The Iran Nuclear Deal: An Object Lesson in Four-Corner Conflict
By David Corbett | October 13, 2015 |
Photo by Xavier Allard
Author’s Advisory: This post is for writers, and specifically concerns the staging of conflict in a work of fiction. It is not a political screed. Inappropriate, irrelevant, polemical, hostile, or needlessly argumentative comments will be deleted—promptly, decisively, merrily.
I’m going to use the agreement recently struck between Iran and the United States—with the assistance of the United Kingdom, France, Germany, Russia, and China (the so-called P5+1)—as an instructional tool in how to stage complex, meaningful conflict in your fiction.
Why? Because the multi-directional tensions among the players are fascinating, complex, and instructive.
Actually, the negotiations were so complex, with so many factors and players at odds, I can’t give the entirety of the situation its due in the brief space I have for this post. I’ll be simplifying a great deal. But in the general outlines I present I think you’ll be able to see the possibilities for more fracture lines, more dissent and retreat and retraction: i.e., more sources of conflict.
Also, since many of us—Vaughn Roycroft, stand up!—are writing in the epic fantasy genre, I think it’s interesting to see that it’s not just ancient or medieval history that can be informative when it comes to crafting a complex and dramatic story of clashing powers on a grand scale.
Four-Corner Conflict
In many of my classes, I discover that students may know who their protagonist and opponent are and what they’re fighting over, but the subtler elements that make the conflict meaningful—the deeper motivations, the ultimate stakes, the moral arguments each character uses to justify his actions—often feel a bit vague.
[pullquote]The subtler elements that make the conflict meaningful—the deeper motivations, the ultimate stakes, the moral arguments each character uses to justify his actions—often feel a bit vague.[/pullquote]
And all too often the conflict is limited to that simple face-off between protagonist and opponent—a missed opportunity to add moral and dramatic complexity.
The technique for creating these additional sources of contention is often referred to as four-corner conflict.
To better understand how this works, consider the following diagram:
The three Opponents may actually be potential or partial Allies (as we’ll soon see), but their values, objectives, and agendas clash in some way with those of the Protagonist—creating additional obstacles and tension.
Similarly, each of the three opponents faces competition or conflict not only from the Protagonist but each other.
Note: The sources of conflict needn’t be limited to four—any polygon will do—but it’s sometimes wise for the sake of simplicity and unity to find a way to confine the adversaries to a reasonably small number. As Steven James notes in his excellent Story Trumps Structure, tension is best created by making the core conflict worse, not by merely adding more complications.
[pullquote]Tension is best created by making the core conflict worse, not by merely adding more complications.[/pullquote]
Identifying the Core Conflict
And so our first task is to hone in on that crucial question: What is the core conflict here?
Each of you, if you were writing this story as part of a work of fiction, would probably frame the answer to this question a bit differently. For purposes of this discussion, I’m going to state it this way:
The US intends to stop Iran from developing nuclear weapons.
Iran intends to develop its nuclear capacity as it sees fit.
Identifying the Ancillary Points of Contention in the Core Conflict
We can immediately identify four potential adversaries in the negotiations:
- The US Administration, which is in favor of the deal.
- The US domestic opponents to the deal
- Iranian officials in favor of the deal
- Iranian officials opposed to the deal
But does this do justice to the real major players, the ones with the power to make the deal happen or not happen?
Although there were indeed Iranian hardliners opposed to any negotiation with the US—led by Ayatollah Khamenei—the Supreme Leader’s stance softened somewhat by 2013. The Ayatollah also issued a fatwah in 2003 against the development, stockpiling, or use of nuclear weapons (though he waffled on this as well). The point: Given his central role as guardian of the revolution, no negotiations could succeed without his blessing. Rather than an outright opponent of the deal, he instead served as a kind of final arbiter: without his approval, no deal was possible.
So even a pragmatic centrist such as President Hassan Rouhani—who won election on a platform of moderation, economic growth, and ending Iran’s international isolation—had only limited freedom in the terms he could accept or reject.
So if we remove Iranian internal opponents from our template, who can step in to replace them?
One candidate could be Israel, or at least the faction aligned with Prime Minister Benjamin Netanyahu, which considers Iran an existential threat and the nuclear deal a disaster.
But this position is so close to US domestic opposition to the deal—Republican leaders invited Netanyahu to denounce the deal in an address to Congress—it does not add any significant complexity to the matrix of contention. For dramatic purposes, though there is indeed some air between Netanyahu and the GOP, they are staunch allies, and thus represent only one vector of conflict.
(I know, I know. Matrix. Vector. Pseudo-mathematical hooey. Forgive me.)
