The High Level
The first mountain most writers face is the one posed by a fundamental story question: what will my book be about? What are the events that will comprise it? How will they fit together? Will they really add up to enough words to make an entire novel or story?
The answers to these questions are often reached by parsing plot. In its simplest form, plot is the sequence of events that occur in your story. Yet that by itself is not very helpful for a writer who is puzzling over what to include—and accordingly what to exclude—from their novel. That is why this series of posts will explore plot and conflict in conjunction. Before we can climb that mountain—discuss plot—we need to understand what’s driving us to the top. We need to understand conflict. We said a version of this elsewhere: it is difficult to discuss one aspect of storycraft without referencing and understanding others, and how they relate. This is especially true in the context of plot and conflict.
Think of plot as hues and conflict as the primary colors. Think of plot as limbs and conflict as the vertebrae. Conflict is inherently abstract. It is rendered, made specific, given life, through plot. Plot gives substance to conflict, and conflict gives life to plot.
Let’s dive into conflict.
Defining Conflict
What is conflict, in a storytelling sense? The traditional definition goes like this: conflict is a literary element or device that involves a struggle between two opposing forces, commonly two characters, or a character and an opposing force. This is a perfectly worthy and correct definition. But as you may have guessed by now, ours is a little different. It is as follows: Conflict is the emotional motor of your story.
To understand what we mean, think of a locomotive. The locomotive picks you up and drops you off at various stops along its route. The stops are the plot of your story. The distance you travel is the story drama as a whole. And the engine that drives the locomotive is conflict.
Why conflict? Isn't conflict bad? Why is it so central to drama? Are we inherently martial? Can’t a story be about nice people and peaceful events? The answer rests in the recognition that story is the stuff of momentum. Conflict gives us that momentum, be it a change in character attitudes internally, or a movement in their location externally. Just as a train without an engine cannot reach its destination, so a story without conflict cannot do what it’s name demands—locomote.
More on conflict next week.
— The Inkshares Team