"Conflict."
Companion Piece: The Dover Test
A MONTH LATER:
"Conflict," Danny spoke as he underlined the word he has written on the board. "Conflict. What is it? Conflict. Without conflict there is no story. Well, story with no real interest really…." He looked over the small lecture hall of students who looked at him for some sort of guidance. He was eager to share, but unsure if he was equipped to offer anything of note. "Fiction writing, nonfiction writing. In life---for sure. In journalism, yes. You are writing to inform, yes, but what about? Conflict is 'a state of opposition between persons or ideas of interest.' In fiction, it is the glue that holds the story together. And it is the thread that links the beginning, middle and end. And does this affect you? Well….Without it there is no dramatic current. No reason. Why am I reading this story—what is my interest –my investment? We have to look at the work from the writer's point of view and the audience." Danny started to pace a little as he spoke.
"We love to read about the struggle—how someone got somewhere—what led them to—what forces they are working against." He used his hands to gesture wildly with the ideas. "Without struggle there is no story and without struggle in your story there is nothing—it's just a series of events—journal writing. A, B, and C happened, but what is compelling about it? And that is the fight." Danny began to circle the desk in front of him still holding his chalk. "Conflict is a clash of opposite impulses, a collision. And that, my friend is what we're looking for. We're looking for the conflict. 'Cause in the conflict you will find your story—but maybe I'm getting a little ahead of myself." Danny smiled and laughed. He was about to speak again when the door of the lecture hall swung open and a young girl walked in, hurried to her core.
"Oh, I'm sorry." The girl looked down at her paper. "Is this Journalism through Dramatic Fiction?"
"Yeah." Danny waved his hand for her to enter. "Come in –take a seat."
"Journalism through dramatic fiction. Yeah, that's the name of this class—well master class, as they're calling it, since it's just five classes—but I'm not sayin' I'm a master of anything. I just have ideas and if you wanna take them you can. I just recommend you try—I mean you wouldn't be here if you weren't the slightest bit interested—so go with it—learn it….. and if it doesn't work for you, discard it later. But you need to be open to new ideas." He smiled. "Okay. So this class?" Danny hit his desk next to him with his knuckles. "Why did I pick this subject? Well, they came to me and said I could teach on any subject I wanted." The group of kids laughed. "So that was nice—but really—I wasn't so sure I wanted to do this and then it hit me—what's missing from journalism theses days—the art. We are not broadcasters—we're writers—we're writers with the job to inform the public— what else?" He looked around to the crowd of students and pointed to a young girl raising her hand.
"Well, we're here to keep people—politicians for one—in check—and in turn to keep ignorance at bay."
"Okay, I like the ignorance part—good—someone else."
"Without a free press we are a nation who are not truly free." A tall boy yelled out.
"Yes—!" Danny was getting excited. "You." He pointed to a curly-haired brunette with glasses.
"To keep the level of debate high in this country…to keep the debate going, as well as to inform."
"Yes—we are here to inform and engage—debate and conflict—so people can make up their own minds—now the truth—it's not just a listing of the day's events and yet it is—therein lies another conflict. But, let's do one at a time." Danny walked around the desk and leaned against the front. "So….. we need to strip off all the layers—peel the onion and find the core of the apple—and that goes back to Dramatic Structure 101." Danny looked over at Maisy in the corner of the room at a small little desk. She took his nod as a cue to stand and walk toward the small group of students with a stack of papers.
"My assistant Maisy will be handing out some papers. Say hello to Maisy." No one spoke. "Say hello to Maisy," he stressed. The class spoke hello to Maisy in near-unison. Danny smiled at the control he had, he didn't feel like an adult, but it sure seemed to be working. Danny noticed a few of the male students checking out Maisy, in her short skirt, as she passed. All he could do was laugh. "One page is a syllabus. You don't have to read these books—but I highly recommend it—especially if you wanna pass." A few people laughed. "You didn't want work—you shouldn't have taken this class—this is an advanced class—mostly because I have assignments and places to be other than here with you people." He smiled and they laughed. "But truthfully I wish I could, but I can't be here all the time---So we have to make every moment count. Much like life." Danny stopped for a moment. He hadn't been letting every moment count for a while. He shook it off.
