A story without conflict is boring. A story without conflict is not a story. To keep readers engaged the writer must use conflict in every scene. Also, the conflict must be well-written, which means it must be visual and engaging. In other words, readers must see the conflict,not told it.
What is conflict? It’s a contest between two opposing forces, each force having an objective or goal. It’s not always the “good guy versus the bad guy,” though of course, it can be and often is. Let’s look at the different types of conflict found in literature. Perhaps they’ll spark some ideas.
Man versus Self
This is internal conflict. A character is struggling with issues within himself/herself. It’s a novel centered around introspection, moral choices, self-doubts, and coming to terms with oneself. An excellent example of this is William Shakespeare’s “Hamlet.” In the play, Hamlet struggles with a moral decision – whether he should avenge his father’s murder. His indecision leads to his tragic end.
Man versus Technology
Mary Shelley’s novel, Frankenstein, illustrates this. Doctor Viktor Frankenstein creates a monster who eventually turns on him.
Man versus Nature
Jack London’s famous short story, “To Build a Fire,” is an excellent example. A man and his dog get caught in extremely cold weather in the Yukon. The man struggles to survive.
Man versus Man
This is the most often used conflict. Two characters oppose each other, and each one has a different goal. Think of it as protagonist (hero) versus antagonist (villain). They struggle against each other in various ways. Their struggles don’t always have to be physical. They can also struggle politically, morally, or even competitively.
This story’s conflict centers on “man versus the world”, “man versus culture”, “man versus government”, and similar things. Characters grow and change, and these tales also carry some heavy themes. A good example of this is George Orwell’s classic work, 1984. In it, the main character, Winston Smith, opposes Big Brother and his tyrannical regime.
When I was in college, I’d considered becoming a foreign missionary. With my love of language, I pondered joining the Wycliffe Bible Translators. Ah, but the Lord had other plans, and my life took a different direction. Or did it?
Looking back on my early literary years, I wonder. When the Lord called me into writing for Him in the mid-1980s, He confirmed it time and again. Without these confirmations, and the confidence I was doing His will, I may not have persevered during the hard times. Since then, with numerous bylines under my belt, I think I understand now. I am, indeed, a missionary using my language skills. A literary missionary. Not just me—all Christian writers are.
As missionaries, like every other ministry, we must take our calling seriously. That means lots of hard work in our efforts to reach our intended reading audience. Most of us likely won’t receive the accolades of some who serve in the public eye. And that’s all right. If we stay true to our calling and keep our motives pure, such things won’t (and shouldn’t) matter.
God watches over His literary missionaries. Our words will reach those He intends to reach. I doubt we’ll ever know how effective our work has been, how many people our stories, articles, poems and books have reached, till our journey here ends and we enter our heavenly home.
Called to write? Don’t quit. There’s a vast mission field out in this world. The world needs to read our words.
As I sit here today at my laptop, I’m frustrated. Why? Writer’s block. My “idea well” has run dry. Hey! A thought just occurred. Why not write about some of the frustrations we face along our literary journey. All right, then. Let’s begin.
Rejections
Serious writers understand that rejection comes with the territory. An oft-repeated cliché heard at conferences goes like this: “Not everyone will like our baby,” that is, “Not everyone will like our book.” It doesn’t necessarily mean our writing’s bad. It may mean our book isn’t for everyone, not even for some agents and publishers. Those of us who are called to write won’t let rejection destroy our dreams. Instead, we’ll persevere in our craft.
Finding Ideas
An affliction that affects most writers at some point or other in their careers is writer’s block. That is, their well of ideas runs dry, as shown in my blog’s introductory paragraph. How do we refill it? Here are three ways to consider.
Read. Spend lots of time reading. When we read, kernels of thoughts enter our minds which sometimes spread into ideas for articles, nonfiction books, short stories and novels. Don’t just read in our genres. In fact, read everything we can get our hands on. Approach reading as part of our work—because it is.
Pictures, photos, etc. When I was in the sixth grade, my teacher had what she called a “writing table.” Lots of pictures were on it, some cut out of magazines. She’d give those of us who wanted to do so a chance to pick out a picture and write about it. I remember cutting out an advertisement—the photo of a cow standing in front of a commercial airliner. I probably used this table more than my classmates. By studying pictures closely, we may be prompted to write something that inspires us.
Experience Life. I love to travel and explore new places. Often, these provide ideas for me as well. When your idea well dries up, consider going to a place you’ve never been before. Take a few days off to walk around and explore it. Who knows? That place may be an excellent setting for a new story.
Finding Time
Truthfully, it’s usually not a matter of “not having time.” It’s a matter of “making time,” and serious writers make time if only thirty minutes or less a day. Of course, sometimes things happen out of our control and our schedule is so full we truly don’t have time to write. That said, truly “not having time” should be the exception to our schedules, not the rule. Make writing a habit. Get up earlier than usual, or go to be later than usual if need be. Practice becoming a writer who takes his/her craft seriously. Don’t let anything discourage you in your literary calling.
