the science of stories

from Resident Evil (2026)

I long ago came to the realization that my poems are usually different from others writing around and near me, both in the real world and virtual spaces I inhabit as a creative.  It may go back to that realization I once had in an MFA classroom of going around the room and everyone saying WHY they write poems. Or what they want poems to do, both as writers and readers. How no one had the same answer and it explained a lot about why I felt like workshops in the program were like banging your head against a wall with everyone telling you to bang faster or harder or with more intention. While I would still way I am often unhappy with my fiction exploits, it's usually my own narrative voice that irks me.  I get tired of myself, even in the span of a short story. The poems, however, feel like snippets and much less insufferable. The plays on the other hand, nicely eliminate the narrative voice entirely leaving only the story frame-worked in dialogue. This may be why I've taken to it so wholeheartedly this past year.  

I've been thinking about stories all summer, especially since seeing a couple full screenings of The Odyssey, that story of all stories. About why human's in general seek them out. Study them, revel in them. Make them their own. Every movie on the screen, every book on the shelf. Plays and true crime tv series and video games. Ghost stories and historical records. Celebrity biopics and YouTube vlogs and story time reels. In fact, I've entertained a loose theory for years that reason some people fall into wild conspiracy theories is that they are drawn to them like they are to stories. Like stories, they try to make sense of the world and experience in similar ways to fictions. 

Last week, and then again last night for a second viewing, we saw the new Resident Evil. While I am a zombie film fan and watched the first movie nearly two decades ago, I hadn't seen the sequels since or played the game everything is based on. Of course, this one is the genius Zach Creggar, who is a growing name in horror, the man behind Barbarian and Weapons, so we expected it to be a much better film than most game adaptations, and it delivered. The structure is very video-gameish, but the story framework also has nice parallels, symbols, and something to say about bodily autonomy (which I won't go into b/c spoilers!) These all makes it slightly more than just a zombie movie and something reaching more toward artfulness. 

Any good story revels in the sort of things we look for as undergrad English or humanities majors. Symbolism, plot arcs, symmetry. This is true whether it is a five minute short film or a 3000 page novel. Across all mediums genres, even visual art sometimes.  And even in what looks like a gore-fest zombie blowout, which had all the things that scratch a brain looking for them or trained to see them as what they are. I am also convinced you don't need training or recognition to get similar effects in the brain. They are working even if you don't know why. (Kind of like music or pleasing composition in a painting. Even if you are not an expert, your brain knows they are there and responds with pleasure or the opposite. )

One night as I was falling asleep, I started thinking about my education as an English major and grad school and how I was trained to spot and discuss all these themes and how they in some ways feel like science or math for stories. Humanities education is often shoved aside for STEM subjects, but the "humanity" part is often what makes people have ethics and morals and a sense of purpose. (something in short supply today as we see all around us.) By knowing how stories do to our brains what they do, why we seek them out, maybe there is a more grounded way to understand how they work. We are, after all, each just a collection of stories. A cluster of occurrences that make less or more sense as we move in the world. The stories we leave behind, whether it's our art or just our memories. 

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