"But that's why they only let so few of you into this class.—we have a lot to cover in a short amount of time." Danny set the chalk behind him. "The second piece of paper--- I don't want you to look at it yet. Keep it face down." Danny took the chalk, back realizing he was going to need it again. "Let's start with some easy stuff---things you already know—things you've leaned." Danny faced the group in front of the black board. "Name me conflicts you would come across as a journalist. Things you'd write about—things that just come with the job?"
"Conflict of ideas," someone yelled out.
"Be more specific."
"The conflict of two parties over a bill—over ideas? The yes side of the room vs the no side of the room. Pro and Con."
"Okay—yes." Danny wrote conflict of ideas on the board. "Someone else?"
"A conflict within someone." Danny heard from behind.
"Yes, an internal conflict, yes." Danny wrote "internal conflict" on the board.
"Conflict/violence within a country or between countries." Another voice was heard.
"Yes, good." Danny added "Conflict/War" to the list. "We also want to add to that the abuse of human rights." Danny scribbled on the board.
"Conflict of interest," spoke one of the students. Danny stopped, as he was about to finish his last word.
"Yes." Danny took a breath. "Conflict of interest." Danny gave a look of recognition, but didn't face the crowd. Danny wrote "Conflict of interest" on the board.
"Conflict within society—conflict of social norms" was yelled out.
"Good—good." Danny faced the crowd. "You all get it, which I figured you would—I just wanted you to know how conflict, in this work--- in so many ways—is your main word—it's the core of most of what you're going to do—it's the ultimate parallel between your work and your life—for your life is your work. And so much so in fiction." Danny looked over the crowd. "Today let's just look at it from a story point of view—dramatic fiction and here is that word conflict again." Danny sat on the edge of the desk with one leg dangling off and the other firmly on the ground. "Think of your favorite movie, the novel you just couldn't put down. At it's core was conflict. It had to be. You put two people in a room and if they both get what they want there's no story." Danny walked closer to the group and noticed a Lord of the Rings book on top of a boy's desk. "What would happen at the start of the Lord of the Rings—if he just handed Froto the ring and said, "Hey, here ya go," The group laughed. Danny pointed to a girl in the second row—she looked embarassed to be called on. "What's your favorite genre of fiction?"
"Ahh….I like romances—romantic comedy."
"Another great example. What happens if at the start of a romantic comedy the girl and guy get together—not only is there no journey—there it is again--- no story. The conflict that keeps the couple together—that struggle is what makes the story. You may not realize, but if it was gone you wouldn't have the same enjoyment as much as you think you would. Any good romantic comedy has a conflict—in fact it has to---there's always a conflict. " Danny looked over the crowd and was amazed he was getting their attention. "You also have to look at the struggle and conflict from both points of view---and there of course comes your objectivity. But that's another class."
Danny walked up the row as he talked. "Thomas Paine once said, 'the harder the conflict is, the more glorious the triumph.' This is also true within yourself—in life—life is what we're taking about and life is just as dramatic as fiction. I'm not saying you need to go out there and create conflict—That's just sensationalism—and that's bad journalism. I'm saying—what I'm sayin' is-…. you have to look deeper." Danny was now almost at the back of the hall. "Why do you think all these tv shows now are ripping things from the headlines—because life brings you stuff that's just as or more interesting than anything you see on TV or read in a book. It's a little lazy if you ask me—but we're getting' off the subject." He smirked. "So, we have the best of both words in a sense." Danny got to the back of the room and turned back around, making his way past the desks again, only in a new aisle. "Okay turn over your other piece of paper." Danny smiled as he stepped off the last step and onto the floor; the sound of papers could be heard rustling.
"These are google definitions?" A red headed kid from the third row yelled out.
"Yeah, they are." Danny made his way around the small podium and leaned his arms on the front.
