In an effort to burn off my triple Americano post-shift awakeness, I’m resorting to brainstorming at one a.m. I tried a Big Daddy IPA but it didn’t do the trick. So I was thinking today about my tendencies and downfalls as a writer. One of the biggest ones is that I tend to avoid writing about conflict. External conflict, that is. There is plenty of the internal kind going on and that can be just as dramatic, but it takes a helluva a lot more work/talent/skill. External conflict, however, is the building block of dramatic tension. It’s every storyteller’s bread and butter, and if it’s not, nine times out of ten it should be. At least in one form or another, ranging from subtle to magnificent. It’s really fascinating, actually, that I tend to avoid conflict as much in my fiction as I do in my life. I am pretty notorious for being non-confrontational and most of the time I just let things slide, bitch about it to a third party, then call it a day. And when I think about it, that’s what my characters do too. Problem is, this can be a snoozefest for the readers if you’re not careful. And by leaving out this key element I’m making a lot more work for myself. But, I had a funny thought tonight driving home from work, mulling over this whole conflict issue. When it dawned on me, a quote from one of my favorite movies of all time, “Life is full of shitty conflicts, okay?” and the simplicity and truth of it was like a lightening bolt. (Even what he meant is not precisely the same thing as what I mean) Life is FULL of shitty conflicts. Everything from your roommate leaving dishes in the sink for the third day in a row to a run in with the meter maid to a mugging in an alley way. And the crazy thing is that I never really insert the most mundane conflicts, I avoid them at ALL costs. My professor called me on it once, he was like, “When your characters leave the scene everyone’s still cool. They’re all still friends. That can’t ALWAYS happen.” And while I don’t really subscribe to across the board dictates regarding writing, because hello if you’re good enough, you can do ANYTHING. But, maybe until you’re not good enough, you have to use the building blocks to make up for what you lack.
The point is – I need more conflict. So, I’m making a list. Now, to define the parameters. I’m not going to get really detailed here, just sticking to basic conflict. I don’t want to broadcast too many gems on the internets, after all. In this case conflict will be defined loosely as basic misaligned want. When two people each want something that interferes with what the other person wants. Real simple-like. But, I’m going to try for real conflict, not just petty grievances that go unspoken. I could easily put a multitude of those down but those are the kinds of things that I DO put in my fiction, but they don’t necessarily move things forward. On the other hand, it doesn’t have to be hand to hand combat or anything, just a simple clash of desires. Also, you might notice that some of these are from OH say, the last week of my life. Because I’m not THAT creative at one a.m. (Guess which ones! Okay, maybe don’t.)
- The clerk/cashier claims you gave him a ten, when you actually gave him a twenty.
- Your stylist cuts off five inches of your hair when you ask her to cut off two.
- Your pseudo-boyfriend finds a used condom in your bed. Not his.
- The girl you hate at work asks you to drive her home.
- Your best friend asks you what you really think of his girlfriend.
- Someone pushes you on the sidewalk as they pass by.
- A shopkeeper is following you around the store like you’re going to steal something.
- You run into your ex-best friend on the subway.
- A meter maid tries to ticket you one minute after the meter expires. You catch her and try to argue.
- A waiter spills wine on you in a restaurant.
- Someone asks you if you’re pregnant. You’re not.
- Your roommate asks you to clean the toilet. You feel like you ALWAYS clean the toilet.
- You get an estimate. Someone does work for you. It’s twice the estimate amount.
- The cops catch you smoking weed.
- Your mother catches you smoking weed.
- Pretty much anyone catches you smoking meth.
- An old man rear-ends you, claims you backed up.
- Your boss catches you with a bag full of stolen office supplies.
- You overhear your co-workers talking about you. It’s not nice.
- You wander onto someone’s property. They fire warning shots.
- You catch the winning homerun ball. Someone steals it out of your hands.
- You come out of the bathroom and a leggy blonde is hitting on your date.
- Your little brother gets your dog high. You have to take him to the emergency room. (The dog.)
- Someone takes out a gun in Comp class.
- Your student tells you she’s pregnant and she’s going to tell the administration it’s yours.
- Someone asks for a favor you don’t want to give.
- You either have to give up your family, or go to prison.
- Someone is on life support. No one can agree what to do.
- A baby is missing from the nursery. Two nurses were on duty and each blames the other.
- Your ex is coming to town and wants to have dinner. You ask your significant other if that’s okay.
- You have water and a salad. Your friend has cocktails and the lobster. She wants to split the check.
- You are trying to cross the border. The border patrol stops your vehicle.
- Your ex calls to tell you he’s engaged.
- Your co-worker consistently shorts you on tip-out. You finally say something.
Okay, 34 is a good round number to end with. Conflict is both easy and difficult to drum up. It’s weird, I felt like I could keep going, but it’s not as simple as it sounds to try and manufacture some sort of contention. I have problems putting conflict in a story for conflicts sake. Generally speaking if it doesn’t come naturally, I don’t try and force the issue. HOWEVS. Pretty much everything right now feels stilted and unnatural so maybe some potboiler conflict will be like training wheels. I’m writing, I just feel really rusty and unconfident. But, one thing is for sure, I know I just have to keep going with it, no matter how much I think it sucks and it pains me to keep going. It’s a special form of torture sometimes, basically like running waist high through water, or sewage. Slow and painful, without any assurances that there is another side to the river, or a shore just out of sight. You just have to keep going, because what other choice do you have?