More About Jerks

I've been thinking more about that Jerk With Layers vs. Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy idea, fine-tuning it in my head. I guess I started thinking along these lines when I realized that some of the criticism I get from editors for my work is that it isn't "edgy" enough, and what's really hot right now seems to involve the dark, tortured characters. I don't think I could write a truly dark, tortured character if I tried (unless I was doing a parody of the type), but that doesn't mean all my characters have to be incredibly nice, knight-in-shining-armor types. So I started a mental list of characters I really like, those who get me emotionally involved in various books, movies or TV shows, and then when I found some who weren't the nice guy, knight-in-shining-armor types, I tried figuring out why I liked them and how they worked. I think I could pull off a Jerk With Layers as a way of having a little more edge without going all the way to Dark and Dangerous.

Then again, the Depression era was known for fluffy comedies and making Shirley Temple the Queen of the Universe, so maybe my time has come and darker heroes will go out of vogue. Still, I don't think it would hurt me to expand my horizons and at least dabble in writing some different kinds of characters.

I have realized that I'm having trouble coming up with good examples of Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy characters who are not villains. It's possible that some of that is due to the fact that if I like a character, I tend to classify him as a Jerk With Layers, since I don't like bad boys. Most of the Dark and Dangerous types I see people swooning over are villains (or come very close to being villains), and it's more the fans who seem to see them as sexy than the writers trying to paint them as tarnished, tragic romantic heroes. Because I tend to be anti-bad boy, there's a strong possibility that I just avoid things with bad boy heroes (which is why I don't read a lot of paranormal romance). The only Dark and Dangerous heroes I can think of are House (my initial example) and Kara Thrace (Starbuck) on Battlestar Galactica. I consider that someone is dark and dangerous instead of just a jerk when his/her behavior is really self-destructive, to the point that it will harm even their allies. House's behavior has at times harmed personally or professionally just about everyone who tries to get close to him, and Starbuck is so screwed up that she actually avoids anything good or healthy and she outright tries to hurt anyone who gets too close to her. I'd say that the behavior of the Jerk With Layers is like a scab on a wound, while the Dark and Dangerous type has gone beyond wounded to damaged, with the wound festering and scarring.

In the romance world, the "healed by love" plotline is popular with the badder types, which may be another reason why I avoid books with those types of heroes. While I do believe that love can be a powerful healing force, I also believe that it takes more than finding a good woman to love for someone that damaged to turn into a good guy and loving suburban husband and father (I've seen that mockingly referred to as the "magical hoo-ha" story, where sex with this particular woman has all kinds of transformative properties). On the other hand, I think the Jerk With Layers could be changed through a good, healthy relationship, because most of the time all he really needs is a boost of confidence, and someone showing him unconditional love and accepting him can do a lot toward allowing him to lower the facade and be himself.

But then there are a lot of other factors that come up in trying to classify characters. Is inner pain and turmoil essential for a Jerk With Layers? I'd kind of consider Han Solo to be a Jerk With Layers, as he mocks others, is sarcastic, is sometimes even crude and rude, and he acts like he's greedy and selfish, but then he's reliable in a crisis and always there for his friends, even to the point of self-sacrifice. He does have moments of sincerity. But I never got the feeling that his Jerk layer was masking any kind of deep, inner pain. Then again, that character was about 98 percent Harrison Ford's personal charisma and about 2 percent a character who was actually developed in the script. I suppose the pain or insecurity doesn't have to be major or traumatic. It could merely be something like growing up in a tough neighborhood where earnest and sincere would get you beaten up, or, in Han Solo's case, the fact that he worked with criminals and thieves, where it would be dangerous to give them any ammunition by revealing his true self.

Most of the examples of Jerks With Layers I initially thought of were sidekicks, and this character type does work well to balance a more earnest hero (that Trickster archetype). It can be a challenge to make the Jerk With Layers sympathetic enough to be a hero. I thought of Dave (the Bruce Willis character on Moonlighting), and then Shrek in the movies was suggested. I've been trying to decide if Mal on Firefly fits this. My initial impulse is to call him a Jerk With Layers rather than Dark and Dangerous, but then that's largely because I like him and I don't like Dark and Dangerous heroes, so I want to call him a Jerk With Layers. But I think it holds up when I think about it more. He seems to want to be a Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy, but he never quite gets there because he can't seem to help being basically a good person. Given the choice, he'll do the right thing, even if it costs him. I think if he'd gone off alone instead of forming a crew around himself, he could easily have become Dark and Dangerous, but even though he snarls sometimes at his crew, I think he knows he needs them.

Perhaps the Jerk With Layers hero needs to be part of an ensemble rather than a loner hero because we need to see that interaction with the people he cares about to see the layers. It's also probably easier to get away with in TV or movies because the personal charisma or history of the actor can give a difficult character a halo effect, and you can't rely on that in books. If we know and love the actor from other roles or if he is very sexy, attractive, charismatic or obviously having fun with the role, we may be willing to cut his character some slack. I think a lot of the villains/dark and dangerous types that fans swoon over owe their popularity to the incredibly sexy actors who play them rather than to the writing. Snape in the Harry Potter books is a snively jerk who really needs to grow the hell up and get over high school, but in the movies he speaks in Alan Rickman's voice, which changes the picture entirely. On paper, I'm sure the character of Guy in the BBC Robin Hood would come across as a social climbing stalker, but he's played by Richard Armitage wearing black leather (I'm sure I'd like the actor elsewhere, but I must admit that the character does zero for me, which I get the feeling is a very unpopular opinion).