"Rule number one—" the boy said in a berating manner. "Never do your research on the Internet—unless as a start to find other sources--you don't know what these---"
"Yes, that's a number one no-no—you should never do research on the internet—it is unreliable---almost untraceable—right now---good—but this is not research, this is an experiment. And it can be a resource—you have to know how to use it." He stood up. "I took the word 'conflict.' A very basic word—a word we all know……… and I tried something. These are all different definitions, yet they all mean the same. They are all from different people….different sources of ideas on the same subject. See, the English language is amazing-- one word can have so many different meanings—so many different perspectivess—bear with me." He pointed to someone in the fifth row, a blond girl with short hair. "Read number one."
"Okay," she said shyly. "An open clash between two opposing groups--or individuals; opposition between two simultaneous but incompatible feelings: he was immobilized by conflict and indecision." She looked up.
"Someone else." Danny yelled out and someone else chimed in.
"The part of the plot that establishes an opposition that becomes a point of interest. Can be an opposition between characters, between a character and environment, between elements in a character's personality, etc. Plot without conflict is nothing more than a "journal" of events."
And then several more voices, male and female, came out of the crowd. "A state of opposition between persons or ideas or interests: his conflict of interest made him ineligible for the post; a conflict of loyalties."
"Opposition in a work of drama or fiction between characters or forces---especially an opposition that motivates the development of the plot."
"Disagreement or argument about something important; he had a conflict with his wife; there were irreconcilable differences; the familiar conflict between Republicans and Democrats; to be in conflict: the two proposals conflict."
"Now that's the kind of conflict I know about—" Danny laughed. "Next"
"A conflict occurs when two or more bills amend or repeal the same ORS section, although there may be no substantive conflict in the proposed legislation. The Oregon Constitution allows the compilation of more than one amendment unless the amendments conflict in purpose."
"Many scenes are about a conflict of some sort. If there's no conflict, the scene may still be truthful but somewhat dull."
"Okay--" Danny stopped them for a moment with his hands. "Ever notice how on TV a couple is about to get together and then something happens---someone changes it—it's because once the conflict is gone—it's not fun anymore. Just like when you chase after a story—once you're done then what do you do? An end has to be an end and you have to look forward to it. Or else you just don't get a good ending." Danny pointed to a woman in the front row off to the left."
"An uncomfortable internal feeling associated with not getting the things one wants or feeling undecided about what to do in a situation. Conflict is another term for a dispute."
"But wait." The brunette boy spoke up from the fourth row. "But, this is still just a google search—it's not an approved definition—a real definition---what does the dictionary say?"
"Here." Danny took a dictionary from his desk. "You tell us." Danny threw the dictionary with a direct toss to the boy who caught the force of it almost with a crack. The boy started flipping the pages, looking, and Danny went on talking.
"These are just ideas to get your brain going----see how point of view affects that one word—that conflict can be so much more. Words mean so much more than the way you think you use them. And this can open up your work in so many ways."
"Well." A blond male student from the front row spoke. "Conflict comes from the Latin---to strike together."
"We got ourselves another Bartlet, here." Danny joked and the room laughed. "No—No---that was good—to strike together---and what happens when you strike two opposing things together—you get sparks. You need to write about the sparks. And also what sparks you—it's what's interesting."
"Here it is—" The boy with the dictionary found the word. "Confict –noun—one---war. Two--a clash between hostile or opposing elements, ideas or forces. Verb—to show opposition or irreconcilability—a clash."
"You'll notice how the word 'peace-keeping mission' is nowhere in that definition." The room laughed. "But, really---is that definition any different from the ones we got from the sheet, from Google?"
"No," a light haired brunette from the front spoke up. "Not only is it not any different---it's not interesting—it's not creative—."
"Yes, bingo—it takes a human touch—it's not taken through someone's individual brain and that's what you need to do." Danny looked at the clock.
"Okay we still have more to cover. I want you to do a free write for me, taking of from this idea of conflict. A story—be creative---a story or fiction—but first--" Danny took long strides to the board. "I want you to take this into consideration." He spoke as he wrote the word Crisis on the board. "Someone tell me what crisis means?"
"Isn't it sort of the same as a conflict?" A boy from the back spoke up.
