My affection for road trips may have started with my many times on the lam as a kid. I ran the neighborhood crime syndicate for the under-ten crowd; they played what I wanted to play. On rainy days, it was often cops and robbers (naturally, we were always the robbers) in my mom’s garage-parked, ancient station wagon. I was the getaway driver while my accomplices shot their fingers at our pursuers from the back window.
I instigated other games, too. Our pirate ship (a.k.a. the living room couch) sailed through shark-infested waters. The hardy pioneers who made up our wagon train scrabbled for provisions as we crossed the vast backyard prairie. Our spy network tracked the movements of a dangerous gang of evil siblings. Our games were full of imagined crises and drama.
Kids understand conflict; it’s built into sibling rivalry, into games, into organized sports and tic-tac-toe. But as common as combat is in their lives, kids all too often forget to include it in their stories. And a story really isn’t a story without conflicting elements.
The good news is, once students understand the necessity of conflict, helping them pull it into their stories is fairly straightforward. Invest some time in a brainstorming break. Give students examples of common types of conflict: character vs. character, character vs. society, characters conflicted within themselves. Then ask students to create lists of possible conflicts that their own characters might face. Emphasize that there are no “stupid” ideas at this stage: even the craziest possibilities can lead to fantastic story developments. Remind students that the longer their brainstorming list, the more they’ll have to draw upon when they sit down to write.
Encourage students to drive their imaginations like speeding getaway cars. Before you know it, their stories will be packed with the suspense and tension that conflicts provides.