Levels of Conflict: Hitting Your Hero From All Sides

by Gamal Hennessy

The vast majority of all fictional plots boils down to a struggle to achieve a goal. A protagonist has an object of desire that is material or situational. To get what she wants, your heroine has to exert effort against everything that stands between her and her goal. The power and intensity of her obstacles will define both your heroine and the strength of your story. But where do those obstacles come from and how can we build them into the story in a way that tests the heroine in the most satisfying manner? One answer lies in playing with the different levels of conflict.

Three Levels of Conflict
A level of conflict is a source of antagonism that stands between your protagonist and their goal. Robert McKee's book Story defines three major levels of conflict:

• Internal: where the thoughts, feelings or physical characteristics of a protagonist block achievement of the goal
• Interpersonal: where relationships with other people or groups block achievement
• Extra-personal: where institutions, natural phenomenon and situations block achievement

To put this into perspective, let's say you're writing a story about a boy named Adam living in Jerusalem. Adam has just seen a beautiful Arab girl and in that moment decides that he is in love. What obstacles does Adam face in his quest for a relationship? As a writer, you have several options:

• Internal: Adam's shyness, lack of experience with women and unattractive features get in the way of his budding romance. 
• Interpersonal: The girl might resist his advances for her own reasons, or she might have another suitor who wants to remove Adam from the picture. Also, Adam's parents could try to prevent him from getting involved with an Arab girl. The girl's brothers might threaten him with violence.  His own friends might reject him.
• Extra-personal: The wider Arab Israeli conflict could also inhibit our hero. Hezbollah bombings into the settlements could disrupt Adam's life or create a curfew situation. A suicide bomb could destroy everything or even kill the girl. Protests, strikes or other mass social events could tear their relationship apart before it even gets started.

This is just a few examples of what Adam is up against. If he is able to win this girl's love, the obstacles he'll have to overcome could make an amazing story.

The Different Directions of Conflict

After you determine the conflict against your hero, you have three main choices when deciding on the direction you’d like to go with each one:

• Broad: where the protagonist has to deal with conflict on each level, either at once or simultaneously
• Deep: where the conflict is primarily on one level, but the impact on that level is this hammers at the core of the character
• Compound: where the conflicts are both broad and deep and the hero fights intense battles on all fronts to achieve their goal.

The direction you choose is often a function of genre. An action adventure might have heavy interpersonal and extra personal conflict when the hero battles the arch villain on the top of a mountain in a blinding snow storm. A cozy mystery might have strong internal focus as the detective quietly strains her intellect to solve the crime. Every style of writing can tap into each type of conflict, but some genres lend themselves to specific conflict types.

Conflict as Spotlight

The best way I've found to develop conflict in my work is to focus on the aspects of my protagonist that I want to reveal and then creating conflicts that explore those traits. One of my main characters is a young woman named Nikki. She wants the affection of her mentor and lover Chris. To show her dedication to this goal, I put several obstacles in her path in the first twenty five pages of the book.

Nikki has to deal with the extra personal danger of spying on the Russian mafia for Chris. She has to face the interpersonal roadblocks of abusive teammates. The internal doubt she has about who Chris really is and her own feelings for him create the largest source of conflict. As the story progresses, each level of conflict deepens and interacts with the others to build a story that reveals Nikki's true character as the narrative unfolds. (See Creating Complex Characters)

The best stories have the strongest conflicts. While it's not necessary to throw every obstacle at every character in every story, a weak story is most often the result of weak antagonists. Pit your heroine against the strongest combination of antagonism that you can think of. Your readers will thank you for it.

Have fun.
Gamal

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Building a Better Novel, Part 2: The Narrative Framework

On the road to creating my next novel I've discussed inspiration (See How Much Inspiration Do You Need?), building characters (See Creating Complex Characters) and developing the fundamental building blocks of story (See Building a Better Novel: The Foundation). Now I'd like to take a look at the next step I take before I create a plot; creating the frame for the story.

Pieces of a Dream

In the screenwriting method of writing, a story has four parts:

• An Inciting Incident that disrupts the protagonist and propels them toward their Object of Desire (See The Foundation)
• A Spine that follows the Protagonist's unconscious desire into progressive complications through the Levels of Conflict (See The Foundation)
• A Crisis Climax that pits the Protagonist against the greatest Force of Antagonism (See Foundation), reveals their True Nature (See Creating Complex Characters), and either fulfills his Desire or takes whatever he has Risked (Foundation)
• A Resolution that explains the impact of the Climax on the Protagonist and possibly the wider world around them.

In the simplest storytelling terms (when you take the Climax and Resolution as one part) a story has three parts; a beginning, a middle and an end.

