Category Archives: Conflict

What’s the highest setting on your conflict dial? 7? 8? 11?

Spinal Tap may have been a bunch of drugged out wankers but they had a point. There are times when it’s a moral imperative to turn it up to 11. And yet so many writers don’t. They’ll either leave the dial at whatever preset the assembly line monkey chose or they’ll turn it up to 8 thinking they’re being daring.

Perhaps they are. Perhaps they’re a delicate flower and 8 is further than they would normally dare to go. Good for them. Or perhaps 8 is exactly what the scene calls for. Some conflicts don’t need to be turned up to Abercrombie levels of violence. However that doesn’t mean authors can leave the dial alone.

Escalating a conflict doesn’t mean that characters have to pull out grenade launchers and start WWIII. I’m never disappointed when they do but that’s a personal preference. Escalating the conflict could be as simple as turning up the dial on an argument from heated discussion to shouting match before finally dropping the bomb of “I can’t believe you said that!”. Yet so many new writers don’t. Why is that?

Besides the obvious answers of inexperience and and timidity, I think it’s because we, as a society, are afraid of conflict. In school, business, and society we’re encouraged to hold back that angry comment, don’t punch the rude jerk (even though they deserve it), and above all don’t lose your temper. Altercations should be avoided even if containing our fury gives us a perpetual twitch.

It’s so ingrained that we unconsciously hold back. Well, you know what? It’s okay to get angry.

Conflicts in a story are more than a source of action and tension. It gives characters a reason to grow, to act, and to learn. The more intense the situation, the harder they have to work to survive it. So when an author pulls their punches on the page, whether literally or metaphorically, they’re not just cheating the reader. They’re cheating the character.

Unfortunately it’s not a situation where there’s a clear cut solution or a standardized unit of measure. Some dials have to be turned further than others. But the important thing to remember is to ask yourself “Can I take this further and if so, would the story be better if I did?” If you don’t feel you can be an impartial judge then ask your beta readers what they think. Because if it can and does than by all means, turn that dial.

Keeping the Tension Ramped Up in Combat Scenes

April 7, 2015

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Conflict Doug Dandridge Guest Posts Science Fiction The Writing Life World-building Writing Tools 1 Comment

A guest post by Doug Dandridge.

I mostly write military science fiction, and am writing military fantasy when not working on the next scifi novel. Exodus: Empires at War is a series with very detailed and lengthy battle scenes told from multiple viewpoints. I originally learned the main technique I used from reading the Dritzz DoUrden novels by R. A. Salvatore. If you’re not familiar with these wonderful stories, they involve a Dark Elf who has turned his back on his evil people and now fights the darkness with his mighty companions. There are very detailed battles in which maneuvers great and small are described, and often the companions find themselves fighting out of sight of each other. Not only are their battles told from their viewpoints, but the point of view of their major enemies. In my own battles, which can last for as many as eight chapters, you get the points of view of characters at different areas of the fight, on the different departments of the ships, even from both sides of the battle. I even switch back and forth from battles going on simultaneously hundreds of light years apart. Some people might find this a bit confusing, but my fans, military science fiction aficionados all, write rave reviews about the amount of detail.

I have seen writers who do their battle scenes from a single viewpoint, and they read like an endless description of the good guys fighting an unknown, a faceless enemy that could be anything. They go on and on with description after description, interspersed with dialogue, until the writer has to get to the climax or totally lose his readers, in most cases much too soon. I like to use a movie approach that switches back and forth and gives play to both sides. For example, think of The Wrath of Khan. First scene is Kirk watching the Reliant approach without establishing communications. The scenes switch back and forth to Khan ordering shields raised, Spock telling Kirk; Khan ordering locking on phasers, Spock telling Kirk; Khan yelling fire. Switch to the scene of phasers hitting the Enterprise, then a shot of the panic in engineering as everything goes to hell. Then back up to the bridge. The action comes in bursts from different points of view, including the omniscient one of the Reliant blasting the Enterprise.

