The Conflict Thesaurus E-Book

Becca Puglisi

• Herausgeber: WS
• Kategorie: Geisteswissenschaft
• Serie: Writers Helping Writers
• Sprache: Englisch

Seitenzahl: 564

Veröffentlichungsjahr: 2022

Beschreibung

The Conflict Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Obstacles, Adversaries, and Inner Struggles (Volume 2) explores more ways to activate story conflict and tension. It serves up over 110 new scenarios that lead to power struggles, lost advantages, dangers, threats, ego-related conflicts, and more. Use this guide to plot fresh challenges and story problems that will trip your characters up and force them to strive harder to win.

Leseprobe

THE CONFLICT THESAURUS:

A Writer’s Guide to Obstacles, Adversaries, and Inner Struggles

VOLUME 2

ANGELA ACKERMAN

& BECCA PUGLISI

THE CONFLICT THESAURUS: A WRITER’S GUIDE TO OBSTACLES, ADVERSARIES, AND INNER STRUGGLES. VOLUME 2.

Copyright 2022 © by Angela Ackerman & Becca Puglisi

All rights reserved

Visit the authors at their Writers Helping Writers® site.

NO AI TRAINING: Without in any way limiting the author’s exclusive rights under copyright, any use of this publication to “train” generative artificial intelligence (AI) technologies to generate text is expressly prohibited. The author reserves all rights to license uses of this work for generative AI training and development of machine learning language models.

No part of this publication may be reproduced or distributed in print or electronic form without prior permission of the authors. For permissions, or for information about special discounts available for bulk purchases and educational needs, contact the authors at [email protected].

ISBN: 978-1-7361523-2-4

Edited by Michael Dunne

Book cover design by JD Smith Design

Book formatting by JD Smith Design

THE WRITERS HELPING WRITERS®DESCRIPTION THESAURUS SERIES

Over 1.2 Million Copies Sold Worldwide

Available in nine languages, sourced by universities, and recommended by editors and agents all over the world, this best-selling series is a writer’s favorite for brainstorming fresh description and powering up storytelling.

The Conflict Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Obstacles, Adversaries, and Inner Struggles (Vol. 1)

The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Expression (Second Edition)

The Positive Trait Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Attributes

The Negative Trait Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Flaws

The Urban Setting Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to City Spaces

The Rural Setting Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Personal and Natural Places

The Emotional Wound Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Psychological Trauma

The Occupation Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Jobs, Vocations, and Careers

The Emotion Amplifier Thesaurus:

A Writer’s Guide to Character Stress and Volatility (Second Edition)

TABLE OF CONTENTS

Conflict’s Role in Storytelling: Shaping the Plot

Four Levels of Conflict

Keeping the Central Conflict Center Stage

How Conflict’s Golden Thread Powers the Story

Ways to Amp up Your Conflict

The Villain in the Room: Creating Powerful Clashes

The Climax: The Pinnacle of Struggle

Resolving Relationship Conflict: Not So Fast

Character Agency: Put Your Hero in the Driver’s Seat

Common Conflict Conundrums

Final Words from the Authors

The Conflict Thesaurus

Loss Of Control

A Break-In

A Family Member Dying

A Partner Racking up Debt

A Recession or Economy Crash

An Unexpected Pregnancy

Bad Weather

Being Captured

Being Evicted

Being Framed

Being Given Bad News

Being Injured

Being Orphaned

Being Pushed toward a Specific Destiny

Being Scammed

Being Stranded

Being Taken in for Questioning

Discovering One Has a Child

Getting in a Car Accident

Having a Miscarriage

Having a Panic Attack

Having to Leave Someone Behind

Having to Move

Losing a Child in a Public Place

Not Achieving a Coveted Goal

Rent Being Raised

The Death of a Pet

Power Struggles

Being Arrested

Being Bullied

Being Falsely Accused

Being Pressured by Family

Being Pressured to Conform

Being Sabotaged

Being Sued

Clashing Beliefs

Experiencing Discrimination

Experiencing Harassment

Forced Attendance

Misaligned Goals

Nepotism or Favoritism

Losing an Advantage

A Competitor Showing Up

A Place of Safety Being Compromised

Being Cast Out of a Group

Having to Leave One’s Home or Homeland

Lacking an Important Resource

Losing a Key Witness

Losing a Vital Item

Losing Access to Someone Important

Losing Access to Something Important

Losing an Ally

Losing One’s Funding

Rules Changing to One’s Disadvantage

Running Out of Critical Supplies

Something Important Being Stolen

Ego-Related Conflicts

An Unexpected Loss of Prestige or Wealth

Being Cut from a Team

Being Discredited

Being Excluded

Being Lied To

Being Micromanaged

Being Physically Marred before an Important Event

Experiencing a Crisis of Self-Doubt

Facing a Challenge beyond One’s Skill or Knowledge

Having to Rely on Others

Having to Stay Behind

Learning that One Was Adopted

Needing to Borrow Money

Not Being Taken Seriously

One’s Authority Being Threatened

Public Humiliation

Telling the Truth but Not Being Believed

Dangers and Threats

A Dangerous Crossing

A House Fire

A Loved One Being Put in Harm’s Way

A Mechanical Malfunction

A Natural Disaster

A Threatening Criminal Being Set Free

A Way of Life Being Threatened

Being Assaulted by a Stranger

Being Assigned a Dangerous Task

Being Cut Off from Help

Being Exposed to an Allergen

Being Poisoned

Being Recognized

Being Targeted by a Monster or Supernatural Force

Being Targeted for Revenge

Being Trapped

Facing a Threat While Unarmed

Having to Hide or Escape Detection

Having to Make a Final Stand

Having to Split up for Safety

War Breaking Out

Witness Intimidation

Miscellaneous Challenges

A Fear or Phobia Rearing Its Head

A Health Issue Cropping Up

A Repressed Memory Resurfacing

An Anticipated Event Being Canceled

An Unexpected Change of Plans

An Unwanted Intrusion

Being Cursed

Being Forced to Lead

Being in the Wrong Place at the Wrong Time

Being Mistaken for Someone Else

Being Placed under a Spell

Being Unable to Forgive Oneself

Contemplating Suicide

Discovering a Dead Body

Experiencing Memory Loss

Having a Crisis of Faith

Having to Blindly Trust Someone

Having Unwanted Powers

Needing to Circumvent Security

Needing to Infiltrate a Group

Needing to Lie Convincingly

Not Knowing What One Wants

Physical Exhaustion

Appendix A: GMC+S Tracker

Appendix B: Climax Troubleshooting

MORE CONFLICT SCENARIOS: The Conflict Thesaurus, Volume 1

Recommended Resources

Praise for These Writers Helping Writers Resources

One Stop for Writers

About the Authors

CONFLICT’S ROLE IN STORYTELLING: SHAPING THE PLOT

We’re all familiar with the fish story. You know, the one where an uncle, neighbor, cousin…someone sets out to catch a fish. And then he does.

