Stanford University’s Continuing Studies Online Writers Studio Title of Course: Form and Theory Instructor: Joshua Mohr Week 1: Generating narrative conflict Introduction: “I learned to write fiction the way I learned to read fiction—by skipping the parts that bored me.” Jonathan Lethem This quote from Mr. Lethem is a novelist’s best friend. In its emphasis of playfulness and personal satisfaction, it allows the writer to take some pressure of herself. We need to embrace the whimsy of the creative process. Certainly, we need to work hard, yet we also have to set realistic expectations on what can be accomplished on a draft by draft basis. Most of you are either starting your first draft or working on its early chapters. Using Lethem’s axiom as our guide, we can find freedom, solace: suddenly, there isn’t as much pressure on our rough drafts, or any early exploratory drafts for that matter. We can have fun on the page! The big chicken and the egg question that a novelist grapples with as she sits down to start a new project is what to focus on first: should she dedicate herself to learning about her main character, researching what constitutes the character’s sovereign set of perceptions? Or should she try and get things happening on the page from the external perspective, kick off the action, make sure things are cooking in order to seduce the reader into flipping pages? The good news is that this isn’t an either/or situation. In fact, they’ll inform each other. Each new plot point that a character navigates will illuminate something about her nature. And the protagonist’s idiosyncratic decision making will directly influence that cause and effect relationship between plot points. Think if Holden Caulfield had been plugged into the plot of “Madame Bovary”? How different would that novel would be? What if Chief Bromden was the star of “I Know How the Caged Bird Sings”? Point is that the main character’s very unique way of handling the obstacles that appear in her path will not only further characterization but will make sure that there’s enough conflict to entice a total stranger to donate her time to your book. That’s important for us as novelists to remember. There’s a transaction happening: the reader is generously giving us five, seven, maybe even ten hours of her life depending on how long the book is. That’s her part of the transaction. Our part sounds simple but is incredibly difficult: we have to take them on a compelling journey. And nothing bores a reader quicker than a book in which nothing happens. So, how can we make sure there’s enough conflict going on? Narrative conflict is the foundation upon which story is constructed. It represents dramatically the physical, psychic, spiritual, and emotional tussles that your particular protagonist is dealing with throughout the duration of the romp. Often, it can be difficult to pinpoint both the internal and external dilemmas that you hope to confront your main character(s) with. Let’s look at how as authors, we can isolate what crises will visit them as the story unfurls. Here’s how we can visually represent it: (What your character wants) (The antagonistic forces working against their wants) The leftward facing arrow represents what the character wants. They have to want something. Period. This isn’t a negotiable point. If your character doesn’t want anything, they aren’t emotionally invested in their story. And if your own characters aren’t involved in the story, why should a reader care? A writer’s chief pursuit is to illicit an emotional response in a reader: to make the reader feel something—more often than not, manufacturing that active, emotional involvement from the reader stems from the bond forged between reader and protagonist. The rightward facing arrow represents the obstacles you’ve placed in your protagonist’s path to impede or prevent them from accomplishing their goals. These literal pressure points you’ve chosen should resonate with a metaphorical pressure point: you are putting certain pressures on the characters so they reveal new information about themselves to the reader. That word “new” is very important: don’t repeat yourself. Don’t tell your audience over and over again that a certain character is selfish. Tell this once, and then maybe tell us something else, something that might belie her selfishness: tell us about a moment of magnanimity. Humans are consistently inconsistent. Have the courage to tell your readers all angles of what makes your protagonist tick. Resist the bait of only showing the good side of a main character. Show us a more comprehensive litany of what makes them an individual, the lovely tangle of strengths and weaknesses that differentiates us from all other human beings. The line that separates the two arrows is dramatic action. This line represents the impact of both sides. It is the moment where the opposing forces collide, smashing into one another. These are the moments when a character is revealing aspects of herself through action or inaction, depending on what’s happening in the particular scene. One key word for dramatic action is duress. That is, what is the duress—either physical, emotional, or both—that you have introduced into your character’s life in this specific chapter, this certain scene? And how’s this immediate conflict affecting their world in the short term (and maybe the long term, too)? Let’s look at a specific example: say this guy Marty really wants his ex-wife back. His inner-conflict is that he still loves her, yet she’s unsure of any reunion. His external conflict is that his ex is thinking of moving across the country to take a new job, start fresh. The crisis becomes how/when/and in what way will Marty try to get what he wants. And of course, from there, he’ll have to adapt his strategies as his wife responds to Marty’s actions (notice how her trajectory affects his trajectory). You start to see how characters’ interactions can influence future plot decisions—or more to the point: how duress can mutate into tines of new duress, as the book continues on. Do you see these pressure points that the author has placed on Marty? The stakes are high. Will he win her back? Should he win her back? Does he deserve to? What does the word “deserve” mean in the context of the novel? What will he do if she moves away? These questions all spring from the internal and external conflicts, leading to new plot points as the book progresses. Summary of conflict: • Narrative conflict is the collision between what your character wants and the obstacles you’ve put in her path. (Marty wants his wife, but she’s moving across the country.) • Great books have both internal and external conflicts. What will be your player’s internal one(s)? What external pressures have you introduced into their lives? • Are you revealing new information about your protagonist with different plot points? To Read This Week: “The Sisters Brothers”: pages 1-75 Writing Assignment: Compose a scene that is conflict-rich. Feel free to write your own imaginative scene; however if any of you would like a prompt to get going, here’s one: Using the above example as your guide, write the scene in which Marty’s wife tells him she’s moving across the country. Where are they? Does Marty lose his temper? Does he cry? How does his internal conflict influence the external conflict? Limit 500 words. Supplemental Resources: Chapter 1 from “Story Logic and the Craft of Fiction” Discussion Points: 1. What kind of writer do you want to be? In the great constellation of authors—from Virginia Woolf to James Baldwin to David Mitchell—we’re all trying to accomplish the goal of telling a compelling story. So what kind of storyteller do you want to evolve into? How will you define “compelling”? What will the word “story” mean in your hands? Final Thoughts: Much of what we do as novelists is muscle-memory, developing the habits of consistently working on our books. Communities like the OWS/OWC are immensely helpful in keeping us motivated to prioritize our art. Let’s help one another carve out the time to bring these novels to fruition. Week 2: Narrative Tension & Super Tension Introduction: “People may or may not say what they mean... but they always say something designed to get what they want.” – David Mamet Introduction: To my literary eye, there is a slight difference between narrative conflict, last week’s topic, and narrative tension. Whereas conflict is a direct response to a specific character dealing with a specific set of antagonistic forces, tension sort of hangs above the action, like a layer of fog. To say it another way: we can be a bit more general with how we’re defining tension. But that doesn’t mean that as the author you have any less responsibility in learning these specifics. Going forward, let’s define it as the discrepancy between these two paradigms: This is the way my character would like her world to be versus This is the way her world is currently constituted Thinking about the disparities between these two can be an illuminating exercise. What if your character wants—on one hand—to get sober, stop gambling, or change her job? But what if—on the other very persuasive hand—she finds herself incapable of making these changes in her status quo? The relationship between these two—her desired life and the life she’s currently living— can be a wonderful way for your reader to get to know this protagonist more intimately.