conflict

A happy marriage is a long conversation that always seems too short. André Maurois

They were married on April 18, 1942. The United States had been at war since December and he would soon be called to serve as a Naval Officer aboard the U.S.S. Lexington. During his time in the Pacific he exchanged long letters with his family and with her, the love of his life. After the war and his return home they settled into suburban life and raised their growing family — two boys, three girls. He was a Chemical Engineer who loved history and she was a meticulous homemaker and volunteer. Both remained devoted to church, to family, and to each other. It was a good marriage, a happy marriage, one with conversations that always seemed too short.

As writers, even as romance writers, we seldom write of marriages such as theirs. Exciting, passion-filled stories are all about conflict that show a struggle between two souls — man against man, man against nature, or even man against himself. Perhaps because life is filled with struggle, we long to read about it. It is the struggle, the conflict that keeps us turning the pages. What happens next? How will they possibly resolve this insurmountable problem?

So we fill our stories with conflict. If she’s a liberal reporter, he’s a conservative landowner. If she’s a born and bred Texas rancher, he’s a NYC lawyer come South to stir up trouble. If she’s the daughter of a Saxon King, then he’s a Norman knight granted her father’s castle, and perhaps her, by right of conquest.

Conflict isn’t only created by who the characters are. It can also develop naturally through the setting. Several years ago I heard film critic Roger Ebert discuss the amazing popularity of “fish out of water” stories. At that time, I was reading a lot of time travel stories in which a modern heroine traveled back to an earlier time. I started analyzing these and other popular stories. Plop a person down in a strange new world and there is instant conflict as she struggles against the unknown. The story is not in heroine’s undying love for the hero, but in the conflict she must work through to attain that love.

Once the story’s conflict is resolved, the story is over. The genre doesn’t matter. Literary fiction ends with a resolution of problems, happy or sad. Thrillers and mysteries end with the bad guy’s capture. Romance ends with the concept of And they lived happily ever after.

What of my history-loving naval hero and his happy bride? Their story endures in the memories and lives of their descendants. Tomorrow would be their day.

Happy Anniversary, Tom & Betty! ∞

I’ve always been fascinated by winter. I’m not sure why. Maybe because I was born during the month of January. It could be because my parents were from northern Minnesota or that their ancestors all hailed from northern Europe. From my Wisconsin childhood, I recall snowbound winters and a few temperatures of 30 below, not wind chill. Whatever the reason for my fascination, even though I most enjoy the crisp, colorful months of autumn, I feel most at home in winter.

This year I should be ecstatic. Winter has walloped the land with blast after blast of vicious storms. The wicked weather has caused schools and highways to close. On ice-coated highways cars crash, and trucks jackknife. Downed power lines send tens of thousands into the black, cold night of an earlier time. Not good, but I never said that I liked winter, simply that it fascinates me.

I grew up hearing stories about the deep snows and blizzards of Minnesota. My grandparents and great-grandparents were farmers. In their youth on the northern plains, they had no central heat. Indoor plumbing consisted of a kitchen sink with running water. As a child, my mother attended a one-room schoolhouse where they warmed wet mittens and cold lunches on the wood burning stove. Imagine the smells created by that steamy mixture.

Maybe its because of these true stories that many of my own fictional tales are mainly set during the winter months. To me, the season signifies a time of change, and of conflict. In historical works especially, life is a continual struggle. While the primary trouble in my stories is always between people, winter provides a great background. It adds conflict to an already conflicted tale.

Weather of any kind helps to set a mood in stories. It adds to the realism. It can be the gentle touch of a spring rain, the glaring heat of July’s sun, or the whipping winds of winter. Generally, winter works best for me.

Writers, think of your own stories. Do you have a recurring season that inspires your work? Please share. ∞