Extra Credit

Of course, a story is often more complex than this basic structure. An inciting incident might need to be set up by a subplot or a prologue to achieve the greatest emotional effect. Subplots can also be added to alternate mood, contradict or enhance the central theme or further complicate the main plot. Flashbacks can be used as subplots to dramatize character or juxtapose the main plot. Multiple protagonists can pursue different and often contradictory goals. The variations are endless, but they are all based on the concept of beginning, middle and end.

Bare Bones

The basic narrative framework by itself cannot produce a great story. It is a tool that has to be combined with genre conventions (See The Secret Struggle), a supreme understanding of the characters and the world they live in through research and practice, and the creativity to take these bare bones and adorn them with description, dialogue, pacing, subtext and all the other elements that enrich a good story. But all these other tools support the basic narrative framework. Much like building a house, it makes no sense to worry about decorations like curtains and lampshades when the foundation of the house isn't stable enough to keep the whole thing from falling down.

Have fun.
Gamal

Building a Better Novel, Part 1: The Foundation

One of the most interesting things to come out of the discussions that I've had about writing techniques (See Plot vs. Pants: Which Road Did You Choose?) is the realization that most writers I'm connected to online do not plot their stories. I'm in the middle of plotting my 2014 novel, so I decided to share my own creative process in a series of essays, partially so you can see how the other half writes and partially to reinforce this aspect of the craft in my own head.

Note: I modeled my process on Robert McKee's screenwriting bible Story, tweaking it for my particular disposition.

Building Blocks
In the beginning, there is no plot. There is only a jumbled series of thoughts and inspiration swirling around in my head like a room full of discarded toys. Once I decide it is time to write, I lay out the broad concepts that I plan to work with:

Genre: The broad creative conventions (or combination of conventions) that will shape the story (See the Secret Struggle for the Magic It). Genre in this sense is less about market positioning and more about the elements of story design. Your choice of genre(s) will influence many other story elements. Even if you decide to break convention to take the genre in a new direction, you need to understand what conventions you are breaking.

Premise: This is Stanislavski’s "magic if" that poses the underlying question of a story. For example, the premise of Blade Runner could be described as 'What if a burned out cop was forced to hunt down a group of rouge androids?'

Conceiving the Protagonist(s): deciding who is going to be the central character of the story including characterizations, true nature and empathetic qualities that will connect them to the reader (See Creating Complex Characters)

Conscious Desire of the Protagonist: defining the Protagonist's stated goal

Unconscious Desire of the Protagonist: defining the more powerful unstated, goal that is in direct opposition to the stated goal.

The tension between conscious and unconscious goals is a powerful story driver. For instance, in Aliens the conscious goal of Ripley is to help the colonists escape the aliens and avoid them at all costs, but it is her unconscious goal is to face the aliens and her own fears. It is the unconscious goal that drives her to fight and kill the queen.

Object of Desire: the person, item or situation that will satisfy the Protagonist's conscious (or unconscious) desire. For example in almost all spy stories, obtaining the "magic it" is the main object of desire. (See the Secret Struggle for the Magic It)

Levels of Conflict: Deciding on what level the Protagonist will face resistance in attaining the Object of Desire. Conflict can come from one of three levels; internal (physical, mental or emotional), interpersonal (other people) and extra personal. The more complex the story, the more varied the levels of conflict. For example, if an Israeli boy wanted to marry a Palestinian girl, he might have to overcome his own shyness, her other suitors and the society around them that rejects such a union.

Forces of Antagonism: The quality of forces opposing the Protagonist. The stronger the forces against the Protagonist, the more she has to struggle and the stronger the story becomes. The Protagonist represents the positive value of the story. The forces against her could be contrary, negative, and in the most powerful stories doubly negative. For example, in Star Wars, Luke represents Good and is the positive quality. Han and the other mercenaries are selfish, but not evil. They are contrary to Luke, but could be with him or against him. Vader represents Evil. He is literally the dark side to Luke. But the double negative is not Luke vs. Vader. It is the internal conflict of Luke vs. Luke turning to the Dark Side himself. It is the lure of embracing evil rather than fighting it that elevates Star Wars above almost all other science fiction franchises.

Risk: what the protagonist might lose if they do not attain the object of desire. This could be very personal (loss of identity) to a loss affecting an entire planet (worldwide destruction), anything in between or a combination of several risks. A smaller risk doesn't mean a more trivial or uninteresting risk. It simply changes the focus of magnification of the story being told.

The Arguments Against Plot
There are many writers who reject plotting for philosophical reasons.

• They claim that it is mechanical as opposed to being organic.
• They say that it is antithetical to creativity and sucks the joy out of the creative process.
• They protest that it is a waste of time that could better be spent diving into the story.

All of this may be true for writers who simply plug the same elements into every story, changing only the names and the locations to complete as many books as possible.

