Challenges and struggles aside, fortunately there are ways to accomplish the goal, which is to produce a compelling piece of art that intrigues, captivates, and moves the reader.  To help both the beginning and experienced flash fiction writer, below I’ve shared some tips and suggestions to accomplish the goal while maintaining the integrity of your story’s concept.

Write your story without regard to word count.

Sure, flash fiction by its very definition is contingent on its word count, but that doesn’t mean you can’t write it longer and edit it down later.  I find that by writing without regard to the word count you will get the full breadth of the story without compromising it with small details.  If you’re too busy thinking “I only have 100 words left and my conflict still isn’t resolved!” then the resolution of your story — perhaps the most important part — is going to suffer.  If you write it as a short story or, heck, even if a novel, you can pull, delete, and combine pieces from the original work into the much shorter flash fiction while still effectively telling your story.

Show, don’t tell, the story.

Few readers want to be told every element about a story, as it makes for a boring, dry, and largely superficial work.  Think of it this way: which would you rather read, a Biology text book or a Nova special covering the same information?  Most people would choose the Nova special, as its visuals engage the viewer, making her think she’s right there with the bright yellow bees buzzing around the bundles of sweet pollen embraced by indigo pedals.  Or I guess you could be satisfied with “the bees.”  But probably not.

That said, it’s a legitimate concern that, with word count very important and inherently limiting that you take into consideration appropriate parts which should be “show” and other parts which should be “tell.”  While many writers get better at this with experience and feedback from editors and readers, a nice litmus test to start out with is asking the question “Is this necessary for the comprehension of the story?”  If it’s not, the long-winded description is likely arduous and bothersome to the reader, and you should simply tell the detail instead of show it.

Use inference to succinctly give details about your character or the conflict.

Perhaps the greatest challenge of flash fiction is what defines it: the word count.  Depending on the publisher, you only have 300-1000 words to tell your story, and that’s not a lot of room to include all of the basic elements of a story, such as character(s), setting, conflict, and resolution, which all make up the plot.  While some writers are satisfied with straightforward and superficial tales, if you’re an involved or deep writer, you’ll want to tell more about your character and the conflict to give the reader sufficient understanding of the breadth of the story.  You can do this efficiently by using inference.

Inference is a difficult concept for many to understand, including many readers.  So if you’re going for a popular piece, you might stay away from it.  If you’re looking for an acclaimed piece, however, give it a whirl.  Inference is when you take elements or details of a story and simply and succinctly refer to them, making the reader understand the details on her own.  Take this example from my story, “Returning to Anna,” published in the Pittsburgh Flash Fiction Gazette:

As years of tears streamed down my face and through my fingers, I added the remaining glue to the back of the tile and fit it into the space she and I first found it 10 years ago.

Even without reading the whole story, you can infer several things from the excerpt.  You can infer that a conflict occurred years ago, the conflict has tormented the character, it’s likely they’re no longer together (due to the conflict, perhaps?), he had a tile that he and she took 10 years ago, and now he’s putting it back in its place (resolution to the conflict, perhaps?).  That’s a lot of information compacted into a 38-word sentence.  By using inference you can pack a lot of information into very short but ultimately very important sentences.

Don’t push your great short story into a flash fiction.

Now that you’ve written a great story, compacted it a bit with inference, and engaged the reader, it’s time to compact it even more so that it conforms to the 300-1000 words that makes your work a flash fiction.  Or not.  My last piece of advice is don’t ruin your short story by trying to conform to others’ standards.   Plenty of times I started out to write a great piece of flash fiction only to end up writing a 3,000 word short story.  And you know what?  I wouldn’t have that story any other way.

Hopefully you’re able to take into consideration the few tips and suggestions I’ve shared.  They’ve helped me immensely writing not just flash fiction but any form of literature.  And remember: write because you enjoy writing, not because you want others to enjoy your writing.  Just because it isn’t critically acclaimed doesn’t mean someone doesn’t enjoy it, and your work might very well have moved them in ways you could never have imagined.

First let’s get a few definitions out of the way.  Unless you’ve read Barbara Sher’s book Refuse to Choose or Margaret Lobenstine’s The Renaissance Soul, it’s unlikely you’ve ever heard what the term “scanner” or “renaissance soul” means.  In their most basic definitions, it refers to a person who has many differing interests and passions, and, often, simply can’t chose to concentrate on one out of fear of denigrating or neglecting another passion.  So, for example, some of my passions include writing (screenplays, novels, and a children’s series), inventing (anything from household items to medical procedures, languages (Russian, German, French, and conlangs), websites, education (teaching, educational websites, not-for-profit organizations), and philosophy (bioethics).  And on top of those major interests, you could easily add science (medicine, virology, genetics, theoretical physics, environmental science), sport theory (implications of structures and rules), and law into the mix.  With so many interests and passions, it’s difficult to not only find the time to explore these passions, but also even just to sit down and concentrate on one at a time.  By writing a novel I feel I could be working on a website, and by learning Russian I feel I could be theorizing a new medical procedure.  Finding a balance has been difficult, and it’s a common problem for scanners.

