on his left. He shakes his head, whips the cigar out his mouth and hollers out to the top floor at the top of voice.

‘Get back to work you lazy bastards!’

Sounds of dozens of Underwood typewriters whirring and clattering to life. Yes, it’s the writers’ building.

‘I don’t pay you to think. I pay you to write, Goddammit!!’

Sounds as typewriter bell double dings.