You'd definitely have to do "showing" rather than "telling" to get across the Jerk With Layers because any internal monologue on his part to describe his inner pain could easily come across as justification for his own bad behavior. I suppose you would have to introduce him with his good side showing and then show the facade sliding into place or else introduce the reasons why he might be a bit of a jerk at the same time you introduce the character. That's the way Ron was introduced in the Harry Potter books. We see right away that he's surrounded by older brothers who've distinguished themselves, that everything he owns is a hand-me-down and that two of his brothers have made him the victim of their practical jokes, so by the time we see his defensive sarcasm and prickly sensitivity to criticism, we totally understand it.

I'm still wrestling with my Nagging Idea, and I've decided that since this time of year is terrible for actual writing, I may as well go with the idea generation since it does seem to be a good time for thinking.

Loveable Jerks

I think I may have figured out part of my lethargy when it comes to work: I'm somewhat lacking in motivation because I'm not entirely sure what could become of anything I might be working on. I have two projects on submission or about to go on submission, and any of the things I might work on now would fall under the option clause if I sold those projects, so I wouldn't be able to turn around and sell any of the things I'm working on anytime soon. Plus, the projects on submission are first books in potential series, so if those books sell, the next thing I'd work on would be the sequels. So, almost anything else I work on now would be a worst-case scenario project, something to have handy in case what's going out now doesn't sell. It's good to have that kind of thing so there's not a huge gap if the worst-case scenario does come about, but it's hard to get enthusiastic about working on something with that in mind. I've also been distracted by a new idea taking shape -- well, not an entirely new idea, but one I got last fall is really taking form in my head now. I suppose that since nothing I'm working on is on any kind of deadline, there's no harm in taking some time to play with the idea that's at the top of my mind at the moment. There's a reference I need to look at to develop that idea a little further, so I think I'll walk over to the library this afternoon to get it.

Meanwhile, one thing the bad case of The Groggies has been good for is thinking. I may not be able to put words together in a coherent way without a great deal of effort, but I have been able to do a lot of thinking/analyzing. One thing I like to think about is the things that really draw me in as a reader/audience member and why I like those things. One thing I've realized lately about myself is that while I still have zero interest in the Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy as a character, I do seem to have a soft spot for the Jerk With Layers.

I think this character type falls somewhere between the Nice Guy/Best Friend/Boy Next Door and the Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy. Like the Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy, he uses somewhat anti-social behavior as a defense mechanism to protect himself. And like the Nice Guy/Best Friend/Boy Next Door, he's got a soft, mushy inside and is someone you can absolutely rely on when times get tough. In fact, he may be even softer and mushier inside than the Nice Guy because he needs that harder outer shell to protect himself.

The Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy may also have a soft, mushy inside that he protects with his hard outer shell, but the difference between the Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy and the Jerk With Layers is that the Jerk With Layers isn't actually bad or dangerous. He's just a bit obnoxious and seems to be insensitive. He'll make the wisecracks, pick on people, find ways to get under their skin, may even be a bit of a verbal bully. He may act like a womanizer or a player. He may act like he doesn't really care about his job and may seem to be lazy. But there's a line he won't cross. He doesn't actually do anything all that bad or wrong. He may talk a big show about his conquests, but you'd be totally safe with him (and might even have to tackle him if you want to get something started). He stays on the good side of the law. And while he pretends to be irresponsible, he's actually pretty reliable and will be there for you. When the situation calls for seriousness, the goofing off stops, and in those moments of rare sincerity, he's almost like another person. That's when you realize that the jerky behavior is a carefully cultivated defensive maneuver. If he acts like a jerk and you think he's a jerk, then he's won. If he acts like a jerk and you still manage to like him, that's a bonus. But on the other hand, if he tries to be a nice guy and you don't like him, he comes out as a loser. So, obviously, it's safer to act like a jerk. I think another distinction between the Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy and the Jerk With Layers is the potential for change. The Jerk With Layers is a nice guy underneath all along, so all it takes for him to really step up and reach his potential is gaining the confidence or the trust in someone to drop the act and be himself. The Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy really would have to do some kind of turnaround and really change in order to be redeemed.

I've realized that a number of characters I'd been mentally classifying as the Nice Guy/Best Friend are actually Jerks With Layers. I guess I just saw past all the defenses and saw the nice guy beneath, then disregarded the jerk aspects. For instance, as I've been re-reading the Harry Potter books, I've realized that Ron is probably more Jerk With Layers than Nice Guy. Yes, he's mostly reliable and basically decent, but he can be rather obnoxious. We realize through the course of the books that he's actually very insecure, but he masks that by being a jerk. Another example might be Chase (remember him?) on the early seasons of House, where he wasn't so much an outright jerk as he was an apparent slacker who let others assume he was a spoiled rich kid playboy. On the other hand, I think House himself comes closer to Dark and Dangerous Bad Boy because I don't think his jerky exterior is actually a facade. He really doesn't like people, he really doesn't want to follow the rules, and he really is rather self-destructive. Chase was able to change merely by dropping his jerk facade and really being the person we got occasional glimpses of. House would have to do a major personality turnaround to change. I suppose Rod in my books is another Jerk With Layers. Now I wonder if I could pull off writing someone like that as the primary hero rather than as a secondary character.