Presented like this, it sounds straightforward and—dare we say it—a touch boring. And if the story was nothing more than someone reeling in their dinner, it would be pretty yawn-worthy. But what makes a fish story special is that it’s always more than it seems. In fact, it might not contain a carp, trout, or catfish at all and instead be a tale of how someone negotiated a great deal on their car, pulled out an engagement ring and got a yes, or something else entirely. But it’s still a fish story, trust us. And for it to work, it needs the same vital thing all great stories do: conflict.

Let’s look at a classic fish story for a moment, one where the storyteller is your neighbor. He’s on his porch, enjoying the cooling air as dusk sends fingers of pink and orange across the sky. He spots you mowing your lawn and waves you over. The pitcher of iced tea at his elbow seems pretty inviting, so you climb the steps, sit, and thank him for the hospitality.

Once you’re settled, he nudges an ice chest with his foot. “Went fishing this morning. Boy, what a day.”

Good neighbor that you are, you lean in with an expected, “Oh?”—the universal signal to tell you all about it.

Our fisherman begins his tale with the setup: he rose with the sun, gathered his rod and tackle, and headed out the door. The early hour meant less traffic, and he made it to the lake in record time. Not a cloud in the sky, just him, the birds, and the gentle buzz of dragonflies. A great day to be on the water.

Then, an early upset: his blasted boat motor refused to start. It took him a good half-hour of pulling to fire it up, and by then, other fishermen had arrived. The whole point of getting there early was to claim his spot, so he had to hustle to keep his lead.

Finally, he reached his secret fishing location and cast a line over the side. The sun warmed the back of his neck and the water was mirror-calm. And somewhere below, a certain plump trout was scouting for a free meal.

But the minutes ticked by. And by.

Not a bite, not one nibble.

Your neighbor starts to grouse about how his back ached and the hot sun was crisping his skin like chicken in a fryer. To make matters worse, because he was in a rush, he’d left his lunch kit and water bottle in the truck. He was so thirsty, the saliva in his mouth had turned to glue.

His impatience grew. The fish had abandoned his secret spot. His thumb hurt like a bugger because he’d accidentally poked it when baiting the hook, and overhead, dark clouds were brewing. The day had become a total dud. Maybe it was time to pack it in.

But then, the line jerked. And then again.

From his chair, your neighbor re-enacts this moment. His arms are extended, an invisible twitching rod in his grip. He pulls back, testing the resistance. Aha, a solid bite!

He cranks the handle of a non-existent reel, pulling and releasing in turn, but sweet whiskey, wouldn’t you know it, this fish had the strength of an alligator. No, two! The kind that grew up in the runoff of a nuclear power plant.

Pulling with a fierceness that seems superhuman, your neighbor grunts and relays the rest of the battle in spurts.

Thunder rumbled overhead. The sky was black. The wind had picked up and waves slapped his boat, threatening to capsize him! He held on, fighting the monster for a good hour.

You cock an eyebrow.

“Well, maybe half an hour.” He pauses. “Five minutes, at least.”

This detail clarified, he returns to the tale. At last, the trout broke the surface, thrashing like a demon. Your neighbor stands and begins to grunt and swear as he grapples with the invisible fish. Finally, he wrestles it into the boat and collapses in his chair. Victory!

He slugs back a gulp of iced tea. Then he taps the red lid of the fish cooler. “Took everything I had, but, well, the rest is history!”

And that’s a fish story—an epic tale of highs and lows, of being outmatched and outwitted until personal will and strength tip the scales in the teller’s favor. Sure, it wanders away from the truth and comes with a good dose of embellishment, but the teller knows something important: having a need (motivation) and setting a goal to fill that need doesn’t make a great story. But achieving a goal that fulfills that need when everything is against you (conflict) does.

This is a key takeaway for us writers because when we sit down at the keyboard, our imaginations can come up with event after event to write about, but without certain conflicts, the story’s plot will wander, taking the reader’s attention with it. That’s what a fish story teaches us: for a story to draw in the audience, we need a goal, a motivation, and conflict.

GOAL, MOTIVATION, AND CONFLICT WALK INTO A BAR

For most writers, dreaming up exciting ideas, characters, locations, and situations isn’t a problem. But if we blindly run with these, instead of writing a story, we may end up with just a series of things that happen (and a long, annoying revision road). And unfortunately, the longer it takes to get a tale into fighting shape, the more chance there is we’ll grow frustrated, become distracted by a new idea, and move on to something else. Burying another manuscript in the hard drive graveyard is never the goal. Finishing and getting the story into the hands of eager readers is.

Thankfully, there’s an easy way to find the bones of your novel right at the start. The Goal, Motivation, and Conflict (GMC) formula is explored in Debra Dixon’s book of the same name and is based on three key story elements:

Goal: What your character wants

Motivation: Why your character wants it

Conflict: What stands in your character’s way

This trio is the foundation for a story—in fact, without them, there is no story. So, when you’re unsure if you have a solid premise for a novel or just a collection of ideas about murderers in the woods, a secret affair, and things blowing up, use the GMC formula as a test.

GMC Formula: A character wantssomething(the goal), because of a reason (motivation), butsomething stands in the way (conflict).

Here are a few GMC statements you might recognize from fiction and film.