Of course, Hollywood likes to show these kind of scenes in a manner that puts both combatants front and center, even if there are a whole bunch of them. Witness the final two episodes of Deep Space Nine, where there were over a thousand ships, and the screen was crowded with them. Something to do with wanting to awe the audience. In my novels battles are fought at long range, beam weapons almost useless until units get within a light minute of each other. Even at that range it takes time for a weapon to hit, and even ships two kilometers in length would appear tiny if on the same screen. In a book, the screen is the mind, and as long as you can convince the reader of that immensity, they will see it. But even here Hollywood gives an example when they want to. The movie Midway showed the battle between American and Japanese carrier forces, a fight where the ships didn’t see each other, but launched aircraft to do the actual attack. But with judicious switching of viewpoints they conveyed this type of fight perfectly. And it’s much easier to do in a book.

Doing each chapter as a series of mini-scenes in this way makes almost every scene a cliff hanger. Each installment ends with an unknown. Missiles coming in, lasers burning through the hull and klaxons sounding, the characters on the edge of disaster. The next scene does the same to someone else, on some other ship, then to the enemy, who is having problems of their own. Interspersed are scenes of small victories, and, as the fight progresses, much larger ones. After a sequence covering one part of the fight I like to change to a different area of the battle, maybe even a different star system, for the next. In this way I move the reader through an epic battleground where they are carried from tension to tension, with some small resolutions along the way.

To me the worst way to resolve a battle is with a non-event. I have read a lot of books where they build up to the fight, the training, the organization, the hopes and dreams of those involved. And in the next scene, it’s all aftermath. I feel ripped off by those stories. People read books that promise action because they want to read about that action. I provide that action. The first book of my Exodus series, more of a Universe establishment tale, had limited action, maybe twenty to thirty percent, and that is the worst reviewed of the series. After that, the action increases, until the later books have almost eighty percent action sequences. Some people may think that too much, preferring more time for character development or background. The thing is, I am working as a full time author by writing such, and success proves to me, at least, that the method works.

About Doug Dandridge:

Doug Dandridge is a Florida native, Army veteran and ex-professional college student who spent way too much time in the halls of academia. He has worked as a psychotherapist, drug counselor, and, most recently, for the Florida Department of Children and Families. An early reader of Heinlein, Howard, Moorcock and Asimov, he has always had a love for the fantastic in books ad movies. Doug started submitting science fiction and fantasy in 1997 and collected over four hundred rejection letters. In December of 2011 he put up his first self-publishing efforts online. Since then he had sold over 100,000 copies of his work, and has ranked in the top five on Amazon Space Opera and Military Science Fiction multiple times. He quit his day job in March 2013, and has since made a successful career as a self-published author.

Physically Reacting to Conflict, Part 2: Reacting to the Threat

April 3, 2015

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Conflict Emily Godhand Guest Posts The Writing Life Writing Tools No Comments

A guest post by Emily Godhand.

When it comes to actually reacting to the threat, there are many factors that determine if the character will Fight, Flee, Freeze, or Fawn. In his book “Violence: A Writer’s Guide”, Rory A. Miller talks about how violence is, at its simplest, a tool. He discusses how our psychosocial conditioning can heavily influence how we wield and react to violence. Essentially, we use what has worked in the past.

It’s in our nature to find a way to adapt to situations. So a character who was discouraged from solving confrontations physically might find another way to ‘fight’. Therefore fighting need not be entirely explained as a “physical confrontation” within this context.

‘Fight’ can be explained as a show of resistance:

*Physical attack/counter-attack
*Defense (block, redirect, dodge)
*Passive-Aggressive actions or words (“Whatever, do what you want.”)
*Verbal confrontation
*Willfully refusing to fight (”Turn the other cheek” )

Imagine these responses as a spectrum of difficulty; If a character has been allowed to get away with physical violence, or been encouraged to use it, they are more likely engage with violence than someone who has been conditioned to “find another way”.

…hitting people is a hard mental barrier to overcome.

Flight is avoidance of the stressor:

So if fighting is ruled out either by reason or socialization, it makes sense then that your character would want to find a way out. This could be through physically escaping or some attempt to gracefully back out of the situation without tripping over their proverbial train.

There may be situations in which your character can’t reasonably escape, such as in a child in a classroom (he can’t leave school without repercussions), a worker at the job site (they need the money), or fleeing results in negative repercussions (such as in learned helplessness).

If the body is unable to flee, the mind still may. Your character may start to disassociate from the situation, fantasize, or even turn to chemical means of escape.