The second definition I want to make clear is that of the “inspiration zone.”  This zone refers to the place where most of your ideas come into mind.  So, for example, while you might get ideas literally anywhere, be it while driving, playing baseball, or watching TV, your inspiration zone is where most of your ideas come from.  Generally, while ideas may come sporadically, you might notice a trend in the place where many ideas arise.  Usually this happens because of an action in that space or a certain quality of this space which makes generating ideas come easily.  If you can’t find your inspiration zone off the top of your head, when an idea arises and you write it down, also write down the location where the idea came from.  I’m sure you’ll soon find a general trend, and your inspiration zone will appear.  Let’s go through one of these places which is common for being people’s inspiration zone.

The first and probably most universal inspiration zone is the bathroom.  Whether it’s sitting on the toilet (often a man’s inspiration zone) or in the shower (often a woman’s inspiration zone), many ideas and thoughts come to us while in the bathroom.  My theory on why the bathroom is such a great idea conductor, if you will, is because it’s one of the few places where we generally lack external stimulation, and have time that is seen by others as incredibly quiet and private.  While men rarely talk in the bathroom, simply using it in a more utilitarian, private function, women see it as more communal, and thus the reason for the difference between the man’s toilet and the woman’s shower as being the inspiration zone.  If this is your inspiration zone, then great!  That was easy enough!  But others’ have harder times finding their inspiration zones.

The most common reason some have difficulty finding their inspiration zone isn’t because they have sporadic ideas coming from literally any time and any place, but rather because they spend extremely little time in their natural inspiration zone.  Particularly in modern society, we spend countless hours at a desk in a rather bland cubicle, which is probably the antithesis of the creative process.  We then come home and relax after a long day in said boring cubicle, and sit on the couch in front of the TV – an external stimulus.  And, likely, there are chores to be done, children running around, dinner needs to be made, and that’s not counting the other endless errands imposed on us by others.  With such external stimulus putting external pressures on us and taking our concentration away from internal needs, we’re unable to spend quality time coming up with ideas and concentrating on our passions.  So in order to find that place, you might need to do the opposite of what you might think: get away from the work desk, get away from the home office, get away from the TV, and, perhaps most importantly, get away from the computer.  All you need to write an idea down is a piece of paper and a pencil or pen (or, at the most, a notepad application on your cell phone).

Finding my inspiration zone was actually quite easy, but at the same time is external to my home and work life.  I found that my inspiration zone was, of all places, the movie theater.  As I generally like to go to the latest show on the least busiest days (Monday through Thursday), I can often be found watching a movie alone or with very few people in the movie theater.  And, because one of my passions is writing, I tend to get many ideas for storylines and fixes to others’ storylines while watching movies.  There’s nothing more inspiring to me than to consider how someone else’s work might be changed.  While there is still the external stimulus of a rather large screened and loudly playing movie, I’m still able to concentrate on writing, storylines, or other ideas which may come to me during the movie.  Without others imposing pressures or obligations on me during the two-to-three hours, I have plenty of time to spend by myself and with my own thoughts.  And, like I said, find some inspiration from mistakes I find in the movie.

So whether your inspiration zone is while on the toilet, in the shower, or at the movie theater, finding that zone is key to being a productive scanner.  By having the time to yourself, with little if any external stimuli and pressures, you can spend time to think about whatever comes to you.  Where is your inspiration zone?

While the last sentence is quite damning, there are actually some very good points about the structure of football.  However, many of these points are as a result of its more rugby-like past, and rugby, I argue, is one of the few sports which I find almost optimal.  Football seems to have taken its genesis in rugby, and change its rules to squash — not foster — fair, unbiased competition, and for seemingly arbitrary reasons.  Let’s first take a look at some of the better points of football, as while it’s become poorly constructed, it still serves as a sport which conforms to most of the principles of sport.

Football begins beautifully by having 11 players per team on the field at a time.  With 22 players on the field and the field being 360×160 feet, there is plenty of room for play, but generally not so much room that it allows the opposition to give up on a particular play.  This generally ensures that both teams stay motivated on each play regardless of the circumstances.

Another wonderful part of football is that it requires participation of both teams.  That is, you cannot play a game of football by yourself, as the kick-off requires the other team to catch the ball for a return.  Even if that player wasn’t there and the ball was touched by a member of your own team, the opponents would still need to be present to start their plays.

Likewise, since participation of both teams is required, it follows that scoring in football is because of a mistake or generally negative action by the other team.  Touchdowns or points from kicks are rewarded from getting the ball past the opposition and into the end zone (or through the field goals).  These actions require the other team to either miss tackling the player or not getting his or her hand on the ball when it’s being kicked.  The way the scoring is ruled is also generally in football’s favor: while there are obvious problems with how the ball gets placed, a touchdown is scored in a generally unbiased fashion, while field goals are almost always unequivocal.  So we have generally unbiased scoring.

