What drives your characters? Part 1

Most stories hinge on the question of attraction versus repulsion. A protagonist is either kept from achieving something he really wants to achieve or works to prevent something he can’t allow.

There are many motivators both tangible and intangible. They can be a desired object, a position, a return favor, praise, time spent together, a puppy, or promise of a leisure activity. 

The reward can be immediate or in the future. Too far in the future and both reward and punishment lose their impact. That is why the story and scene stakes should be more immediate.

The reward must also be meaningful to a character. We are all motivated by different things. We all like and need different things.

If you promise an introvert a party or a starring role in a play, she will most likely walk away.

If you promise an extrovert a week alone on a tropical island, he will likely decline unless the island has buried treasure.

Most of your characters, at some point, will do something either out of hope of reward or fear of punishment.

Dick might work toward solving the story problem out of hope of reward. He will gain something he very much wants: the girl, the job, the presidency or world peace.

Sally might work toward the story or scene goal out of fear of punishment or retaliation by an angry parent, aliens or an evil mob boss.

There are many types of rewards: self esteem, the esteem of others, connection, friendship, money, position, power, fame, or an adrenaline rush.

The most powerful is financial gain. Characters are willing to dress up in costumes and act silly to gain money. They are willing to stand out in the rain with a sign and beg for it.

If Dick is in debt, he may be willing to lie, cheat, steal and kill to get money. Money encourages characters to gamble, to invest in risky stocks, to commit murder in a Mystery. It can also motivate a child to do his chores or a worker to try harder to get a raise.

If Dick values esteem over money and offering to pay him doesn’t work, offering to publically praise him will.

Jane may resist the goal because she does not want the reward, strange as that may sound. Offer Jane the carrot of something she does not want, and you have the opposite effect than the one you desired. Offer Jane a punishment she’d enjoy and you’ve failed again.

If Jane hates being the center of attention, offering her the spotlight will send her running in the opposite direction.

If Sally prefers vanilla over chocolate, Dick giving her a Whitman’s Sampler for Valentine’s Day won’t earn him brownie points. Baking her chocolate chip cookies instead of sugar cookies won't convince her to do her homework.

Telling Dick he’ll have to stay home with Grandma while his parents go on vacation to Amish Country to shop for antiques won’t exactly break his heart, especially if Grandma is the cookie baking, curfew-ignoring type.

If Dick offers Jane a reward that she considers a punishment, they have conflict. Lets say, Dick suggests they go a Bed & Breakfast for the weekend. Jane might say yes or she might say no. Jane may love B&Bs, but she isn’t feeling particularly fond of Dick at the moment, so she refuses. Going might heal their relationship, but Jane meets internal resistance at the idea of being alone with Dick, so she declines the offer. She will come up with justifications as to why: too much work, conflicting meeting, too exhausted and wants to stay home in her jammies. Jane might agree to go but the confinement of the B&B causes them to fight rather than make up and Dick gets the opposite of what he hoped for. Jane can give in and go and end up having a good time, thus getting the result Dick hoped for but Jane didn't think possible.

If Dick and Jane are forced to work together to solve a mystery, Dick might agree because he loves a good puzzle. Jane might hate puzzle solving but agree because Dick appeals to her sense of justice or fair play. She might be secretly in love with Dick and covet time with him.

If Sally is secretly hoping for an engagement ring for Christmas and Dick buys her a diamond watch, she still received diamonds, just not the diamonds she was hoping for. Dick's next request will most likely be met with resistance if not refusal.

This type of conflict can play out among any set of characters be they friends, relatives, lovers, coworkers, etc. Characters tend to buy gifts, plan vacations, throw parties, arrange date activities and select movies for the weekend based on their wants, needs and personal preferences. This almost always causes conflict unless the two people are entirely in sync with each other in that regard.

Dick may plan a day at the football game, while Sally would rather stay home and watch a Jane Austen marathon. Okay, maybe that's just me, but the point is made.

Jane may plan a surprise party for Dick at work. If Dick hates being the center of attention or if he is trying to pull off a covert action, he will not be happily surprised by the party. It may make his scene goal much harder than he ever thought possible.