Similarly, there are significant Israeli figures (and American Jews) who approve of the deal, and who were crucial in winning Democratic Congressional support, but these can be seen as allies of the deal’s supporters and thus merely provide “more of the same.”
So who then should man the fourth corner?
Each of you might well choose someone different than I am going to, but given the intriguing complexity of their role, I’d look to our “allies” in the negotiations. Specifically, I think Russia and/or China provide the most interesting opportunities for subtle, complex conflict.
[pullquote]Given the intriguing complexity of their role, I’d look to our “allies” [for] the most interesting opportunities for subtle, complex conflict.[/pullquote]
Why? It was clear this coalition could not stand if the deal fell through, and thus the severe international sanctions that served as the West’s hammer would not survive either. Within days of the agreement’s finalization both France and Germany announced that trade missions were planned with Iran. If the US backed out, it would be isolated in its imposition of sanctions, which would never be severe enough on their own to block Iran’s progress toward developing nuclear weapons. That progress would, in fact, likely accelerate.
So these allies created pressure in several ways, but none in the distinct ways that Russia and China did. These two powers stand as leading competitors of US hegemony in a multi-polar world. Their agendas in helping make the deal happen were multifaceted and not tied directly to US or Iranian interests. They saw distinct advantages of their own in joining the P5+1.
For the sake of simplicity, I’ll choose just one: Russia. (Though China also seeks to advance its interests in the Middle East, it has engaged in trade negotiations with both Israel and the Arab world, and thus it’s strategic objectives are a bit too complex for purposes of this blog post.)
Russia, on the other hand, revealed at least part of its hidden agenda only weeks after the Iran deal was finalized. Its decision to join the war on terror as a justification to prop up its long-time ally, the Assad regime in Syria, demonstrated that its cooperation in the Iran negotiations was likely at least partially motivated by a desire for a free pass — or at least passive acquiescence — as it escalated its role in the region.
So our four-corner conflict now becomes:
- The US Administration, which is in favor of the deal.
- The US domestic opponents to the deal
- Iranian officials (with the Ayatollah as potential deal-breaker)
- Russia, which has a variety of objectives
[pullquote]Drama requires people, not entities. [/pullquote]
Personification of the Conflict: Additional Complication & Humanizing the Stakes
Drama requires people, not entities. We need a figurehead to stand in for each of the conflict corners we’ve chosen: someone who can speak, act, argue, decide—and most importantly, fail.
Although the personal interests of any figurehead may compete with or even contradict those of his staff and advisors, this is true all around, so for the strategic staging of the four-cornered conflict it’s a relative non-factor. As you write your story, these internal fracture lines may and in fact should become critical, but that again is a bit more than we can discuss here.
The more important issue for our purposes is that the figurehead’s interests lend a personal element to the conflict, and thus provide an additional element of complication to the story: the human factor.
This added element intensifies the stakes. Obviously, the risk of nuclear conflict in the Middle East raises the stakes to the ultimate degree. We can imagine whole cities transformed through the weapon’s detonation as well as the subsequent firestorms and radiation into massive, nightmarish graveyards. But those consequences become even more understandable and visceral when we can imagine, even empathize, with the individuals responsible for making the decisions that led to those consequences—or their prevention.
[pullquote]This provides an additional element of complication to the story: the human factor.[/pullquote]
For the US administration, the obvious choice for figurehead is President Obama. Not only does he represent America’s interests, he has his historical legacy to consider (and only a short time before leaving office), and even a level of personal pride in the successful defusing of a nuclear crisis in the region.
More importantly, he represents a worldview, defined by a specific moral perspective, that guides the negotiations. That worldview favors diplomacy over military force. Specifically, it sees Iran as a nation whose population is weary of being impoverished and marginalized, and instead seeks prosperity and peace. It wants legitimacy as a major power, reflecting its history as the seat of the Persian Empire, rather than being seen as a pariah state. Allowing Iran to reintegrate into the larger world community is the best way to empower its middle class, limit its support of terrorism, and encourage moderation on the regional stage. Preventing it from developing nuclear arms for even ten years provides a window to bring Iran in from the cold.
And if he’s wrong? If he fails? He’s both empowered and encouraged a dangerous enemy that, maybe not now or for ten or fifteen years, but ultimately will gain nuclear capability and pose a constant threat to us and our major allies in the region—not just Israel, but Saudi Arabia. And by leaning on competitors like Russia and China to hammer out the deal, he’s opened the door for both nations to exert greater influence in the region.
The domestic opposition to the deal has lacked a single, standout voice, ironically because the Republican Party has exhibited its customary message discipline. Their rejection of the agreement, with little exception, has remained steadfastly unified and absolute.
So who to choose as a figurehead? The most obvious choice (in the realm of fiction) would be a presidential front-runner with a real chance of gaining the White House, who (like every viable candidate for the GOP ticket now in the race) vows to back out of the deal if elected.
