Conflict

Why is it so much of what we read is tragic?

Why don’t we read more uplifting work?

Can tragedy also be uplifting?

Here’s the thing, for the most part (and there are exceptions) most people don’t like to read about daisies and butterflies. Alluding to the Seinfeld joke, we don’t like to read stories about nothing. Where nothing happens—nothing bad happens. Humans love conflict. Love the Human Spirit overcoming obstacles.

In short, we love conflict.

And the stories we write have to have some element of conflict in there. I mean, really, would you love to read about a girl who gets up, brushes her teeth, does her hair and makeup…goes to work, has a great day…comes home, eats dinner, watches some TV, then goes to sleep?

No. I really doubt you would. Where’s the fun in any of that?

What you really want to see is some action, tragedy, conflict!

You want to see her having trouble sleeping for a reason to be discovered later in the novel, walking around in the dark and surprising an intruder. You want to see this girl not being a pushover, and kicking ass as all her pent-up rage about her cancer-ridden mom dying in the hospital takes over her adrenaline-pumped-slight-but-spunky frame. You want to see her get through all the police legal tape, getting into work late and not talking about it, only to have a coworker discover her early morning activity on the news and broadcasting it to the office. You want to see her office stalker go wide-eyed and suddenly back off…also noticing the subtle defensive wounds and bruising her on her arms…and the knowing steely look our heroine is now giving him as he notices her eying him….

Yeah, that’s what you wanna read. Admit it.

So, that’s why novel writers have to write about tragedy and conflict and things that aren’t so nice and easygoing. Cause writing about good days just doesn’t cut it. Sure, good days are great for real life…but there’s an inner need for striving and overcoming obstacles in our DNA. Our souls. Reliving parts of our past, when we felt more alive and were not such an office drone. Or maybe it’s the excitement of such stories that hearkens back to other [reincarnational…yes, I went there…] lives where we had such conflicts. Maybe tragedies are hardwired into our genetics and we just can’t be helped but be stirred by them.

Or maybe they just make for more fun, exciting reads by the nature of the beast.