I guess I've been thinking in these terms because the major characters in the Nagging Idea would both probably fit into this type (male and female). With this idea there are also two vastly different ways I could go with it, and I'm not sure which is best, so I may have to start out writing it both ways and see which way clicks.

Archetypes: Putting it All Together

I'm still plugging away on schedule on the NaNo project, and I didn't have to do as much backtracking as I thought, though I did come up with one other thing I want to go back and add. And I finally made it through this round of revisions on the proposal, the major surgery part. It probably needs a good polish, and then I can get to focusing 100 percent on the NaNo book. The creativity breeds creativity rule is fully in effect, as the plot squirrels in my brain are churning out lots of good daydreamy stuff, most of which has nothing to do with anything I'm currently writing (a lot of mental fanfic), but I think the daydreamy stuff has given me a couple of ideas I can use in current projects. Oddly, I seem to be creating a lot of really angsty romances, which is totally unlike me. It'll be interesting to see if this finds its way into my "real" work and what effect that will have.

My time-wasting and procrastination exercises for the day seemed to all relate to A Room With a View. I had a sudden compulsion to learn the lyrics to the "O mio babbino caro" aria used for the opening credits because I was getting tired of just singing the first couple of lines and then having to go la-la-la. Then when I went out to check the mail, I noticed that the neighbors I saw gave me funny looks. I got inside and looked in the mirror and saw why. When I was procrastinating, I'd played with my hair, and I'd forgotten that I'd pinned it up in a rather Edwardian do, a la the movie. So I was walking around outside in sweatpants and a t-shirt with my hair in an elaborate Edwardian updo. I have no idea why this all might have been on my brain.

I've finally finished discussing all the archetypes from the hero's journey, and the big question is, now what? How do you actually go about using these? Here are some of my thoughts on the topic (and I really am pulling these out of thin air, as this isn't much addressed in the books I have on the subject).

One use for the story archetypes is in the initial casting of your story, depending on how your ideas come to you. If you're a plot or situation writer who thinks of the story or situation first, these are a good starting point for populating the story or situation with people. Trying to fill each of these roles is a good mental exercise for figuring out what characters your story needs. You may not end up with exactly that cast, but it's a way to get your brain going on finding people for your story. Going with these archetypes as the basis for your cast will ensure that you have a good balance of "change" energy vs. "status quo" energy, plus some major and minor conflict that will be meaningful for your hero. Developing a cast this way gives a sense of cohesion to the characters.

One question I've been asked is if every story needs every archetype. I don't think so, but I think you'll find what I've been calling the "energy" of each archetype in most stories in some way. Just about every story is going to have some signal that change needs to take place, some minor barrier, someone to get the hero up-to-speed on what's going on or give advice, someone who confuses the hero, someone who points out the foibles and someone who's opposed to the hero. These all may or may not be actual characters. They can be forces of nature, events or things going on within the hero. The same character may play two or more of these roles at various points in the story, or multiple characters may play one of these roles. There may also be common archetypes that aren't on this list. The really good writers will find fresh ways of presenting these archetypes so that you may not even recognize them for what they are unless you really dig into how they work psychologically.

The archetypes can also be a good way to delve into your hero and really develop that character. I mentioned that the hero can be a challenge to write, and it's very easy to end up with a bland hero because he has to be universal enough that most readers can identify with him. The archetypes are largely all reflections of various facets of the hero's character, blown up into an entirely different character. The Mentor is his positive potential, while the Shadow is his negative potential. The Threshold Guardian is what's holding him back, while the Herald is what he knows he needs to change. The Shapeshifter is the part of himself he's repressing and the Trickster is the part of himself that's aware of his own faults. Working through the archetypes this way and thinking in terms of how they reflect the hero will help you understand your hero better, even if you don't develop those archetype reflections into actual characters.

If you're struggling with a story, it may help to go back and try to map your existing characters onto these archetypes. If there's one you're missing, that could explain part of the problem in your story or help you fix it. You might be able to map some of the archetype's role onto an existing character and use that to nudge your story in the right direction, or you may find you need to develop a new character to get things moving. For instance, I mentioned that one of the problems I saw with the Star Wars prequels was the lack of anyone in the Trickster role to balance out some of the pompousness of the rest of the story. You may also find that focusing on archetype elements can help you strengthen a character. Look for how you can find more of the Shadow in your villain, for example, and that will strengthen the conflict with the hero.

If you're interested in this topic, you can read The Hero With a Thousand Faces by Joseph Campbell, though it can be difficult to pull this stuff out of that book in a way that's useful for writing. The Writer's Journey by Christopher Vogler takes the Campbell theories and research and applies them to modern storytelling, mostly for film. I've started reading some Jungian psychology that isn't aimed specifically at writers, but I haven't yet found a good resource there. The Vogler book does list some other possible resources in its bibliography.