But, again—and more importantly—this opposition isn’t merely motivated by individual ambition (or simply a desire to deprive President Obama of a political victory). It’s informed by a worldview that sees Iran exhibiting a clear, vocal, longstanding hatred for both the US and Israel, with repeated vows to destroy “the Great Satan.” Thinking such denunciations are merely hyperbole isn’t just reckless, it’s folly. Obama will be forever compared to Neville Chamberlain, returning from Munich waving a piece of paper that only emboldened the enemy.
Negotiation in this view stands no chance of success unless conducted from a clear position of strength. Power, and only power, matters in international affairs. This requires a willingness to take any and all military actions necessary to neutralize Iran’s nuclear infrastructure, and to continue those actions if it tries to rebuild. Iran’s history supporting terrorism and vowing to destroy both us and our most loyal ally in the region precludes trust. Either Iran completely backs away from the nuclear precipice or it will face the consequences.
And if he’s wrong? He risks alienating several crucial EU allies who see this deal as the best option available, and its rejection as fanciful, belligerent posturing. He risks making US policy look as though it’s at the whim of partisan politics, not a coherent vision of national interest. Worse, he risks another war in a region where our last two forays have dragged on without clear success, sapping us economically, militarily, and undermining our prestige throughout the world. He risks international condemnation and isolation, jeopardizing considerable influence in the region to eager competitors—e.g., Russia and China. And he risks reminding everyone that Rome’s imperial overreach made its decline and fall inevitable.
[pullquote]And if he’s wrong? If he fails? [/pullquote]
For the Iranian figurehead, one might be tempted to choose the Ayatollah, since he’s the ultimate power. But President Rouhani has the greatest personal stake. His vow to moderate Iran’s politics and lead it out of the economic and political wilderness will crash and burn if he can’t get the sanctions removed.
The risk? If hardliners continue to insist on secret pursuit of the nuclear program, and that is found out by international inspectors, he will have accomplished nothing, will be seen as powerless, and likely will be forced to resign in disgrace, while his country faces new crippling sanctions if not war.
The Russian figurehead? Who else?
Putin’s desire to return Russia to the first rank of world powers is inextricably tied to his own political popularity and thus his hold on power. By helping forge this deal, he stands to gain a great deal, both for himself and his country.
First, he seems to derive great personal satisfaction from embarrassing western leaders, President Obama especially. Second, Russia’s role in the negotiations allows it to emerge as a force for peace in the region, without having to take a side in the standoff between Islam and the West. Putin neutralizes Iran’s nuclear ambitions—and Russia doesn’t want another nuclear power on its southern flank—while at the same time furthering Tehran’s support of fellow Shiites in Syria. Last, it allows him to escalate Russia’s presence in the Middle East, including the introduction not just of weaponry but troops on the ground in Syria.
This in turn allows Putin to appear as a trustworthy, committed friend—even if that friendship belongs to the most widely vilified leader in the region, Bashar al-Assad—where US commitment after the Iraq and Afghanistan wars seems increasingly conditional and strained. Iraqi Shiites are already championing his involvement in Syria, admiring his strength, especially in the face of America’s inability to defeat ISIS. (This support may waver if these Shiites learn Putin is in fact attacking Assad’s enemies, not ISIS, a fact they seem not yet to have fully realized.)
The risk? His hold on power is not absolute, with the Russian economy severely compromised by low oil prices and the EU sanctions imposed after his Ukrainian adventures. The Americans and the EU have not bargained away sanctions, the Russian military is already stretched thin, and the Syrian involvement is by no means a slam dunk. It could easily backfire for a number of reasons. If forced to employ the naked brutality he needed to subdue the Chechan rebels, he could alienate the allies he’s trying to nurture in the Arab world, especially the Shiites in Iran, Iraq, and Syria itself. The conflict could drag him into a quagmire from which there’s no easy extrication—and could even prove as disastrous as the incursion into Afghanistan in the 1980s.
The move to prop up Assad has already alienated Turkey, with whom Russia had previously been negotiating on a number of fronts. Russian incursions over Turkish air space and its attacks against anti-Assad forces supported by Ankara have led Recep Erdogan, the Turkish head of state, to threaten to cancel Russian energy imports and a planned nuclear reactor Russia was to have built. If others in the Middle East react negatively to how cynically Putin has dealt with the Turks, rather than being seen as a viable force for peace or a committed ally, he may get exposed as a reckless opportunist who arrogantly misplayed his hand.
The key issue: each player has points of both agreement and contention with each of the others. Every move forward requires countering conflict not just from one direction but (at least) two others. And each of these conflicting positions is rooted not just in a pragmatic desire for advantage but guided by a distinct worldview, a moral vision of the right way to live and act in the world, and these moral visions are in many ways irreconcilable.