If a group of friends decides to go scuba diving in the Florida Keys for the weekend and Jane is either afraid of water or afraid of sharks, she'll refuse to go. No matter how many rewards Sally offers her (free margaritas all weekend, Jimmy Buffett playing at a local bar, lots of hot guys in skimpy bathing suits), none of that will matter to Jane. She could agree to go to the Keys but not scuba dive. The rest of the pack will consider her a wet blanket and refuse to pay for the drinks or refuse to go to the Buffett Concert in retaliation. Or they could enjoy her company so much that they don't care if she joins them in the ocean, as long as she goes along for the trip. If the reward of her company is alluring enough, they might offer to pay for the trip if Jane can't afford it.

Place characters with opposing ideas of reward in a relationship or in a scene and you have conflict.

Next week, we will explore the conflict of repulsion.

For more on using obstacles to create tension in your fiction, pick up a copy of Story Building Blocks II: Crafting Believable Conflict in paperback or E-book.

Avoid The Reaction Plot Hole

If a bomb goes off in your plot and no one reacts, what's the point?

A friend of mine uses the term “push back," in her critiques. What it means is something of merit happens or is said and none of the characters respond. The action or dialogue goes unchallenged and the scene contains no conflict: huge plot hole.

During a recent encounter with a stubborn two-year-old, I knew exactly what she meant. The conversation went something like this:

“Ava, Granny has to go into her room for a minute.”

"No.”

“Yes, I do. You can hold my hand or I can pick you up, which would you prefer?” (I like to give toddlers options. It makes them feel like they have a modicum of control.)

“No.”

“Take my hand.”

"No.”

“Okay, the hard way.” I picked her up. She pushed back by whining the entire time we were in the room. Little Ava didn’t get her way and she was not happy about it. She let me know it, for five minutes straight, while banging her Barbie doll’s head on everything she came in contact with.

Don’t make things too easy for Sally, Dick, and Jane. Make sure other characters balk, impede, cop an attitude, and show their displeasure. Make them react. Get inside each character's head. What are they thinking and feeling in the scene? 

Too often secondary characters' motivations are lost when writing from one character's POV. Just because they aren't the focus, doesn't mean they don't have thoughts, feelings, wants, needs, schedules, and goals of their own.

If Dick forces Jane to go somewhere she doesn’t want to go, talk to someone she does not want to talk to, or perform an act she’d rather not, have her refuse or retaliate.

What will Jane do to make him regret forcing her hand? It may not happen right away. Dick might not feel the push for an hour, a day, or a week. Dick makes Jane do something. She forces him to pay for it later by making him do or say something or go somewhere he doesn’t want to. If Jane complies and fulfills Dick’s request, she might push back right away then emphasize her point again later.

They start off having the above sort of conversation:

“Jane, we’ve been invited to Sally and Ted’s for a party.”

“No freaking way.”

"Ted is my boss.”

“I’d rather crawl in a sewer and collect Bubonic-plagued rats.”

“Attendance isn't optional.”

“Your problem, not mine.”

"He expects you to come with me.”

“Fine, I’ll go, but I’ll need a new Coach purse and new heels and a new dress.”

This is the immediate push back. Jane hits Dick in his credit card.

The night arrives, dinner ensues, and Jane ruins the evening by discussing Bubonic-plagued rat hairs found in a caterer’s food at a previous party. That is push back. She might give Dick a break and tell the hideous hostess that it wasn’t her caterer – of course – but one can never be too careful.

Dick forces her to leave the party early, which makes Jane very happy. In retribution, he will offer a little push back of his own. When Jane asks him to go to her mother’s house for dinner, he can reply, “I’d rather crawl in a sewer and eat Bubonic-plagued rats.”

The game is on.

To learn more about using obstacles to create conflict in your fiction, pick up a copy of Story Building Blocks II: Crafting Believable Conflict, available in paperback and E-book.

Abandonment as Conflict

When someone we care about goes missing, there is conflict. It could be a mysterious disappearance, a runaway, a kidnapping, or a death.