While football has its great points, there are more than several absolute failures which make it, in my opinion, the most ill-constructed popular professional sport in the United States, if not the world.  Some of these have to do with individual rules which could be easily fixed (although certainly there would still be backlash), while others focus on major principles or procedures in the sport.  I’ll try to do explain my criticisms in a chronological order of its place in the game.

Perhaps sadly, the criticism begins immediately: the coin toss.  Already we see absolute pure chance making an impact on the game instead of the two competitors.  According to my principles of sport, the circumstances and outcomes in the game should be completely the result of the two competitors’ actions.  However, at the very beginning of the game we see that choosing sides is nothing more than a child’s game of luck.

We also immediately come upon another criticism: the kick-off.  For the sake of clarity, I’m also going to add into this section any opportunity to kick the ball, which includes, kick-offs, punts, and field goals.  An obvious remnant of its rugby-like past, where the kick is extremely frequent and important, football has continued the kicking game despite it being relegated to 4th downs, field goals, and when its required (kick-offs, for example).  Despite placekickers dominating the highest career point totals in NFL history, the kickers’ duties are few and somewhat infrequent.  Even on a football team the kicker has almost no true non-kicking football skills, and is often ostracized from the team.  The kick, for all intents and purposes, is a vestigial organ that places too much emphasis on a part of the game which is extremely different from the rest of the game and yet has an incredible, adverse impact.  An additional criticism I would place on kicking is the ability to set the ball on the ground for field-goals and the kick-off, as in any other part of the game this would be illegal or considered an incomplete pass or play.  There is absolutely nothing about the kick that should remain in football, ironically making the name “football” an obvious misnomer.

As an aside, should football continue to use a placekicker, the field is perhaps too short.  As placekickers are now able to kick the ball almost the entire length of the field, if not more, receiving the ball at the beginning of the game or after a touchdown has almost become an automatic knee-down and the play sets at the 20 yard line.  Because of the placekicker’s efficiency and expertise and the ability for the defense to run the length of the field and get to the receiver just before or even after the catch is made, this has almost entirely squashed any competition from the receiver being able to gain much more than 20 yard, instead opting to simply catch the ball and take the 20 yard reset.  This seems to be a cop-out of competition attributable to the strength of these placekickers and the size of the field.

The next poorly constructed aspect of football encountered would be the set-up for the offensive line.  Contrary to popular belief, a quarterback cannot simply make a forward pass to any teammate he or she chooses; rather, only to an eligible receiver.  Who is an eligible receiver?  According to the NFL rulebook, “All members of the defensive team are eligible. Eligible receivers on the offensive team are players on either end of line (other than center, guard, or tackle) or players at least one yard behind the line at the snap. A T-formation quarterback is not eligible to receive a forward pass during a play from scrimmage.”  In my extension of the principles of sport, I posit that it’s best that every player have like participation.  In football, however, these defensive players on the offensive line are not eligible to receive a pass in the same way eligible receivers are.  This seems to me to be a great misstep in the rules of football that truly handcuffs the available options for the quarterback and his team.  It would be best if there weren’t any explicit positions and responsibilities, requirements, or limitations for those positions, with exception of the quarterback and the center, who snaps the ball to the quarterback.  A further criticism is that these ineligible receivers may not even pass the line of scrimmage until the ball passes this imaginary line; if all positions were equal, they should be able to drive the defense further back into their own zone.

A small but still important criticism comes at the start of the play for the offensive team.  Should the center slight twitch and make the defensive player cross the line of scrimmage, committing a offside penalty, it is not the defensive player who is penalized, but rather the offensive center.  It seems to me that the responsibility for one’s own actions would mean that the defensive person who went offside, not the center who simply twitched and never picked the ball up off the ground, should be the one who is penalized.

Similarly, I also criticize the false start penalty, which is incurred when an offensive player moves after the formation has been set but before the ball has been snapped.  Players, save the center (who is snapping the ball from the set position), should be able to freely move about their own zone up until and once the center snaps the ball to the quarterback.  I see little reason for limiting the movements of either the offense or defense as long as they stay within their respective zones.

Jumping to the end of the game, perhaps my most important criticism of football comes into play: running out the clock.  Because football is a largely running clock sport (a sport in which the clock continuously runs, such as soccer), a team who is winning with a very short lead can actually run out the clock by simply having the quarterback kneel immediately after the snap, and then drain the play clock of the entire 40 seconds.  With the two-minute warning in the NFL, should the defensive/losing team not have any time-outs, it’s easy for the offensive/winning team to drain the clock without the other team ever having the opportunity to compete for the win.  If there is ever a rule in professional sports which permits a team to use the officials or the structure of the game against its opponent, it’s this rule right here.  In order to permit fair competition, I would propose the NFL go to a stop-clock for the entirety of the game, even if the implication of such a change is shorter quarters.  This would allow full competition at every minute of the game, restoring the clock to an unbiased position unable to be manipulated for one team’s benefit.