"No, no, it's not—but I see where you going." He wrote on the board as he spoke. "The crisis is the point of points in the story when the conflict reaches it's peak." He looked at the crowd and Danny felt like the wind was taken out of him for a moment. He quickly found his footing. "See, it can't go on forever." He paused. "The response to the crisis leads to a climax—the end—closure." He paused. "And we all need closure." The group laughed, but Danny wasn't being funny.
"What happens after the closure?" The boy who spoke Latin yelled out and everyone laughed.
"I'm sorry." Danny looked toward the door.
"No, seriously—I've heard in creative writing classes before that crisis is the top of the pyramid---- but it's not the end result."
"He's right?" Someone else yelled out. "I just can't remember what it's called?" she looked away thinking.
"The denouement." Danny spoke up. He seemed to take a moment to look over the group. "It's the final clarification and resolution of the plot in which all the loose ends are tied up." He took a breath. "But, we're not quite there yet. We will be." He walked around to his desk chair. ".Start writing." Danny eased himself into his chair and took a breath. He looked out the window. The next thing he knew time had gotten ahead of him. Danny looked at his watch and stood.
"Okay—I think we're about done here. For next time I want you all to write me a story—and I mean a work of fiction—this time, something planned. Write me an interesting story where there's conflict. Take any of the conflicts we discussed, ideas, conflicts of interest, country—outside—inside---internal—write a good story—I want at least fifteen pages. And I want you all to take a look at a good biography—biography is also a creative element you're going to encounter as a journalist— I'm not saying you should read mine---but it is available in paperback in the school store." He smirked. "And Abigail Bartlet is your first lady...that's all I'm sayin'." People started to pack up. "Also, a little heads up—I'm gonna want you all to write a little sample bio—of yourselves." The group moaned and Danny talked over them. "And another party—so start looking for someone to interview---someone who has a good conflict. Thank you." He heard the class thank him back and he turned back to his desk while people filed out. "Oh, and remember next weeks' class is going to be an internet class so you don't have to be here—you can, but I won't---we come back for in the classroom the next week—and I'm sorry I haven't learned all your names yet—but I look forward to getting to know you through your work. Thanks." He waved and turned back to his desk as people walked to the front and handed Danny their papers.
"Hey, I'm out." Maisy said approaching.
"Okay, thanks."
"I forwarded a copy of the syllabus to your email and this is a copy of the professor/student handbook." Maisy handed him a booklet, which Danny put in his bag. "And I got a rental car when you get there from the regular place—" Maisy handed Danny another packet. "The Senator's people sent this over." Danny looked at the stack of papers Maisy had handed him.
"What is this?"
"It's from his Press Secretary."
"You're kidding." He remarked on its girth
"Not much of a page turner, but the last twenty pages—I was on the edge of my seat." She said dryly.
"Yeah, I'll be sure to read it under low lighting." Danny set the packet in his bag.
"And Capital Beat called again-they need an answer?"
"Who---who's the other guest?"
"Ahh-" Maisy looked down at her notes. "Some suit named Gibson."
"You, know they all have titles in front of those names, although somewhat arbitrary semi-earned…."
"Yeah, well I choice to be arbitrary in my name calling."
"What's the topic?"
"What's always the topic?" She gave him a look.
"Yeah…well, I don't feel like talkin' about war, right now…" Danny trailed off for a moment.
"You're the one going--" she scolded.
"It's my job." He said, already sick of having the same conversation over and over.
"I'm closing my mouth--I know….I know. What should I tell 'um?
"I don't think I'll make it back in time--next time."
"Okay--I'm off." Maisy started to wedge her notes into her bag.
Danny picked up the remote control off the desk and pushed power toward the TV hanging from the ceiling. As soon as the screen went from black to picture, staring Danny in the face was B-roll of CJ and the President clinking glasses, for the announcement of the Presidential Library, under words about Gaza. They had been showing the same clips all day and all night.
Maisy came up behind Danny and squinted at the television.
"What's she wearing?"
"It's a public event. She can't always wear Vera Wang." He put his hands in his pocket. They both kept on staring.
"She looks…"
"Like a Chief of Staff."
"Ahh…I'm off." And Maisy was off. She walked out noticing a few cute boys checking her out. Danny wasn't sure to laugh again or get all fatherly. Maisy noticed it too and gave him a look, mouthing. "Oh, my god they are so cute." Danny laughed at her as a young man chatted Maisy up while they left the room.