A parent that abandons a child, or dies, leaves a psychological wound that influences the child’s entire life. A parent who simply disappears creates an anxiety-riddled need to understand why and how. The child often blames himself. Send a character on a journey to find out why and you have a story problem.

Abandonment wounds can lower Jane's self-esteem. It can color how she interacts with the world. It can make her more sensitive to someone’s absence. A child whose parent is absent or abandons them can become clingy. It can make Jane a suffocating friend or lover. It can make Sally an overprotective parent. It could make Dick assume that everyone leaves so why try to connect? On the flip side, it can inspire Jane to be a better parent, friend, or lover to compensate for what she didn't have.

Abandonment strikes a person all the way to the core. It is a trigger that, even if dealt with, remains. It doesn't take much to set it off. If Jane's father abandoned her, she won't be able to view fathers and daughters on television or out in the park without feeling a twinge of loss. Jane might be jealous of a step-sibling who has a father but doesn't appreciate it. She might be jealous of a friend's relationship with their father. In a thriller or paranormal tale, it can inspire Jane to usurp the friend's place. Jane may avoid relationships because she can't handle the possibility of being left again. She may avoid having children. Her husband or boyfriend might not understand. Mother hunger works the same way.

What if Jane found the parent that gave her away only to learn the parent was a serial killer? It would make a terrific suspense thriller. Jane could find out that the parent was simply an ordinary broken person who lacked the ability to love another in a healthy way and she was better off without the parent. This would make a touching literary tale with a down ending.

If Jane disappears, Dick will take steps to find her and won’t keep hoping or trying until he is successful. Dick will go to any lengths to regain someone he has lost. It can be a friend, lover, child or parent. The more personal the connection, the higher the stakes become. Each layer of separation from the protagonist and the stakes become diluted, unless the person they have to find can save the world. Add a ticking clock and you are at thriller level. The obstacles are in trying to get them back.

Getting them back can create new conflicts. Dick can get Jane back and it all ends happily. He can get Jane back and find she has changed. Dick can find out Jane didn’t want to be found. You can twist this plot in many ways in every genre.

Attempting to locate someone who has died makes a great overall story problem in a Horror or Paranormal Fantasy novel. It can also be used at scene level. If Jane needs to talk to someone and can’t find them, she will be unable to achieve her scene goal. If someone disappears in the middle of a scene, she has conflict. She is either forced to give up the scene goal to look for them or muddle on without them.

If a Jane takes her child into a store and the child decides to play hide and seek, Jane has conflict. If she is trying to overcome a scene obstacle, little Sally's stunt will make Jane's goal that much harder to overcome. If little Sally has been snatched by kidnappers, Jane has an overall story problem.

You could argue the thematic statement that absence makes the heart grow fonder. The flip side is to argue that it doesn’t make the heart grow fonder. Absence makes you realize you don’t really need or want the person after all.

What if Dick chased the one that got away only to find out he didn't like them? That would make a fun romantic plot, providing the right girl was there all along. Dick could pine for an old girlfriend, see her in passing and realize she isn’t as attractive as he remembered, or that she is now a centerfold model. This could be used in a literary tale about a marriage gone stale.

At scene level, an inspector can locate a suspect and realize the suspect is innocent. He must abandon theory one and investigate theory two. The inspector can be haunted by a partner that left without explanation. He can be haunted by a missing person case he did not solve.

In any genre, Dick can be abandoned by someone in a crowded park or building or left on planet Zircon to solve the situation by himself. It will frustrate, if not panic, him.

You can play abandonment in a different way. If extroverted Dick takes introverted Jane to a party and goes off to talk to other people all night, Jane will feel abandoned. She might get mad. She might leave. She might hold it against him for a really long time. The next time he asks her for something, she will refuse. She might deliver verbal zingers until he finally asks why she is being so mean.

If Dick and Jane fly to Africa for a safari and Dick disappears, Jane has a massive problem. She has to find Dick or face the possibility of returning to America without him. Finding someone in a foreign country is a difficult thing to do, particularly when their laws, society, and language are foreign to you.