Should the game end as a tie and go into overtime, another atrocity against fair competition and equal opportunity arises: a coin toss which decides which team gets to begin the sudden death overtime.  Again relying on the luck of the draw, the team which wins the coin toss typically wins the game, as even a three-point field goal is eligible to win the game.  By making overtime sudden death and reliant on a coin toss, football is essentially taking the other team largely out of the game, and makes winning the game available to a 40-yard field goal as opposed to a touch down.  There are several incredibly easy ways to fix this horrendous rule: keeping the ridiculous coin toss, they could give each team an equal opportunity to score equal points.  That is, if the team who begins with the possession scores a 3-point field goal, the opposing team, on their possession, may now go for a 3-point field goal to continue the overtime or go for a 6-point touchdown, which would win the game for them.  This easily provides equal opportunity for fair competition.

Despite its immense popularity in America, football has some rules and structures that need drastic changes in order to become a more soundly constructed sport.  With a few changes to minor rules and perhaps some very large changes to the structure, I believe football would not only see an increase in fair and equal competition, but see more sustained competition that doesn’t manipulate supposedly objective rules.  These changes would not only contribute to a more competitive sport, but also a more sound sport, in general.

Ethical relativism is the philosophical concept which states that “different groups of people have different moral standards for evaluating acts as right or wrong.”  Even more interesting to me is the fact that ethical relativism can also be found within the same group of people.  That is, in my example above, in general western society sees fighting as unethical and illegal, and yet violence in sports is not only tolerated but, in some cases, encouraged or is the main action within that sport.  The venue and purpose determines whether the action is ethical.  That is the very underlying principle behind ethical relativism: the same action, under different circumstances, is viewed differently in terms of morality.

Bringing law into the picture makes ethical relativism and violence in sports a much trickier issue.  In some sports, violence is the single principle in the sport.  In boxing, for example, two consenting people engage in fisticuffs while others watch for entertainment.  However, if two consenting people fight outside of, say, a bar (regardless of the level of intoxication), it’s likely those two people would be arrested and booked in jail, with further punishment being adjudicated by the judicial system.  We could say the same for almost any other professional sport, too: ice hockey has fights every game, but the penalty is simply five minutes in the penalty box.  Baseball, basketball, and football all have the occasional fight, but the penalties are generally in the thrown-out-of-the-game to suspension range.  Regardless, in each of these cases the violent actions are tolerated on some level, and criminal investigations never come into play.

The question, then, is whether what happens within a sport should be considered outside of the law and outside of normal ethics (although some disagree), as is often the case.  Violent penalties in ice hockey, such as slashing, kneeing, elbowing, roughing, and fighting are policed within the game.  While some could say that the intent is what could trigger outside investigation and action, hockey has a penalty for that, too: “intent to injure,” which would, in everyday law, be called “assault.”  The same could be said for baseball, for example when a pitcher throws the ball at a batter or when the base runner intentionally runs into or “spikes” an opponent.  Should every intent to injure penalty therefore be investigated as a criminal action?  It does seems to satisfy all three of the requirements for determining criminal action: ability, opportunity, and intent to commit the action.

Some cases have been investigated as criminal action.  In 2004, then-Vancouver Canucks player Todd Bertuzzi punched opponent Steve Moore in the side of the head and landed on him, along with other players, resulting in a broken neck, concussion, damage to ligaments and nerves, and facial lacerations for Moore.  Bertuzzi then found himself in criminal court, eventually pleading guilty to assault and was sentenced simply to probation, 80 hours of community service, and couldn’t play against Moore.  Moore, since the incident, has never again been able to play hockey.  Meanwhile, Bertuzzi has amassed over 300 penalty minutes, most of which it can be assumed were for violent actions.  As the terms of his probation have apparently been met satisfactorily, it seems that the courts have chosen to be blind to the vast majority of violent actions within sports.

I don’t know what the answer is for the dichotomy between lawful and unlawful in terms of violence in sports, but I do believe it is a slippery slope should the courts become involved again with actions within a sport.  While I might not personally agree with violence in sports, despite being involved in them more than a few times, myself, the involvement of the courts seems to be almost completely arbitrary considering the violent actions which are willfully ignored.  Unless laws and normal ethics are applied to the actions within sports, the courts seem to have little precedence on which to rely when adjudicating in-game violent actions and determining adequate punishment.  Unless the judicial system is willing to adjudicate all actions within sports the same as those that are outside of sports, they should leave adjudication where it belongs: the civil courts.

As an aside, and perhaps the topic of a future post, I wonder why the same relativism also seems to hold true for doping in sports. Criminal investigation has largely been contained to investigation of doctors and trainers for the dispensing of controlled substances, and much less against the players who have admitted using them for illegal purposes.  It too is an interesting case of dichotomy between what we as society see as unethical and illegal (the taking of controlled substances for uses other than their legal intentions) and permissible (since the taking of controlled substances resulted in more public entertainment).