“The talent of success is nothing more than doing what you do well, and doing well whatever you can do without a thought of fame. If it comes at all, it will come because it is deserved, not because it is sought after.”
When I was in college, I’d considered becoming a foreign missionary. With my love of language, I pondered joining the Wycliffe Bible Translators. Ah, but the Lord had other plans, and my life took a different direction. Or did it?
As I look back on my early years, I wonder. When the Lord called me into writing for Him in the mid-1980s, He confirmed my calling time and again. Without these confirmations, and the confidence that I was doing His will, I may not have persevered during the hard times. Since then, with numerous bylines under my belt, I think I understand now. I am, indeed, a missionary using my language skills. A literary missionary. Not just me—all Christian writers are!
As literary missionaries, like every other ministry, we must take our calling seriously. That means lots of hard work with an eye toward reaching our intended reading audience. Most of us likely won’t receive the accolades of some who serve in the public eye. And that’s all right. If we stay true to our calling and keep our motives pure, such things won’t (and shouldn’t) matter.
God watches over His literary missionaries. Our words will reach those He intends to reach. I doubt we’ll ever know how effective our work has been, how many people our stories, articles, poems and books have reached, till our journey here ends and we pass on into our heavenly home.
Called to write, then? Don’t quit. There’s a vast mission field out in this world. The world needs to read our words.
Painting by George Caitlin. Mandans playing Chunkey
Chunkey, an ancient Native American sport, is enjoyable for everyone. Also, it’s easy to play. The game goes back at least as far as the 7th century A.D.
Much like stickball, Native American tribes, particularly those in America’s Southeast, played this game to settle disputes. They took this game seriously and even played it to gamble. Quite a few players lost everything in their wagers, sometimes with even more tragic consequences such as suicides. Today, it’s usually played for fun.
Below is a basic overview of the game. The Native Americans then and now play different variations of the game and have different methods of scoring.
Playing Field
In previous centuries, the tribes played it on a hard surface, such as packed clay.
Nowadays, it’s played on grass.
Equipment Needed to Play
Hickory or popular spears that are eight to ten feet long. These are called chunkey (pronounced ‘tchung-kee).
Round chunkey stone, sometimes with a hole in it. These were often made of sandstone, clay or granite.
How the Game is Played
A player rolls the chunkey stone across the playing field underhanded, like a bowling ball.
Players with spears hurl them at the stone. The player whose spear came closest to the stone scores a point.
Famous American painter and artistic chronicler of the West witnessed this game, as seen in his painting at the beginning of this post, He recorded what he saw in writing as well.
The game of Tchung-kee [is] a beautiful athletic exercise, which the Mandan seem to be almost unceasingly practicing whilst the weather is fair, and they have nothing else of moment to demand their attention. This game is decidedly their favourite amusement, and is played near to the village on a pavement of clay, which has been used for that purpose until it has become as smooth and hard as a floor. … The play commences with two (one from each party), who start off upon a trot, abreast of each other, and one of them rolls in advance of them, on the pavement, a little ring of two or three inches in diameter, cut out of a stone; and each one follows it up with his ‘tchung-kee’ (a stick of six feet in length, with little bits of leather projecting from its sides of an inch or more in length), which he throws before him as he runs, sliding it along upon the ground after the ring, endeavouring to place it in such a position when it stops, that the ring may fall upon it, and receive one of the little projections of leather through it.
With today’s technology, it’s become easier for wannabe writers to see their work published. Indeed, thousands of books are out there clamoring for readers’ attention. The ease with which publication has become, though, presents its own issues for self-published authors.
We must understand that professional writing demands more than just sitting down at our laptops, whipping out a manuscript, and then self-publishing it. It goes well beyond that first draft, second draft, even third draft. It takes long hours of hard work and revision till we’ve finally polished our prose.
Just as we can’t repair a car if we don’t understand how its engine works, so we can’t engage in effective revision and polish if we don’t understand what makes good writing work. Effective writing entails numerous elements, and each element requires constant practice. For serious authors, writing is a daily discipline. Professional writers don’t wait for the inspiration bug to hit them. Professional writers write!
Do we want our self-published books to stand out among all the other indie books on the market? Do we want to be taken seriously as authors? Do we want to sell our books? If so, we must approach our craft the same way all serious writers approach it— through disciplined study, practice, and, of course, writing on a regular basis.
Sunset kissed the horizon. Kana trotted her gray pony along a narrow path, to a game field where cheers, singing and drumbeats drew her attention to the contest in progress. Her whole village, turned out for the stickball game to settle a dispute with a village from Mississippi. Despite the fact she was in no mood for a game, she guided her pony to the animated crowd watching the ball play, dismounted and led it by its reins.