But planning and creativity are not mutually exclusive. I don't want to go to a movie where the director just put everyone in front of the camera and said 'do something cool'. I don't want to see a play where no one knows their lines or even what the story is about and I don't want to write a story if I don't know what the story is about, who is driving it, what they want, why they want it and what they are up against. The beauty of plot is that it creates enough order and structure to allow the freedom of artistic creativity to flow without running around without direction.

But these building blocks are not a plot. This is only the beginning. My next post will discuss the framework of the story, using the elements I wrote about here as a creative blueprint.

Please let me know your thoughts and impressions of this concept, especially if you don't plot in your own work.

Have fun.
Gamal

Like a Spy to Honey: Sexual Seduction in Real and Fictional Espionage

A story is making the news this week about a US military contractor who is accused of passing nuclear weapons secrets to his Chinese girlfriend. This story is the latest episode in one of the most subtle and successful kinds of operations; the honey trap. But while this type of spy tale is titillating, it does not get the attention it deserves in modern espionage thrillers.

When Truth is Stranger than Fiction

In espionage parlance, a honey trap (or a honey pot) is the use of sexual seduction to recruit agents, either through blackmail or emotional manipulation. The use of honey traps can be traced back to ancient civilizations. Cleopatra’s seduction of Julius Cesar and later Mark Anthony to improve diplomatic relations between Egypt and Rome is one of the early honey traps. Casanova also used his seductive skills as a spy (as well as for general recreation).

Modern honey traps are also well documented. Dozens of military and diplomatic officers including Clayton Lonetree, Sharon Scranage and James Smith gave up secrets to their honey traps. One of the more bizarre cases occurred when a male Chinese opera singer named Shi Pei Pu pretended to be a woman, seduced a French diplomat and convinced him that “she” was pregnant to entrap him. This might be the most famous honey trap story of all because it was fictionalized into the play M. Butterfly.

A Bit of Honey

Honey traps have had a mostly minor role in spy fiction. Vesper Lynd is recruited by a male honey trap in Casino Royale. Nikita sometimes acts as a honey trap in La Femme Nikita. A honey trap poses as a prostitute to kill one of the assassins in Munich. The Fiona character in Burn Notice and her historical counterpart Cinnamon Carter in Mission Impossible act as short term honey traps in their respective teams. Most recently, Barry Eisler has shined the spotlight on his own honey trap, Delilah, in the novella London Twist. In the vast majority of espionage fiction, the honey traps act as love interests for the protagonist, rarely getting their own time in the sun.

A Taste of Honey

The book I’m currently writing is about a honey trap forced to spy on her lover. I’m creating a unique story, in part, because I am making the sexual seducer the protagonist. I’m exploring the motivations, struggles and choices that come with the use of sexuality as a tool of deception. The seduction in A Taste of Honey hasn’t been thrown in just for the sake of putting sex in a story. It is a way of exploring the true nature of the characters and the world they live in.

Human intelligence experts often refer to money, ideology, coercion and excitement (MICE) as the key motivators to recruitment. Sex is one of the most basic forms of excitement that we have and a powerful form of recruitment. There are plenty of examples of honey pots in fiction, but they are dwarfed by the number of assassins, rouge CIA agents and Delta Force heroes. I have nothing against assassins. Hell, some of my favorite characters are assassins. I just think the genre could use a bit more honey, and I plan to provide it.

Have fun.

Gamal

Sex as a Window to the Soul: Using Sexual Expression to Reveal True Nature

“Sexual energy can have many transformations: at the lowest it is biological; at the highest it is spiritual. It has to be understood that all creative people are highly sexual." Osho

There are many ways a writer can show the true nature of their characters. By placing them in conflict with their world at various levels and forcing them to make choices, the fundamental essence of the character is revealed. In thrillers, lives are at stake. In mysteries, justice often hangs in the balance. Every genre of fiction has its conflict conventions, but sexual expression is an unused goldmine for the revelation of character, especially in spy fiction.

Sex for Characterization

Last month, I discussed the difference between characterizations and true nature in fiction writing. In short, characterizations are the definable qualities of a person and their true nature is the choices they make under pressure. As a vehicle of characterization, sex is used all the time. The male hero falls for the femme fatale. Now we know some characteristics of both of them. The man is heterosexual and sexually active. The woman is on some level attractive. This basic idea can be expanded indefinitely. The unquenchable sexual appetite of James Bond, for instance, is as much a part of his character as his nationality. But even this high profile sexual expression doesn’t speak to the true nature of the character.