But, first, a distinction: we’ve all had emotional conversations we’re doomed to never forget.  Likewise, we’ve all had “ah ha!” conversations where we realized something interesting, and perhaps that perspective has kept with you since that moment.  But the conversations I am speaking of transcend inherently emotional talks, and instead come out-of-the-blue and yet still impact us to an extent we could never have imagined.  I’ve only had a couple of these during my life, and I’m going to share them in hopes of allowing others the opportunity to reflect on the unexpected-and-yet-memorable conversations in their lives.

Starting chronologically, I’d like to attribute the first conversation to my father.  I’m sure that everyone who grew up in the traditional two-parent household can appreciate the oft-unfunny-but-somewhat-clever quotes our fathers tried to use on us.  Of course, that’s after first using them on our mothers and our older siblings; that is, after all, the only reason fathers have multiple children: to tell the same old jokes over and over again.  But the first conversation that had a great impact on me wasn’t a story or joke, really; rather, it was a small quip that made a lot of sense.

While practicing basketball in our backyard, my father and I were playing a little 1-on-1.  Being unable to get around him, I made a spur-of-the-moment hook shot that had little chance of going in.  However, this particular shot clanged off the rim.  He stopped and said, “Why would you try to make that shot?”  To which I responded, “Well it almost went in.”  His response, I thought, at the time, seemed stern, but it has burned itself in my memory.  He said, “Almost gets you nothing.”

The truth in that statement didn’t hit me until some years later.  His statement wasn’t made to anger, disappoint, or depress, but rather to encourage me to assess each situation for the best solution before acting on what’s easiest or trying a completely frivolous or unfounded action that has little change of solving the problem.  That simple quote, which I’m sure he thought nothing of at the time or ever since, has taught me that your actions are fruitless if you don’t put forth adequate effort to complete your thoughts or goals.  Being a scanner with many differing interests has made digesting this quote difficult, but serves as a great motivator to complete those tasks and ideas I find most interesting and practical.  I’ve held that quote since I was about 12, and hope to impart that same philosophy on my children, too.

The other conversation which has impacted my life inspired this post.  After losing at a national collegiate hockey tournament, I decided to take an earlier flight back to my hometown to see my family.  Knowing no one on the plane and not being the greatest conversation starter, I sat uncomfortably in my seat, digging my nose into, if memory serves me correctly, a book about social and political philosophy.

The man next to me, nearing the middle of our flight from Colorado to St. Louis, asked what I was reading.  I explained it to him, and he seemed intently interested in my thoughts in philosophy and how it was applicable to other, more practical areas of life.  I asked him what he did, and he gave me his business card: this previously anonymous man, Patrick McGuire, curious and talking to me like a colleague about philosophy, was an astrophysicist working on robotics and artificial intelligence applicable to remote Earth and planetary exploration at the Earth & Planetary Remote Sensing Lab at Washington University in St. Louis.

I was astounded — almost speechless — but found enough breath to ask him many of the same questions he first posed to me.  At the end of our conversation, he said he wished he knew more about philosophy.  Likewise, I said I wish I knew more about astrophysics (an autodidactic interest I still hold and write about today), but I added a quip at the end of my sentence: “…but I could never be as smart as you.”  He looked at me and responded, “That’s not true. I’m just smarter in physics while you’re smarter in philosophy. We’re both just as smart; it’s just about different subjects.”

Such humility is rare in academia, and perhaps even more rare in the sciences.  But what that incredible quote taught me is that everyone is smarter than someone else in something, and that makes everyone equal.  We all bring different experiences, knowledge, interests, and passions to the table; what we do with them — not what they are — is what is to be judged, if anything is to be judged at all.  That simple response from an incredibly bright man taught me that he — a distinguished researcher — and I — a simple student — were equals, and we could learn much from each other.

Through these small quips, rarely meant to provide such large impacts, we can learn much about ourselves and others.  While I’ve been fortunate to have had conversations which gave me these perspectives, it does make me wonder: what other wonderful insights did I miss or forget?  I can only hope that I am able to impart on some others new perspectives that impact their lives the same way those mere, unexpected conversations did to me.

The bystander effect came into light after Kitty Genovese, then a 28 year old bar manager, was fatally stabbed while approximately 12 people witnessed the murder and did not come to her aid.  This effect, also called the Genovese syndrome, is a psychological and sociological anomaly whereby a group of individuals (usually 10 or more) do not act in an emergency situation.  There are two theories for this inaction: pluralistic ignorance, which states that individuals are simply copying the others’ inaction, so that they believe inaction is the appropriate response, and the second theory is diffusion of responsibility, which theorizes that without assigned responsibility, individuals assume someone else has the knowledge or responsibility to react to the situation.

