Cliched Situations

  Today's blog-hop topic is Finding compelling conflict and avoiding clichés. 

As usual, this is an interesting challenge, both in reality and in describing... if you see what I mean. It offers lots of possible approaches. I've chosen to focus on clichéd situations and their role in compelling conflict rather than on verbal clichés... 

So, to clichéd situations. 

Many genres and sub-genres rely on genre-specific tropes, or givens. I don't regard these as clichés in the parameters of this piece, and indeed they can be used in varied ways to avoid that clichéd feeling. What I find of more interest is situations that are commonly used to create conflict or action, but which contravene the would-he-really test.

Let's look at a few of these.

1. Character One (let's call her Jane) overhears a conversation, whether in reality or via phone, or even by reading part of a letter/email. Jane immediately decides Character Two, a friend, mentor, lover or otherwise previously trusted person (let's call him Sam), is being duplicitous, or just plain evil. Jane doesn't confront Sam, or even ask casually what he meant, but dashes off on a tangent, probably falling right into the lap of Character Three, Didi, who is up to no good and who will feed Jane's fears for her own reasons. How does this happen? Jane jumps to a conclusion. We all do that. However, Jane doesn't use logic (would-he-really) to examine the chances of Sam really being a murderer, two-faced, two-timer, swindler etc. Instead, she believes Didi, who is not a friend. Why would she?

We also look at the logistics of this. How does one overhear a conversation? If Sam's discussing something right there in public, the chances are he's not up to no good. If he's doing it secretly in a corner, then how does Jane happen to overhear it? Is she sneaking about? Just passing? In a crowded room, I find it difficult enough to hear conversation directed at me let alone something said sotto voce. 

 Maybe Jane doesn't overhear it. Maybe Didi does and reports it to Jane. Why does Jane believe Didi’s version? Why not ask Sam?

Reading letters or partial letters is another way of "overhearing". I remember two incidences where this scenario was used to good effect. In one case, which might be from Charley by Joan G Robinson, (or not) a child is sent to stay with a relative. She reads part of the relative's letter which states... I don't want Charley. You know that. It's the work. (If it was Charley and now another book...) The child jumps to the justified conclusion that she's unwanted. However, when she is finally given the whole letter to read, (including Page 1) she sees... It's not that (turn the page) I don't want Charley. You know that. It's the work.  Very different, right? And not a cliché, because it passes the would-she-really test. 

In the other such case, a child overhears part of a radio talk on cattle. She's upset because a heifer calf she's fond of is due to be sold because she's a freemartin; i.e. a twin to a bull calf. This is widely understood to mean she'll never breed. The child hears... heifers twin to bulls do breed.  Vindication! However, the full sentence would have been... a tiny percentage of heifers twin to bulls do breed. This is another believable reason for misunderstanding something overheard.

Without these two overhearings, the plots of the respective stories would collapse. Charley goes to her relative feeling unwanted and unwelcome before she even arrives. The other child goes to great lengths to save a calf while truly believing her parents are cruelly lying to her rather than being pragmatic farmers.

Conflicts indeed.

In modern days, reading a clipped message from an email string might have a similar effect, though why Jane would be reading Sam's email is another matter.

 2. Character One (Jane) makes a decision regarding Character Two (Sam)'s life or welfare without thought or reference to what Sam wants. This will usually lead to conflict, whether Sam understands what she's done or not.  Let's say Sam is a private sort of person who likes his own company. Jane is his opposite. When Sam has a significant birthday approaching, Jane arranges a huge party. This kind of behaviour is a cliché, but again it needs to be run through the would-he-really filter. If Jane is close enough to Sam to be throwing him a party, why wouldn't she understand this isn't what he wants? Is she stupid?

3. A classic cause of conflict in a story of friendship or romance is the introduction of a third person who will come between the friends or partners. This is sometimes painted as Character Three (call her Didi) as stealing Sam from Jane, or vice versa. Okay then. I find this not only clichéd but also pretty unbelievable. How can someone be stolen in this way without his or her active cooperation? It's frankly insulting to Sam to believe he's a piece of property who can be stolen. Less clichéd is the approach where Jane (or Sam) meets someone (a) more compatible or (b) someone more inclined to put Jane's (or Sam's) welfare to the fore. That's not stealing. That's Jane, or Sam, deliberately changing the situation for a better proposition. It’s also not a cliché.

4. This one isn’t about conflict, but a scene often used to drive characters to a romantic scene. The heroine (Jane again) has got wet in the rain and has stripped off in Sam’s place (as one does) to get dry while Sam’s at work. Sam comes home unexpectedly (as one does…) and finds Jane deshabille (or however it’s spelled). Now that’s a cliché. How about Jane gets dry and dressed and is blamelessly making coffee when Sam comes home for his forgotten whatever? This can still lead to some romantic hijinks, but Jane won’t feel compromised and readers, preparing to groan, will grin instead. Cliché averted.

Now I want to touch briefly on verbal clichés. I'm not talking of the ones one meets in everyday reading and conversation, but what I call self-clichés or personal clichés. In my work as a freelance editor, I have a lot of repeat clients. This means that sometimes I have the opportunity to edit six or ten or twelve mss by the same author. This puts me in the perfect position to spot personal clichés. These things appear when writers’ style becomes obtrusive or obvious. For example, some writers always have blonde heroines, or tall heroes, or embittered police detectives, or put-upon middle children or boys who hate school. These are self-clichéd characters, and a good proportion of these have self-clichéd gestures or actions. In one character, wrinkling his nose in thought is a character trait. If all the characters of this type do it, then it’s a self-cliché. Do all those embittered detectives drink scotch on the porch and reflect on their dead wives? Self-cliché strikes again. Does every heroine blow her fringe out of her eyes, or chat to her kitten, or drive too fast, or call her niece Sweet Pea? Does every explorer remember his mentor as he sets foot in an uncharted region?  Does every mariner inevitably have his boat drag anchor? Self-cliché. If characters all hum, stammer, blush, hook thumbs in belts, trip over shoelaces or gag at the thought of anchovies, then you have a self-cliché.

Even if just one character does it in one ms you’re not immune. The old theatre adage tell me three times holds good. If a character keeps on saying, Jory, don’t be so annoying, then it becomes self-cliché. If a character constantly rubs his ear or licks her lips or plops into a chair or grinds his teeth… self-cliché ahoy!

I suppose this epilogue doesn’t have much to do with conflict, but then—it does. Using self-cliché causes conflict between the writer’s desire to tell a good story and the editor or reader who is waving a red pen to excise the eleventh case of blushery.

Now, to see how others approached this
fascinating topic, check out…
Skye Taylor

Belinda Edwards
Helena Fairfax
Connie Vines
AJ Maguire

Bob Rich