Mary wants to reach the coast (goal) because she needs safety and security (motivation), but a forest of undead blocks her path (conflict). ~TheForest of Hands and Teeth

The Grinch wants to ruin Christmas (goal) because he needs peace and quiet (motivation), but the spirit of the season makes the people of Whoville tough to break (conflict). ~The Grinch that Stole Christmas

Seong Gi-Hun wants to win money (goal) because he needs to take care of his family and pay off a huge debt (motivation), but the game he agrees to play turns into a sadistic series of challenges where losing means death (conflict). ~Squid Games

You can see how the GMC formula distills these stories to their most basic elements. It can do the same for yours (Appendix A can help you track these important features). It also allows you to experiment with different ideas about what your protagonist may want, why they want it, or which story-level problem presents the biggest obstacle.

There are other ways to examine a potential premise, but GMC is one of the most effective, serving as a strong reminder that conflict plays a big role in every story, no matter what it ends up being about.

FOUR LEVELS OF CONFLICT

A cardinal sin of storytelling is to skimp on conflict, and no wonder. Those problems, challenges, obstacles, and inner struggles are what keep readers engaged, casting doubt on the character’s ability to achieve their goal.

Because readers are focused on what’s happening from one scene to the next, it can appear that conflict is only occurring moment to moment. In actuality, it’s present at different levels, and maximizing how the various obstacles and challenges interact is key to building a rich, powerful story. Let’s take a look.

Central Conflict

Every story has an overarching conflict that should be resolved by the end of the book. Whether your protagonist is trying to prevent evil creatures from entering their world (Stranger Things), stop the terrorists who have taken over Nakatomi Tower (Die Hard), or find the groom and get him to his wedding on time (The Hangover), they must address that problem. The central conflict for any story will take one of six forms:

Character vs. Character: The protagonist goes up against another character in a battle of wits, will, and strength.

Character vs. Society: The protagonist takes on society or an agency within it to bring about necessary change.

Character vs. Nature: The protagonist battles a form of nature, such as the weather, a challenging landscape, or its animal inhabitants.

Character vs. Technology: The protagonist faces a manufactured foe, such as a computer or machine.

Character vs. Supernatural: The protagonist confronts a force that exists outside their full understanding. This may involve an encounter with fate, a god, or some other magical or spiritual foe.

Character vs. Self: The protagonist experiences a large-scale internal battle of clashing beliefs, hopes, needs, or fears.

The central conflict locks the wheels of your story’s rollercoaster onto a specific track so the macro and micro challenges you add will support plot and character development.

Story-Level (Macro) Conflict

Some conflicts present bigger problems that your character doesn’t have the means or ability to solve. These threats loom over much of the story, and the protagonist will have to work through them while handling other immediate, scene-level dangers and challenges.

For example, in Die Hard, John McClane is one man against an organized, armed group who have taken over Nakatomi Tower. His central conflict (character vs. character) is to stop the terrorists and save everyone in the building, especially his wife. That on its own seems impossible, but it’s complicated by a few other problems he also has to deal with: keeping Holly’s identity as his wife a secret so the terrorists can’t use her as leverage, figuring out Hans Gruber’s real motive for taking over the tower, and doing it all despite the bungling interference of a grossly inept FBI.

And in the back of his mind is the most challenging problem of all, the one that brought him to California in the first place: how to fix his crumbling marriage and reconcile with Holly before it’s too late.

Large-scale conflicts like these will need to be addressed by your protagonist, but they won’t be ironed out immediately. Very often, the character will have to work on these issues in stages as they dodge danger and achieve smaller goals from scene to scene.

Scene-Level (Micro) Conflict

Conflict at the scene level comes in the form of as-it-happens clashes, threats, obstacles, and challenges that get between your character and their goal. The character is trying to handle what’s right in front of them, deal with inner struggles, and above all else, prevent disaster. Sometimes they succeed and sometimes they fail—and failure is part of the process, by the way. Setbacks are necessary to increase the pressure, introduce complications, raise the stakes, and force your character to examine why things went wrong. This last one is especially important for characters on a change arc since internal growth is crucial for them to successfully achieve their story goal.

In Die Hard, John McClane pulls the fire alarm so first responders will arrive and discover what’s going on in the tower. This fails when the terrorists convince the fire department it was a false alarm. Worse, it places a target on John’s back because now Hans Gruber and his mercenaries know that someone in the building is working against them. A manhunt results with John, unarmed and barefoot, fighting to stay a step ahead in each scene by outwitting, overpowering, and killing those sent to eliminate him.

Internal Conflict

Another form of conflict takes place within the character. At the macro level, it’s the main internal struggle the protagonist must address to achieve their story goal.

John McClane’s marriage is a breath away from breaking because he’s self-absorbed and unaccommodating, believing his needs and career should come first. Holly, rather than become a minimized puzzle piece in John’s world, moves herself and their children across the country to follow her own professional dream. John visits her with the goal of reconciling, but he’s really hoping that her choices have shown her she’s better off in New York with him. Instead, he finds her happy, thriving in her career, and independent—so independent, she’s using her maiden name.

This ego hit makes John realize that getting her back won’t be easy, and if he wants to make it work, he might have to make some sacrifices. This sets the stage for his inner conflict—putting himself or others first. With Holly in mortal danger, he realizes how selfish and unsupportive he’s been and wants the chance to tell her so. This awakening is John’s first step toward resolving his inner conflict, which he achieves when he does everything within his power to stop Hans and protect Holly, no matter what the personal cost.

Internal conflict also happens at the micro level with conflicts arising in individual scenes. Faced with the crushing force of painful circumstances, pressure, and opposition, characters often struggle with what to do, knowing right from wrong, and even what they should feel. Conflicting emotions and competing desires, needs, and fears can paralyze a character, cloud their judgment, and make decisions and choices that much harder.

External or internal, macro or micro, conflict powers your story. It pushes and pressures the character, stands in the way of his greatest desire, and strains him to his limits, making him want to quit. Then he’ll have to show his strength and prove his worthiness by fighting, making sacrifices, and being willing to change to achieve his goal.

ENCOURAGE UNEVEN MATCHUPS TO HEIGHTEN CONFLICT

As you’re strategizing ways to use the four levels of conflict in your story, look for opportunities to highlight inequities. When we engineer story elements to be unbalanced, it generates immediate friction by putting the protagonist at a disadvantage. Let’s examine some of the purposeful disparities built into Die Hard, starting with the characters.