She hitched her pony to a post next to other horses and ponies and made haste to the contest. Dust tickled her nostrils. So much dust the players caused in this game, hundreds of them, constantly running back and forth. She asked the Great One to let the game end soon. She must speak with her uncle, Foha’s war chief Gray Eagle. Her eyes skirted the animated crowd every direction—the dancing and singing women on both sides of the field, the shamans shouting from the sidelines, the players getting tackled or else stumbling from a whack on the head with two-feet long hickory sticks.
Her cousin Eyachubbe— wearing white war paint—tossed a small deer hide ball with his hickory stick to another teammate, who caught it in his stick’s small rawhide cup then raced toward their opponents’ goal. An opposing player in red warpaint tackled him, stole the ball, maneuvered around Foha’s players. But when he tossed it to his teammate, Red Panther snatched it in the air with a low leap. Agile as a cat, he wove and darted between numerous opponents chasing him, his ball nested in the stick’s leather-laced cup.
Red Panther rushed the ball toward a tall sapling. He passed it to Eyachubbee, who snatched the ball with his stick then wove through and around the mass of players who chased him. He tossed the ball to a teammate, who ran with it, then tossed it back to Red Panther, who raced with it while spectators withdrew to clear his path. His long black hair flying, he evaded three more opponents, passed the ball to Eyachubbee, who sent the ball flying into the goal, a sapling. Each side’s scorekeeper drove a stick in the ground. Ten sticks to the opposing team’s seven. Applause and cheers erupted from the sidelines.
Kana did not cheer.
In this excerpt from my work-in-progress, tentatively titled Ruffians, Redsticks and Circuit Riders, I describe a popular game played by two Choctaw villages. Stickball was also called “little war.” The Southeastern tribes in the early 1800s and earlier played it to settle disputes with other villages in a peaceful manner. These tribes still play it today. Lacrosse traces its origin to this sport.
Unlike our modern times, though, early stickball games had few rules—players could tackle each other, whack each other with their two-feet long hickory sticks, and similar things. Hundreds, even thousands, of men on both sides participated in the contest.
The players would fashion a rawhide cup at the end of their hickory sticks. The ball, also made of hide, was stuffed with deer hair. Sometimes, even, a rock. This game was so rough, players got injured. The object of the game was to fling the ball against a goal, such as shown in my excerpt. If the ball struck it, a point was scored.
During the 19th century, the United States government tried to ban the game. Today, it thrives among these tribes from the American Southeast: Chickasaw, Cherokee, Choctaw, Creek, and Seminole. They even have tournaments, notably the World Series of Stickball, held in Mississippi.
Recently, as part of my research, I visited the Poarch Creek reservation in Poarch, Alabama and spoke with the Creek curator of its museum. She told me her people, at least those living in Alabama, play stickball just for fun and the women are allowed to play with the men. However, they do have a rule, she said—the male players are not allowed to hit the women players. The game remains rough even today.
Here’s a video of a recent World Series of Stickball Tournament held in Mississippi.
“Are you working, or are you still writing?” came the patronizing voice over the telephone in the early 1990s.
“Still writing,” I told the businessman. While we discussed a business matter, my insides simmered. Oh, I really wanted to tell him a few things! However, I didn’t. What I wanted to spout off wouldn’t have been nice.
Ah! But those were the man’s exact words, engraved in my memory. I was much younger then, and my writing career was young. It was in those “good ole typewriter days.” Now, I look back on this experience and laugh. Had he understood how hard it is to write at a professional level, and how hard I worked, he never would’ve said it. Obviously, he knew nothing about the craft, yet he insulted me for something he didn’t understand. He may not have meant it as an insult, but that’s how I took it.
Photo Credit: Alan Light
I once heard the great singer, Mel Tormè, tell a story on a television show. He mentioned unnamed people who offered him unsolicited advice regarding his singing. Mr. Tormè’s response? He told them that if they were Duke Ellington, Nat King Cole, Dean Martin, or another musician or singer, he’d listen to them. In other words, he only heeded the advice of those who knew their craft. He was right. We, like Mel Tormè can ignore them because chances are, they know little or nothing about writing.
As writers, expect some people to criticize us. And yes, even insult us. It comes with the territory.
Doesn’t such criticism and naysaying hurt? Of course, it does. It still hurts me from time to time. But one thing I know for certain—by God’s grace, He’s called me into a literary ministry. I’ve never doubted this, not even in my early struggling years. Because I never doubted it, I never quit, and I thank the Lord for this. When we worry about what others think or say about us, the critics and naysayers, we become their slave. A slave to their opinions, a slave to their negative comments. Personally, I’m more concerned with what the Lord thinks about me—how I live my life and my writing.
Has the Lord given you a dream to be a writer? He has? Then don’t pay attention to those who criticize you, insult you, and try to kill your dream. I’ve been writing professionally for over thirty years. The Lord has brought my dream to pass. So always trust Him. He’ll bring your dream to pass too.
The Author's Cove: John "Jack" Cunningham on Writing & History 