How To Build Compelling Character Conflict

December 13, 2013 by Lisa Hall-Wilson Leave a Comment

Wondering how to build in effective character conflict? How does one create the kind of inner turmoil that drives a character to outrageous page-turning decisions and mistakes? Try drawing a line in the sand.

I love that scene from the Fellowship Of The Ring where Gandalf screams at the Balrog: “You shall not pass!” Awesome. It was a line in the sand — a game changer scene that raised the stake of the conflict several notches. Does your main character have a line in the sand, a personal boundary past which they will not cross? Test it. Make them squirm. Why is that line in the sand there?

Brandilyn Collins in her book Getting Into Character talks about making secret promises. Ever whispered a vow in the dark of the night, tears streaming down your cheeks? Maybe you were caught in the middle of a messy divorce. Maybe you experienced a trauma of some sort, the kind that haunts you – and down deep inside you made yourself a promise so that hurt never happens again: I will never…

Everyone has a line in the sand. A secret vow, a promise that drives them. No matter what else happens, this is one inviolable law. I didn’t fit in very well in elementary school, and the personal vow I made is: Never let them see you cry. For me to shed a tear in public (at a movie for instance) means I am under extreme duress. I believe most people have several of these vows, some innocuous, some more serious. Has that personal vow influenced your choices, your decisions, your plans? Of course it has, and your characters are exactly the same.

Game Changers

I listened to a presentation by an author about turning points in a story and she called them game changers. This is what happens when the writer flips a switch on the main character and lets them squirm. The rules get changed, something happens to force the story to veer right or left. This is a great place to push your character past their line in the sand. I will never commit a crime. I will wait until I’m married to have sex. There’s much more to this concept that Collins goes deeper into in her book.

Now – make them squirm

One of the very best examples of these principles I’ve read is Blue Moon by Laurell K. Hamilton. Hamilton’s character Anita Blake has several ‘rules’ or lines in the sand which have been firmly established in previous books in the series, but throughout Blue Moon Blake is forced to violate one rule after another. It started off innocently enough, Blake is uncomfortable, she’s not happy, but she can shake it off. But as the novel continues, she finds herself choosing to do things she swore she’d never do.

She’s ready to vomit in shame and disgust. She takes it all on herself. Every time Blake was forced to throw her boundaries aside to accomplish what she saw as the greater good in a situation had me glued to the story. I was invested in the outcome. I understood the stakes. I understood that this was tearing her up inside, and she was doing it anyway because someone she loved needed her help. But it changed her. How could it not.

But the reverse can also work.

I loved the movie Law Abiding Citizen with Gerard Butler and Jamie Foxx. At the beginning of the movie, Foxx’s lawyer character comes across as a good guy, but shady — someone willing to cut corners to achieve what he sees as the greater good. Butler’s character gruesomely, and rather creatively, pushes Foxx to the very edge of sanity.

By the end of the movie, Foxx is still bending the rules for a greater good, but Butler’s character has forced him to draw a line in the sand: Never make a deal with a murderer. What was compelling wasn’t the line in the sand, but how far Foxx’s character was willing to go, sacrifice — to ensure he never crossed that line again.

I’m reminded of Scarlett O’Hara’s declaration, “I will never go hungry again!” That’s a line in the sand she never crossed, but how far was she willing to go to ensure that? That’s compelling conflict.

Have you given your character a line in the sand? Do you push them past that line over and over? I think this crosses genres, but what do you think? Could this technique work for any story? Know another story or movie that uses this technique especially well?

Been told you should learn Deep Point Of View? Had an editor or critique partner tell you to “go deeper” with the emotions in your fiction? Looking for a community of writers seeking to create emotional connections with readers? Check out the Free Resource Hub and then join the Going Deeper With Emotions In Fiction Facebook group.

The Tricky Art of Pacing

December 13, 2013 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 1 Comment

I’ve got a great guest post today from Becca Puglisi, the co-creator of The Bookshelf Muse and The Emotion Thesaurus. Before I hand over control, I always ask two probing questions:

LHW: What are you reading right now?

BP: Right now, I’m reading Lovely, Dark, and Deep, by Amy McNamara. It’s contemporary, which normally isn’t my thing, but the author has a way of turning the most mundane phrases into something really unique and inspiring.

LHW: Chocolate or Caffeine?
BP: Oh my word, CAFFEINE, please. If there was a way to safely mainline Mountain Dew, I’d totally do it ;).

I prefer Coke – but I totally get what you’re saying. lol Take it away, Becca!