Freeze is the body shutting down:

And if fighting and fleeing are both ruled out either by reason, socialization, or fear, the body may freeze. In this way, the mind may be perfectly willing to engage or flee if it’s not choked with fear, but the body itself may betray your character and refuse to move. The mind may even disassociate to spare itself from an expected horror. This “playing possum” or “deer in headlights” response is a legitimate survival tactic. Motion may draw a predator’s attention whereas stillness may go unnoticed. Our society expects some sort of active response to a threat, so people who react with ‘freeze’ aren’t likely to see it as a way they survived. Instead they may feel a sense of failure and shame.

Fawn is mitigating the situation:

So if you can’t beat ‘em, and you can’t flee’em, what can you do? You’re left with “Join’em”.
This can also be called “Tend and Befriend” but scientists have an affinity for alliteration and rhyme. This more often seen in women due to socialization within our society. However it is not inherent. Any character may find merit in feigning surrender and working for/with the threat. Other ways this may present are seeking out the social group for protective safety, focusing on tending offspring, or diffusing the situation through diplomacy.

The degree and rate to which adrenaline is released differs by psychosocial history.

Multiple influences, as addressed in the first part, factor into the degree to which we perceive something to be a threat. The more something is perceived as a threat, the stronger the adrenaline reaction tends to be. But the rate at which that adrenaline is released and processed can differ from person to person.

An anticipated threat allows for the adrenaline to “trickle out”. If the character has been trained they can use that to prepare themselves. And if they can’t, the fear can build upon itself until they are overwhelmed. If your character is overwhelmed by uncontrolled adrenaline they are more likely to freeze if they don’t have the muscle memory from training to immediately take control.
By its very nature, an ambush catches the victim without the benefits of an adrenaline rush. Without adrenaline, people are more likely to freeze.

Managing adrenaline comes from training in the environment

Characters who have any degree of training over regulating their emotions, stress, and the social rules of engagement, from school-yard play fights to trained martial operatives, are going to have an advantage over characters who haven’t had any such training.

Sometimes that training isn’t enough. In order to be effective, training needs to be continuous and as close to real world conditions as possible.

An eight-hour “self-defense” isn’t likely to develop muscle memory. A martial arts class may only teach competition fighting, with staged and willful engagement may not prepare your character for the ambush of a street fight. Police officers practice shooting at the range, allowing them relative quiet to focus on perfecting their stance and breathing. However gunfights won’t happen in well-lit rooms while wearing appropriate ear protection. While good for the basics, range work doesn’t simulate the circumstances under which an officer is likely to draw his weapon.

Adrenaline is meant to keep someone alive, but even with the best of training under the best of comparable conditions, it can still work against your character.

Dilated pupils: Good to take in more information about your environment…or give you tunnel vision. Which means you may miss your opponent’s buddies coming in from the side. This can also skew your depth perception where your enemy, 20 feet off, sudden appears right in front of you.

Selective hearing: Also known as ‘auditory exclusion’, it is much like ‘tunnel vision for your ears’; you may not hear your comrades call out to take cover from the incoming grenade.

Increased muscle tone: For increased strength and speed. Side effect? Shaking. Trembling. Lack of fine motor control. The classic movie gesture of showing a man light a cigarette was to bring attention to this hands and how much they moved as an indication of how calm he was.

Increased strength: The reason we only get the levels of strength we do in stressful situations is it has become ‘Life or Death’, and life with torn muscles from overexertion is preferable to death.

Are the risks worth the engagement?

Engaging in conflict is not a decision you can take back, you can only mitigate the repercussions. You accept the risks and sign that contract with your life.
Potential Risks:
Physical harm, of any degree. What amount of harm are they willing to accept?
Social harm, of any degree. Will the crowd turn on you? Will you lose face?
Further escalation of violence. Will it make things worse?
Risk to others. Will I put others in danger?
Ego. Will I be able to live through and with the decision I make?
So all of you writing cops, soldiers, bad-asses, urban fantasy heroines, dystopian rebels, operators, and bildungsroman coming of age beating-up-your-bully stories, keep this in mind:

Committing violence is usually hard, even for the best of us.

