One of the most vital elements to good storytelling is conflict. Without it, there simply is no story. Slice of life novels may be noted for the depth of characterization, adventure stories by the action, mystery and suspense by the subtle clues set up along the way. But intertwined in all of this is an element of conflict—preferably both external and internal—to keep those pages turning.
Conflict is best built slowly—and thoroughly. Donald Maass tells writers to keep piling on the stress, the challenge, the misery to our poor characters. Just when the character is at his weakest, kick him again for a deeper sense of emotional connection between your story and your reader.
Maybe readers have a taste for suffering, but I tend to believe we’re more similar to roller coaster riders than anything else—especially if our favorite authors are ones who typically give us a happy ending. It’s the controlled danger we’re enjoying, the same feeling we love on a roller coaster. We’re willing to go to the depths of despair with our beloved characters but must of us want to know a happy ending is coming. We just have to keep reading to find out how the author will take us there.
So perhaps that’s all the hope we need, no matter how hopeless the pages become. Simple. Just trust your favorite author to give you a happily-ever-after ending. Is that enough?
Maybe. If I already trust an author, it probably is. But is there a way to tell a tale that can banish all hope for the character, and yet not have the reader send the book flying across the room, in too much despair to continue?
In two books I’ve read recently, Kathi Macias’s My Son John and Harry Kraus’s Salty Like Blood, the backdrop was very dark. In Kathi’s book, a son is accused of killing his grandmother because of drug-induced desperation. In Harry’s book, a child is kidnapped, presumed dead.
And yet beneath the hopelessness, I found hope. In both books, the character arc depended on a journey of discovery toward a deeper understanding of not only the characters themselves but just how far God’s love really extends.
And that’s where hope abides: not only in the growth of the character, but in something greater than that character.
Secular authors handle the aspect of hope differently—it’s often found in the power of love, in selflessness winning over selfishness, good conquering evil in as simple a form as the good guy winning over the bad. God may or may not play a part. In Christian books, this is an element that cannot (and should not) be overlooked and is inextricably connected to the eternal hope God provides.
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