Sex for True Nature

If sexual expression is going to be used to reveal true nature, then the sexual choices that a character makes need to be explored. There are a variety of questions that can be asked to further this goal:

• Who are they sexual with? Are they alone? Are they with one person and not another? Why?  
• When are they sexual? Under what circumstances and at what point in the story does the event take place?
• Where are they sexual? Is there some risk based on the location or do they insist on total privacy and security?
• What sexual acts are they involved in? How vanilla or kinky are they? How simple or intricate are their thoughts or actions during the sexual encounter?
• Why are they taking this action? Is it the release of some emotion, if so, which emotion? Is the expression designed as a reward for someone or as a punishment for someone else, or both? Is it a celebration or a submission?
• How are they sexual? Is the character kind or cruel? Are they considerate or selfish? Are they experienced or naïve? Are they exploratory or conservative? Are they active or passive? This is perhaps the most important question when sexual expression is used to define true nature.

When you look at sexual expression from this perspective, the true nature of James Bond (at least the movie portrayals of him) is never revealed. We know he has a lot of sex. We know he is very eclectic in his sexual tastes, but beyond that, Mr. Bond is a mystery even after six decades of films.

So What?

Can we know a protagonist’s true nature without watching her in bed? Of course we can. Millions of fine books have been written over the years without it. So why should anyone want to put it in now? The answer boils down to creativity. In a time where everything has already been done and a fresh new idea is as rare as a winning lotto ticket, using sexual expression to gain insight into character and move the narrative is the road less traveled and could be the ripest avenue for exploration in modern fiction.

Sex in My Novel

I’m currently writing a novel called a Taste of Honey. It this story, sexual expression exposes both the characterizations and the true nature of all the main players. Instead of writing yet another novel about assassinations, bombings and hand to hand combat, I’m crafting a spy story that is more subtle in its execution. The stakes are still very high and the tension isn’t reduced because there are less bullets flying. I just decided to write a different type of spy novel. Hopefully the world will be ready to enjoy it.

Repression, Rejection and Titillation

There is a reason why more writers do not use sexual expression as a vehicle to reveal true nature. The stigma attached to sexual expression in America has a chilling effect that marginalizes sex to the fringes of pornography. There are few ‘legitimate’ writers who are in a position to take this bold step under their own name. Anais Nin and Henry Miller did it in their prose. Anne Rice did it with Sleeping Beauty and Barry Eisler has taken steps in that direction with his spy fiction. I’m going to follow them because these are the stories I want to tell and I don’t have anything to lose.

Sex for the sake of defining character is fine. Sex for pure titillation is great too. But I’d like to go in a different direction and see where it takes me. It might not make me rich, but it will definitely be interesting.

Have fun.
G

People We Want to Know: Creating Complex Characters

Question: What do Hannibal Lecter (Silence of the Lambs), Ellen Ripley (Aliens) and Rick Blaine (Casablanca) have in common?

Answer: Each of these heroes gained enduring popularity based on the complexity of their character.

All great fictional characters from Hamlet to Harry Potter hold our interest because their characterizations contradict their true natures. As a writer and student of the craft, I want to look at this contradiction in depth.

Characterization vs. True Nature

In his screenwriting guide Story, Robert McKee defines characterization as “the sum total of all knowable qualities about a character.” This means the physical, intellectual, social, financial and spiritual traits that a writer can describe about the individuals they create. True character (or as I like to call it, true nature) is a product of the character’s interaction with your plot, because the choices they make under pressure reveal their fundamental personality. As McKee states, “what they choose is who they are”.

In the most complex and interesting characters, the true nature is in direct contradiction to the characterizations. For example:

• Hannibal Lecter is a calm, polite, and intelligent gentleman until the FBI lies to him and sends him to suffer at the hands of a sadistic warden. He escapes by revealing a cunning, ruthless and cannibalistic nature that has shocked audiences for years after the film was first released.
• Ellen Ripley is a terrified, burned out engineer until she loses her surrogate child to xenomorphs. She saves the child by revealing a courageous survivor with an intense maternal instinct.
• Rick Blaine is an aloof and mercenary bar owner until the love of his life returns with the Nazis on her tail. This is when he reveals his true character as a patriotic and sentimental hero.

Fallen Heroes

Many weak characters fail to capture our imaginations because they have little depth; their characterizations and their true character are essentially the same. This is especially true in adventure and spy novels. At the beginning of the story, the protagonist projects the image of a bad ass. The plot progresses and the protagonist goes through the motions of proving he’s a bad ass. The story ends. There is no revelation. There is no depth of character for us to enjoy. The hero is a clichéd caricature of every Tom Cruise or Steven Segal action hero; flat and interchangeable.

Lessons Learned

Both novels I plan to release this year strive to have revelations of true nature vs. characterizations for both the protagonist and the antagonist. As the events of the story place the characters desires into conflict, the development of the plot will not only resolve the story but provide insight into who these people really are. In some ways, I hope that reading about my characters will illuminate something about the reader as well as the writer. That is the goal of any artist.

So who are your favorite characters?

How does their complexity play into your desire to read about them?

For the writers out there, how do you create complex characters in your own writing?

Have fun.

G