About Emily Godhand: Emily Godhand is a cross-genre author who lives in a book fort in Denver, CO, with nine rats who revere her as their Queen.As former psychiatric technician, she draws her inspirations from her work and the constant nightmares she’s had for 13 years. As such, her works tend to focus on an exploration of trauma, immortality, and human consciousness. Read her latest work on Wattpad, where she is an Ambassador.

Physically Reacting to Conflict, Part 1: Perceiving a Threat

April 2, 2015

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Conflict Emily Godhand Guest Posts The Writing Life Writing Tools No Comments

A guest post by Emily Godhand.

Growing up, health classes taught that when filled with adrenaline, the human body would react in one of two ways:

A) React with extreme violence (Fight)
— or —
B) Run away like a coward (Flight)

And of course they were phrased as such. As if the only fighting that could be done was physical, and that running away isn’t a legitimate survival tactic.

But once I moved out of the realm of elementary school sound-bites and actually evaluated the world I was raised in, I came to the sobering conclusion that the body’s reaction to a threat is much more complicated and twisted than I ever would have imagined. … And I write horror.

The month of April could be devoted to daily lessons how a person’s response to perceived physical, mental, or emotional threats develops from their psycho-social upbringing. In fact, I could probably spend the month contrasting the various different ways a character could develop Complex-PTSD based upon childhood development traumas and the way that would present as an adult. But that’s a bit much and better people have expanded further than I ever could.

For ease, I’ll split this into two parts:
1) Characters perceiving a threat, whether physical, emotional, mental, or social.
2) Characters reacting to a threat (Fight, Flight….Freeze, Fawn)

There are many factors that come into play when determining if the body will perceive a stimulus as a threat.

1) Have they experienced this before?

a) Do they have a frame of reference for what might happen?
“I’ve never met a bear but I’ve heard stories.”
“Mother taught me not to go out at night.”

b) Did it end badly for them if they have?
“Last time I asked a girl out I made a fool of myself.”
“Dont touch me. Don’t you ever touch me!”

c) Could it have ended badly, but didn’t, so they have a false sense of security?
“What’s anyone going to do about it?”
“No one cared/bothered me last time.”

2) Is there a social difference (age, class, gender, race, religion, sexuality, etc).

a) Opponent is perceived to be stronger/faster/better trained, or
aggressive/evil/corrupt.
A male vs a female, if the society discourages females from violence/fighting
An armed person/Police officer/Soldier versus a civilian
Crossing the street to avoid someone of a certain ethnicity or class

b) Opponent has more socio-political power.
Authority/Parental figure vs protagonist
Rich man vs Poor man (who will buy the better lawyer?)
“Antagonist is a respected pillar of this community, who is going to believe
you?”

c) Does your character care?
“I won’t stand for this any longer!”
“Justice!”
“I don’t play well with authority…”

3) Is the character’s perception skewed in some way?

a) History of Abuse
“The last person who hurt me was sex/race/Authority, so I’m nervous
now.”
“Every time I tried to fight, I was punished.”

b) Prejudice
“I don’t trust THOSE people….”
“What’s SHE going to do? She’s 50kg of adorable!”

c) Ignorance or self-delusion
“What? Did I say something wrong?”
“How was I supposed to know they would be hostile to outsiders!”

Each of these will paint a different lens through which your character views the world, and the perception of the power that they wield, the power the world feels they are allowed to wield, and the degree of repercussions for violating that amount of permission.

“But, Em, I’m not a (insert race/sex/gender/orientation/religion) in (insert culturally appropriate location)! How am I supposed to know how their perspective might differ?”

Simple: Ask them. If you have the opportunity and good rapport with someone who might identify with your character, ask for their opinion and feedback on the passage, and what they’d be thinking or worried about in this encounter. Sometimes we have to imagine ourselves in our character’s shoes, and it’s better to get an outside opinion from someone who would have an easier time doing so.

You might be surprised. The world can be terrifying.

About Emily Godhand:

Emily Godhand is a cross-genre author who lives in a book fort in Denver, CO, with nine rats who revere her as their Queen.As former psychiatric technician, she draws her inspirations from her work and the constant nightmares she’s had for 13 years. As such, her works tend to focus on an exploration of trauma, immortality, and human consciousness. Read her latest work on Wattpad, where she is an Ambassador.