The Tricky Art of Pacing

I’d like to start this post by stating an opinion that I think pretty much everyone shares: Pacing Sucks. When you get it right, no one really notices. I mean, how many times have you read a 5-star review that went on and on about the awesome pacing? On the other hand, when the pacing’s off, it’s obvious, but not always easy to pinpoint; you’re just left with this vague, ghostly feeling of dissatisfaction. One thing, though, is certain: if the pacing is wrong, it’s definitely going to bother your readers, so I thought I’d share some tips on how to keep the pace smooth and balanced.

1. Current Story vs. Backstory. Every character and every story has backstory. But the relaying of this information almost always slows the pace because it pulls the reader out of the current story and plops them into another one. It’s disorienting. And yet, a certain amount of backstory is necessary to create depth in regards to characters and plot. To keep the pace moving, only share what’s necessary for the reader to know at that moment. Dole out the history in small pieces within the context of the current story, and avoid narrative stretches that interrupt what’s going on. Here’s a great example from Above, by Leah Bobet:

The only good thing about my Curse is that I can still Pass. And that’s half enough to keep me out of trouble. But tonight it’s not the half I need because here’s Atticus, spindly crab arms folded ‘cross his chest, waiting outside my door. His eyes glow dim-shot amber—not bright, so he’s not mad, just annoyed and looking to be mad.

Bobet could have taken a lengthy paragraph to explain that certain people in this world have curses that are really mutations, that Atticus has crab claws for hands and his eyes glow when he gets angry. But that would’ve slowed the pace and been boring. Instead, Bobet wove this information into the current story—showed Atticus leaning against the door, showed his crustacean claws and his freaky, glowing eyes so the reader knows that he’s a mutant and, to the narrator, at least, this is normal. This is an excellent example of the artful weaving of backstory into the present story.

2. Action vs. Exposition/Internal Dialogue. Action is an accelerant. It keeps the pace from dragging. Granted, there will be places in your story that are inherently passive, where characters have to talk, or someone needs to think things out. The key is to break up these places with movement or activity. Characters should be in motion—smacking gum or doodling or fidgeting— while talking. Give them something to do during their thoughtful moments, whether it’s peeling carrots or painting a picture. These bits of action are like an optical illusion, fooling the reader into thinking something’s happening, when really, nothing’s going on. This is one scenario when readers actually prefer to be fooled, so make sure to energize those narrative stretches with action.

3. Conflict vs. Downtime. On the flip side, you can’t have a story that’s all go and no stop. One might think that since action is good, more action is better. Not true. Readers need time to catch their breath, to recover from highly emotional or stressful scenes. A good pace is one that ebbs and flows—high action, a bit of recovery, then back to the activity again. Even The Maze Runner, possibly the most active novel I’ve ever read, has its moments of calm. When it comes to conflict and downtime, a definite balance is needed for the reader to feel satisfied.

4. Keep Upping the Stakes. We know that conflict is important—so important that every single scene needs it. But for conflict to be effective, it needs to escalate over the course of the story. To keep the reader engaged, each of the major conflict points needs to be bigger, more dramatic, and with stakes that are more desperate. I just finished reading Ruta Sepetys’ excellent Between Shades of Gray, a historical fiction novel about the deportation of a Lithuanian family during World War II. It starts out ominous enough, with the family being forced from their home. Over the course of the story, they’re moved by cattle car across the continent, relocated to a forced labor camp, and eventually reach their final destination—a camp in the Arctic Circle where they’re expected to survive the elements with whatever resources they can scrounge. Clearly, lots of other conflict is interspersed, but when it comes to the major points, each one should have greater impact than the last.

5. Condense the timeline. When possible, keep your timeline tight. If it gets too spread out, the story will inevitably drag. It’s also hard, in a story that covers a long span, to keep things smooth; there will be time jumps of weeks or months or even years between scenes. Too many of these give the story a jerky feel. So when it comes to the timeline, condense it as much as possible to keep the pace steady.

For sure, pacing is tricky, but I’ve found these nuggets to be helpful in maintaining a good balance. What other tips do you have for keeping your story moving at the right pace?

Becca Puglisi is the co-creator of The Bookshelf Muse, an award winning online resource for writers. She has also authored a number of nonfiction resource books for writers, including The Emotion Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Emotion; The Positive Trait Thesaurus: A W riter’s Guide to Character Attributes; and The Negative Trait Thesaurus: A Writer’s Guide to Character Flaws. A member of SCBWI, she leads workshops at regional conferences, teaches webinars through WANA International, and can be found online at her Writers Helping Writers website.

How Connotation And Subtext Convey Meaning Between The Lines

April 5, 2012 by Lisa Hall-Wilson 21 Comments

Connotation helps add unspoken meaning to readers through subtext. Connotation helps you show your reader backstory and character traits without telling them anything. It’s the writer’s job to be as economical as possible and make words pull double duty (say as many things to a reader as possible) so getting connotation to work FOR YOU is very helpful. At the very least, make sure it’s not working against you.