[pullquote]Each of these conflicting positions are guided by a moral vision of the right way to live and act in the world, and these moral codes are in many ways irreconcilable.[/pullquote]
Resolution
As we know, the deal has gone through and the President has gathered enough votes from Democratic senators to be able to veto any attempt by the Republican-led Congress to prevent its going forward.
But, since we’re discussing this in terms of fiction, where does that leave our “story”?
In the words of Rosa Brooks, Professor of International Law at Georgetown, “Deals that avoid conflict are always anticlimactic.”
What reader would be gratified to see the major adversaries, Iran and the US, come to a compromise rather than engage in a decisive battle where one or the other clearly emerges as victor? Who wants to watch a Super Bowl that ends in a tie?
There’s a term for stories where the two main characters put aside their discord and instead find a way to recognize their mutual limitations and ultimately compromise. The term is “love story.”
And I can see opponents of the Iran deal faulting it precisely for adhering to the wrong narrative logic. You don’t marry your enemy. You defeat him.
And yet what is peace if not a kind of shotgun wedding?
Another alternative: as our story progressed, perhaps the core conflict shifted to the one between the White House and its domestic opposition. In terms of staging, the central conflict pivoted, meaning the climactic moment of our story may be when the Senate votes to denounce the deal, only to come up short on the number needed to override the immediate presidential veto. (Dramatizations of the Cuban Missile Crisis often end on just such a note, not with a bang but a tenuous sigh of relief. Perhaps this event—not Munich—is the correct historical analogy. Time will tell.)
[pullquote]And yet what is peace if not a kind of shotgun wedding?[/pullquote]
I leave this as an exercise for your imagination. If you were writing this story, would you—could you—end it with the signing of the agreement, with each side walking away from the brink?
Would you use instead the defeat of Congressional rejection of the deal, with an uncertain peace lying ahead?
Or would you have to move the story forward, imagine the future—in all its redeeming or disastrous specificity?
If you were writing this story, how would you have it end?
How have you used four-conflict in your own work?
Reminder: Eruptions of opinionated bile are unwelcome.
Inappropriate, irrelevant, or argumentative comments will be deleted—pronto.
David Corbett (he/him) is the author of seven novels: The Devil’s Redhead, Done for a Dime (a New York Times Notable Book), Blood of Paradise (nominated for numerous awards, including the Edgar, Do They Know I’m Running?, The Mercy of the Night, The Long-Lost Love Letters of Doc Holliday, and The Truth Against the World. He has also published the story collection Thirteen Confessions and the novella The Devil Prayed and Darkness Fell.
David’s short fiction and poetry have appeared in a broad array of magazines and anthologies, with pieces twice selected for Best American Mystery Stories.
His non-fiction has appeared in numerous venues, including the New York Times, San Francisco Chronicle, Narrative, Zyzzyva, MovieMaker, The Writer, and Writer’s Digest.
He has taught both online and in classroom settings through the UCLA Extension’s Writers’ Program, Book Passage, LitReactor, 826 Valencia, The Grotto in San Francisco, and at numerous writing conferences across the US, Canada, and Mexico. In January 2013 Penguin published his textbook on the craft of characterization, The Art of Character (“A writer’s bible that will lead to your character’s soul.” —Elizabeth Brundage), and Writer’s Digest published his follow-up, The Compass of Character, in October 2019.
David-
Why not make it even more complex? What if the character at each corner of the conflict faces an internal conflict as well, wanting two different outcomes and needing to reconcile something inside?
Hey, Donald:
Yeah, I mentioned that in the post. That’s a certainty — but it’s also true at every corner, and for the sake of simplicity (and making sure an already lengthy post didn’t become an encyclopedia) I just noted that this should be explored if we were to move forward to writing this story.
Each leader will face opposition in his own camp: doves, hawks, pragmatists, etc. Even his friends may be willing to Just Say No (e.g., Chuck Schumer).
And even more interestingly, each of these internal opponents would therefore lend weight to the conflict from outside. But that could also prove a strength: by overcoming the internal “friendly” opponents, each leader would better prepare himself for the confrontations with external adversaries.
The opposition, defection, and betrayal of allies is always a great dramatic tool — both internally and externally — on all sides.
P.S. Having just re-read your comment, let me add:
If each leader is also internally torn — for example, Obama wanting to show the world the US can still be a great force for diplomacy and mutual prosperity, while also being torn by the darker realization (he is a big fan of Reinhold Niebuhr, after all) that he must project a more warlike aspect of power and strength to gain credibility with much of the world — that would provide additional complexity on several levels: moral, psychological, emotional, relational (i.e., his ultimate choice may jeopardize his ties to people he trusts, relies on, seeks to befriend, etc).