So how are the two connected?  I theorize that some who are afflicted with social anxiety are not being possessed by a phobia, but rather encounter diffusion of responsibility.  By taking part in an event which exposes the social anxiety, it puts the individual in “bystander” mode, who simply shuts down and cannot speak.  Large groups, in my theory, trigger the individual’s mind to believe that in such a large group that responsibility cannot be assigned, and therefore is diffused.

Treatment for overcoming the social anxiety, then, would not focus on the commonly-implemented exposure therapy, but rather cognitive therapy.  Exposure therapy, which, as the name suggests, exposes the individual to the phobia, won’t work as well as cognitive since the anxiety comes not from a phobia of people, but because of a loss of responsibility and role in large groups.  Cognitive therapy, meanwhile, will allow the patient to understand and assign his or her role in large groups, which, in turn, will hopefully result in the diffusion of responsibility never surfacing.

While I do not believe this is the case for everyone afflicted with social anxiety, I do believe this happens to a segment of the afflicted.  By changing the procedure for dealing with these individuals, perhaps a greater number of those afflicted would become cured, and would become confident in social situations instead of avoiding them, allowing them to apply themselves in larger groups and in beneficial social situations.

The butterfly effect, which is a term popularized by an incredibly bad movie by Ashton Kutcher, is an effect which is rooted in chaos theory: simply, it refers the possibility that the air coming from a butterfly’s flapping wings could, in theory, have this sort of effect:

• The gust of air coming from the butterfly’s wings encounters a small gust a wind from the sky.
• The gust of wind changes directions, knocking a leaf from a branch near a house.
• The leaf falls on the sidewalk, which scares a bug, which reacts by running across the driveway.
• A man going to check his mailbox sees the bug near his foot, and reacts by trying to step backwards out of its way.
• As the man steps backwards, he slips on a puddle and bumps his head.

So, as you can see, a simple wind from a butterfly’s wings have had a very large effect on the man’s life.  Had the butterfly not been there, or perhaps stopped to take a rest on a branch, the entire event wouldn’t have happened, and the man most likely would have went about checking his mail without adverse effects.

Applying this concept to an athletic event, there are, much like “real life” scenarios such as the one previously described, many variables which could affect the outcome of a game.  Certain participants getting playing time during special situations, the ball being hit in a particular way, or an official missing a call could have a large impact on the game play.  But, likewise, we cannot discount the small things that, much like the wind off the butterfly’s wings, could also potentially impact the game play in an adverse way: the ball missing a stitch, a chunk of ice stuck on a hockey player’s blade, or a small piece of treat missing from an athlete’s shoe.  These small aspects, employed in the right situation, could mean the difference between a positive and negative outcome for a participant.

The issue at hand, which was whether particular players being played in special situations was correct given the positive outcome of the game, seems to fit nicely with the butterfly effect.  While one might argue that a better player should have played in a particular situation, unless the outcome of that situation was distinctly negative, it’s difficult to argue against the lesser talented player’s participation.  As you cannot assume that a positive outcome would be accomplished by the more talented player, you simply can’t argue for the positive player’s expected participation.

Due to being unable to argue for a positive based on an assumption, it seems reasonable, then, that my friend’s argument is relatively sound: as the outcome of the entirety of the game — including everything I might have previously thought was a mistake — was one that was positive for the team I supported, then without making outstanding assumptions I cannot argue that a change would have made for a greater positive outcome.  Likewise, arguing for a “greater positive outcome” would be difficult in and of itself if the outcome was simply a win, and there little more, if anything, else to win.  In hindsight of a positive outcome, it seems justifiable to argue that the entirety of the game is a positive as a whole without any negatives.  My friend, by unknowingly invoking the butterfly effect, has seemingly made a great argument concerning principles in sport and game theory.

The first interesting thing about synesthesia (or synaesthesia for the European readers) is that most synesthetes don’t realize it’s odd until talking with a friend or family member about a synesthetic experience.  Despite my mother reading Born on a Blue Day by Daniel Tammet, an autistic synesthete who is also a mathematical savant and sees numbers in the forms of shapes, and discussing with me his experiences, I never realized that I too was a synesthete.  It wasn’t until years later in a casual conversation about a song to which we were listening and what it looked like did someone finally say, “What are you talking about?”  That song is shown below:

This form of synesthesia is called sound-color.  I don’t know why there are four blue posts, a transparent platform connecting them, or multi-colored strands which run through the posts.  Nothing in the song gives the impression of that image, and yet at a certain point in the song, that image always shows up, as is what happens in most songs to which I listen.  Some songs may only have one image; others will have three.  Very few have more than that.

A music teacher once asked me a question I hadn’t really considered before: “Do some bands’ songs look similar?”  And yes, they sometimes do.  Some bands tend to have bars and lines; others tend to have more blurry lines of soft colors.  Some songs have dots and “auras” or “glows.”  Interestingly, some songs by bands who share members (for example, of two different bands have the same lead singer) will have two completely different images.