At first glance, John’s experience as a seasoned New York police officer has surely given him the skills to deal with a threat like Hans Gruber. Only…Hans isn’t alone, and John is unarmed and in an unfamiliar place. Worse, when the building is taken over, he’s trapped with no leverage or resources—not even a pair of shoes. Hans, on the other hand, has a team of skilled and well-armed mercenaries with full building access and plenty of hostages, including John’s wife.

This imbalance makes stopping Hans and protecting Holly seem futile, and for much of the movie, John’s goal is out of reach. But how he handles conflict at the scene level—taking out his enemies one by one, dropping a dead body on a car to draw a policeman’s attention, getting his hands on a weapon, and stealing Hans’ detonators—allows him to balance the scales until winning becomes possible. His responses to conflict also give readers a chance to see who he really is. His inventiveness and relentlessness are key to getting the audience to buy into the idea that one man can disrupt a highly organized plot to steal 650 million dollars in bonds.

Die Hard is a great example of how each level of conflict adds to the whole, creating a dynamic plot and arc. On the outside, it seems like your typical shoot ‘em up cop movie, one you don’t have to think too hard about and can just enjoy. And while that’s true to some degree, inner conflict gives it depth. At the end of the day, if John wants to achieve all his goals (including saving his marriage), he must stop being self-absorbed and put the needs of others before his own.

HOW TO CONNECT THE LEVELS OF CONFLICT

Hopefully you can see how different levels of conflict work together to build a sustainable series of challenges that will strain a character mentally, physically, and emotionally. So how do we apply this in our own stories?

If we can borrow from Die Hard one last time, imagine Nakatomi Tower as your story’s landscape, with each floor representing a scene. Your character’s goal may be to get to the roof because someone up there needs help (stakes). A family member is being held captive by the character’s nemesis, who’s waiting with a bomb (macro conflict) and is more than willing to blow the building to ash rather than lose.

The protagonist has injured their leg and the elevators are out, so climbing thirty-five floors will be no easy feat, and to make things worse, each floor has been booby trapped (micro conflict). But your character moves from floor to floor, facing enemies, problems, and dangers. Everything they encounter has the potential to derail their progress, bury them in complications, and get them to turn around. And they’re tempted because, deep down, they really don’t think they’re up to the job (inner conflict). Each close call makes them wonder if this is an impossible mission that will only get them killed.

But as your character moves up, they’re getting better at avoiding traps. Maybe they find a weapon and a bag of tools to help them. They’re growing stronger and are feeling more capable, though self-doubt still digs at them. But they’ve come too far and endured too much, so they keep pushing upward.

Finally, they reach the roof and their nemesis. If they don’t win here, the bomb will bring down the building, their loved one, and themselves. In this fight, they refuse to let self-doubt grab hold as it did so many times before. With their determined mindset and tools acquired along the way, they defuse the bomb, defeat the enemy, and save their loved one. The central conflict is resolved, and they’ve achieved their goal.

While every story is unique, the primary role of conflict is to take someone who is not capable of achieving their goal and, over the course of a story, reshape them into someone who is. As you choose obstacles, challenges, and antagonistic forces to oppose the character and create friction, ask yourself if they contribute to this evolution. While you will have some minor inconveniences and hassles at the scene level, most conflict should be chosen to help the character learn what they need to about themselves and the world and prepare them for the battles ahead so they become someone capable of winning.

CONFLICT CATEGORIES

While the inclusion of different conflict levels will provide depth, you’ll also need a variety of challenges to keep your scenes fresh. If a character encounters the same stressors over and over, readers will grow impatient, and that’s a one-way ticket to Skim City—or worse, Close-the-Book-Ville.

The story’s genre, central conflict, and protagonist’s arc will determine some of the conflict scenarios, but you’ll need many more to round things out. With so many to choose from, where should you start? Don’t worry, we’ve got you. The scenarios in this book are grouped by the types of challenges they present. Each category has certain superpowers, so dive in and discover what they are, and then head to that section of the thesaurus to dream up the perfect mix of macro and micro problems for your story.

Dangers and Threats

This is one of the most obvious and versatile forms of conflict: a hazard or menace that represents direct harm to the character or the people they care about (and may be responsible for).

According to Maslow’s Hierarchy of Human Needs, Safety and Security is one of the most important needs a person can have—meaning, in the real world, we typically seek ways to avoid situations that put us at risk. Psychologically speaking, characters should mirror flesh-and-blood people, so they too will be wary of situations that could harm them. Of course, that won’t stop us from making sure their car hits a patch of black ice or ensuring a predator crosses their path in the woods, will it?

Danger can originate from other people, the environment, a location, or even from within the character themselves. For someone struggling with an addiction, an inability to gauge risk or seek help could lead to a hospitalization or death. A person consumed with guilt over past mistakes might become self-destructive, taking on an adversary or challenge far beyond their abilities because they believe that only self-punishment or self-sacrifice can balance the scales.

When you’re looking for a hit of organic danger, look no further than your character’s location. Every story setting will contain inherent perils. Perhaps a hired detective is staking out your unfaithful character’s house, or the rain-soaked ground where your adventurers are hiding is about to give way. Locational dangers can be small (a poisonous centipede skittering into a character’s sleeping bag) or large (a hurricane about to make landfall). Depending on what you need for the story, these threats can cause an inconvenience, create delays, ruin carefully laid plans, or worse.

This category is also a great choice when you want to make your character responsible for the fallout. They can underestimate the danger or overestimate their abilities, and then the consequences will really sting because the pain they’re experiencing could have been avoided. Another benefit of the character ignoring or not seeing the danger is that they’ll learn a hard life lesson, one they won’t want to repeat.

Ego-Related Conflicts

Just as dangers and threats attack the character’s safety and security, ego-related conflicts undermine their esteem and recognition. This human need is all about personal worth, both the value others place on someone and how that person sees and values themselves.

In the real world, people tend to shy away from situations where they could be embarrassed because they worry about what others think and don’t like to be judged. Insecurities magnify mistakes in their minds, especially if their egos have been hurt by criticism or similar blunders in the past.