When someone drags their past into a situation we say they’ve got baggage. Every word has baggage. Every word has a past, an association, a history, and that’s brought with it into your work. Sometimes that baggage belongs to the reader – you can’t help that, sometimes it’s a historical event or etymology.

History Lends Connotation

If you decide to set your story in Chernobyl, that place name brings a lot of baggage with it. It could be a phrase: “I am no man!” or how about “Live long and prosper.” If a character uses those phrases that gives readers insights into your character.

My kids have each taken a turn reading The Great Gatsby and Fitzgerald uses the term “concentration camp” to mean something other than a reference to the death camps in World War 2. Of course, Gatsby was written before World War 2, but my teenagers stumbled over that trying to understand what Fitzgerald intended by using that term. I was editing a translation and the writer used ‘concentration camp’ which I substituted for ‘forced labor camp’ because the association to the death camps in World War 2 wasn’t intended.

You can’t shrug off connotation. You can’t say to yourself – well, I mean this word this way — because you won’t be in the ear of every reader explaining that to them, right. Be specific with your words.

Part Of Connotation Is Etymology

et·y·mol·o·gy: The study of the origin of words and the way in which their meanings have changed throughout history.

Anyone who’s studied Shakespeare, Donne, Milton, Chaucer, etc. knows that language changes, it evolves. We don’t speak the same way they did in 1066 or 1546, and while we still use some of the same words, the meanings and usage may have changed. If you look in a dictionary, it will give you the etymology of a word whether its roots are in French, Old English (OE), Latin, or another language. Etymology is why English words have so many nuanced meanings based on context.

Nude is from the Latin (1525–35) nūdus: lacking clothing or covering, color of a white-person’s flesh

Naked is Middle English from the Old English (pre 900) nacod: lacking embellishment, lacking confirmation or support, unaided by device or instrument, devoid of concealment or covering

(definitions from Merriam-Webster.com)

One word is older than the other, and both have distinct origins. This should tip you off that though they mean basically the same thing, the connotation (added layer of meaning) is different for each one. There’s a vulnerability to naked – as though a naked person is lacking something – is deficient in some way. Whereas nude is more refined – leads me to think of art, of shedding the burden of a covering, nude is a choice, you’re au naturel. The history of the word is especially important to those writing any historical genres. Jamie Fraser from Outlander would never say something was “spic and span” but Claire might.

Connotation Adds To Character Voice

I’ve read many manuscripts that didn’t take these nuanced meanings into account when choosing a word. These nuanced meanings come into play with character voice as well. What word would your point of view character use based on their upbringing, past experiences, prejudices, etc.

Maybe your teenage point of view character would describe school as a concentration camp–that would show us a few things about how that character sees the world, right. I’ve had people say to me, “I feel naked with my …” fill in the blank. I feel naked without my wedding ring. What would that show readers about a character who said or thought that? Their identity is wrapped up in marriage somehow – who they’re married to, that they’re married, they feel vulnerable, etc.

In an intimate scene, a woman who sheds her clothing to stand nude before her man strikes me as natural, confident, alluring, unashamed. In that same scene, if the woman is naked there’s a raw sexuality to it, she’s lacking something she should have – she’s exposed. A nude woman gets up from the bed and walks to the bathroom unconcerned if she’s observed. A naked woman wraps the sheet around herself before walking to the bathroom.

These distinctions add layers and depth through subtext to readers, about how they feel, how they perceive things, their prejudices or experience.

Personal Associations Bring Connotation

While you can’t help the personal connotations a reader brings to your work, you should manipulate the connotation your characters bring to the story. If your character is a woman who was sexually abused as a child, she might not ever use the word nude, even when it’s appropriate.

Feminist is a word loaded with social connotation right now. Some see a person wearing that label as a left-wing zealot and others see them as couragous social warriors. Sometimes a word can be both things, so you’ll either need to explain how your character means it or choose a different word.

Connotation Can Be Negative Or Positive

Often, we turn to the thesaurus when we’re stumped for the right word and there’s nothing wrong with that. But be aware that words often carry connotation with them, and may not be as interchangeable as you’d like to think. We do this all the time as writers, we just need to do it consciously and strategically. Is your character thin or gaunt? It’s all in how you frame it.

Let’s look at a common word: seductive

The dictionary gives me these synonyms: attractive, captivating, charming, enticing, fascinating, flirtatous, inviting, irresistable, provacative, tempting, beguiling, bewitching, desireable, come-hither…

A woman who is attractive and charming is not necessarily provocative or flirtatous. Be sure of the connotation the word brings to your story and your character’s intentions and feelings.