Another interesting question posed by a student of mine was very telling of the difference between synesthetes and non-synesthetes: she asked, “If you see listen to music while you drive, how do you see the road?”  Sometimes the best questions are asked by the most innocent and curious!  The answer, of course, is that I “see through” the image.  The images are always there during the song, but I’m not concentrating on them, so I’m able to see through them.  Some images are in my peripheral vision and I don’t even need to see through them to ignore them.  For example, the image above is in my lower peripheral vision.

But that’s not the only kind of synesthesia I have.  Another prominent form of synesthesia I have is called number form.  This is where numbered sequences aren’t linear; that is, when you think if a number sequence, you most likely think of them in a line.  For synesthetes with the number form type, we see non-linear sequences.  While number form obviously infers it happens to numbers, for my synesthesia it happens to months.  Below is an badly drawn approximation of how I see the calendar.

You’ll note two things: first, it doesn’t even remotely look like a calendar.  When I spontaneously imagine where I am in the year, it looks very similar to this.  In June, July, and August, it’s as if I’m looking down a ramp.  It then turns into a 2-D clock-like image which slowly trails off.

The second thing you’ll notice about the image is that there are two months missing: March and May.  Those two months are completely missing from the image which I see, and I’m often at first confused on which one comes first in the year.

Another implication of seeing this image is that it takes me a few seconds to realize just how far away other months are.  For example, if I’m in November, August seems very close while February seems very far away, when in reality both are the same distance from November.  Largely regardless of what month I’m actually in, April and July usually seem very far away while June seems reasonably close.

The third type of synesthesia I have is called personification.  As the word infers, synesthetes with personification type see numbers, letters, and some symbols as having inherent personality types.  For my synesthesia, I see numbers as having body types.  Some numbers are inherently skinny while others are fat.  Some are beautiful while others are ugly.  When choosing my sports numbers, I always took this into consideration, trying to match my jersey number with a number which fit my body type.  For example, when I started playing as a hockey goalie in hockey, I chose 39 since its body type is pretty skinny, as I once was.  Then I changed to 43, which has a more “average”/athletic body type.

Unlike Daniel Tammet, who seemingly uses his synesthesia in conjunction with being a mathematical savant, I don’t have any keen insights or advantages due to synesthesia.  Instead, I just have a number of neat experiences and images which I can draw, paint, or describe to others.  I’ve even considered painting my synesthetic images for bands or people who would like to “see” the image of their favorite songs.

For more information about synesthesia, there are many books about the subject, including Wednesday Is Indigo Blue: Discovering the Brain of Synesthesia, The Hidden Sense: Synesthesia in Art and Science, The Man Who Tasted Shapes, The Frog who Croaked Blue: Synesthesia and the Mixing of the Senses, Blue Cats and Chartreuse Kittens: How Synesthetes Color Their Worlds, and for the more academic-minded, Synesthesia: A Union of the Senses – Second Edition and Synesthesia: Perspectives from Cognitive Neuroscience. Prominent researchers and research institutions include Richard E. Cytowic, M.D., Edward M. Hubbard, Ph.D., Massachusetts Institute of Technology, and University of Sussex.  You can even test yourself online at The Synesthesia Battery to see if you have a number of types of synesthesia.

The reasons for why the usual movie-going experience aren’t due to any particular demographic, but rather a culmination of things.  First I’ll go through the usual bothersome experiences found at movie theaters:

• Talking during the movie.

Usually blamed on teenagers, they aren’t the only ones who find it acceptable to talk during movies.  It seems the larger the crowd, the more it is deemed appropriate to talk during the movie.  If I wanted to talk with my friend or family member, I certainly wouldn’t spend $9 to do it.

• The frequent cell phone checker.

In the age of the always-on cell phone, we’re inundated with calls, texts, e-mails, and other alerts, and these don’t magically stop during movies.  What does stop, however, is the common sense to not check the phone.  Unless you’re a first responder or the President of the United States, you probably aren’t important enough to have to take a call in the movie theater.

• The crowd itself.

Let’s be honest: we like our space.  That means we enjoy being able to put our feet up where we aren’t supposed to and use our neighboring seat as a storage space for our jacket and overpriced popcorn.  Having the awkward war with the neighboring stranger over the arm rest isn’t a particularly enjoyable experience.

• The overpriced concession stand.

According to an article on MSNBC, “the average markup of an ounce of popcorn at the movie theater is about 1,275%.”  While movie theaters generally make a tight profit, the article states it has more to do with the willingness of the customer to pay $11 for a medium soda and popcorn.

With those concerns in mind, I generally stick to a very strict set of rules that has, thus far, ensured a successful movie-going experience, so much, in fact, that I’ll go to 2-4 movies per week, even if they aren’t particularly great movies.  There’s just something about seeing the movie on a huge screen and great speakers that makes the experience worthwhile.  …well, when these rules are followed, at least:

Never go on a Friday or Saturday.  Instead, go on a Sunday or Monday.

