I met an otherwise healthy 20-year-old Oklahoma female recently who doesn’t drive. She has no desire to learn.
Of the people I know, this young woman is rare. During our brief visit she showed totally indifferent on the subject. As a big sister with six siblings, and four children of my own, I’ve never met a person her age who was so disinterested in driving. She wouldn’t mind learning and probably would someday. Maybe.
Her lack of interest in such a primary human activity prompted thoughts about motivation: its source, its thrust, where it gets its energy?
Most people feel motivated about something, wealth, fame, a desire to be first. Some long for speed or heights or depths or achievements. Olympians devote themselves to one objective, dedicate themselves entirely to a goal.
Where is their desire born? What nurtures it?
Writers need to know these things.
My habit is to read the first three chapters of a book. If I’m not hooked by then, it goes to the library box to progress to a reader who may love it. What criteria determines keep or toss?
A characters’ motivation is a biggy.
The woman detective in spike heels lured to the darkened warehouse alone, at midnight, to “check out a lead” turns me off in a heartbeat. A coward from birth, I am not so much horrified by the moxy motivating her as I am by her stupidity.
How about the sexy dolly who leaves the bar with the gorgeous hunk at closing time? Motivated by muscle? Good grief!
The creators of a reality show that send the handsome, dumb-as-a-post guy out with a diamond ring to audition a dozen lovely ladies has got to be kidding. Beautiful people eventually have to cook and clean and earn a living. Reality about marital love would be better served by challenging a couple to find a creative way to come up money to pay an unexpected bill, or show kindness toward a mate who just rear-ended another vehicle.
Now we’ve come full circle.
Probably not everyone needs to drive.
But everyone DOES need believeable motivation for whatever they do.