Because well-built characters will have similar psychological drivers, they’ll struggle with insecurity connected to a personal negative experience, especially if it left an emotional scar. Being excluded, discredited, lied to, or minimized will hurt them, even if they strive not to show it.

Ego-related challenges stir up internal conflict and trigger sensitivities that are hard to hide, so the character may respond by pulling back and isolating themselves, exploding with anger, or replying with barbed honesty that only makes things worse. Even in cases where the character has done nothing wrong, these conflicts can cut deep simply because there’s a witness.

Consider Fiona, our protagonist who has not visited her hometown in quite a while. Things are becoming serious with her boyfriend, however, so she books a flight. She’s nervous, because her parents have some odd ideas about the world, but she knows Drew is the one, and it’s time to introduce him to her family.

Fiona and Drew arrive as her parents are having an after-dinner glass of port. At first, everything goes as expected. They’re overjoyed at the surprise visit and they fawn over Drew, asking about his job, family, interests—basically ticking all the boxes. But as one glass of port turns into several, Fiona’s dad begins to rant a bit about world events until, in a pin-drop moment, he floats a full-on, dark net alien conspiracy theory.

Imagine Fiona’s embarrassment and how she might try to salvage the evening. Maybe she laughs it off, pretending it’s a joke. Or she tells Drew that her dad’s teasing him to see how he’ll react. But the more Fiona tries to minimize the damage, the louder and more verbal her father gets. Soon he’s targeting Fiona, criticizing her for being naive, living in a dream world, and not acknowledging the undisputable evidence that an alien force is pulling the puppet strings of the human race. As her father rages, humiliation washes over her. The love of her life is bearing witness to this lunacy. What must Drew think of her parents…and her?

Ego-related conflict, such as suffering a humiliation, strikes deep. It’s an attack on one of the character’s most important basic needs. In response, the character may lash out (fight), go silent (freeze), or cut her visit short (flight)—whatever response fits her personality, emotional range, and way of coping with being made vulnerable. Regardless of her reaction, readers will connect to the pain she feels because no one is immune to ego-based hurts.

It’s also common for someone experiencing this kind of conflict to internalize it through self-blame. In this case, Fiona may fault herself for bringing Drew to meet her parents or for not warning him about what he might be walking into. It will take time for her to see that she isn’t to blame for her father’s ravings and that her own worth has nothing whatsoever to do with his ideas or habits.

Because ego-related conflicts tend to give birth to internal struggles, they can be a good option for a character traversing a change arc.

Loss of Control

In the real world, control is important for us to maintain, as can be seen in the dozens of big and small decisions we make every day. We may invest in a university degree if it gives us financially secure job options. We might buy a house in a school district that will ensure a quality education for our children. We put fuel in the car so we don’t run out, clean scraped knees so they don’t get infected, and choose politeness over honesty to avoid drama. In other words, we live according to the rules of cause and effect.

But does life give two crab apples about cause and effect? Nope. While we’re playing the odds, it stands up and says, “Hold my beer.” It’s indisputable and somewhat horrifying: control is only an illusion. At any moment, something unexpected can happen that undoes all our careful planning.

A loss of control in the real world can be devastating because we think we should have seen what was coming—anticipated it and had an escape plan ready. As with ego-related conflict, we categorize our inability to control every aspect of life as a personal failure and falsely believe there’s something wrong with us.

This kind of event can happen to anyone, so when we hit a character with a complication they can’t stop or prevent, it messes them up. It also sends readers reeling in a queasy-yet-familiar way. As things spin out of control, they empathize with the character’s feelings of self-blame and anguish.

Conflicts that dispel the myth of control can also reveal characterization in the protagonist’s lowest moment. Imagine a character whose spouse succumbs to a heart attack while camping. In the days that follow, does our grieving character angrily push people away, causing cracks to surface in those relationships? Does he sink into the quicksand of denial and refuse to acknowledge what happened? Or will he set aside his pain to help his children and other family members cope with their heartbreaking loss?

How fast a character works through a loss of control is up to you, but they shouldn’t get over it too quickly. Keep in mind that it will take even longer if the conflict results in difficult fallout or an emotional trauma that must then be navigated.

Losing an Advantage

One of the worst things we can do to a character is cause them to lose hope. After all, conflict’s sharp sword has already jabbed them relentlessly throughout the story. They’ve fought, sacrificed, and clawed their way forward, and then finally, their hard work starts to pay off. They gain something they need, the world starts to support them, or they pull ahead of the competition.

So naturally, because we’re evil, we take their hard-won advantage away.

Losing an advantage is a versatile type of conflict that can be especially helpful at specific times, so it should be wielded strategically. For example, not every character rushes out the door when the trumpet call of adventure sounds. Instead, they cling to their favorite saggy, cat-clawed chair, because even if the living room of life isn’t great right now, it’s what they know, and that makes it safe. It’s in their comfort zone.

But if we let our characters stay where they are, the story is as good as dead. Taking away something they deem vital, like a position of authority, a trusted ally, or cherished relationship, can convince them to stumble through that first story door.

This type of conflict can also test a character’s commitment. What happens when they lose the one thing that’s been motivating them to continue? If their lead witness in a trial is murdered, or their benefactor withdraws support, or an adoption falls through, will they forge ahead or throw in the towel?

In a similar way, the loss of an advantage can offer enlightenment to a character who’s been chasing a false goal. Characters don’t always have their priorities straight at the start of the story and can end up pursuing the wrong dream—or chasing goals for the wrong reasons. Maybe they’re trying to be the best son or daughter possible, so they give in to parental pressure and abandon their big-city dreams to help with the farm. Or they continue trying to become a blacksmith because they’ve apprenticed for so long already and don’t want to waste all that work and sacrifice.

Part of the arc for these characters is about discovering what they truly want. The removal of an advantage creates a crossroads moment where a decision must be made. Will they try to regain the loss so they can keep moving toward their objective? Or do they recognize that, without the advantage, the goal has lost its allure?

The right goal is one that a character is fully committed to, and even if they lose an advantage, it won’t stop them.

Power Struggles

If there’s one thing we know about our characters, it’s that at some point, they’re going to clash. And why is no mystery. Each member of our story’s cast has their own goals, agendas, needs, and beliefs, and those don’t always play nicely with the goals, agendas, needs, and beliefs of others. When there’s too much friction, a power struggle ensues.