Thursday morning I have to go help judge a PTA arts contest at a nearby elementary school, which I'm really looking forward to, but it may mean I post later than usual, so don't worry (Mom).

Archetypes: The Trickster

Is the Internet on? Because I haven't been getting e-mail for hours, not even spam. It's making me feel paranoid and unloved.

The series on archetypes from the hero's journey is coming to an end. Today is our last archetype, and then next time I'll do some wrap-up and attempt to tie it all together. And then I'll need a new topic, so I'm entertaining questions or suggestions. Is there something you'd like me to address about the craft of writing or the publishing business?

The final archetype is the Trickster. Generally, this is the comic relief character who brings balance to a story by adding a little humor or allowing some relief from all the tension. But beyond that, the Trickster opposes the status quo, mocking it, questioning it or even working actively against it. That can be both the bad guy status quo or even the good guys. The Trickster character often serves to keep the hero's head from getting too big or to keep the institutions in the story world on the right track by constantly questioning them. The Trickster keeps people honest (even if he sometimes resorts to dishonesty to force honesty). Traditionally, a Trickster character often is a practical joker or a prankster, but he can also just be the one who's cynical and always asking the questions people in power wish they'd just shut up about. This also may be a person who kind of likes chaos, and who will disrupt things that seem a bit too orderly to be fun. That can be destructive, but it can also be a way of forcing positive change by making people rethink things as they start over.

While Tricksters often serve as the comic relief, I don't think all comic relief characters are true Tricksters (though some of my reference sources disagree). To get the real Trickster energy, a character needs to be someone who sees the flaws in the status quo and the hypocrisy in the people around him, someone who's willing to criticize or mock even his friends. A character who just falls down a lot, makes jokes and bumps into things may be funny, but I don't think he's really a Trickster.

In the Star Wars example, Han Solo is the one bringing the Trickster energy. He doesn't take anything at face value and questions everything. He rolls his eyes at the idea of the Force, laughs at Luke enough to keep him from getting delusions of grandeur, questions Obi-Wan's sanity and refuses to worship Princess Leia just because she's a princess. In doing so, he keeps everyone honest, even as he's not exactly an entirely honest man, himself. To some extent, he's also the voice of the audience because he asks the same questions or makes the same remarks we might make. I think one of the (many) problems with the prequels was that there was no real Trickster character, and when one part of the story involves a quasi-monastic mystical order and the other involves trade negotiations, you really, really need someone to mock the status quo. It's even possible that the reason Luke was able to not only resist the dark side but also bring his father back while Anakin so easily fell prey (in spite of having a lot of advantages Luke didn't have) was because Luke had Trickster Han Solo around to keep him from getting delusions of self-importance.

Other Trickster-type characters include the Katharine Hepburn character in Bringing Up Baby, who totally disrupted stuffy Cary Grant's life, to the point she had him standing in the yard at night, wearing a woman's bathrobe and serenading a leopard. Then there was the Jimmy Stewart character in The Philadelphia Story, who went about exposing all of Katharine Hepburn's hypocrisies. In the old screwball comedies, you quite often had one part of the couple being a Trickster who was complicating the other character's life. In more modern romantic comedies, the Trickster is often the best friend sidekick of the hero or heroine who's cynical about the idea of true love (and that's usually the character who ends up stealing the movie). Gollum was something of a dark Trickster in the Lord of the Rings saga. In the Buffyverse, Spike was the Trickster. When he was evil, he mocked the other bad guys as well as the good guys, and he didn't stop when he got a soul and regained his conscience. On The Office, Trickster Jim (or Tim in the British version) uses his office pranks to undermine the self-importance of the characters who are more or less delusional about their own merits.

While the Trickster is often a sidekick who keeps the hero down to earth, there's also a huge tradition of Trickster heroes, from mythology on up to modern entertainment. Just about every folklore tradition has a Trickster hero, from the Norse Loki (who was also sometimes a villain or a sidekick, depending on the story), the Native American coyote, the African-American Brer Rabbit to the modern Bugs Bunny. Then there's Robin Hood and his ilk. Or Dr. House and Axel Foley (or, really, a lot of the characters played by Eddie Murphy). Quite often, the Trickster hero serves as a catalyst in that he causes a lot of change around him and in other people while remaining unchanged, himself. He drops in, stirs things up and changes the things that need to be changed, then goes on to his next adventure.

A Trickster villain keeps the hero on his toes, causing chaos for the fun of it. The Joker and the Riddler in the Batman universe are Trickster villains. The bad guy in my books, Phelan Idris, is something of a Trickster. A lot of what he does is just for the fun of seeing what happens and making the good guys jump.

Psychologically, the Trickster can represent healthy change and transformation. The energy of the Trickster calls attention to folly, imbalance and stagnation. Once you're aware that you're stagnating, you can make positive changes. This aspect of the psyche helps us keep things in perspective.

Both the Trickster and the Herald are about change. The Herald is the wake-up call while the Trickster is more of an ongoing commentary of the specifics of what needs to change, and what the Trickster thinks needs pointing out may go far beyond the scope of the mission the Herald announces. Drama is essentially about change, so you need a variety of characters to help bring about change and to keep the Hero on course.