Abandonment is a terrific theme and overall story problem. It adds poignancy to a love story or motivates a character at scene level. Being alone, even in a crowd, is a universal fear that everyone can tap into.

For more about using obstacles to create tension in your fiction, pick up a copy of Story Building Blocks II: Crafting Believable Conflict in print or E-book.

Stirring the Plot: Absence and the Return

There are many types of absence: voluntary, forced, temporary, perceived, sporadic, and permanent. Wherever there is absence, there is conflict. Let’s examine ways in which absences can be dramatic, frightening, thrilling, or funny.

The absence of a loved one can create pathos, longing, and sadness. When a loved one leaves temporarily or permanently, it leaves a vacuum that needs to be filled. It may not be filled with healthy endeavors, or the absence can open a door to new opportunities.

Absence can cause a momentary annoyance at scene level. Jane had plans to go somewhere with Sally or Dick, but had to cancel. Dick and Sally choose to go together without her. Jane is then wounded because she is so easily replaced. If Jane cancels frequently, then she is no longer considered trustworthy. Dick and Sally might exclude her from future plans and it will make Jane angry.

Voluntary absence from work creates headaches for coworkers. If Dick calls in sick, his work is not getting done. Someone else has to temporarily pick up the slack. He might go to extravagant lengths to hide the fact that he wasn’t really sick. If Jane sees him in town during her lunch hour, he will have to explain his absence. He will either tell the truth or lie. If Jane has it in for him, she will enjoy exposing him and Dick is forced to come up with a deterrent fast. He may agree to do something for Jane he does not want to do. He may take over an assignment for her. She might make him give up his parking spot.

It keeps the plot moving when a scene is resolved in a way that creates a new and more difficult goal. Once Dick has lied to Jane, he will have to maintain the lie. Lies lead to more lies. Dick might have called off to spend one last day with his dying mother. He might have called off to help someone track down a terrorist cell. He might have called off to go to a job interview for a new job. At the end of the day, he will either succeed at hiding his reason for calling off or admit that he was playing hooky. It could be comedic, thrilling or tragic. The reason he called off can be momentous, silly, or simply that he was tired and needed to recharge his mental battery. His absence can have profound consequences or barely make a ripple in the story overall, depending on what you need it to do.

At the scene level, Dick could leave the room and give Jane an opportunity to replace or remove something. When he returns, he can notice that his desk has been disturbed. He can either mention it or wait until Jane leaves to search his office. He might shrug his suspicion off, leaving the clue to raise its head later in the story. He might keep tearing his desk apart until he finds the bug or realizes an important file is missing.

Dick could leave the scene of an accident and create a story problem, or a complication to solving the story goal that comes back and bites him later. His reasons can be unthinking, an attempt to protect himself, or malicious.

Dick leaves a bad date at a restaurant because it was easier to disappear than tell the girl her laugh made him cringe. When he runs into his hapless date later, it will be awkward. If she turns out to be his boss’s daughter, it gets extremely awkward. If he has to work with her, it becomes horribly uncomfortable. If he finds out she is a werewolf, he is in danger.

A character can be voluntarily absent from a conversation, a room, a building, a job, or a planet. There are multiple outcomes to a voluntary absence, but at some point the person typically returns.

Jane jetting off to Aruba without Dick for a month in an attempt to “find herself” creates an overall story problem. When Jane reappears, Dick can be happy about it, unhappy about it or have mixed emotions. Jane’s return can be a good thing or a bad thing depending on how you want to play it and the genre of your story.

In a romance with the typical happy ending, Dick and Jane will overcome the conflicts her voluntary absence and subsequent return create and live happily ever after.

In a literary tale, Jane can return, find out nothing has changed and realize she should have stayed in Aruba with the cabana boy. Dick and Jane can desire to come together again, but realize they really don’t work as a couple, ending on a sad note.

In a mystery or thriller, Jane can return and Dick realizes he preferred life without her. He takes steps to make her absence permanent so he can keep Jane’s inheritance.