This often happens in relationships where characters don’t have equal status, such as a police officer and suspect, boss and employee, or teacher and student. It can occur when the person with less power tries to level the playing field or unseat the other party. Conflict will also arise when it’s perceived that one person is using their position unfairly. If your character is on the receiving end of a power play—say, they’ve been frivolously sued by a disgruntled customer, falsely accused by a rival, or passed over for promotion because of nepotism—it will trigger their moral sense of right and wrong, leading to a battle royale.

These tussles can also happen in positive relationships and may be harder to deal with because the character is being pressured by someone they love or respect. A father who pushes his son to follow in his footsteps and enter the military might have a fight on his hands if the son perceives it as an attempt to control him. This may not have been the father’s intention; he merely believed the structure and discipline would do his son good. But disagreements often come down to perspective. And if the situation isn’t handled carefully, a valued relationship could be damaged.

When the people involved are very different—say, an upright and honorable person vs. a bullying, manipulative character—power struggles can be used to contrast personality. To create some popcorn-worthy showdowns, think about what might put your players at odds. Do they both want the same goal, or are their goals so far apart that, for one to win, the other must lose? Is there an intense animosity between them over something that happened in the past? How might that play out on the stage of your story?

One of the best places to highlight a power struggle is within a dialogue exchange between characters with different goals. If one party wants information the other doesn’t want to share, a beautiful tug-of-war can unfold, complete with verbal jabs, veiled threats, and insults.

Power struggles can also exist as macro conflicts that last for much of the story. These overarching standoffs usually have higher stakes and can become personal quickly, with one character vowing to beat the other at any cost.

And on that note, don’t be afraid of letting things get personal, because escalating emotions can override a character’s common sense and possibly their morality. Their determination to win may encourage them to justify deplorable behavior, such as purposely causing trouble for their enemy, making false accusations, sabotaging them, and more.

Whether it’s your protagonist, antagonist, or someone in between who’s behaving badly, the motivation behind their actions should be clear, or this conflict will feel contrived. And if your protagonist is the one slinging mud, don’t go so far that they become unlikeable. A way to avoid this is to show what’s at stake and build in a moment of shame when they realize they’ve lost their way. Readers can forgive bad behavior if the character takes responsibility for it and changes their response in the future.

Miscellaneous Challenges

Conflict is multifaceted, and like most things in life, not every scenario can be filed neatly into a particular box. If you’re searching for conflict that provides a unique challenge for your character or complicates their situation in ways you might not have considered, look through the ideas in this category. Maybe your character is in the wrong place at the wrong time, they have been mistaken for someone else, or a dire circumstance forces them to blindly trust a stranger. Oh, the possibilities!

To explore additional categories and conflict options, check out Volume One of The Conflict Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Obstacles, Adversaries, and Inner Struggles. There, you’ll find options for relationship friction, failures and mistakes, moral dilemmas and temptations, duty and responsibility, increased pressure and ticking clocks, and no-win scenarios. To view a list of Volume One entries, see the MORE CONFLICT SCENARIOS page.

KEEPING THE CENTRAL CONFLICT CENTER STAGE

At this point, you should be getting an inkling of the vast number of conflict scenarios your character could face over the course of a story. As things progress and the protagonist’s difficulties compound, there’s always a risk of the central conflict getting muted or lost in the noise. Too much conflict, or certain problems getting a disproportionate chunk of airtime, can lead to pacing issues or confused readers who don’t know what the character is working toward. Keeping the core plot and central conflict as your main focus is the best way to ensure that everything you put in place is building toward that eventual climax.

So, which of the six central conflicts is your story built around? In the Harry Potter books, the core struggle involves character vs. character conflicts because the primary forces of opposition are Voldemort and his agents. Katniss’ battle with the Capitol in The Hunger Games is part of a character vs. society dynamic. And Sarah Connor’s adversary in The Terminator is a robot, creating a character vs. technology showdown.

If you’re at the start of your plotting journey and are still figuring this out, the Goal, Motivation, Conflict formula can help you zero in on the main force of opposition. Or if you’re drafting and want to ensure your core conflict aligns with what you’re writing, GMC works for that, too.

It’s also a great option for helping you see what a central character vs. X conflict will look like in your story. Then you can start choosing the problems and friction-inducing situations that will test your character’s commitment, reveal characterization, and force them to reflect on how to become stronger so they can achieve their goal.

But unless you pick the right conflict and introduce it at the right time, certain story problems can become larger-than-life and derail your main plotline. There are two areas in particular where this can become a problem.

CHARACTER ARC

When a character resolves their main internal struggle, their heart and mind become aligned, which is usually necessary for them to achieve their goal. It’s no surprise then that inner conflict tied to the character arc will be prominent. However, just because it’s crucial to your story doesn’t mean internal tug-of-wars should overwhelm everything else, including your plot.

In this case, balancing internal and external conflict is all about proportion: including enough internal struggle to show the character’s gradual journey toward change without bogging down the external plot and related conflict. This is handled quite well in the first book of the Harry Potter series.

As Rowling introduces readers to Harry and his world in the opening pages, she focuses largely on external conflict: he’s mistreated by the Dursleys, belittled, and ignored. They lock him in a cupboard, withhold his mail, and motor him off to an isolated island to keep him from getting his Hogwarts letter. Then Hagrid appears and turns his world upside down.

Here’s where we see the first bit of internal conflict from Harry. It’s fitting, because one thing he’s learned from living with the Dursleys is to keep his head down and avoid attention. So he rolls with the punches, taking whatever’s thrown at him. But when Harry learns that he’s a powerful non-Muggle who defeated the most formidable wizard that ever lived, he’s shell-shocked and struggles to fit this new information into what he’s always believed to be true.

This pattern of blending external and internal conflict continues throughout the book, with Harry’s moments of personal struggle coming intermittently: he has a moment with the sorting hat, shows conflicted emotions about the Mirror of Erised, doubts his Quidditch abilities, etc. And this is the right balance, considering Harry’s story. While he does experience some internal changes in book one, they’re secondary to the story goal: beating Voldemort. Achieving that objective is not only vital for book one but also sets up the main conflict for the rest of the series. A lot of external conflict is required to prepare Harry to keep Voldemort from acquiring the sorcerer’s stone and coming back to power, so that’s what Rowling gives us.