Similarly, the GOP front-runner may suffer doubts: what if this deal actually works? And if we do pull out of it, how much do we really stand to lose?
Rouhani has to wonder if he shouldn’t, like the Ayatollah, intrinsically mistrust the Americans. Is he being foolish by going ahead? Should he instead stand firm and move forward with nuclear capability, daring Israel and the US to strike?
And Putin may be torn between a natural boldness and a deeper. more conservative sense of caution and patience that wonders — is this the right time? Is this the right move? Am I too personally invested in this?
Yes, that’s how I interpreted “internal” on the first read of Maass’s comment (within the person, not within that person’s camp). He put it quite succinctly.
My apologies for misreading his remark, Anna.
Please: no apology needed for any reading of that many-layered essay. We could take any part of it and profit from applying it to our work, let alone the whole concept.
Brilliant way to describe tension. Great post. Thanks!
Thanks, Robin.
David, the distinction you mention about tension, ‘tension is best created by making the core conflict worse, not by merely adding more complications’ struck me as important. As a reader, political dramas tend to blur on me because there are so many complications and they move so fast in different directions. It’s usually the personal relationships that I grab onto and how/why the action affects the characters’ lives. So win or lose the deal, war, treaty etc. is secondary to me; I’m more interested in what the main characters’ personal risks are in winning or losing the deal by the end of the story. As a writer, I would be focusing on character denouement for the highest drama.
I haven’t read Story Trumps Structure by Steven James. Gotta get it now. Thanks!
Hi, Paula:
You touch on an interesting irony. The thing that often makes politics in the real world so odious — the impulse to “make it personal” through spiteful ad hominem attacks — is necessary to make it interesting as fiction. But that also means showing how ideology and morality become an integral part of their makeup. People don’t just act on emotion. They act on beliefs about what it means to do the right thing, in the right way, at the right time. And failure has deep personal consequences.
Also, the need to make tension arise from making the core problem worse rather than just piling on additional problems returns us to Cathy Yardley’s wonderful post on October 2nd: Complex vs. Over-Complicated.
I couldn’t recommend Story Trumps Structure more highly — and not just because Steven’s a delightful person, or the Introduction is written by a fellow named Donald Maass.
Thanks for chiming in. Very much enjoying a book I’m reading at the moment, by the way. Perhaps you know the author?
Great post–happy to read a subject you’re obviously knowledgable and passionate about. Nice justification of each side’s motives and moral grounding–essential for character study in any novel! Thanks for the prodding to do the same in my own work.
In answer to your question, I’d opt for a plot that showed superhuman effort on the part of the peacemakers to move forward to a vote–lobbying, compromising deals, persistent faith in the end justifying the means–and then a reveal of the hidden alliances and betrayals that turn things on their head…and then another reversal so stunning that the betrayers themselves are upended. With Iran coming out on top.
Part of the fun of writing fiction is the ability to remake history before it happens. And to entertain and educate at the same time. Thanks for such a thought-provoking post.
Hi, Edith:
I think you touch on something that might easily get overlooked: the need for surprise reversals and reveals even after the deal is supposedly in place. Putin’s incursion in Syria is one such surprise, but others might include Iran reneging given the intensity of GOP opposition — and the likelihood of a Republican presidential victory in 2016. But I also like the idea of a second reversal — with the peacemakers digging in, making an even more converted effort to forge a compromise and avoid another war in the region.
Thanks for the comment.
That should have been concerted effort, not converted. Ahem.
Thanks for calling me out. Rightly so! My story-world features an alternate version of the late imperial period, with a complex overarching set of conflicts: Goths versus Scythes, Scythes fleeing encroaching Huns, all playing against a backdrop of friction with a still-powerful but self-involved empire itself. Within my Gothic world I have a sort of Visigoth/Ostrogoth fracture occurring. But for this most recent manuscript I’ve identified my core conflict as being between the rivals for one of the two Gothic factions.
Thanks for the tip on personification of each of my corners of conflict. I hadn’t made those personifications solid enough in past drafts. Admittedly, a few of them were cardboard cutouts. As an aside, do you have any tips for personification of non-POV characters, when the story is told from the close third POV of their foes? I know the characters in the other corners are “the good guys” from their own perspective, but it’s not always easy to portray from the other side. Any insight would be appreciated.
