Your story has tension. There’s action, stakes, antagonists. But something feels… flat. Readers get through it, but they don’t feel it. They don’t lie awake thinking about your protagonist.
The likely culprit: Your character’s inner conflict isn’t working.
Inner conflict—the internal struggle between competing desires, beliefs, or values—is what separates memorable stories from forgettable ones. Without it, even the most explosive external plot falls hollow.
Inner conflict is the war inside your character’s head. It’s not about circumstances—it’s about choice under pressure.
External conflict: The antagonist wants to stop the hero.
Internal conflict: The hero wants to stop themselves.
The electric quality of these conflicts comes from incompatible drives. The character can’t satisfy both desires simultaneously. They must choose, and every choice costs them something.
Weak: “Sarah wanted to be a doctor, but she also wanted to be an artist.”
This is a preference conflict, not a deep inner conflict. Readers don’t care because there’s no real stakes to either choice.
Strong: “Sarah became a doctor to please her father, but every surgery feels like a betrayal of the part of her that needs to create. She’s clinically excellent but spiritually empty. When a mentor suggests she pursue art instead, Sarah realizes accepting that would mean grieving the relationship with her father she’s spent her whole life building.”
Now we have real stakes: identity, family, self-worth, time lost, grief.
Characters must actively grapple with their inner conflict throughout the story. If they coast along, so do readers.
Weak: Sarah becomes a doctor and spends the story being good at her job. At the end, she randomly switches to art.
Strong: Sarah takes the job, excels, starts having panic attacks. She lies awake wondering if she’s wasted her life. She sketches obsessively and hides it. She sabotages relationships. She makes a mistake in surgery and questions whether her heart’s even in this anymore. The conflict drives her behavior.
Inner conflict should evolve. As external circumstances change, as the character learns things, their inner conflict shifts.
Static conflict: Sarah wants to be a doctor but also wants to be an artist. For the whole book.
Dynamic conflict:
– Act 1: Sarah chooses medicine over art (believes she’s made the right choice)
– Act 2: Sarah excels but feels empty (realizes the choice was wrong)
– Act 3: Sarah considers switching (fears losing her father) → actually tells him → he surprises her by supporting art → but now she’s lost time and must grieve
The character’s understanding of their conflict deepens. That’s compelling.
The most powerful stories are where inner and outer conflicts are mirror images.
Disconnected:
– External: Hero must defeat a tyrant
– Internal: Hero has trust issues
(These exist separately)
Connected:
– External: Hero must defeat a tyrant who rules through fear and control
– Internal: Hero must learn to trust their team instead of controlling everything
(The outer conflict forces the character to confront their inner conflict)
What are two things your character fundamentally wants that cannot both be true?
Write these down. Make them explicit.
Why does your character have this conflict? What past experience created this fracture?
A character who craves security but also yearns for freedom usually has a backstory involving:
– Childhood instability (creating security hunger)
– Over-controlled upbringing (creating freedom hunger)
– A traumatic moment where they had to choose between the two
The backstory explains the conflict and makes it feel earned, not random.
Your character’s inner conflict should be evident in how they act:
Example: A character with a security/freedom conflict:
– Takes safe job but job hops every 18 months
– Builds relationships but maintains strict independence
– Makes plans carefully but changes them impulsively
– Says they want stability but creates chaos
The plot should force your character to commit to one side of the conflict.
When characters are forced to choose, the story stakes become real.
Here’s where inner conflict becomes tragic and powerful: every choice costs something.
If your character chooses security:
– They gain stability but lose freedom
– They gain her father’s approval but lose her authentic self
– They gain the life they planned but lose the life they wanted
Readers don’t care about perfect victories. They care about meaningful sacrifice.
By the story’s end, your character’s inner conflict should resolve—not necessarily disappear, but reach a new equilibrium.
The resolution should feel earned. It should be something they could only reach through the events of the story.
If you can’t, it’s not clear enough.
Good examples:
– “Sarah must choose between the security of her father’s expectations and the freedom of her own creativity.”
– “Marcus wants revenge against his enemy but knows it will destroy the family he’s trying to protect.”
– “Elena craves belonging to her community but fears losing her authenticity if she conforms.”
If you get stuck, your character needs more conflict clarity.
External conflicts create plot. Internal conflicts create character. A story can survive a weak plot if the protagonist is wrestling with something real. But even the best plot feels empty if the hero is just going through motions without internal struggle.
Your character’s inner conflict isn’t a subplot. It’s the heart of your story.
Don’t let it kill what you’re building. Make it the thing that makes your story unforgettable.