For stories with less action, you may have to experiment to find the right balance between internal and external conflict. Some characters may have more internal hurdles than others, and of course, if you have a character vs. self plotline, the internal struggle is the core story, so it will require more focus. In A Beautiful Mind, for instance, John Nash’s battle is with his mental health condition, so a lot of airtime is given to him fighting his schizophrenia and the personalities it conjures.

Another way to balance internal and external conflict is to pay attention to the pacing. Too much internal weighing and measuring will interrupt the action. And those outer obstacles, adversaries, and threats don’t take coffee breaks; they need to be dealt with. Maintaining the right balance will keep the pace moving and ensure that readers are clear on exactly what the character needs to accomplish.

SUBPLOTS

While a good portion of conflict happens in the main plotline, some macro conflicts will need time to resolve. For clarity, let’s talk a bit about subplots and the best way to resolve them without overpowering the core conflict.

A subplot is a subordinate story that relates to the main plotline and typically involves the protagonist or someone close to them. Continuing with our Harry Potter theme, in Harry Potter and the Sorcerer’s Stone, the main plot and conflict are as follows:

Story Goal: Keep Voldemort from finding the stone and returning to power

Central Conflict: Harry vs. Voldemort (character vs. character)

And while there are many subplots, here are a few of the more obvious ones.

Subplot 1: Harry, Ron, and Hermione becoming friends

Subplot 2: Harry’s growing adversarial relationship with Malfoy

Subplot 3: Snape as an antagonist for Harry

Each subplot should have its own story arc, and while it will be simpler and shorter than a main plotline, it will have a clear beginning, middle, and end with its own ups and downs. Each one should also push the story forward and, in some way, influence the main plot. For example, Harry’s friendship with Ron and Hermione is key to him defeating Voldemort in the first book. In the climax alone, Hermione’s knowledge about Devil’s Snare and Ron’s experience and self-sacrifice in the game of Wizard’s Chess make it possible for Harry to get to that final confrontation. So while it’s great for Harry to have friends, this subplot is integral to him achieving his main goal (while also providing valuable opportunities for characterization).

The Malfoy subplot is important because Voldemort doesn’t make a physical appearance until the third act, so Malfoy acts as a stand-in, providing a physical antagonist for Harry to battle. He also plays a part in many scene-level conflict scenarios that draw Harry closer to fulfilling the overall goal.

The third subplot, though, is the most interesting—as anything to do with Snape tends to be. Like Malfoy, Snape is a sparring partner for Harry. And the scenes with Snape often have to do with the race for the sorcerer’s stone, so they support the main plotline, as required. The fascinating thing about this subplot is that we realize at the end of the book that most of those scenes with Snape involved red herrings, meant to throw Harry and the readers off. Snape wasn’t working with Voldemort to get the stone; everything he did was to keep it out of Voldemort’s hands and protect Harry. And as anyone who has read the rest of the books knows, Snape as a red herring is an ongoing theme. So not only does his subplot contribute to the first book’s storyline, it also is foundational to the series as a whole.

The conflicts in these subplots have a lot of wow factor, and they could have easily run away with the story. But they didn’t because they were built to do what they needed to do: provide Harry and his friends with the knowledge and experience they needed to face bigger battles. As a result, his fight to prevent Voldemort from returning to power remained center stage.

HOW CONFLICT’S GOLDEN THREAD POWERS THE STORY

Conflict has a unique superpower: it impacts both plot and arc, and in doing so, becomes the golden thread that weaves the two together. You’ll find it all throughout story structure; for example, without conflict, there’s no Inciting Incident to push the character to leave behind their ordinary world for the new one. And unless he’s relentlessly pummeled and buffeted by adversaries and problems, he wouldn’t hit rock bottom and there would be no All is Lost moment. TheDark Night of the Soul iswhere he reflects on his journey through conflict’s fire, and then doubles down to make a push for change. And the Climax, well, that’s the ultimate point of friction—an outer clash where he wins or loses based on how well he’s resolved any inner struggles.

Conflict’s imprint is found everywhere—throughout the plot, arc, and beyond. Let’s look at some of the ways meaningful opposition and challenges can improve your story.

CONFLICT AIDS IN CHARACTER DEVELOPMENT

On page one, a character should not be able to achieve their goal—meaning, if the climax occurred at this point in the story, they would fail miserably. Conflict, for all the pain it causes, becomes their training ground. As they face smaller hazards and opponents, the character gains the knowledge, skills, internal understanding, and resiliency needed to face bigger, scarier problems.

Not every match up ends in success, either, but failures are just as important to character development. A misstep can lead to complications and generate uncomfortable emotions like powerlessness, insecurity, and disappointment. These emotions are unpleasant, so the character becomes motivated to avoid them. To understand what went wrong, they’ll take a hard look at their strengths and weaknesses, and analyze any beliefs, needs, fears, or biases that might have impaired their decision-making. If they identify something holding them back, they’ll make changes so future outcomes are more favorable.

This willingness to evolve becomes especially important as conflicts escalate, stakes rise, and there’s less room for failure. Only by finding their best selves can they maneuver past harder challenges and adversaries. Fears and flaws that hamper them are discarded in favor of attributes, skills, and knowledge. As they change, they see more successes, and this helps them do the harder internal work needed to grow. Once they fully reconcile any inner conflict, they’ll become the person they need to be, the one strong enough to handle whatever they encounter.

Now, while this is the typical path of development for characters on a change arc, conflict can lead down a darker path, too. Despite ample opportunities, the protagonist may be unable to let go of past pain, biases, and dysfunctional thinking, and if fear takes hold and failures pile up, they’ll wander farther away from who they must become to win. In this case, their attitude and perspective can become increasingly negative, and desperation may cause their moral lines to shift or disappear.