When writing a Trickster character, remember that the energy is more about pointing out foolishness or self-importance. It doesn't have to mean the character plays practical jokes or is a laugh-a-minute. This character does have a tendency to steal the show, so remember that even though your Trickster is in ways undermining your hero, your hero needs to be able to grow and learn from that in order to be a stronger hero. Instead of weakening your strong Trickster, make your hero stronger.

And now I have to get back to slogging away. Yesterday I made far less progress and was far more tempted by the evil Internet (because even when I'm not getting e-mail, I can be distracted). I had to do a lot of new writing after throwing out what I had written. By the time I'm done with this book, the finished word count will be under 80K, but I'll have actually written War and Peace.

Archetypes: The Shadow

Continuing with the discussion of archetypes from the Hero's Journey ...

This week, our archetype is the Shadow. This is typically, but not always, the villain (not all villains are really Shadows, while not all Shadows are villains). The shadow represents the darkness within the hero, personified into another character, and because the Shadow is largely made up of the "bad" parts of the hero, he's a worthy opponent for the hero and someone it's very difficult for the hero to beat, which means maximum conflict. Facing the worst aspects of himself can ultimately bring out the best in the hero.

I suppose you could think of this archetype as the inverse of the Mentor. If the Mentor is who the hero could become if he fulfills his potential, the Shadow is who he could become if he fails and gives into the worst parts of himself. Voldemort is set up as a Shadow of Harry Potter. Both have similar childhoods, with their families gone and them being unaware of their magical powers. But they react in very different ways. Voldemort sets out to destroy the people he sees as inferior, to make sure that he's never under anyone else's control, while Harry tries to create a community and forms a new kind of family to replace the birth family he lost. Part of the tragedy of the story is the fact that Voldemort could have taken Harry's approach and he'd have had a much happier life (as would everyone else, subsequently).

Quite often, the hero and villain are after the same goal, or at least different sides of the same goal (the detective wants the truth, while the murderer wants to hide the truth). A Shadow villain will be using the traits the hero won't let himself tap into, which could give him an advantage. Indiana Jones and Belloq in Raiders of the Lost Ark were both after the Ark and for a lot of the same reasons. Both had a strong intellectual curiosity and reverence for artifacts from the past. But Belloq let the artifact itself become an obsession, he was willing to sell out to the Nazis to get the support to find it, and he wanted to use its power for himself. Indy had the potential to become obsessed, but he managed to focus on the idea of keeping the Ark safe, and he had more of a struggle because he was more or less on his own instead of supported by the entire Nazi military machine. Because he didn't want the power for himself, he was spared.

The Shadow can also be an institution instead of an individual. We didn't have a single, overall villain in the Firefly universe, just the faceless bureaucracy of the Alliance. But there were times when the way Mal tried to run his ship came dangerously close to being just like the Alliance he was trying to avoid. He thought he knew best and wanted everyone to just do as he said without asking questions. He did usually cave on issues where he was in the wrong because he was ultimately a good guy, but the Alliance represented a lot of Mal's negative qualities that often threatened to tear his crew apart.

This archetype is one that can fit with all the other archetypes at various points in the story, or in various kinds of stories. There can be a dark Mentor who is a Shadow figure -- often seen in tragedies where the Hero is led down the wrong path. The Shadow may sometimes play Threshold Guardian. Shadows are quite often Shapeshifters, as seen with the femme fatales who set up the hero to take the fall or in more literal shapeshifting, such as seen in vampire or werewolf stories. The Hero himself can even be a Shadow, in moments where he's acting on his worst impulses or in situations where he has a split personality. This becomes quite literal with stories like Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde, or with Angel and Angelus in the Buffy universe.

While the Shadow is usually an enemy, this character can sometimes be more of an antagonist, someone who is on the hero's side and even with a common goal, but perhaps with a different plan for getting it, so that he ends up hindering the hero. We may see that in quest stories, where a large party starts out, then ends up splitting because they have different ideas of what to do. The fates of the various factions demonstrate the merits of the qualities they represent.

In my Star Wars examples, Darth Vader is very much a Shadow of Luke Skywalker, given that he's Luke's father. In the original movies, we actually don't see a lot of Luke's negative traits in Darth Vader. Luke is rash and impulsive, and he's more emotionally involved in the fight than might be considered good. He takes it personally instead of looking at the big picture. The Darth Vader we see in those movies is calm, cold and rational, though his pursuit of his son does get into the taking it personally while ignoring the big picture realm. But in the prequels we see that Anakin Skywalker's downfall comes mostly because of those same negative traits we see in Luke. Luke very much has the potential to become like Darth Vader if he gives in to his worst impulses. Meanwhile, we see in the prequels that Anakin is pulled between Mentor Obi-Wan and Shadow Palpatine. Palpatine shares and encourages Anakin's sense that he's somehow special and doesn't have to follow the same rules as everyone else.

Psychologically, the Shadow represents the psychoses, hidden fears and bad habits that can destroy us. While the Threshold Guardian represents that aspects of a person that hold him back and keep him from being successful, the Shadow goes a step further and represents the aspects that can bring about his destruction. By defeating the monsters within in the form of the external monster, the hero, in a sense, heals himself.

