There Is No Conflict...

...Or at least no conflict worth writing about that ignores certain dramatic conventions. Without conflict there's no story, so here are a few core principles to keep in mind. Thanks to Donald Maass for spelling most of these out.

Emphasize concrete stakes over abstract ones. Even if you're writing a metaphysical narrative, audiences will probably find the solid visible consequences of the story's conflicts more directly accessible than their transcendent implications. By all means give your conflict an ideological dimension, but use symbol and subtext to tie it into your theme. It'll have more impact that way.

Make conflict proximate. This one seems self-evident, but it's good rule to be conscious of. Every conflict should involve the affected characters as closely as possible. This approach heightens tension and ensures high stakes. (Killing characters off-screen is much less traumatic/satisfying than doing it right in front of the audience.)

Make conflict matter. Another common sense rule that's ignored all too often. Conflict is all about the stakes. Battles in which heroes effortlessly mow down cannon fodder are nowhere near as interesting as conflicts that make the protagonist bleed (the blood can be metaphorical, as in victory won at a moral or emotional cost).

Also, conflict should not leave a character back at the status quo. Life is conflict, and life is change.

Create exceptional circumstances. Really interesting conflict removes a character from his comfort zone. Take away the Jedi's lightsaber (or better yet, his access to the Force). If your hero relies on guns, cut off his trigger finger. Make the super scientist contend with a magical threat. By hobbling their strengths, you show what your characters are really made of.

Make conflict difficult. Proceeding from the previous two points, it should be clear that challenging conflict is engaging conflict. Only munchkins enjoy riding roughshod over the opposition, and even they don't much care for reading about someone else doing it. Not every challenge your hero faces should equate to disarming a nuclear device while blindfolded, but none of them should be a cakewalk.

Some beginning writers may chafe at this assertion, but raising the difficulty can and sometimes should extend to letting your characters fail. There are few better teachers than defeat. Just make sure you've thought out the consequences of failure and then stick to them.

Give conflict immediacy. The protagonist's struggles should be immediate in terms of timing and intimacy. Don't let the hero resolve the conflict at his leisure. Start the clock ticking. Make the consequences of failure clear right away (and make them dire). Just as importantly, the source of conflict shouldn't be anonymous or random. Make it personal and direct.

Conflict is more than just fighting. I've used mainly physical examples so far because combat is the most readily understood form of conflict. But since conflict is what happens whenever two or more opposing forces vie with each other, the concept admits of many forms. You can have a ritualized or symbolic battle with primarily philosophical stakes. Conflict can even be waged on a purely intellectual, emotional, or spiritual level. Characters needn't trade blows to be in conflict. They just have to be at cross-purposes. In fact, the opposition doesn't have to be a character at all.

To recap: write conflict that is concrete, proximate, meaningful, exceptional, difficult, and immediate. And remember that a character's struggle against his inner demons can be more compelling than a battle scene.

These are just the general guidelines. What do you think makes for an engaging conflict?

Epistemic Closure in Genre Fiction

I've come across a number of articles noting a worrisome trend in contemporary science fiction and fantasy. A cursory glance at genre best-seller lists shows a slew of derivative, paint-by-numbers premises endlessly recycling the same stock characters. (Only Wool distinguishes itself from the rest of the list).

You might argue that it's always been this way. True, there's always been a market for schlock potboilers. But try to recall a book in the sci-fi or fantasy genres from the last ten years that could stand beside Cat's Cradle, The Lord of the Rings, or Dune. Reviewer hyperbole often claims that the Wheel of Time books or A Song of Ice and Fire meet this test, but despite their quality both series stand on the shoulders of giants.

Why does current genre fiction underachieve compared to its predecessors? Donald Maass identifies a vital element of standout fiction: that the author has strong convictions and makes those beliefs come through in the book's characters, conflict, and themes.

Contemporary sci-fi and fantasy authors seem to be lacking in this regard. John C. Wright has a thoughtful essay on how postmodern disillusionment with scientific progress is stifling imagination. Writing on the Orson Scott Card affair, Jim Bennett blames rigid political correctness for creating a publishing environment that excludes challenges to the popular zeitgeist.

Neither culprit alone seems to explain the dearth of challenging fiction. Taken together though, a clearer picture of genre fiction's current malaise emerges. Escapism is the point of genre fiction. Fantasy transports the reader to a world that is better because it is simpler--both technologically and morally. Science fiction flies us either to worlds made better by human ingenuity, or else destroyed by it. In either case, genre fiction must be able to instill hope for or fear of worlds different from ours. It must therefore go against the grain of dominant thought for best effect.

In contrast, most contemporary genre fiction (I don't say "modern" because current science fiction is decidedly postmodern) adheres to one of two tropes: either the self-congratulatory insistence that everything is just fine or utter despair at the current paradigm's inevitable demise.

If we look back to sci-fi's origins, it's plain to see how the genre took up the cautionary role once held by fairy tales. Great science fiction authors from Jules Verne to George Orwell used their stories to warn society against the possible excesses of its pet theories. Likewise, great fantasy enshrined traditional understandings in danger of being forgotten. That genre fiction has ceased to fulfill this function illustrates why it's being reduced to a flavor of the month clearinghouse.

January 2013 Update

I heard back from Donald Maass. His client list is full. I appreciated the relatively quick turnaround time on my query, though. There are still two other agents I'm waiting to hear back from.

Nick Enlowe's annual Novel Push Initiative is over. All three participants acquitted themselves admirably this time. I captured the coveted Highest Words Written Total thanks to a sudden fit of fevered inspiration on the final day, but this is one contest in which all of the contestants can truly be called winners.