Day 23: The Boys in the Basement

Have you heard the term, 'the boys in the basement?' Stephen King used this in reference to his subconscious which he's constantly trying to farm ideas from. He has many ways of feeding 'the boys in the basement.' From books and media to dreams and nightmares, it all gets processed (or generated) by the subconscious, and then King takes those raw creative elements and turns them into stories. King has some of the most valuable boys in the basement of all time, seeing as the ideas they pump out get turned into best selling novels like twice a year, but he insists that every writer can benefit from feeding the basement dwellers. I want to go through how this actually works for me in practice. Many people have a productive basement, but those ideas don't turn into anything. Hopefully this post can give you some tips to harvest those ideas and turn them into a narrative rather than letting them bounce around your head forever.

Recently I finished up editing Demonetization, a short story about a young man who finds a demon has manifested in his room and turns it into a money making scheme. The original concept came from the basement. Deep down in there somewhere, the boys seem to be very happy to poke fun at me at night because I've had reoccurring nightmares for as long as I can remember. One that always gives me a certain jolt is a large, invisible hand grabs me and starts hurling me around my room. I wake up with a pounding heart every time because it feels so damn real. Well, one day I asked myself, what if it was real? What if there was a demon in my room messing with me? What would I do about it? That's a question I often ask at the start of the idea generating process. The answer I come to will tell me how the story should start.

The natural answer to my nightmare demon twirling me around like a baton every other night was obviously to run for the fucking hills. But that's boring. When's the last time you saw a horror movie where the victims simply left the haunted house as soon as something bad happened and never returned? You haven't, and never will, because there's no conflict there. Even if the characters decide to leave, there is always something that stops them and brings them back to face the monster. Conflict is the heart of a story, and it's always my focus while trying to generate an idea. In this case, running from the demon doesn't make much conflict. At the same time, facing a demon doesn't make much sense either, does it? Conflict just for conflict's sake is almost as bad as no conflict at all. The plot will feel contrived if a character throws themself into danger for no good reason.

Briefly I want to break down conflict for you here. This is in no way comprehensive because conflict is a deep topic that ties together all stories. I'm taking another leaf from James Scott Bell here because I like the way he breaks down conflict. He goes into much greater detail in his book Conflict and Suspense which I highly recommend.

Bell makes the case that conflict stems from a fear of death. Not just physical death, like in an action movie, but also psychological death, like in a romance. If the characters don't get together, the heartbreak they'll experience would be like death. Obviously, people will go to great lengths to avoid death, and therefore, all characters' conflict can be boiled down to a conflict with some kind of death. As another example, a detective might face physical death, but they would also face psychological/professional death in the form of losing their career if they fail to solve the case. It can get more complicated when multiple forms of death fight for precedence. Usually this adds to the tension and makes for a better pay off if you can work more than one type in. For example, Luke Skywalker faces physical death at the hands of Darth Vader, but refuses to fight him in the end because he has greater conflict with the psychological death of letting his own father remain a Sith. He would rather die physically than give up on Vader, therefore the conflict is rooted not just in physical, but in psychological death.

In the case of Demonetization, clearly the threat is physical death at first. The demon picks up the main character and tosses him around the room just like the boys in the basement were doing to me. Scary, right? But if the root of conflict here is physical death, then there's absolutely no reason for him to remain. He would run for the hills, and it would be boring. I had to find a different conflict to focus on, and I chose a common horror trope: the characters in the haunted house simply can't leave because they're broke. The psychological death of becoming homeless is worse to them than putting up with a demon. This is a bit silly though, isn't it? Who would value money over their own life? Not to mention, it's wildly overdone. So I decided to take it a step further. If the main character of Demonetization is broke enough to stay in a house with a demon, why not have him try to make money directly from the demon while he's at it? This redirects the conflict from physical to psychological death, and it give me a lot of room to work. How do they make money from a demon? How does the demon feel about this, if at all? What do they do with the money? What consequences do all of these actions incur? These are the core questions I want the story to answer by the time its finished.

A quick aside, that last question is the most important one. Its a question I ask in every single story. Consequences lead to further conflict, and further conflict leads to more action, which leads to more consequences, and so on. This loop can continue for as long as the root conflict remains unresolved. Or you know, forever, if you write for the CW.

Let's sum up so far.

1. The boys give me an idea. In this case, a reoccurring nightmare.
2. I find the root of the conflict given the nature of the idea. In this case I think psychological death will yield the juiciest conflict, and therefore the most satisfying resolution.
3. I decide what action that character will take based on the root conflict. If this action is boring, or doesn't result in more conflict down the road, I go back to step two and choose a different form of conflict (or get really creative).
4. Then I determine what questions occur to me after I know what the character wants to do. 'Hows,' 'whys', and 'wheres' should come up first, but most importantly, I must ask the question, 'What consequences does this action incur?'
5. Resolve the conflict.

Step 5 is a huge pain, not gonna lie. The resolution must, must, must address the same type of core conflict that you've decided the story is based on. Imagine if Luke Skywalker simply stabbed Vader in the face and then dunked on the Emperor and the war was won. Would that be very satisfying? As a physical spectacle, maybe, but emotionally? Not at all. The conflict building in Luke wasn't only whether he was capable of killing his father, but whether or not he should. Stabbing him and moving on doesn't address the psychological death of letting his father fully fall to the dark side. Instead, Luke not only defeats Vader in combat, resolving the conflict with physical death, but also, Vader then destroys the Emperor to save Luke, resolving Luke's conflict with psychological death. It also resolves Vader's psychological conflict of whether to remain in the dark, which you may or may not have even realized was building the entire movie.

Resolutions are tricky because it can make the ending feel really weird if the wrong (or only one) of the types of conflict are resolved. Focusing on what conflict you've chosen and what questions the story has already asked can make it easier to pick a good resolution among infinite variations.

I hope laying out my process like this will help you learn as much as it helps me learn. Thank you for reading,

Benjamin Hawley