Let’s say Jane returned from Aruba after finishing a work assignment that lasted a month or a year. She can return to a spouse, a friend, a child, her parents, a house, a neighborhood, or a job. Her return will affect all of them. Life continued to move on while she was gone. Her return will force her to renegotiate all of her relationships. Friendships and alliances shift over time. Jane’s return can spark jealousy or ignite buried resentment. It can result in renewed love or friendships. The obstacles Jane faces are in trying to fit in again, to redefine her place in the lives she left behind.

Jane might have to move back in with her parents or have her ailing parents move in with her. It can spark a battle of wit and wills. The situation could be comedic, tragic or a sweet literary story of acceptance. This makes a terrific overall story problem or personal dilemma for a protagonist.

Jane might find the balance of power in the company shifted in her absence. She will have to redefine her place in the pecking order. Her coworkers might not appreciate her return, or they might celebrate it because the person who took her place was a jerk.

There are many fun and poignant ways to play with absences.

For more information on using obstacles to create tension, pick up a copy of Story Building Blocks II: Crafting Believable Conflict in print or E-book.

Publishing's Dirty Little Secret

My motto is, "Life is too short for bad fiction." 

There is nothing that makes me happier than finding a new writer whose world building and plotting submurges me on page one and does not let me breathe again until the last page is turned. There are images from stories that will haunt me for life. Exquisite word usage is icing on the cream cake.These are the books I hate to leave for a moment, the ones I will stay up until the wee hours of the morning to finish, the kind of series I binge read more than once. Sadly, they aren't as common as I'd like.

The Story Building Blocks series is the result of my research into what it takes to become one of those skilled authors. It's a selfish thing. As a book addict, I want more reading highs.

Editors and agents fight over brilliant wordsmiths and unique storytellers. Skillful writing is damned hard work. Writers flock to classes and workshops, eager to become those authors, the only kind gatekeepers admit to opening the front door for. I worship those willing to do the work. So many give up when they realize a first draft isn't the key to fame and fortune, even though they have a natural gift.

I have discovered indy-pubbed authors I'd place in the brilliant category that were ignored by traditional publishers. I am truly thankful they found their own launch pad and happily promote them every chance I get.

There are snobs who can debate what constitutes "literature" for days. Some of those books are snooze-fests. The majority of stories that sell well are written simply, but they have a unique story world, character, or plot twist that makes up for their flaws even if they aren't Nobel prize material.

But here's publishing's dirty little secret: shit sells.

It has always sold. Publishers have a dark, dingy back door that lets authors in as long as they can churn out a constant stream of mediocrity to feed the demand. Unpolished schlock from bodice rippers to gore fests to plodding mysteries have always sold like hotcakes in the form of melodramas of old to cheap paperbacks to fulfill genre demand. These authors make a comfortable living. I don't begrudge them the money. If there wasn't a demand, they wouldn't sell a single book.

In addition, publishers are guilty of guilding some serious turds. They put a lot of money into marketing them and, if a little bit of the gilt falls off, they have already made their profit. Those millions often help launch other projects they love that have less reach. So, more power y'all.

When those stinking dumps of excrement rise meteorically, aspiring authors think, "What the heck? What is all this fuss about writing well when this dreck makes millions?" I share your confusion and disdain. Then I remember low-brow reality television shows get more ratings than quality screenwriting.

You don't have to invest months, perhaps years, of honing skills to become a first-class writer to make money. Nowadays there are book feeding frenzies, usually sparked by a best-seller. By carefully tracking the chum of the week, an author can make a small fortune writing and uploading a first-draft novella or two a month. It still involves a lot of elbow grease, just a different kind. You have to be on topic, prolific, master the formatting and uploading process, and know how to promote online.

Self-publishing didn't create the phenomenon. It just made the process easier and cut out the pimps who sneered at the illicit trade but were all too happy to pocket the money.

If you aren't concerned with quality, there has never been a better time to pinch your nose and start shoveling.

Confining Your Characters

No one likes feeling trapped and the desire to escape is an intense motivator and speaks to a universal need for safety. Readers root for characters to escape catastrophic or horrific danger. By limiting the psychological or physical boundaries, you increase the boiling point of your story cauldron by making it impossible for your characters to walk away.