The students all said their own goodbyes and nice to meet ya's, handed in their papers, and the room was finally empty. Danny walked over to the desk chair and sat down.
Danny turned off the television and threw the remote onto the desk. He meandered around for a moment before sitting down in the desk chair in a huff. He swiveled the chair toward the window and watched the rain come down.
"Danny?" Danny heard his name and sprang up out of whatever state he was in. Danny looked toward the door to find his friend Greg standing in the doorway, holding a trench coat over one arm, and leaning into the room.
"Greg, hey." Danny stood and walked toward him.
"Good class?" He asked, walking in.
"Huh?" Danny asked.
"You looked deep in thought, there." Greg motioned toward the desk where Danny had been sitting.
"Oh, yeah." Danny turned toward the spot and back at Greg. "Nothing….how ya doing?" The two shook firm grips.
"Good, good. I wanted to say hello. And thank you for doing this---Looks really good for my tenure, I get Danny Concannon to teach a class."
"Glad I could help," Danny said with a straight face as he made his way to his belongings on the other side of the desk.
"I was kidding, Danny." He smiled.
"Yeah, I know."
"So, I heard you might be embedded for a few weeks?"
"Yeah, I go to Gaza at the end of the month." There was another silence while Danny seemed to be off somewhere.
"Yeah, well, I was sayin' you'd really be perfect for something like this—I wish it was a full class."
"Well, looking forward to learning some new things." Danny looked off, lost for a moment.
"Only you would see a teaching job as a reason for you to learn." Greg joked.
"Yeah." Danny still didn't seem quite there.
"I was thinkin' I could take you out for coffee."
"Can't." Danny circled away from Greg and over to his bag on the other side of the desk. "I have a flight to catch." He started packing up his things and placed them in his bag.
"Next time."
"No, I'm pretty much back and forth after each class—just barely….." Danny trailed off.
"Danny….Danny, you all right?" His friend asked. Danny looked down and took a breath. He looked up from his things and there was a silence before he spoke. Greg seemed to know Danny had something important to say.
"You ever bury a story, Greg?"
"No." He said with a question. "Danny---What?…" Greg moved closer.
"I'm not sayin for good—you just waited—waited because you were asked.?"
"Danny, I never knew you to bury anything."
"Me either—I did it. I don't even think I knew I did it for her—I just…." He paused and spoke to himself. "I've been runnin' ever since." He remembered the words to a Sam Cooke song that seemed to ring true.
"Danny?"
"Yeah…" He looked up.
"What are you sayin? I'm not sure what you're talkin' about, here?"
"What am I sayin'?" He picked his bag up over his shoulder. "I think I may just be back sooner than I thought." He paused "Why don't we take a rain check on that coffee."
"Yeah." His friend looked bewildered. "I'll walk you out."
"Give me a moment."
"Yeah, sure." Greg walked out of the room, leaving Danny alone with his own conflict. He took a breath and left the room.
CJ watched Toby walk away. She sat on the bench and thought to herself. Toby was right, she just couldn't let that part of herself go. She took a breath and let her head lean back to rest on the back of the bench. She started to think, and laugh, to herself, that this would be the time when Danny would probably call, catching her off guard. In the last year he seemed to have a knack for that. So off in her own world, so in need of a distraction, of someone to talk to, and there he'd be calling her. Of course lately she hadn't heard from Danny. She told him over and over again to leave her alone, and now it seemed he finally had. She started to think how long it had been since she had last heard from him. The time since she'd been made Chief of Staff was such a blur she didn't even remember what month it was. She lifted her head and looked out into the darkness. It was strange not hearing from Danny when he had been calling for so long. She had this urging to call him, but also the urging not to. She knew conflict so well. She knew all the reasons she should call him and the one reason she shouldn't. CJ took out her phone and looked at it for a moment. It wasn't that she was feeling vulnerable, or needed a man to talk to, she just, for some reason she couldn't articulate yet, she missed him. Still, her own conflict surged inside of her and she placed the phone back in her pocket.