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The Snark | The Woodman’s Son

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The Myth of One-Trip Brilliance

Picture this: It’s a bitterly cold day, and the Woodman—ever the paragon of practicality—sends his teenage son to fetch a dozen logs from the woodshed. Now, our young hero could make two sensible trips, maybe three, and still be back by lunchtime. But why would he do that when he can carry all twelve at once and strut back to the cottage like a legend, right?


Gravity Always Wins

So, off he goes, stacking log after log in his arms until he can’t even see past the pile, then a couple more under his arms. Shocking twist: he drops one. Being the brilliant strategist he is, the son bends down to retrieve the stray log—only to drop two more in the process. You can practically hear the winter wind laughing at him. One step forward, three logs backward. By the time he’s finally back at the cottage—miraculously still holding a dozen logs—he’s wasted more time than if he’d just swallowed his pride and done multiple trips. Whoops.


Snarky Moral of the Story

If you’re rolling your eyes at the kid’s “efficiency,” congratulations: you grasp the moral. It’s a cautionary tale of how sometimes our ego or desire to cut corners leads to more work (and more humiliation) in the end. Trying to do too much at once—“life-hacking” yourself into a facepalm moment—usually means you’ll spend more time picking up the pieces than if you’d planned properly in the first place.


The Character-Building Angle for Writers

Now, let’s talk about why this matters for fiction writers. Characters who bite off more than they can chew are catnip for storytelling. Whether they’re accumulating secrets, power, or in this case, literal lumber, watching them juggle too much is like waiting for a train wreck you can’t look away from.


Flaws & Motivation: A character who insists on carrying all twelve logs might be motivated by laziness (*fewer trips in the snow, please*) or arrogance (*I can handle it, no problem*). Either way, it’s a perfect chance to show, not tell, your reader about that person’s underlying flaws.


Conflict & Consequences: When your character inevitably stumbles—dropping logs, secrets, or entire empires—it sets off a chain reaction that can fuel plot twists or comedic relief. Conflict is the beating heart of any good story, and The Woodman’s Son is all about self-inflicted trouble.


Growth or Stubbornness: Maybe your hero learns a lesson and plans ahead next time, or maybe they double down on their one-trip illusions. Either way, you’ve got a character arc. Do they swallow their pride and develop humility, or do they keep carrying too many metaphorical logs until they’re buried under them?


Final Takeaway: Let Them Drop a Few Logs

As a writer, slip a little “Woodman’s Son” moment into your narrative. Let your character try to carry the entire weight of the world in one go—and fail miserably. It humanizes them, entertains your audience, and reminds everyone that shortcuts often lead to the longest—and clumsiest—paths of all. Because sometimes, the best way to show your character’s true colors is to watch them trip over their own brilliance.


The Snark



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