There are obvious ways to use physical confinement: remote locations or being trapped inside burning a building, speeding train, or airplane. Characters may have to escape an asylum, a prison, a sinking ship, or a dying planet. At scene level, they may have to overcome other obstacles such as manacles or laser alarm systems or crawl through tight tunnels. Life or death stakes ratchet up the tension. Add a ticking clock, and you’ve escalated the conflict to Thriller level. 

But let's step outside obvious physical limiations to look at a few examples where confinement is psychological. Emotional life and death stakes can be just as effective.

Dick might need to escape from a confining belief system, societal rules, or cult. This type of conflict fuels many dystopian and Science Fiction plot lines. It also works in literary and coming of age stories. She might literally have to escape to save her life or the lives of others.

Sally can be confined by a family, a tribe, or a gang. The situation can be an abusive or an intolerable person she needs to flee from.  She may simply need to escape to pursue the career she loves or marry the man of her dreams.

Confinement can force a character to deal with a person or situation because they can’t escape from them.

Dick can feel trapped in an airplane seat. Add an obnoxious rowmate and his discomfort increases. Replace the obnoxious stranger with an angry spouse and your characters are strapped in for a few hours of heated debate or icy silence.

Being confined in a car can have the same effect. Characters often have intense and important conversations while strapped inside. Being confined in a train, elevator, or waiting room can provide Dick with ample time to think something through as well.

Dick might want to break free of romantic relationship or marriage. Depending on his personality type and childhood wounds, he might find commitment suffocating. It can be as simple as Dick not liking that his romantic options have narrowed or been eliminated, so he refuses to propose to a girl he loves. He’ll live with her but he doesn’t like the prison bars that marriage suggests. 

If Jane sees marriage as a desirable bond, a sign that Dick values their relationship and promises to always have her back, she won’t understand his reluctance. This provides terrific tension in a romance or romantic subplot. Dick and Jane, as well as the supporting cast, can argue whether marriage entraps or frees them. Dick can overcome his internal resistance and give in. Dick and Jane can agree that their commitment to each other is more important than the piece of paper. Or, their differing belief systems and needs are a deal breaker and they end the relationship.

Sally might want to break free of a confining friendship. If Sally is the type of easy-breezy personality that loves to be around lots of people and considers twenty people her best friend, she might befriend Jane who values one tight, soul-sister over lesser acquaintances. Confine these two in an apartment or a college dorm and the conflict increases. Whether physically confined or emotionally confined, their differing needs and definitions of loyalty and trust provide obstacles to continuing their friendship. It can be explored in a sweet literary story about why friendships fail. Jane could cause problems for Sally, the protagonist, in other genres as Sally negotiates her exacting friend’s emotional neediness while solving an unrelated story problem. This claustrophobic dynamic has been explored in horror films about scary roommates, but it can also factor in virtually any plot line. Pairing friends with differing connection needs creates believable conflict.

Jane might want to escape a confining job. She may be afraid to leave a lucrative career but imprisoned by the monotony or lack of challenge. She may love the job but hate her boss or coworkers. The entrapment will either force to her make a life changing career move or renegotiate her reality within the confines of her job.

Family get togethers are rarely the love-fests featured in the sweet family stories of long ago. Reunions are hot beds of festering unmet needs and resentments. Personalities clash and clang and grate, fomenting snide remarks and truth-revealing tirades. The quickest way to exit an undesirable family event is for your character to make statements they know will stir the family pot and storm out during the ensuing verbal brawl. An investigator might stir the pot to get a suspect to reveal himself. 

If going home feels like entering a prison, Jane isn’t going to enjoy going there for a holiday meal, much less a week. She may be forced to return home to take care of an ailing parent. The situation makes her feel like she is being strangled, particularly if irritating siblings insist on visiting. Emotional bombs will burst.

Setting and situation choices can force your character to make decisions or take actions they otherwise would ignore. As the character's social, psychological, or physical noose tightens, the reader's tension grows along with it and they keep turning the page to relieve their own anxiety.

