When writing conflict, an author must explain to his/her audience two things: what guides the main character’s choices and why he/she cannot turn back on them. To writers, this demands the use of a device called trapping your character in the crucible.
The crucible is the most fundamental ingredient of a logical story because it justifies character action. Because when you really think about it, fictional characters don’t need to endure any of the imaginary shit through which they trudge. Alice could have said to hell with home and opted to live with the Mad Hatter. Luke Skywalker could have given justice the middle finger and taken up his father’s belligerent, space tirades. Mario could have averted an eight-continent trek and opted to save Miss Zelda instead.
The backup plan.
But the crucible forces otherwise.
Alice does not stay in Wonderland because she wants to go back home; Luke cannot join the Dark Side because has an overbearing sense of justice; and Mario cannot go after Zelda because he, arguably, loves Peach (and beating the shit out of Bowser) and would prefer being with her instead. Appreciating the crucible in fiction means understanding the fundamentals of human drive, the commitments that prevent our own heroes from running when shit hits the fan.
When you think about it, the crucible is present throughout our own lives—in school, finances, and relationships. There are many obstacles that keep us from getting the things we want.
I don’t know the answer to these problems but, taking a chapter from our heroes’ actions, I think the solutions lie in a culmination of three things: a little cunning, a handful of hard work, and a shitload of faith.
And maybe a green shell or two.
If you like this article, check out my theory on Star Wars! Like pretty pictures? Then visit my photography blog!
And, of course, don’t forget to click those “Like” buttons!