The thing to remember about these Shadow characters is that they are characters. They shouldn't just be a bunch of evil traits. The danger of the Shadow is that what he represents can be very appealing, charismatic and attractive. He may offer the easy way out or even sound like he's got a better, more rational plan. Another characterization danger is that the Shadow will be more compelling than the Hero. To avoid that, look at those dark traits in the Shadow and find ways to use them in the Hero to give him some depth and shading. A Hero can make bad decisions and act for the wrong reasons without being evil, and having to figure out where to draw the line makes for a more interesting character and story.

I'm coming to the end of this series, just one more archetype and then a post to tie it all together. So now's the time to raise any questions about other writing topics you'd like me to address.

Archetypes: The Shapeshifter

I have to do an early post and then run today because I'm singing for a funeral this morning. And, no, I don't need any condolences. I don't even know whose funeral it is. They just wanted to put together a small choir for the service, and since my days are pretty flexible and my "boss" lets me out for these things, I agreed to do it.

I'm continuing the discussion of archetypes from the hero's journey, and this is a fun one: the shapeshifter. Put very simply, this is the character the hero can never be entirely sure of, which creates uncertainty and suspense in a plot, but there's a lot more to it than that.

The shapeshifting can be literal in fantasy or science fiction stories with characters who change form. I think a lot of the vampires fall into this category when they're portrayed as seeming very normal and human until the fangs come out and they become more like a monster. Angel in the early seasons of Buffy fit the shapeshifter archetype -- he was mysterious, and sometimes he seemed human and like the ideal boyfriend, but then was revealed to be a formerly really bad vampire, and then he really did go evil. Buffy could never be entirely sure what he really was. Then there are the characters who put on a lot of disguises or take on a variety of identities. Think of the Cary Grant character in the movie Charade, where the heroine could never be entirely sure of who he was because everyone in the movie seemed to know him by a different identity. Or there are the characters of dubious or shady morality who aren't entirely sure where they stand, themselves, so how is anyone else going to figure them out? I'd put Jack Sparrow of the Pirates movies in this category. He was impossible to figure out -- he was the worst pirate ever and the best pirate ever, all in the same scene. He could be so crooked that even being totally honest was crooked for him because people expected him to be crooked, so honesty was something of a doublecross. He was often both hero and villain, simultaneously. He'd turn on his allies and ally with his enemies.

The Shapeshifter is quite often the romantic interest because this archetype really represents the mystery of the opposite sex -- or even the mystery of sex itself. In a romantic story, the hero/heroine is never entirely sure of the other person's feelings until the happy ending, and often the relationship brings out a side of the other person that isn't usually seen by others. It's interesting, then, how many romantic comedies are based on a deception plot, where one (or both) of the main characters is pretending to be someone else. You've got the Shop Around the Corner/You've Got Mail plot where they're one way when they're pen pals and another way in person, and the various mistaken identity stories where the character is pretending to be something different than she really is. Even in non-deception stories, the romantic interest may show different faces in different situations. In When Harry Met Sally, Harry is a loyal, trusted friend to Sally, but to other women he's a love-'em-and -leave-'em jerk, which leaves Sally very confused and worried about what will happen when they become lovers. She can't be sure she won't become just another woman he leaves because their changed relationship means she doesn't know which side of him she'll see.

In my Star Wars example, I think Princess Leia is the shapeshifter -- when we first see her, she looks like a vulnerable, ethereal princess. Then she goes all regal and smarts off to Darth Vader. Then she turns out to be really good in a crisis, and for the rest of the series she goes back and forth between her public Princess persona and her gutsy chick Leia persona, and you're never entirely sure which you're going to get (and that's not just because, apparently, Carrie Fisher was both mentally ill and stoned out of her mind). She keeps both Han and Luke guessing. Luke expects her to be a certain way when he first sees her distress call, then is entirely unprepared for what she really is like. And then add the fact that she has a secret identity even she doesn't know about (Luke's sister/Darth Vader's daughter).

In mystery and noir type stories, the femme fatale is often a Shapeshifter -- the one who seems all innocent and vulnerable as she tearfully begs for the hero's help, and then lures him into darkness and danger when it turns out she's setting up the whole thing. Hitchcock loved Shapeshifter characters, both male and female, where you're never entirely sure where they stand -- what another writing book calls the "fake-ally enemy" and the "fake-enemy ally." That's the ally who turns on the hero, or the enemy who either turns out to be secretly working for the good guys or changes sides during the story.

You also see these in "buddy" stories, where there's usually the normal one and the crazy one who drives him mad -- the "good cop/crazy cop" pairing or the straight man/comic relief duos. The shapeshifting is a lot of what makes the crazy one so maddening for the more straightforward guy. Think about the Lethal Weapon films, where you've got straightforward ordinary guy Danny Glover, who never knows what to expect of Mel Gibson, who acts like an easygoing funny guy but who actually has deep-seated anger issues that make him borderline suicidal/homicidal, and no one can ever be sure which side will come out to play.