For more ways to utilize obstacles to create tension in your fiction, pick up a copy of Story Building Blocks II: Crafting Believable Conflict in print or E-book version.

Stirring the Plot with Isolation

Earliest man lived in small tribes. With fewer people, they relied on each other more. Such is the stuff of Historicals, Westerns, and Literary pioneer stories. When people died, especially in large numbers due to disease, famine, or drought, it preyed on the survivors' mortal fear of being alone. These stakes can heighten a story problem or create a scene conflict.

If the population of a planet is dying, Dick has an overall story problem.

If Jane feels alone in her marriage, she has a personal dilemma or overall story problem.

The situation in a dark, spooky mansion is heightened if Dick is alone, as would a perfectly normal forest. A planet would be terrifying if he was the only surviving astronaut.

The smaller the population, the higher the stakes of survival and the more claustrophobic the situation becomes. Put Dick in a city of a thousand people and he can easily get lost in the throng. That makes a good Mystery. Putting ten people in a space station makes a great Science Fiction story. Killing them off one by one makes a great Thriller or Horror story. Post apocalyptic stories explore our fear of being alone and the desire for survivors to find one another. Science Fiction stories explore our desire to not be alone in the universe.

On a personal level, most of us prefer to live with someone. A few thrive on the freedom of living alone.

How far is Jane willing to go to feel connected? Jane may marry someone she does not love, become friends with someone she wouldn’t otherwise, build a robot so she has a companion, join an organization she does not agree with, or draw a face on a football so she has someone to talk to on a deserted island.

How far is Dick willing to go to live alone? He might rent a cabin in the Dakota badlands or buy an island and find out he needs people after all.

Characters who are hurt by something or someone often withdraw from the people around them. Some do it for a week, others a month, at the most extreme end they withdraw from life entirely.

At the scene level Dick may need to be alone to accomplish something but all his well-meaning friends keep dropping by to chat.

Dick may momentarily find himself in an empty house, which creates the perfect opportunity for the ghost to visit.

Isolation adds an element of creepiness to any situation. It is a keystone of Horror stories. The characters must be trapped in a building, a city or on a planet from which there is no escape, so they must turn and face the horror instead of run away from it.

Isolation is critical in a Gothic novel for the same reason. The hapless governess cannot simply walk away from the creepy plantation house. She can’t board a bus or walk into a Starbucks. She can’t have a cell phone – not one that works anyway – or call a cab. She needs to be isolated so that she is forced to unravel the mystery or uncover the secret instead of running away at the first sign of trouble.

Isolation is also a key component of YA because so many teens feel isolated: from their family, their peers, their world. Isolation leads to depression and anxiety and feelings of low self-esteem. The character can realize they aren’t alone after all. They can graduate high school and find their “soul mate” friends in college. They can leave their all-Caucasian neighborhood to live in a predominantly Hispanic one and find themselves at home, or find the new community has its share of issues to contend with.

In a Literary story, Sally might embrace her mid-life crisis by selling up and moving to a house in Italy only to realize the locals don’t want her there. All that high life and camaraderie she expected are denied her. The doors remain shut but the curtains are pulled to the side so they can spy on her. Sally sits in her wilting, rustic money pit an unscrupulous salesman talked her into and realizes she should have stayed at home. It was boring but people liked and accepted her there. If murders start happening, it could become a Mystery and Sally the sleuth forced to solve them. In a Thriller, someone could want her to leave their family home and she becomes the target.

In a Romance, the opposite could happen. Sally could feel isolated in her home town because all of her friends have moved away or moved on. Her family might not be supportive or emotionally connected. She kicks the traces and runs off to a charming seaside cottage in Ireland and finds the circle of friends she desperately needed and a lad with a charming brogue to keep her warm at night.

If Sally’s best friend is moving away, in a sense abandoning her, the situation can cause subtle conflict as Sally attempts to overcome the overall story problem or a momentary distraction at scene level.

You can use isolation to fuel any genre at any story level. 

For more obstacles that create conflict, pick up a copy of Story Building Blocks II: Crafting Believable Conflict in print or E-book version.