I'm writing this out partially because if you grew up on YA books, it's Super Easy to reproduce tropes as a baby writer that work or don't work depending on an element you don't know exists and that isn't taught.
This one in particular led me down into a bout of writer's block that I ultimately never solved, back when I was 15 or so. I hit a wall that can be described as "my character is basically in a cult, she doesn't have any of the tools to escape it, and the plot requires her to" and I realized this, but I did not have the vocabulary to make sense of what the problem was—she had what seemed like sufficient MOTIVATION to escape the cult, but she COULDN'T, because psychologically she could not do it, and therefore I could not make her do it.
The dominant narrative of writer's block was "push through it and ignore it," and this killed the entire project for me, because my inability to "make" her do the thing she wanted deep down was completely puzzling.
And this was because I hadn't intentionally designed her situation as a cult, and it hadn't occurred to me that there was a unique psychological aspect to being in a cult, because it was so similar to the books I was reading at the time—YA books with characters being driven through very structured, authoritarian institutions like a complex system of pipes.
There is, again, hella commentary on the society that writes these stories here, and it occurs to me that the whole idea of "motivation" as the main driver of a character's actions is very in line with rugged-individualism and capitalism.
It assumes a character is an independent, rational agent that acts to pursue an external goal, focusing on the character's agency and desire to obtain "something" they do not have.
The fatal flaw of this paradigm is very simple: real people have limited agency, do not know what they want, and do not act rationally, and well-written, complex characters usually reflect this.
In Othello, the titular character loves Desdemona and wants to be loved by her, but Iago toys with and amplifies his fear and mistrust, and he ends up murdering her instead. It is not useful or really even correct to say that Othello has a goal, or that he is motivated by desire for something; if you do frame it that way, you have to explain why his actions actively sabotage the thing he wants, and this explanation is likely to shift the "agency" onto Iago, and be very awkward in exploring Othello. I use Othello as an example because for me, it was a viscerally hard-hitting story about a character whose marginalization had made his approach to relationships deeply dysfunctional, because his constant awareness of his marginalization sabotaged his ability to trust.
You can say a great variety of things about Shakespeare's portrayal being racist or not, but his understanding of the experience of being "othered" hit like a ford f-350 being driven by a drunk wannabe redneck. And that's the main quality that I think makes Shakespeare enduring? The man had a DEEP understanding of the ways people have Something Wrong With Them and specifically could portray people doing wildly irrational things and show why it made sense for them to.
This was one of the things that I, as a baby writer, knew so crisply I could taste it, but simply did not have the words for—what a character wants is rarely what they think they want or what they have the mental and emotional tools to pursue, and it often doesn't make sense for them to have enough insight into themselves to make actions oriented toward a goal that aligns with their "wants." "Motivation" in the sense of an external goal or explicit desire is used interchangeably with "motivation" in the sense of driving emotions and urges, and those are VERY, VERY DIFFERENT.
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