Showing posts with label characters. Show all posts
Showing posts with label characters. Show all posts

Monday, September 23, 2013

Conflict is Key


Mary Gottschalk
                                                              
Every good fiction writer knows that conflict is key. The main characters in a novel must have clearly defined desire lines … something they want badly enough to persevere in the face of every obstacle. 
It’s a challenge even when your character’s desire line is concrete: getting rich, becoming president of the United States or finding the murderer (or avoiding being caught). You still need characters whose internal conflicts give the story depth and intrigue.
The challenge is exponentially harder when the key characters have desire lines based on abstract goals: making a contribution to people’s lives, bringing peace to the world, or being seen as loyal and dependable. As with all good fiction, the story arc is based on conflicting desire lines. But in my upcoming novel, A Fitting Place, the characters have, in some way, actually contributed to creating the very problem they are trying to solve, and are often the source of the obstacles that get in the way of a solution.  
Just like in real life.  This is the dilemma most of us live until we learn to break out of our comfort zone. 
In fiction, as in life, The Enneagram, which classifies personality types based on unconscious motivation, can be helpful. As I’ve noted in previous blogs, each of the nine personality types can be evaluated in terms of the effectiveness with which they go about converting these abstract goals into real world accomplishments.
Take for example, the conflicting desire lines of my two key characters in A Fitting Place. As a “thinker,” my protagonist (Lindsey) takes prides in being knowledgeable, capable and self-reliant.  On her good days, she is thoughtful, perceptive, and a very good listener. On her bad days, she can be self-absorbed, secretive, and remarkably unaware of the emotional mood of her environment.
In contrast, my antagonist (Joan) is a “missionary” who wants to be helpful and nurturing.  On her goods days, she is compassionate, sympathetic and highly attuned to what other people need or want.  On her bad days, she is possessive and manipulative and can be masterful at inducing a sense of guilt into those reject her overtures.
Because both my characters are flawed—they operate at different points on the effectiveness spectrum on different days—the opportunities for mayhem and misunderstanding abound, as do the possibilities for significant personal growth and development. 
A Fitting Place is a story in which the challenges, mis-steps and successes of characters in conflict should be familiar to readers who (like most of us) have both good days and bad.  Good days, when we are happy with who we are and how we respond to the people around us.  Bad days, when we are our own worst enemy.
Do you ever have days on which you are your own worst enemy?
Mary has made a career out of changing careers.  After finishing her MBA, she spent nearly thirty years in the financial markets, working as an economist, a banker and a financial consultant to major corporations.  She has worked in New York, New Zealand, Australia, Central America, Europe, and amazingly, Des Moines, Iowa. 
Along the way, she dropped out several times.  In the mid-1980’s, Mary and her husband Tom embarked on the multi-year sailing voyage that is the subject of her memoir, Sailing Down the Moonbeam.  Twice, she left finance to provide financial and strategic planning services to the nonprofit community, first in New York and later in Des Moines.
In her latest incarnation, she defines herself as a writer.  She is working on her first novel (A Fitting Place), freelances, and lectures on the subject of personal risk-taking.
 Links to books and social media sites
 http://www.facebook.com/mary.gottschalk.9
http://www.facebook.com/MaryGottschalkWriter


Friday, August 17, 2012

Money or your life


The wonderful house we swapped with a German family in the East near the Baltic Sea  came with a boat house and a small craft that didn’t need a license. Engines over 5 hp on Germany lakes etc. do.
 My son and his friend, strapping young lads that they are, had taken the rowing boat out to begin with but hubby felt lazy and privileged to have a “motor boat’ at his disposal .
On our last night, a beautiful warm evening, he got it started and cleaned it from cobwebs. Normally, I’m not particularly seaworthy but this I could do, I thought hopping into the vessel.
We went along the little canal that connected to the adjacent lake where we had done a lot of constitutional walks, passing all these cute little vacation or weekend houses;  datschas - I presume they were called in the ‘olden days’. Owners were out on their porches  barbecuing, having a beer or just sitting out enjoying the balmy evening. My friendly greetings and “Guten Appetit!” mostly went unanswered; instead we got stares.
My family had commented on the fact before that the locals seemed to be rather reserved, looking away or looking at us outright suspiciously. Hubby had his theories about them being former communists who had lived in a supervised state where neighbors spied on each other and were naturally suspicious. Could that be the case almost a generation after the fall of the Iron Curtain? I wonder. The difference in behavior to other parts of Germany that I am familiar with was striking, however.
So here we were put-putting along.  At a tight spot in the canal we had to slow down from our snail space to make rooms for 2 canoeists. The engine died.”Not to worry, there is a second battery. I just have to switch over to that one.” To be on the safe side we decided not to continue our journey to the lake with only one battery and turn around instead. But the second battery never started. The canoeists enquired if we had paddles. I hadn’t yet spotted them, but gracefully there was a pair on the floor of our boat.
So paddling it was, back past the houses and people we had just passed. Their behavior and demeanor had miraculously changed. Some got up form their seats to throw a funny remark, “Machine kaputt?” or “Need a push?” Others interrupted their meal to get a good view of the spectacle.  All of a sudden we encountered a lot of smiles and laughter. We are not practiced paddlers…
One older guy, alone on his deck, pointed what looked like an antique pistol at us, “Money or your life”. He was probably just lonely or thought he was funny. I started to get peeved. Why had nobody bothered to engage with us before? There is something about Schadenfreude that we Germans are verifiably good at. The self-proclaimed pirate invited us to join him. “I’ll throw a couple of bratwurst on the Barbie for when you return” not realizing that we were on our way back already and wouldn’t paddle by again. Maybe he’s still standing there, waiting.
It was either that the batteries had not fully charged or the connections had come loose. We made it back through the sweat of our own hands. The behavior of our neighbors there remains a mystery, however. To do the people form Meck Pomm justice, our exchange partners, some of their friends and neighbor who we met were totally friendly; some even stepped out of their way to give us a helping hand. It remains a mystery until I get some enlightening comments from people in the know.