I've written before -- maybe once? -- in a small dose about creating narrative tension, or drama, without using character conflict. When I teach entry-level storytelling stuff, I explain that narrative is propelled through conflict, and conflict is created when a character has a desire they are somehow impeded from realizing (whether by another character, a separate external force, or the character itself). A character who is thirsty and gets a glass of water is not a story, really. A character who is thirsty but can't have water because they are in a desert introduces conflict. How the character responds to that conflict informs our understanding of them and pushes the story forward. Does this character begin searching for oases? Do they start to dig, hoping to hit something that way? Do they try to find a way to contact other people? Do they find a cactus? Do they give up and let themselves die? Each of those responses creates a different narrative arc, inhabited by a different character, and each keeps our eyes on the page.

But that's just plot. If we're hitting advanced storytelling stuff, you have to ask, "why do we care about the plot so much?" And from what I've learned and observed, it's because we're invested in experiencing and resolving (or failing to resolve) tension. We don't enjoy the conflict itself, I don't think. I don't know about you, but I find conflict unpleasant. What enjoy about narrative conflict is the inherent tension of that space between a character wanting something and having it, and discovering how that tension is or fails to be resolved.

And when you get to really advanced storytelling stuff, you start looking for ways to create tension, to play with the friction that accumulates in the liminal spaces between two forces that rub against each other (desire, impediment), not just in your characters, but also in your readers, and not just through conflict, but by any means necessary. I really started thinking about this after stumbling across this tumblr post.

So, I started reading Colson Whitehead's "The Noble Hustle" over the Labor Day weekend. I had to stop periodically just to unwind myself from it a little bit, but I never wanted to stop. The book is a true or mostly true account of Whitehead's experience playing in the World Series of Poker for a writing assignment. There's not much in the way of plot and little in the way of conflict, but I've been riveted, anxious, and gleeful throughout.

I finally realized why: Whitehead is doing really advanced storytelling stuff. I'll say more beneath the cut.