Conflict: Reality vs. Fiction

Perhaps I shouldn't be doing this... since technically this is due on Friday and I wouldn't really want anyone stealing my assignment... but... I'm fairly confident that no one in my class reads this blog, let alone know who I am... so it's probably safe.

Anyway, I'm posting this short assignment I had for my English class because I felt it entirely relevant and hopefully good food for thought, especially to anyone who enjoys writing.

             Is there a difference between real-life conflict and conflict in fiction?  Pondering this idea for a moment or two, I have personally come to the conclusion that the only difference is the matter of perspective.  Sure, in fiction, the conflict could potentially be outrageously unlikely, or perhaps even impossible by our own reality's perimeters; however, if we are under the assumption that a conflict must occur under a given set of perimeters, then the question is not that of a difference of conflict, but a difference of which given reality.

            Conflict in fiction and in reality serve the same function, essentially.  Conflict never fails to instigate a series of consequences and ultimately makes our lives (or a story) more interesting.  As far as a matter of perspective is concerned, in a work of fiction, conflict is inserted intentionally (unbeknownst to the poor characters) to move a plot in a certain direction, versus our own lives where conflict is not controlled by an outer force (an outer perspective) but by ourselves and other natural forces... as far as we can perceive anyway.

            Looking at it from perhaps more of a philosophical stand-point, conflict also serves as a character building device, adding to the depths and complexities of ourselves and the world around us, much like that of a work of fiction.  As a painter, I deal with a similar idea.  The concept of a painting, or any work of art, is to create an imitation of our own reality.  What makes a painting an imitation?  The fact that we as artists, as writers, control the perimeters and the constraints for which it exists.  So I'm making a minor leap to claim that a work of fiction is merely just an imitation of reality, by some measure, and therefore would believably not be that different than real-life when all is laid to rest.