You've written the scene three times. Each version has action, dialogue, and conflict. But something's wrong—readers say it drags. Your critique partners can't quite put their finger on it, but they're "losing interest" or "skimming ahead." The problem isn't what's happening in your scene. It's how the conflict is structured.

Robert McKee's Oblique Approach offers a counterintuitive solution: when your pacing feels sluggish despite plenty of action, you might be attacking your conflicts too directly. Let me show you how to diagnose direct conflict overload and apply McKee's technique to restore momentum to your manuscript.

What Is the Oblique Approach?

In Story, Robert McKee distinguishes between two fundamental ways characters pursue their goals: the direct approach and the oblique approach.

The direct approach is straightforward: your character wants something and confronts the obstacle head-on. Sarah wants information from the witness, so she directly asks questions. Marcus wants the promotion, so he walks into his boss's office and asks for it.

The oblique approach is indirect: your character pursues their goal through lateral, unexpected, or roundabout means. Sarah can't get information through direct questions, so she befriends the witness's sister. Marcus can't directly ask for the promotion because his boss is avoiding him, so he strategically leaks his competitor's mistakes to the board.

The key insight McKee offers: scenes using only direct conflict often feel plodding, even when they're technically well-written. Why? Because they're predictable. The reader sees every beat coming: confrontation, resistance, escalation, resolution. It's like watching someone hammer the same nail repeatedly—technically effective, but dramatically monotonous.

Diagnosing Direct Conflict Overload

Before applying the Oblique Approach, identify whether this is actually your problem. Look for these symptoms in your sluggish scenes:

- Characters state exactly what they want immediately
- Obstacles are visible and confronted in order
- Each scene follows a predictable rhythm: goal → obstacle → effort → result
- Dialogue consists of people saying what they mean directly
- The scene unfolds linearly without surprises or detours

Here's an example of direct conflict overload:

Rachel needs her ex-husband to sign the custody papers. She arrives at his apartment and demands he sign. He refuses. She argues about their daughter's welfare. He argues back about the inconvenience. She threatens legal action. He threatens to counter-sue. Finally, he agrees to sign if she compromises on visitation.

Technically, this has conflict, stakes, and a turn. But it unfolds exactly as we expect from sentence one. The pacing feels mechanical.

Applying the Oblique Approach: The Three-Layer Technique

McKee's Oblique Approach isn't just about adding misdirection—it's about structuring conflict in layers so the real confrontation emerges gradually, unexpectedly, or from the side.

Here's how to apply it systematically:

Layer 1: Disguise the immediate goal

Don't let your character state or pursue their true objective immediately. Instead, they arrive with a plausible but secondary reason that masks their real agenda. This creates surface-level action that readers can follow while sensing something deeper at work.

Layer 2: Create lateral obstacles

The primary obstacle shouldn't be the person or thing directly blocking the goal. Introduce complications that force the character to navigate around, through, or under the main problem. These lateral obstacles feel fresh because readers don't anticipate them.

Layer 3: Let the real conflict emerge as a surprise

The true confrontation should surface organically, often when one character's indirect approach collides with another's, or when the disguise falls away at an unexpected moment.

The Three-Layer Technique in Action

Let's rebuild that custody scene using the Oblique Approach:

Rachel arrives at her ex-husband's apartment carrying groceries. She's "just dropping off food" since she knows he's been sick. They chat about his health while she unpacks items—she's buying time, studying his mood. He's suspicious but can't refuse her apparent kindness. While making coffee, she mentions their daughter casually: Emma did well on her math test. Would he want to come to the school's award ceremony?

He softens slightly, says maybe. Rachel sees her opening—but before she can pivot to the papers, his new girlfriend emerges from the bedroom. The dynamic shifts entirely. Now Rachel's real obstacle isn't his stubbornness about custody; it's that girlfriend who clearly influences his decisions and sees Rachel as a threat.

Rachel changes tactics again, including the girlfriend in conversation, asking her opinion about Emma's schooling. The girlfriend, wanting to seem reasonable, suggests they should all "do what's best for Emma" and looks meaningfully at Rachel's ex. Trapped by his girlfriend's public reasonableness, he agrees to sign—but the turn happens obliquely, through a completely unanticipated dynamic.

Notice what changed:

- The goal (getting signatures) isn't stated for half the scene
- The real obstacle (the girlfriend) isn't the expected one
- The conflict emerges from character dynamics, not direct argument
- The scene turns based on social pressure, not legal threats
- Readers discover information alongside Rachel rather than ahead of her

When to Use Direct vs. Oblique Conflict

The Oblique Approach isn't always appropriate. Here's your decision framework:

Use direct conflict when:
- You want maximum tension with minimal words (climactic moments)
- The character's personality demands blunt confrontation
- You've earned it with several oblique scenes first
- Speed matters more than subtlety

Use oblique conflict when:
- Pacing feels sluggish despite "enough conflict"
- Characters are intelligent enough to use strategy
- You want to reveal character through approach, not just dialogue
- The scene is running long anyway

Think of it as a ratio: if more than three consecutive scenes use direct conflict, readers experience "confrontation fatigue." The pacing suffers because everything becomes expected.

Your Next Step

Choose one scene from your manuscript that feels slow despite having clear goals and obstacles. Apply the Three-Layer Technique:

1. Delay or disguise your protagonist's real objective for at least half the scene
2. Replace the expected obstacle with a lateral complication
3. Let the real conflict surface unexpectedly, from the side

You'll likely find the scene grows longer in draft—that's fine. You're adding texture, not just length. When you revise for tightness, you'll cut differently, keeping the surprising elements while trimming the predictable ones.

The Oblique Approach doesn't fix all pacing problems, but it solves a specific, common one: scenes that technically work but dramatically drag. When confrontation becomes predictable, strategy becomes your best tool for momentum.