Posts Tagged ‘Hero’s Journey’

The Hero Quest and Society

Monday, January 4th, 2010

I’m going to add a new feature category to this blog, called “Musings” (to join “Mythic Motifs at Work” and “Writing Tips”).  These will be more general considerations, rather than specific analyses or writing advice.  It is inspired by the search strings that get used to bring people to my website (that is, both this blog and my main website — www.scribblerworks.us).  The search strings often have interesting twists tot hem.

The one I’m musing on today was “how the Hero Quest affects society.”

“Interesting,” I thought.

Okay.  So, first off, which “society” are we talking about here?  The society inside the story, or the society of the audience?  There wasn’t really a way of determining that from the search string, of course.  So why not look at both?

So, let’s start with “inside the story”.

Inside the story, how does the Hero Quest affect society?

Let’s say that the “society” involved is, in terms of the Hero’s Journey, the Hero’s home or starting community.  The one where his interests are engaged.  Either he starts out as a misfit and has to go on his adventure in order to fit, or something is missing in the society and he has to go find it to repair the lack in the society.

The first possibility means that the Hero’s Quest takes someone who doesn’t fit in the community and changes that character to one who will be a benefit to the community.  A ne’er-do-well who becomes a strong leader (Han Solo in Star Wars).  The over-looked pigherder who becomes a king (Taran in Lloyd Alexander’s Chronicles of Prydain).  A rogue computer programmer who frees others from machine mind-control (Neo in The Matrix).  So the end of the Hero Quest in that case certainly has a positive effect on the society of the story.

The second possibility means that whether voluntarily or not, the Hero’s Quest will be a real benefit to the community of the story.  If it is involuntary, our Hero may not have sought out the quest, but he will certainly see it to the end.  Dr. Kimble (in The Fugitive), in trying to clear himself of a murder charge, discovers that a colleague has concealed the real (damaging) effects of a drug in order that he make a fortune.  Kimble’s quest saves the medical community from disaster.  In Deja Vue, an ATF investigator, thinking he will not be able to change the course of a large disaster instead focuses on trying to prevent one murder.  Yet in doing so, he ends up preventing the large disaster, a definite benefit for the society in the story.

This reveals that even though the Quest itself may focus on an individual, there is a community in the background that will be affected.  As the poet Donne put it, “No man is an island.”

So, what about the Society outside the story?

When we move to that level, it becomes a matter of why we tell stories at all.  Soemtimes it is to relate events that have happened, so we won’t forget them.  soemtimes it is to consider what we wish would happen.  Sometimes it is to try and understand why a person would behave in a certain way.  Sometimes it is to hold up a model of what we want to be like.

As a consequence, when we tell a story of a Hero’s Quest, we are, basically, trying to inspire ourselves.  We want to be a resistant to peer pressure as the Hero in The Prisoner (the original, that is).  We want to believe we can be as inspired and committed to our craft as Mozart is in Amadeus.  We want to believe that we too can be as faithful in hardship as Sam Gamgee in The Lord of the Rings.

Indeed, in The Lord of the Rings, at a dark point in the quest Sam shares with Frodo, Sam muses about the stories he had heard and that fueled his imagination — and he takes heart and determination from them.  He does not claim the high level of his “story-book” heroes, but rather that he be like them in even just a little way.  And he succeeds.

That is what society outside the story gains — inspiration, moels, the belief that we can change and improve things around us.  So… let the questing never end.

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Everyone is on a Journey

Monday, September 28th, 2009

A lot has been written about the Hero’s Journey.  Even I have tossed in my two cents worth on the matter.  It can be very, very hand for any writer to know the shape of the Hero’s Journey.  But many writers have gotten stuck on a single model, Chris Vogler’s redaction of Joseph Campbell’s outline.   I’m not saying that it is a bad model, for it isn’t.  But the problem of being stuck on it is that the Vogler/Campbell outline is not the only one available.

It is entirely possible for a writer to be on fire for his story, and struggling to get his plot to “fit” the Hero’s Journey outline that he knows — only to dispair because his story doesn’t want to go that way.  It’s possible for that frustratd writer to think that he is wrong about his story (even though he is still jazzed by it, in the back of his head).  So he stops.

Now, it’s my feeling that no writer should give up on a story that excites him.  It may be a mess, plot-wise, and need work.  But no writer should feel she has to give up on something just because it doesn’t fit one outline.  So, that’s why I felt it important in The Scribbler’s Guide to the Land of Myth to mention some of the principal variations of the Hero’s Journey that I have encountered over the years.  The different outlines often have elements not included in the Vogler/Campbell model.  But every writer should also remember that these things are not cut in stone: they are very flexible, and you can move things around a bit, to suit your own story.  After all, you are the storyteller.

