Who doesn’t love a good conflict? In fact, our world is filled with conflict. Our daily lives bring us many joys, but also petty squabbles that include everything from getting around town to getting your first cup of coffee in the morning. 

And when TV shows, movies, or pop culture depict conflict, it gets all too titillating all too fast.

In story telling, conflict is more than just something to be relished. It is the thing that drives and defines a narrative. It gives life and relatability to your story. It brings growth to your characters. And it makes your story fun to read.

What is Conflict Really?

When I started writing the Slipshot Series, I wanted to make human conflict the center piece. It’s not that I enjoy conflict in my personal life. Quite the contrary. I enjoy peace and quiet, and I am myself someone who would rather work to resolve a conflict than to escalate it.

Conflict itself wasn’t the goal. Instead, it was about trying to get a glimpse into human nature. To understand what drives and defines people in their daily lives. To understand motivations, ideologies, perspectives. To understand what it is that makes people who and what they are. To get to that core, that pure substance in all its crystalline glory, one must first pass through the crucible of conflict.

Conflict is a Holy Trinity

People are complex. There’s no doubt about it. How many times have you met someone who totally and completely confounded you? Whose motivations were completely beyond your comprehension? 

But there are a few common elements of conflict that we are all familiar with.

Internal

What are you struggling with? What are your emotions, and are they causing you a certain level of discontent? We can see this in everything from toxic relationships to whether I should have fries or coleslaw with my burger. (Who in their right mind would order coleslaw with their burger?)

External

There are always pressures and obstacles in life. Things happen, after all, that are out of our control. Traffic is particularly bad today. My local boba joint didn’t have boba today. Last night’s storm caused me to lose my internet and now I can’t get online to do my work. 

Relational

People are the biggest source of conflict in our lives. The cause and center of all of the biggest struggles we will ever have. (Unpopular opinion: self-driving cars will make the road safer for everyone because they are not subject to road rage, nor do they have an intentionally punishing agenda.) 

The Bridge to Somewhere

With these layers of conflict—internal, external, and relational—set as our foundation, I turned to my own writing. When I began the Slipshot series, I challenged myself to dissect each level of conflict. I wanted to examine how these forces shape my characters and, ultimately, the worlds they inhabit.

When I wrote the Slipshot series, I wanted to look at each level of conflict—internal, external, and relational—put it under a microscope, and invite everyone to take a good, long look. Would Opal Fremmitty, the Mechanic Class Slave, be able to overcome her own internal conflicts about her role in the changing world of Griddish? Would Fredrick Munchen finally be able to confess his feelings for Jillian Crenshaw, as well as discover the truth behind the impending doom to his world? Would Cythiria Crenshaw be able to navigate her relationship with her mentor and savior Rive Amber while overcoming their toxic interdependence?

The answers are revelatory. Opal is an alcoholic. Fredrick wants a simple life, but he never gets it. Cythiria only wants to be happy, but her past and her origins are a mystery and a cause of personal pain. In order to cope, they must adapt and grow. Will they have the strength to do so?

Crafting Tension in Stories

Escalation

Above all else, escalation of conflict is one of my favorite tools for building tension. One mystery unraveled reveals another, more dangerous one. A battle begun ignites a smoldering war. Fredrick’s encounter with Opal in a dark, San Francisco alley kicks off a conflict between sworn enemies a universe away. The mysterious loss of a loved one drives Chelss Brimwater to begin a deadly journey to an unknown world. 

Conflict Sandwich

Conflict is a multilayered thing. Or, put another way, conflict blooms on multiple levels like a vine slowly crawling up the side of a building. The existential fear that Fredick feels when he first witnesses the glitching Vérkatrae drives him to confront the ever pugnacious Opal. But answers do not come easily. And when they do, they have an unfathomable meaning to Fredrick.

How Fast Should I Go?

It’s important to pace and build up your conflict. Too much conflict all at once is overwhelming for the reader. Let there be slow burn. Revelation. Unveiling. Unfolding. Or any other “-ing” word you can think of. Use the small conflicts to reveal or catalyze the big conflicts. Like, did my local boba shop’s not having boba that day inspire me to sue them? Or throw some tables around? How could we ever imagine that a struggle of apocalyptic proportions would be unveiled by the accidental collision of Fredrick and Opal?

The Craft of Conflict

There are so many ways to depict conflict. Internal monologue is one. Fight scenes and chases. A punch in the nose. My favorite is dialog.

The reason I love dialog so much is that, for one, it is very interactive. It requires at least two people to go back and forth on a topic. If written well, it can be very revealing about how the two parties regard each other. Is there genuine hate? Mockery? Admiration? Burgeoning love? These feelings express themselves beyond the actual words, in facial expressions and body postures, and tell us more about the true nature of the conflict. Matere Songgaard and Betel Longshrew Piper start out mocking each other. But their conflict grows into a strong and true ally-ship. On the flip side, Mater and Rive detest each other and would much prefer a world where the other never existed. Their mutual derision expresses itself most clearly in their dialogues.

Take for example this passage, from the upcoming Vol 3.0. Rive finally finds Matere and Betel, who are now deeply allied. They are hiding on Var 8, also known as Earth, and live in rustic squalor.

The man’s face was aging and deeply furrowed. Short unkempt white hair complemented a scruffy, unshaven cheek and chin. The eyes, a sharp, fierce blue, seemed surprised at first as they gazed through thick, metal rimmed spectacles. He wore an aging, oily, leather apron, which hung from his neck by a thin, soiled cord.

His eyes met with Rive’s and paled a shade lighter. “Rive Amber,” he said, his voice filled with tired dread.

A light, nimble patter of footsteps echoed through the narrow hallway of the shack.

“Well, that’s no way to greet an old friend,” said Rive, a wry smile crossing her face as she bowed shallowly to a woman who now stood next to Matere, her stance taught, as if she were about to strike. “My heart is warmed at the arrival of your most capable sidekick. I see loyalty has no bounds. Greetings, Commissioner.”

Through grinding dentine, “Former Commissioner.”

“Disillusionment doesn’t become you, Betel. I’d expect more from a war sharpened spear such as yourself.”

“I am nobody’s spear,” growled Betel.

“I swear, you Engineers all have the same tired joke. Maybe it’s time you grew up and stopped trying to cast off your own past. Embrace who you are. Lean into your toxicity.”

Matere sighed deeply. “Why did you come here, Rive?”

Rive paused. “I wanted to observe the most brilliant Engineer in all of Griddish.” She glanced around the collection of shacks. “Living in such rustic quietude. I think it barely becomes you.”

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I’d like to think that this passage, and others like it, present more than just an exchange of words. There is a real undercurrent of derision. A casting of insults. A display of shifting power. Often, it is the space between the words of conflict that reveal the most about relationships.

It Really is a Big Deal

Conflict is the heart and soul of any story. Conflict is a flexible thing that can be expressed in many different forms, from outright combat to expressions and body postures, and words that cut and slice. In other words, fun to read and fun to write.

Without conflict, a story, a narrative, loses its luster pretty quickly. The levels of conflict don’t all have to be of high stakes. They could be common, daily, pedestrian. Like bad traffic and road rage against a stuck Waymo. Relatable, basically. Or, they can be exciting, thrilling, a fun ride. Either way, they will inevitably drive your story to higher levels of engagement. So get your spears out and let the fun begin!