The psychological side of this gets pretty complex, with all kinds of Jungian analysis. Largely, it reflects the anima/animus balance of the psyche. The anima is the female element in the male unconscious -- all the positive and negative images of femininity that come out in male dreams. The animus is the male element in the female unconscious. Ideally, these are in balance, with all people having traits that are considered both "masculine" and "feminine," but our society tends to label certain of these traits as negative in each sex, so that they're repressed. So aggression is labeled masculine and repressed in women, while sensitivity is labeled feminine and repressed in men, for instance. As a result, these repressed qualities have to come out in dreams, fantasies or projection -- where the traits get mapped onto fantasy figures either in the form of crushes on real people or on fictional or mythological characters that represent the traits.

And that's where the shapeshifting comes in, because you often can't be sure if your feelings for the other person are truly about who that person is, or if you're just reacting to your projection of your repressed anima/animus. You may see the person one way, but in reality they're a different way, so they always surprise you.

That can get interesting with characters because it works on multiple levels. The author may be doing her own projecting in creating the characters, which can be negative if you get too much of an obvious Mary Sue, but if she taps into something truly universal that matches the same kind of projections that readers do, you get a character who triggers obsessions. The characters may be doing their own projecting that complicates their relationships within the story. And the readers will be doing their own projecting, subconsciously seeking a character to project their fantasies onto.

To get a really fascinating relationship between a Hero and a Shapeshifter, think about what aspects of his own personality the hero may be repressing, and build the Shapeshifter around that, but then give that character her own dimensions surrounding that. The result should be an intense attraction and an intense conflict. You can also play with the difference between the way the hero sees the shapeshifter and the way he/she really is, and use the revelations of the shapeshifter's true character as turning points in the story. It keeps the hero off-guard if every time he thinks he's figured out the shapeshifter, things change, and that escalates the conflict.

Archetypes: The Herald

It's funny how things in my life seem to parallel these posts. When I was talking about the Threshold Guardian, I spent a day dealing with AT&T Customer Disservice (very much a Threshold Guardian energy). And now it looks like we've got a hurricane heading our way, plus I've been thinking about change.

It must be time to talk about the Herald! This archetype is similar to the Threshold Guardian in that it tends to be one of those wooden cut-out figures that pops up to say, "You have a destiny to save the world!" before lying back down and disappearing.

Plot-wise, the main purpose of the Herald is usually to kick off the plot. In terms of the heroic journey, the Herald is usually the one to issue the Call to Adventure, the one who shows up and tells the hero he has a job to do. In mythology, Hermes was usually the Herald. In fairy tales, there was usually quite literally a herald sent out to spread the word through the kingdom that the king was offering his daughter's hand in marriage and half the kingdom to the person who successfully completed the quest.

The Herald can be a good guy, someone encouraging the Hero to go save the world. There's Hagrid in the Harry Potter books, who showed up to tell Harry he was a wizard and that he had a world of possibilities ahead of him. He can be a bad guy, challenging or threatening the Hero or the hero's community. The Terminator served as a kind of Herald in that movie. His actions in killing his way through the Sarah Connor listings in the phone book served as a signal to Sarah that her life was about to change and that she was in terrible danger. Or the Herald can be neutral, someone without a vested interest in the outcome who simply is carrying a message -- the person delivering the fateful telegram, the paper boy on the street corner shouting "Extra! Extra!" or the person who accidentally drops a piece of paper with a mysterious message on it.

Quite often at the beginning of the story, in the Ordinary World stage, the Hero is just going through the motions of life, doing okay, but not living up to his potential. He may not even be aware that things need to change. Then the Herald shows up and lets the Hero know of the need for change. Knowing this, the Hero has to make a choice to take action. Think of the "You could be more" moment in the Farscape pilot. Even if the hero is itching for adventure and wants a chance to be a hero, the arrival of the Herald can be a wake-up call as it forces the hero to put his money where his mouth is and do something instead of just dreaming about it. After all, if the hero really did have his act together and really believed he should be doing something, he'd have done it already. It takes the Herald to give him that final push.

Psychologically, the Herald is the inner realization that things need to change and that things can't go on the way they have been. The Herald signals that the world (or just the hero himself) is out of balance and needs to be set right. Once you're prepared for change, the universe will generally send someone to make that happen -- or else you'll be able to recognize that messenger when he shows up. Because of this, the Herald may be something inside the Hero, like a dream, a vision or that still, small voice of the divine (or those things may be what makes the Hero receptive to the Herald when he shows up). The Herald can also be a force rather than a person, like, say, a hurricane.

But I'm talking about character development here, so I'll focus on the Herald as a character. The main thing the Herald represents is change, which makes the Herald the opposite of the Threshold Guardian, who opposes change. In The Writer's Journey, Christopher Vogler mentions that the appearance of Darth Vader early in the original Star Wars film serves as a Herald because just the existence of something like Darth Vader is a signal that this universe is out of whack and needs a Hero to make things right. I think that the real Herald energy in terms of character is actually in R2-D2, who brings the plea for help to Luke and gets him involved in the adventure, and who then brings the Death Star plans to the Rebels.

Thinking about this made me realize that I missed a subtle Threshold Guardian from my Star Wars examples. C-3P0 was often in opposition to change, and when R2-D2 issued the Call to Adventure to Luke by playing the message from Princess Leia, C-3P0 told him it was probably a malfunction and nothing to worry about. That's a difficult kind of Threshold Guardian to overcome, since it's not exactly a challenge or conflict. Instead of saying "None shall pass!" so that the Hero knows he needs to get past, this kind says "Ah, it's nothing. Don't worry about it." That's harder to recognize as a test or as opposition.