That issue aside, my biggest problem this time around was with the resolution. Especially since this is a series that’s already been outlined. In the end, my MC doesn’t just have to win the ms’s culminating battle. He must accumulate a following, overcome his rival for power within his royal clan’s hierarchy (both of which he does in part by showing decisive prowess in battle with the Scythes), but in gaining this power he has to create a believable cause for completing the Gothic national rift. Which will ultimately set up his entanglement and defining conflict with an as yet unmet Roman Empire (already have good personification there, but have to get there first). A reasonable reader might see the end of this story as happy, which would be anticlimactic, or at least untenable for my planned move forward.
With the help of an insightful reader, I think I’ve found a viable solution. The funny thing is, it had been there all along. I had only to look to backstory. Isn’t that the way of conflicts, including your example? They have deep roots which are often overlooked. In this case I was trying to exacerbate a conflict, and avoid resolution. By digging back into the slights, scorn, and shame of past conflicts, it was all too easy to do just that.
Oh Good Sir, I was not calling you out in the least. I was inviting you in!
And am wonderfully pleased at your joining the discussion. I love your story world, and don’t mean to suggest at all that antiquity should be second-guessed. I just meant that today’s conflicts resonate with those in the past — meaning that epic fantasy isn’t as much fantasy as it’s often accused of being.
I think Don’s comment, about adding internal conflicts among the leaders, is a great way to avoid the cardboard cut-out problem. I’m personally prone to seeing those internal conflicts dramatized through interpersonal struggles, with other characters supporting one side of the MC’s dilemma or another. That way you get out of his head and into the world, and provide a way to reveal through conflict (rather than navel-gazing).
That said, as Paula noted, these kinds of stories often have a lot of character and a lot of action and sometimes it’s not a bad idea to stuff your MC in a room by himself and have him think things through. My caveat: follow Shakespeare’s example, and have these “monologues” resolve in a decision to act or a change of heart.
As for how to characterize a non-POV character, remember that this is a high-stakes poker game or chess match, and that each player is constantly trying to assess the other’s motives, strategies, subterfuges, etc. The POV character is constantly trying to evaluate the others in the room: What are they really thinking? How much can I trust what they say? What does their clothing and demeanor and manner of speech tell me about where their head and heart is at? (One great advantage to this — each description characterizes not just the other character but the POV character as well, showing us what he sees, how he reacts, what he values, etc.)
Since you and your insightful reader have apparently solved the ending problem, I’ll stand down on that one, except to say I can’t imagine a “happy ending” with a confrontation with Rome in the offing. Every garden has its serpent, and I think you can trust that your readers, seeing the power struggles your MC has already undergone — including the schism among the Goth — will realize that any seeming peace is fraught with peril.
Thanks a million for commenting. Looking forward to the series.
Hey David, just a quick note to let you know you really got the synapses firing today, both with the post, the excellent comments, and your thoughtful reply to my query. This post is so carefully crafted, and I greatly appreciate the dedication to helping others that’s involved. Thanks much for inviting me in! I’m honored, but I would’ve been here regardless.
I like you being honored. It suits you.
Thanks for the attaboy.
Wow, David! You’ve given me a lot to think about with this post. While I’m used to thinking about the protagonist’s inner and outer conflicts, I’d never before heard the term four-corner conflict. Your explanation coupled with the example help me see how to sort out a muddle of characters’ often contradictory goals into a coherent set of alliances and conflicts. I especially appreciate your analysis of the rewards and risks for each of the four people, something I too often forget to do for all but the protagonist. You are sending me back to my WIP with new eyes.
You’re very welcome.
Other examples of four-corner conflict include love stories where the lovers are in unhappy marriages, and their spouses provide the additional points of tension.
Or maybe one lover has a rival for the loved one’s affection, with the fourth corner of conflict provided by an outside opportunity or problem (a career move, a sick parent) that complicates the loved one’s ability to make a decision.
Another is the classic PI novel where the PI and the criminal form the main conflict, with the police and the morally tainted client (or a love interest, or a femme fatale) provide the other corners.
Once you learn to look for it, you’ll see it everywhere, and it will help guide your own writing.
Thanks for chiming in.
Using a personification of all the countries involved might be a great way to create characters. Then shuffling the deck, so to speak – giving the Brit character to say the Iranian position- even makes for more fun. Lots of possibilities here.
That’s a great idea — once you decide to fictionalize, don’t wed yourself to reality in your choice of players. And making as bold a move as you suggest would really force you to re-imagine the situation in new, exciting ways.
One if the best storytellers in modern times to use this kind of high stakes intrigue is GRRM. He’s the master at global external conflict vs inner conflict of his characters. And your post just made me realize why so many of his characters have to die.
This as with many of your posts is a keeper for me. Because although I don’t write from an epic scale this technique is invaluable when pared down for a smaller dynamic like a family based drama.
Funny, but human reactive and proactive inclinations seem pretty much the same no matter how humble or grand the scale.