Getting comfortable with the Journey your Hero is on is only the first step, however.  If you want to add depth to your story, and to help the other characters take on substance, you need to remember that the Hero is not the only character actually going on a “journey” in your story.  The villain is pretty sure he’s the Hero of his own life.  And your love interest or B Story sidekick is also making a journey.  Do you know the shapes of their Journeys?

This brings us to another reason why there is an advantage in knowing multiple versions of the Hero’s Journey.  Your three principal characters do not have to be traveling according to the same pattern.  In fact, it can be very interesting if they are not.  Nor does everyone’s Journey have to start at the same point.  For instance, your villain’s journey may begin well before the point where you want to start the story.  This could turn into what Blake Snyder called Act Zero material.  The Journey for your B Story character may not be so complicated.

The mechanics of coordinating the different Journeys will reveal how well you understand your plot.  A villain’s high point may be your Hero’s darkest moment, or it may just be one of the trials and tests the Hero meets.  It’s your story.  You decide.  But at this point, index cards or a computer program that has a similar function, where you can shuffle and mix individual story beats can be a big help.

And there can be great satisfaction in looking at the meshed outline, mere you can clearly see where each charcter is on his or her particular Journey.  When you realize you know exactly what the villain wanted as his victory and what is a set-back for him; when you know just what the B Story character’s Journey is, at that point your story become more solid and deeper.

Everyone is on a Journey.  Everyone has a goal.  They may not all be met by the events in your story.  But when you start constructing things this way, you will discover that it is very useful.

As always, if you are interested in talking more about this matter than blog comments allow, visit my MESSAGE BOARD.

Before Going “Up”

Monday, July 6th, 2009

It’s one of those rules you learn in screenwriting courses: don’t front-load your tale with your Hero’s backstory.  Sure, you the author need to know it, but don’t explain it all up front.  Get on with your story, and explain it later, in little bits and pieces.  Write it out for yourself if you need to, but don’t stick it in the actual story in one piece.  My friend Blake Snyder calls this “Act Zero”.  Most of the time you do not need to explain the backstory before you begin the adventure.

And then, there is Disney-Pixar’s Up.

Let us be clear: the story-adventure of Up actually begins when Russell shows up on Carl’s doorstep insisting he has to help the elderly man.  That is Carl’s Call to Adventure, and he’s not having any of it. (His Refusal of the Call makes for a bit of comedy: he sends the kid on a snipe hunt.)  That is, structurally speaking, where the story starts.

So, that wonderful, poignant stuff that went before that moment, what was that?

Backstory.  Act Zero.

Usually, we do not have to see that up-front.  But let’s consider why we need it for this story.

The Hero’s Journey (and Carl is our Hero in this story) begins in the Hero’s Ordinary World (or his Old World).  Usually, something needs to be changed, and he ventures out from that world.  But in Up, if the presentation of the story really did start with Russell at the door, what follows would still be entertaining and engaging (crusty old man learns to care about someone while on a wild adventure), but it would not have the depth of meaning that Up possesses.  We actually do need to see this Act Zero.

First off, we see that Young Carl is almost exactly like the young Russell we will shortly meet.  He dreams of adventure, but his scope is small.  Until he meets Young Ellie.  In the boisterous Ellie, he meets someone who startles and entrances him with her active response to the call of adventure.

Of course they fall in love.  Their enjoyment of each other is its own adventure.  Their dream of a real adventure is a shared dream, but not the real glue of their lives (though it will take Carl a while to understand that).

It is important for us to know that Carl is capable of love and that he does understand the call of adventure that has a hold on Russell.  And that we are given the chance to love Ellie too, this gives us the powerful gift of wanting Carl’s adventure to succeed.  We connect with the forces that drive him on, in a very powerful way.

The storytellers use Act Zero to also set up the Opponent, and very nicely compact it with Carl’s youthful hero worship of Muntz.  Because that hero worship is something we understand, it adds a poignant bite when Carl learns his Hero is no hero.  Carl has to be his own Hero.

Up is one occasion where the storytellers present at length how the Hero’s Ordinary World became what it is.  And unusual as that is, they made it work — basically by giving it its own three-act structure and telling it swiftly, without over-dwelling on it.  Beautifully done and perfectly structured.  (Warning: these storytellers are trained professionals, so “don’t do this at home.”  Remember, Up is an exception when it comes to revealing the backstory.)

[Pictures are property of Disney-Pixar.]

For more on the Hero’s Ordinary (or Old) World, read The Scribbler’s Guide to the Land of Myth.

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