CONFLICT BUILDS UP (OR TEARS DOWN) SELF-ESTEEM

A character who is actively working through difficult situations will be bolstered by the knowledge that they’re making decisions and forging ahead, not sitting on the sidelines waiting for something to happen. Even if they are outmatched and experience failure, they can look in the mirror and know they’re doing what’s right. It takes courage and grit to take on seemingly insurmountable problems—especially when there are no easy wins. Sometimes, just showing up can prove a character’s worth to others and themselves.

On the flip side, conflict can sow doubt about their aptitude and abilities. Too many mistakes in high-risk situations can eat away at them—especially when others seem to be losing faith, too. If the strain of back-to-back challenges beats them up mentally and they’re unable to push through self-doubt, the possibility of them giving up is high. Instead of persevering, they may revert to old behaviors and emotional shielding that will erase the progress they had made toward becoming someone stronger and more centered.

CONFLICT HIGHLIGHTS THE CHARACTER’S VALUES AND BELIEFS

Every character has a belief system that steers their decisions and actions. Their morals, values, core beliefs, and emotional attachments set their worldview and become the foundation for how they live their life—what they do, think, and embrace.

A belief system can evolve (or devolve) over time, but early experiences lay the groundwork. Important moments in life, people the character bonded with and learned from, and how the world has treated them will all contribute to what the character values most.

Because life experiences are individual, each character will end up with a unique set of ideals, morals, and opinions about the world. For example, a character who grew up in an environment of support, stability, and unconditional love is likely to place a high value on trust, relationships, and belonging. But someone who was shuttled through the foster care system until they finally aged out may value self-sufficiency and independence, because in their experience, unconditional love and external support are myths.

If this pair ever met, think of how they might approach a relationship together. Character B may avoid intimacy because they’ve learned that relationships are temporary and people always leave when things get tough. Character A may seek to build closeness quickly because they understand the value of such bonds, but when they encounter resistance, it will confuse them. After all, they’ve never been hurt by love and they won’t understand the other person’s pushback.

One of the most magical aspects of story is the landscape it provides for readers to explore and experience a variety of belief systems. Conflict makes this possible. When a character’s values and ideals generate friction, it puts their morals in the hot seat and highlights who they really are. Scenes with this kind of moral conflict add depth and increased investment because the character’s goal is tied to the values and truths they live by.

CONFLICT CAN PROVIDE A WINDOW INTO THE PAST

When a situation or person challenges the character’s belief system or perspective, their response will naturally provide insight into their values or morality. Likewise, if a stressful situation stirs up a character’s past hurts and fears, they may say or do something that’s loaded with subtext, making readers want to know more. Conflict can provide a way to share a bit of the past without slowing the story.

Consider Rocket from Guardians of the Galaxy, a cybernetically and genetically enhanced raccoon who was abused, altered, and remade by scientists. This treatment left him with heavy levels of distrust, anger at the world, and a me-first mentality that makes him morally flexible. He’s opportunistic, antagonistic, and willing to steal or engage in violence to get what he needs. The audience views him as a deeply damaged character, and he is. But is it any wonder, considering his history of mistreatment?

After a botched attempt to capture Quinn (Star-Lord) for a bounty, Rocket is sent to prison with him, Groot, and Gamora. There, he is belittled and insulted by other inmates, and anger pushes him to reveal a vulnerable truth: he didn’t ask to be made into a monster. This moment, along with a few key others, are all that’s needed to explain why he is the way he is.

Conflict between characters tends to reveal individual biases, skewed viewpoints, and misconceptions. This friction can allow the writer to drop hints about negative past events—especially emotional wounds that shaped the character’s worldview and beliefs.

CONFLICT CAN REVEAL A CHARACTER’S MISBELIEFS

Part of a character’s belief system are misbeliefs: toxic and destructive lies the character embraces about himself and the world around him. If your character is on a journey of growth, this misbelief will skew his perceptions and must be addressed for him to complete his journey of growth (and achieve his goal).

Returning to Guardians of the Galaxy, Rocket agrees to help Quinn and Gamora break out of the prison and transport a powerful orb in exchange for a big financial reward. The group bonds through conflict—first, during their escape, and later as they take out steadily more challenging foes. But then the orb is stolen and Rocket’s anticipated payday dissolves. The group’s mission shifts to an altruistic one: prevent Ronan from using the infinity stone to destroy a world. Considering Rocket’s loyalty was secured through a promise of payment, we might assume he’d break from the group. Instead, he stays.

Why would someone who is largely motivated by financial gain do this? Well, despite his prickly exterior, he’s an outcast who longs to be accepted. The problem is the lie he believes, that he’s not worthy of inclusion. The world sees him as a monster, so he sees himself that way, too. He acts the part of the chaotic, unlovable thing that people believe him to be—until Quinn came along, that is, and their band of rowdy misfits became a family.

For the first time, Rocket sees the world differently. He belongs to a group that protects and cares about each other. And maybe with a new, more altruistic mission, he can do the thing that no monster would do…become a protector of others.

When Rocket lets go of his misbelief and acknowledges his self-worth, he allows the group’s values to be incorporated into his own belief system. He changes from being self-serving to serving others—well, mostly. Rocket wouldn’t be Rocket without a dose of opportunism and profiteering.

Various elements come together in a character’s arc to make the story work, but the constant is the golden thread of conflict. Without it, Rocket wouldn’t have been thrown together with Quinn and the others nor pulled into the larger-scale battle over the infinity stone. Without conflict, he wouldn’t have lost his temper and revealed his inner truth of hating himself, which changed the way Quinn treated him. And finally, without conflict, he wouldn’t have realized he cared about the people he was with, and in them, found a family to belong to.

CONFLICT CAN GIVE READERS AN OPPORTUNITY TO REFLECT

Stories enable readers to experience the lives of others, and while conflict makes events more gripping and entertaining, it also can introduce deeper life questions that may push them to examine how they see the world.

Moral conflict is rarely black and white. By nature, it exposes readers to different viewpoints, even ones that don’t match their own. As the story unfolds, each character’s values and what they’re fighting for can spark philosophical questions about what’s right and wrong in certain situations, how a person should live their life, and which beliefs are worth fighting for.

Depending on the story’s topic and theme, a reader might find certain personal assumptions challenged. For instance, the idea that a good man with strong morals would never torture another person (Prisoners). Or how a value can be twisted, such as the idea that you should do anything for love (Pet Sematary)