Hi, Bernadette:
I totally agree re: GRRM. Tyrion, to name just one example, has to struggle against his native sybaritic cynicism simply to survive among his cannibalistic, power-hungry family. He has to excavate from the depths of his rejected self — the part that resembles his father — the wherewithal to rule, without abandoning the decency and kindness that make him the outsider.
One of the great ways GRRM did this, I thought, was by showing Jaime Lannister’s fondness and protectiveness toward Tyrion, giving The Imp a sense of self-worth he would come to rely upon in his confrontations with his father and Cersei (not to mention Little Finger, etc.)
And family dramas are an excellent setting for this kind of conflict: Isaac, Rebecca, Jacob, Esau. (As to reactions being pretty much the same regardless of scale, it’s instructive to remember that when Jacob and Esau struggled inside Rebecca’s womb, she asked the Lord what was ging on. He answered: “You have two nations inside you.”)
Thanks for commenting.
The Old Testament reference reminds me of a character in City of Pearl by Karen Traviss, required reading in an SF course I took a few years back. Her protagonist comes to the conclusion that her personal mental and physical make up is an entire universe of its own. Talk about ingrained conflict!
I’m intrigued. As I understand the four-corner schematic, each corner has its own unique POV, so any one of the four (or more) could be the hero depending on the POV from which the story is being told: changing heroes changes the story.
I just did a quick Google search to find some other “characters” and came across this about Canada: “The deal with Iran could ultimately be bad news for the Canadian oil industry.” (The Canadian Press, 4/14/15, by Solomon Israel). Using your global analogy, writing the Canadian oil industry as the hero would change the POV, and thus the story: who would be their opponents? what would be a happy ending for them? would it be the same as for Canada? Would it be the same as for Saudi Arabia (reliant on oil production) or would geographic proximity and existing historic alliance (OPEC) give them a different set of priorities?
As much fun as I’m having playing with this, I need to get it back to people. Using one of my WIPs: the hero is a nine-year old girl wants to save an empty 125 year-old Victorian house scheduled for demolition that has been looked after for over 50 years by an aging, and now dying, caretaker; opponents: (1) local housing authorities (house structurally unsound, dangerous); (2) time (if house not sold within 60 days, it will be torn down),(3) money (she’s nine, and she doesn’t know anyone with the money to restore it). Note: this is a MG story. Does this work as the four-corners, or should I just have people as the opponents?
As I noted, I’m now intrigued with trying to plug my stories into the four-corner scheme.
Hi, CK:
I think the nature of the conflict is fine, but yes, I’d put a face to each of the sources of conflict.
For the local housing authority, I’d make it a bureaucrat who has reasons both to tear the house down and listen to (reasonable) alternatives.
For the time element, I’d have a developer wanting to move quickly on razing the old property and putting up something new.
For the money, I’d put the head of a charitable organization eager to preserve historical buildings, but who has a number of hoops your MC has to jump through.
The main conflict is between your MC and the developer. The housing bureaucrat and the charitable organization head can mean well but may be susceptible to political pressure or the offer of a large contribution, respectively. They want to help but there are other considerations. Your MC will have to find a way to turn their interests toward her and away from the political pressure and the offer of a major contribution.
Off the top of my head, but you get the idea, I think.
I’m stunned! I can’t believe you took the time to provide such a detailed answer. Thank you so much. I think a charitable organization/historical society might add an interesting element, the developer not so much, as it won’t work with the way I’ve structured the story (rural location plus cost prohibitive renovations have meant no buyers, so no developers, elderly owners no longer live in the state, and caretaker is dying). But, I think I’ve already got a person for the time element: the dying caretaker. Anyway, I do think I get the idea: personify the time and money elements.
Again, many thanks. You’ve given me a brand new way to look at my stories, especially for potential conflict. (And, after reading Jan O’Hara’s comment, I see I’ve got 256 possibilities there.)
You’re a brave man to tackle this subject, David. Bravo. And thank you for using a real world example to make the principles concrete.
A few thoughts as I read this intricate and considered post: Basic algebra explains the appeal of a 4-cornered conflict, where 2 to the nth power equals the number of subsets available. Have a protagonist pinging off three sources of conflict, especially if they’re intertwined, and you have 16 types of interaction available. Add internal conflict within each of the 4 characters, and that’s 256 permutations. Plenty of room for creativity.
I’m glad you specified “love story” rather than “romance”, because in the latter, the shotgun wedding is often the inciting incident rather than the conclusion. Also, the resolution seldom requires a compromise, but rather the creation of a win-win synergistic solution. (Usually arises because each party in the couple wins their internal conflict and becomes a bigger person.) But a love story? Yup. There ironic endings are possible and often make for a story with a bigger feel.
