C

Conflict


       Victoria just called to say that she'd heard this on the Moth podcast:  All you really need to write a story is a person, a place, and a problem.

        That is much more alliterative than the usual formation: a character, a setting, and a conflict.

        Conflicts (aka problems) drive all literature.  But we have to care about the character to care about his or her conflicts, don't we?

         One night, I started a Netflix show called The Girl I Loved.  It's a Turkish series that I thought had eight episodes.  It was sort of like a Turkish soap opera really, but better than the usual soap opera in that the photography is interesting and the conflict so, well, Turkish.

          At the end of episode 8, I could tell the episode was winding down without resolving the conflict, so I took another look at the episode list and saw that there are 79 episodes!  Over and over the conflict could have been avoided: if the pregnant girl's sister hadn't hidden the note from the boyfriend; if she hadn't missed his plane by five seconds at the airport; if she'd been able to tell him about her pregnancy before his wealthy parents (who did know) scuttled him off to America on a  trumped-up story; if the girl's parents could just get over themselves and not care so much what everyone thinks.

          I care about the girl who gets pregnant and whose boyfriend leaves for America.  I care about her family who is devastated by her pregnancy even more than American parents would have been 50 years ago.  But the question is: do I care enough to watch scores of episodes?  Are the parents ever going to stop crying and whining and wringing their hands with shame?

         As my friend Lea (in her 80s) says, "I don't have that many shopping days left."

         I think I'll have to just imagine the outcome of this endless conflict.  I don't believe I have quite enough shopping days left for 69 more episodes!