Contrast and Conflict

(re-posted from Kenton's Brasswolf Wordsmith blog, originally posted August 25, 2015)

You pick up a pen and arrange your paper before you on your desk. You start your word processing software on your computer. You click record on whatever electronic device you choose to take down your dictation. Some of you burn incense, play classical music, or submerse yourself in varying degrees of sensory deprivation. Perhaps there are even those of you who prefer over-stimulation, like that which you would find in a public place such as a pub, restaurant, or coffee shop. In whatever fashion fits your character and intentions, you are set on the starting line. You are the literary horse behind the gate, shaking with anticipation. Your race is about to begin.

Storytelling is a master art, in my opinion; the oldest there is in human history. Ages before written word, the cave-dwelling ancestors of the human race created drawings and art as a way to tell a story. Before even that, I believe they spoke stories aloud around great bonfires. It’s a poetic image, and one I readily admit may not be likely, but it is what I believe. Storytelling is the proverbial grandfather of trades. A title both revered and worshipped for both education and entertainment value. Elders, sharing their knowledge with younger generations, younger generations spinning their yarns in the hopes of one day being looked at the same way they look at their elder as tales are told.

In our modern age, storytelling has indeed become far more complicated than in the days of elders and tribal chieftains. There are so many mediums in which to craft your tale. Art, video games, movies, novels, comic books, blogs; a nigh endless parade of potential audiences waiting patiently to be enraptured; to be freed from their day to day concerns, if only for a moment. But at the core of every single medium: storytelling. The great art form.

A concept design for a new automobile tells the story of the customer it will one day belong to. Buried in the subtle lines, reflective paint and glass, sweep of the contours, is the dialogue that says “this is the family sedan of the new millennia, where your children will be safe on the way to soccer practice, and where you will unleash and de-stress from your difficult workday.” Even the painstakingly crafted poster that hangs all but unseen in the dim corner of the covered bus stop you catch every morning tells a story. “This juicy burger is so succulent; it almost speaks to you, promising to be the most decadent burger you have ever consumed.” Everything has a story, but not every story begs to be told, and therein lies the great need for gatekeepers.

When I use the word gatekeepers, however, I am not referring to referees or security guards, standing like great production-executive sentinels allowing only the pretty stories into the clubs. No. I refer instead to the rare breed of artisans, of craftsmen, who can see the story in every minute detail. I refer to the men and women who either by raw talent or practiced dedication have mastered the art of storytelling. And make no mistake. It is an art.

In the world of art, there are many upon many fundamental lessons to be imparted on the evolving artist. No man or woman alive simply wakes up instinctively knowing how to draw, paint, or sculpt. Sure there are those with incredible talent, but even the most naturally talented must still develop his or her skills. This is no different with the art of storytelling. What makes a good painting? Composition, contrast, palette, subject; all of these categories contain their own rules that artists will explore and learn in their evolution toward the lofty goal of mastering the arts. All of these rules apply or can be interpreted to apply to mastering storytelling as well.

For example, let’s consider for a moment the concept of contrast in a painting. In literal terms, contrast is the difference, or the use of differences, between the lightest and the darkest parts of something; e.g. – to create a special effect in a painting, photograph, or television image. Understanding contrast helps a painter or digital artist guide the viewer’s eye to various details throughout his or her composition in order to best tell the story, or at least convey the ideas he or she seeks to present. The human eye is naturally drawn to the most severe contrast in any image; this is why black against white is one of the most effective ways to convey a message in signage. Black and white are at opposite ends of the contrast spectrum. By learning this law, and applying it, a master artist can use the varying shades between black and white to create prominent or subtle contrasts in an image, drawing the eye to those details with sharper contrast, and then allowing the eye to drift lazily over those without.

By now you may be wondering how the theory of contrast could be related to storytelling; in fact, it really isn’t because contrast is a visual concept. However, one can easily extrapolate the theology of contrast in a painting and applying it to one of the most singularly important aspect of storytelling: Conflict. Imagine for a moment that conflict exists along a gradient bar like contrast does in the art world. It would stand to reason that you have war (black) on one side of the bar, and peace (white) on the other. Between your two absolutes, you have a nearly infinite range of conflict that can run the gamut between bar fights and political debates. Try this exercise on for size:

    You are about to write your next story. Think of the main conflict of the plot. Is it man vs nature? Man vs man? Create a greyscale meter, or copy and save the one below, and try to fill in all the gradients with varying levels of conflict from war to peace. Where does the central conflict of your plot land? Now create four or five plot points for your story, and place them on the gradient. Is there a fight at some point that becomes violent? What kind of resolution occurs after that? When you are done, draw those gradient colors in blocks along a plotline and ask yourself, does this paint an interesting picture?

Remember, contrast is a tool used by master artists to guide the eye of the viewer to points he wants them to see and remember. Conflict is what will keep your reader or listener in rapt suspense, waiting for that next point to be made, or situation to be resolved. Knowing how and when the conflict flows throughout your story will give you a picture of how and when your story is at its strongest and at its weakest. After all, just like the viewer taking in a painting, the reader will drift lazily over the segments with weak conflict, and if your story is oversaturated with low-contrast conflict, your reader will become bored. I’m sure this is nothing new for experienced writers in the world. In fact, I’m absolutely sure there has already been a distinction drawn between these theologies, because as I mentioned, art and storytelling are one and the same. But I have found that applying this knowledge, and drawing out the contrast between conflicts in my stories has proven absolutely invaluable for visualizing the development of the plot and predicting the engagement of the reader. I hope it will for you as well.