Hey, Jam:
I must admit, this distinction between romance and love story puzzles me. I get that a romance, as understood in its genre sense, has definite formulaic restrictions. As such, it might be said to form a subset (uh-oh, another pseudo-math term) of the larger genre, love story.
I dunno, you tell me.
As I understand a love story, the inciting incident is the chance encounter (or re-encounter). Sparks fly in at least one direction, but a problem emerges. The problem may be internal or external but it’s what keeps the couple apart. The committed partner (the one for whom sparks flew most unmistakably) decides to pursue the other (End of Act One), until the two engage in a preliminary connection that fails to truly click because the problem, even if addressed, is not truly solved. This reassertion of the problem ultimately causes the breakup (End of Act Two), after which the two try to live apart — unsuccessfully, of course. One or the other (or both) looks within, solves whatever part of the problem is his and/or hers to address, and recommits to the relationship, leading to the final, climactic confrontation: Love Me or Love Me Not.
Now, that too may seem formulaic, depending on the subtlety or other interesting qualities inherent in the problem, as well as in the execution. But it does permit for a somewhat broader variety of stories. In particular, this kind of story needn’t resolve in absolute bliss or the two becoming “better people.” It can end with a sadder but wiser recognition on the part of one or both lovers of who they are, or a recognition that each has to give something up to make the marriage work — or, in my example, what it will take to live in peace.
Does that clarify anything, or did I just turn a puzzle into an outright confusion?
Hi, David. No, you didn’t confuse me. If anything, I should apologize for taking us down the rabbit hole in a discussion of romance versus love story. You wanted a political discussion, after all.
Yes, as I understand it, you’ve accurately described the essence of a love story, though it’s not necessary for the couple to be together in the end, but merely for their love to remain an eternal positive force. Hence you can have books like Bridges of Madison County, The English Patient, or The Notebook, with ironic endings.
Have I now confused you? ;)
This is an excellent resource. I suppose one of the reasons I decided not to dwell in writing YA or romance fiction is because I wanted to dig into deeper issues. Sometimes deeper issues are extremely simple. But I’ve had the idea for a dynamic, broad conflict that embraces several tribes, tne U.S. government, and a tribal woman who lost one husband to Chivington’s Colorado volunteers, and after marrying again, no less, her second husband to the early mroning raiders of G.A. Custer. (May those two men and their underlings burn in hell.) Thanks for your thought and work to get this to us.
Love the idea for your story, Jim. And yes, the inter-tribal rivalries were a major complicating factor in the Native American attempt to ward of white expansion. (Brian Moore does a great job of bringing that out in BLACK ROBE.)
I assume you’re acquainted also with Thomas Berger’s LITTLE BIG MAN? Wonderful, darkly comic novel about this same time and place. (I also really enjoyed Evan Connell’s account of the Little Bighorn, SON OF MORNING STAR.) Good luck.
The four-point opposition is familiar to me, as it is used in sitcoms.
The scenario you describe is nothing like a love story, to me, and certainly nothing like a romance–though one could easily write a love story or romance with the current situation as context.
For me, this is a horror story. I started to say plain and simple, but that would be wrong. Still, horror story it is. Like an earlier commenter, I see reversals and reveals AFTER the deal is set and everyone thinks the monster is dead. The monster is never dead, can’t die, doesn’t want to die.
This deal, like all successful horror movies, will have a long run of sequels.
Sadly, Lyn, I think you’re right. The deal is really just a first step in a long process of re-engagement, and that could go a million different ways, especially given both Russia’s and Iran’s cooperating with Hezbollah in Syria.
As Bette Davis says in All About Eve: “Fasten your seat belts, everybody. It looks like we’re in for a bumpy ride.”
David,
This is a great post! I read it yesterday before getting buried by work, but I wanted to make a point of chiming in to thank you for mentioning John Truby’s Anatomy of Story several months ago. I’ve studied that book meticulously and found it really resonated with my writing method. That diagram of four-corner opposition looks familiar! I created a template in one of my files to help map out four-corner opposition both between characters, and between groups/societies. As an epic fantasy writer, this has been so useful for me to create more tension in the world fabric itself. (Fortunately, without sparking any political debates.) I’m on the lookout for another craft book — Steven James’ book sounds like it might be the perfect fit. “Story Trumps Structure” sounds like the lesson I’ve been picking up in my own approach to the craft. Hmm…I just bought it and put it in my Kobo. And the rabbit hole goes deeper.
Yes, Joh, you deftly detected my source. John Truby is the teacher who taught me about four-corner conflict, and I’ve thought about it more extensively ever since, searched out examples, employed it in my own work, etc. I think you’ll like Steven’s book as well. Perhaps not as technical as Truby’s, but incredibly intuitive and helpful.