Attention & The Speed of Fight

Should narrative momentum pause for conflict? Should our lives?

The Conflict Bear

On Thursday I wrote about one of the ways ADHD inhibits my executive functioning skills, making the prospect of completing multiple tasks seem to grow exponentially more difficult instead of the linear progression I imagine most people experience. I discussed how writing things down, making them tangible, has helped me overcome a little of that difficulty.

But sometimes even that simple step seems impossible. (And if it sounds exhausting to be stuck on the simple task of delineating the tasks you need to complete, yes. Yes it is.) In my experience, this happens when something else is – often unhelpfully – demanding my attention. Two weeks ago I explored the ideas of Time Blindness and our tendency to think of things as either Now or Not Now: unfortunately we rarely get to choose which is which, and some things in the Now can be pretty damn insistent in clearing the space for themselves.

For me, one of those things is (emotional) conflict. I'm getting better at coping with smaller frustrations and disagreements, but larger ones can still shatter my executive functioning. It feels like an NBA defender blocking out a sixth-grader, or a grizzly bear sleeping fitfully next to your picnic; not technically worthy of a fight-or-flight response, but making it very difficult to focus on anything else.

And from far too much experience, I can tell you that endlessly ruminating on the bear, trying to understand and empathize with its life story, does nothing for you or it. I'm trying to learn to take action and stand up for myself rather than re-assembling myself and my stance from first principles – and it turns out that when I don't respond to conflict by taking on a boatload of guilt, that bear starts to look a little more like a squirrel.

'Chips and Dip', art by Jeffrey Severn (Laughing Bear Art)

Violent Action

Speculative fiction has always made up the core of my media consumption, so it can be strange to recall that most genres rarely depict physical conflict – let alone one where both parties are empathetic to the viewer or reader. Yet the motif of two just and likeable characters forced into conflict is an incredibly powerful way of highlighting systemic injustice, as demonstrated in stories like The Hunger Games and Game of Thrones.

I'm only a short way into reading Chain-Gang All-Stars by Nana Kwame Adjei-Brenyah, but it already uses the same setup to great effect. It depicts a dystopian future America where prisoners are given the option to compete in gladiatorial matches for a chance of eventual freedom, and shines a brief light on each contender's humanity even as they are eviscerated and dismembered by the reluctant but determined protagonists.

Even when it's simply good against evil or beloved characters against faceless enemies, I think this action can be important in reminding us that there are things worth fighting for. (Simple enough, right? May return to go deeper on this with some research under my belt.)

Loretta Thurwar from Chain-Gang All-Stars, art by fleshmonk

Pacing and Progress

The one thing I can’t stand is action for the sake of action. My dad always points out the obligatory yet purposeless chase scene(s) in movies, and there are a lot of books where the action feels similarly empty and wasteful to me. These sections simply cannot hold my attention, so I end up skimming through them. And in a lot of these cases, there's truly no important details to miss by doing so.

Rather than try to examine what’s not working in those books, I want to focus on what works very well in both Chain-Gang All-Stars and The Murderbot Diaries by Martha Wells.

First and foremost, the action is extremely fast and deadly. These authors make it clear that a single misstep is all the difference between life and death, their protagonists only winning out through competence and intelligence. (I had a small issue with this in the latest episode of the Murderbot TV adaptation, where enemies were just a little less conniving and deadly than in the books, and I think it makes Murderbot look less competent as a result.)

Neither book's action is entirely blow-by-blow either. Chain-Gang All-Stars adds weight to its fight scenes by contrasting the desperate humanity of its combatants with the dehumanizing bloodlust of its audience. It invites the reader to feel the characters' lives flashing before their eyes, in the few seconds before one of those lives is cut short. It demonstrates how traumatized and haunted the victors are, once the cameras are off of them.

Murderbot hardwires its action into its plot: our protagonist SecUnit is never simply fighting for its own life, instead always on a mission to protect its client humans from varied and complex threats. Between that emotional element, Murderbot's situational awareness and the frequent need for rapid movement in pursuit of goals, this action carries weight, intelligence and velocity. Both Murderbot's own actions and those it can't foresee are liable to change the situation at any moment, often directly advancing the plot at the same time.

Each author has clearly put thought into these scenes, making them matter for characters and readers alike. It's a core part of the story, rather than a dull hurdle you know the character will clear in a few dozen pages.

Murderbot with its swarm of drones, art by bzeye

Takeaways

Well for one, I can't help but cringe remembering some of the combat moments of my old Dungeons & Dragons campaigns. I know it's partially the nature of that game system, but some of those fights must have felt incredibly dull and pointless.

To answer both questions in the subtitle, no. Neither narratives nor our lives should grind to a halt for the sake of an obligatory conflict. Narratively it should be folded in, pack a punch and not outstay its welcome. In our lives – as long as it's not world-shattering – it doesn't have to necessitate a total reset and shutdown. We can roll with the punches and stand up for ourselves while also, of course, admitting mistakes and trying to grow from them. That's as close as we've got to a narrative arc, right?

Would love to hear any tips or thoughts you have!

Thanks for reading and until next time <3