Everyone goes to the movie theater for dates or friend/family nights on Fridays and Saturdays, and thus ensuring that they’ll be the busiest days of the week.  However, I’ve found that very few people like seeing movies on the day before having to work, particularly when coupled with my next rule:

Go to the latest show.

No one wants to go to the 10:20 show for a two-hour movie the night before starting the dreaded work week.  Going to the latest show on the least-popular days ensures a very small crowd.

Get to the movie 30 minutes early.

This seems a little extreme, and it’s the one that oftentimes gets nixed by movie-going friends, but getting to the movie theater a half-an-hour early is usually enough time for the employees to clean the theater from the previous crowd and also allows you to get the best seat in the theater.  I prefer the one at the highest row, directly in the middle; you know, the good one.

Eat beforehand.

I must admit: I love movie theater popcorn.  Even though they’re small pieces of popcorn, the butter and light salt makes it one the tastiest treats on the planet.  Couple it with a nicely sized soft drink that washes down the butter and salt, and you’ve got yourself a meal… and an expensive one, at that.  By simply stopping off and getting a bean burrito or some fries, I’ll save over $9 per trip to the theater.

By following those four simple rules I find movie-going bliss.  One of the happiest moments in my life is entering the long, dark hallway of a movie theater, rounding the corner, and seeing my favorite seat waiting for me.  Hopefully following the rules will ensure a positive movie-going experience for you, too.

First, there are many things most articles about best practices in creating a password warn against, including using your name, a kid’s name, a hobby, a favorite team name, the usual “abcd,” and the like.  But using my method for creating an unbreakable universal password you can forget every bit of the “don’t do this” advice, and instead turn to these simple steps:

Choose any word you want… in another language.

I argue that in order to build a successful password, it has to be something you’ll remember.  And that’s the reason you must choose a word or name you love and will always remember.  Choosing something none of your friends would ever guess means it’s probably something that’s not all that prominent in your life.  So in order to continue using a word or name that you cherish, simply transliterate (which is different than translating) it into another language.

The online translation site I often use is Im Translator : Free Translation Service.  It’s an easy site that takes the word you want to translate, you choose the language to which to translate, and click the “transliterate” button which will allow you simple pronunciation.  To make it a little more difficult, choose a language such as Russian, where it comes out in Cyrillic.  For example, perhaps I want to use the word “hockey,” a sport I play.  Translating it into Russian it will come out as “хоккей,” which of course can’t be directly used as a password.  So I’ll change it to “xokken” since it’s close.  Very easy to remember!  (As a note, when I reference the password, it will be in quotations with any punctuation outside of the quotes, which is generally against the rules of correct English punctuation.  I feel it’s necessary for clarity, however, to make sure punctuation is outside of the quotation marks since characters too could be part of the chosen password.)

Now that we have our base word, we’ll need to add some additional characters to make it universal.  Let’s take a look at the requirements for most sites.

While many sites require 6-10 characters, many others require 8-20, making it harder to remember variations of your usually six-character password.  An easy way to make your password universal, then, is to follow the next step:

Make your password eight or 10 characters long.

Our original, translated password, “xokken”, is only six characters, so we’ll need to add two.  Let’s lengthen it by following another step:

Add a number or two.

Many Web sites require at least one number.  Since our base word only has six characters, we’ll add two numbers.  My old hockey number was 39, so I’ll add that: “xokken39″.  Don’t add them to the front of the word, though, as many sites also require the password not to start with a number.  If you want to make it more difficult, add the numbers somewhere in the middle of the password, but this makes it more difficult to remember and to type quickly.

We’re almost there, but there are two other requirements which are also often mandated by sites.  The first is an easy one to add:

Make one or more of the characters uppercase.

Since many sites require a lowercase letter in addition to an uppercase letter, we’ll need to take our password and make it just a little bit bigger: this time not horizontally, but vertically, if you will.  Since our password has two Ks in a row, let’s simply capitalize them.  That makes it easy to remember.  Now our password is “xoKKen39″.

Now we’re missing just one often-seen requirement:

Add at least one symbol.

Oftentimes a Web site will require a symbol or punctuation mark, and there are certain characters usually allowed by most sites, including ! ? – _ = + , ~ $ % and .  Symbols less often allowed include < > [ ] { } ( ) # @ & ` ‘ ” ; : / , so stay away from those.  For my password, I’ll choose the one I’ve seen allowed the most: the exclamation mark.

Most of the time you’ll probably just stick it at the end, much like I did with the numerals.  But since I have a double letter in the middle of my password, I’ll stick it in the middle for a little added security.  Now we have our entire password: “xoK!Ken39″.

Coming in at nine characters, including lowercase letters, uppercase letters, numbers, and a symbol, it can now be universally used by 99% of the Web sites I’ve encountered, is still easy enough for me to remember, and yet hard enough that no one I know could guess it, nor could anyone watching my fingers likely see exactly which keys I’m typing and duplicate it.  To me, that’s an almost unbreakable password applicable for the everyday person’s use.  Enjoy!