Writers Workshop is a feature designed to share the pearls of wisdom brilliant storytellers have passed on to me throughout my writing and dramaturgy career. Each Writers Workshop newsletter will be free to read until it is archived. Paid subscribers can access the writing prompt in each issue, read archived issues and are guaranteed answers to any questions they leave in the comments section.
If, like me, you’re currently enjoying Season 3 of The Bear, you’ll have noticed that a major theme of this series is Carmy and Richie’s fractured relationship and the impact it’s having on both the restaurant and their co-workers.
The pair are continually at each other’s throats and it’s clear they have very different priorities and expectations. Richie cares passionately about the front of house experience of those who come to dine at The Bear. Carmy, on the other hand, wants a Michelin star and stellar reviews. This leads him to write down a list of “non-negotiables”, which inevitably go down like a cup of cold vomit with the rest of the staff, Richie in particular.
Their constant bickering, yelling and swearing at each other is enough to fry anyone’s brain. But it’s also absolutely brilliant. Perhaps because it is so much more interesting to watch two people fight when you know that, deep down, they really love each other. There’s layers, nuance and the desperate hope that, one day, they’ll work it out.
Because, let’s be real, Carmy and Richie aren’t really fighting about tables or menus or lists of “Bear Necessities” (as one clever YouTube user labelled them). This fight is about so much more than that. Both men are still hurt by things that happened last season. Things neither of them can let go of because of who they are and the other difficult things they’re dealing with.
Front of house has become Richie’s entire world. Sure, he loves the job but, more importantly, it takes his focus away from the fact that his wife and daughter are slowly slipping away.
Meanwhile, Carmy attempts to forget about Claire by keeping as busy as possible. Who cares if the rest of his life is a mess? In the kitchen, there’s a chance of redemption through perfection. The Michelin star would be proof that he can be good at something. However, the frustration these men feel has to go somewhere and, honestly, I think they’re actually grateful to be able to let it out on each other. If they forgive and forget, they each might need to invest in a real punching bag.
So, how do we create conflict within our own scripts and novels? Well, as always, I like to start with character.
“I truly believe that if you build a compelling enough character and then drop them into virtually any space or scenario, how they respond to that situation will create the plot for you.”
Writers Workshop: The Blank Page
Conflict occurs naturally when a character is dropped into a setting they clash with or comes across another character that rubs them up the wrong way. The reason why they find this person or place so bothersome is because of who they are as a character. Creating the character first gives you the opportunity to establish who they are: their strengths and weaknesses, likes and dislikes, the trauma of their past and dreams for the future.
Here are a few rules for writing complex characters:
Show, don’t tell
If the character is a “bad person”, don’t tell me that. Show me through their actions. And remember, in reality, people who are wholly good or entirely bad are virtually non-existent. Fascist dictators might have beautiful, loving relationships with their own kids despite remorselessly wiping thousands of other people’s children off the face of the planet. The tyrannical husband might be a human rights lawyer who has saved hundreds of people from torture, despite treating those close to him abhorrently. Perhaps the drug addict steals from their family to feed their habit but offers someone worse off the last of their food. Conversely, the famous philanthropist could be revealed as a phony and a philanderer, whilst the artist we admire and respect turns out to have a horrendous history of child abuse.
In other words, show me a multi-faceted, three-dimensional human being. Not a caricature.
Consider how the character might justify their actions
Almost no one believes themselves to be evil because everyone is the hero of their own story. Even people that might call themselves a “piece of shit” recognise that something or someone has led them down a terrible path and they are now broken, wounded or misunderstood.
We almost always find a way to justify our actions to ourselves. Carmy likely knows he’s behaving like a dick but he’ll tell himself it’s only because he wants what’s best for the restaurant and, in the long run, everyone will benefit from that.
Maybe what our antagonist wants isn’t bad at all. Maybe their motives are totally understandable. Perhaps it’s just their methods that make them a “villain”. Characters who do bad things for good reasons and good things for bad reasons are the most interesting of all.
Remember that your protagonist does not have to be likeable
You know that perfectly sweet, good at everything person you once secretly hated or didn’t quite trust? Well, your feelings might’ve been down to the fact that this person didn’t quite seem real and, instead of finding their super nice persona endearing, you actually found it quite irritating. This illustrates a common trap: writers often think characters need to be likeable for the audience to invest. But this is completely untrue. They just need to be compelling.
Remember that person you dated years ago who snored or had a wandering eye or nearly set fire to the kitchen whenever they tried to cook? Maybe they were late all the time or had terrible taste in movies or, I don’t know, picked their nose when they thought you weren’t watching. Maybe one of these things gave you the ick. Or maybe, just maybe, you brushed their idiosyncrasies under the carpet. Perhaps you even found them cute and funny. You might’ve been drawn to someone “broken” because there is part of you that likes to fix people. Whatever the case, their flaws did not stop you falling for them and your character’s flaws won’t stop your audience falling for them either.
For more on this, check out the Cultural Exchange I wrote about the TV show The Responder.
Now you’ve written your character, ask yourself this: what does your character want and how does the place they are in or a person they meet get in the way of that? This conflict, together with how your character resolves it and what they learn through doing so is your plot. We need conflict because it provides our character with purpose and helps them develop.
Let’s go deeper on what conflict actually is…
The Imago Institute defines conflict as “the objection to difference”. Two people or communities with very different beliefs can rub along quite nicely together – until one of them objects to the fact that they believe different things. Not being okay with that leads to that person or group attempting to impose their values or ideas onto the other person or group. And, odds are, they won’t like that.
This can also work within the character. One of the biggest causes of inner turmoil is when who you are and how you feel is not in accordance with who you would like to be or how you would like to feel... and (this is the crucial part!) you haven’t been able to make peace with that.
Example: “I want to be someone who is successful but I just got rejected from a job I really wanted.” Someone who is happy to accept they will get where they want to be eventually isn’t going to experience the same level of conflict as someone who can’t reconcile with that rejection.
Another example: ”I identify as a fit and healthy person but I just found out I have high cholesterol”. This might frustrate someone whose highest values are health and wellbeing and frustration is a sure sign of conflict.
Let’s talk about violence…
According to Anglo-Romanian theatre company Bezna, there is only one kind of violence: It occurs when a single group, government, corporation or person and their needs are considered greater than another’s. At the risk of putting too fine a point on it, violence is about selfishness.
This manifests everywhere — from domestic abuse to war to the climate crisis. But it’s important to recognise that violence does not always manifest in ways we can see. For example, coercive control could be considered violent and limiting the abilities of individuals to express themselves or live authentically is most certainly an act of violence. People/governments/organisations can be violent without a single drop of blood ever being shed by driving members of the public further into poverty or removing certain freedoms.
In a nutshell, there are seven different types of conflict:
Character vs. self
Character vs. character
Character vs. society
Character vs. the supernatural
Character vs. technology
Character vs. nature
Character vs. the system
Some of these forms of conflict might be layered on top of one another. For example, the character that punches the malfunctioning photocopier in the office might represent character vs. technology. But they’re not really mad at the tech. They’re mad at their partner, who they’ve just discovered is sleeping with their best friend (character vs. character). Or we might witness a stressed out mother shouting at her kid (character vs. character) but her frustration is really coming from a place of both love and fear - there is a terrible flood coming and if they don’t get to higher ground sharpish, they may well be washed away (character vs. nature).
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Writing Prompt
This is an exercise I did during a workshop many years ago and it resulted in me writing a scene that ended up in one of my plays. It’s one of the scenes I’m most proud of.