The fun thing is that even though the actual plot role for C-3P0 as Threshold Guardian is limited to that one little bit, he carries that energy throughout the whole series, always being the one to say, "Oh, that's too dangerous, it's probably nothing, we shouldn't go there." Meanwhile, he's paired with R2-D2, the Herald, who also carries that energy through all the movies. He's the one who's often alerting the others to danger and heading off into the unknown. This is a character, even as a robot, who's all about shaking things up. That's something to think about in casting these plot roles in a story: Is this an overall attitude and way of thinking for these characters, if they exist in the story beyond that moment in the plot?

This is also an archetype that can double up. The Mentor may also be the Herald, as with Gandalf in The Lord of the Rings, showing up to give the information that something must be done, but then also giving advice, encouragement and any essential magical help to Frodo (likewise with Bilbo in The Hobbit). After issuing the Call to Adventure, the Herald can stick around as an ally. I guess the only archetype that can't also be a Herald is the Threshold Guardian, as it would be difficult to say both "You have to do something" and "You can't do that!"

You can still have a Herald in less quest-oriented stories. In romantic comedies, the Herald may be the friend who says, "You've got to start dating again!" or "You have to break up with that jerk!" Or the one who suggests taking a trip around the world or whatever else sets off the story. The Herald could also be the love interest if it's someone who disrupts the hero/heroine's life and suggests the possibility of change. Harry popping into Sally's life at pivotal moments to point out the flaws in the way she lives her life serves as a Herald in When Harry Met Sally.

As with the others, the key is to think beyond this role and consider why the Herald is issuing the challenge or sending the signal, where he stands on the challenge and at least a little about what his life is like away from this "job."

Next: The Shapeshifter.

Archetypes: The Threshold Guardian

I think I made it past the paralysis point, and I really got a lot done yesterday. Mind you, most of it was from my first attempt at a draft, so there wasn't a lot of new writing, but I didn't hate it all. It's still not gold, but maybe it's fresh, green leaves instead of dead, dry ones.

But that came after I spent a fun hour on the phone fighting with AT&T. I haven't used long distance in years, since long distance is free on my cell phone. I think I sent a fax long-distance a year or two ago. But I suddenly got this bill for long distance and thought there had to be a case of identity theft. It turns out that without me knowing it, AT&T changed their long distance service so that you now have to be in a "plan," which is charged monthly, and they were charging me for several months. I spent a lot of time on hold and arguing with nice young men with Indian accents and suspiciously all-American names that make them sound like soap opera characters (I'm guessing the offshore customer service reps have to take on an "American" identity), who seemed to have no power (or clue beyond a script). And, apparently, you can't have long-distance service anymore without being in a "plan." There's no such thing as just being charged when you make a long-distance call. So I cancelled the long-distance service entirely. I figure I can either buy a pre-paid card in case I need to send a fax, or maybe I can find a long-distance service that operates on the radical concept of only charging you when you make a call. Even if the per-minute rate is higher, it's bound to be cheaper than paying several dollars a month to make maybe one one-minute call per year. It's really annoying, given that I have so many services from AT&T, and now they're doing this. I will be writing a strongly worded letter to corporate HQ. I'm sure I have a contact somewhere from my telecom PR days. Anyone know of a decent long-distance provider that will let me send the occasional fax without making me pay monthly for the privilege (and that will let me know before they start charging me monthly)?

Now, picking up on the discussion of archetypes from the hero's journey, this week I'm looking at the Threshold Guardian. If the Hero is something of a blank slate and the Mentor is prone to stereotype, the Threshold Guardian tends to come dangerously close to plot device. I picture a flat plywood cutout that springs up to say, "None shall pass!" and ask the hero the airspeed of a laden swallow before the hero passes the test and moves on into the story.

The main story function of the Threshold Guardian is testing the hero. Basically, the Threshold Guardian is the first person who stands in the way of the hero. The idea is that being a hero is supposed to be hard. If everyone could do it, then we wouldn't bother telling stories. Only those who are worthy can pass into the "special world" of the story, and it's the job of the Threshold Guardian to weed out those who are unworthy. Yeah, we know if we're reading a story that the hero will pass the test, otherwise there wouldn't be a story, but it's important to the development of the hero to see how he faces the first real challenge of the story. You may also have a series of Threshold Guardians, at various stages of the story as the hero gets closer and closer to the real villain and the real trial. That's a way of maintaining tension and conflict before the big confrontation.

In my Star Wars example, we have two Threshold Guardians. The first is Uncle Owen, who's trying to keep Luke on the farm instead of letting him go off to where he can have adventures. The second is Han Solo, who sets a price for transport so high that Luke has to sell his landspeeder in order to go on his mission. That forces him to commit to his mission and face his priorities. In fairy tales, this is often the old beggar man or woman that the two oldest brothers ignore, but then the youngest stops to help and gets magical assistance that helps him win. He's the cop who tells the heroine that she didn't see what she thought she saw, or the superior officer who tells the detective to drop the case.

The Threshold Guardian is almost never the main villain. He may be an agent of the villain, but he may just be an unrelated antagonist. He can also be a neutral party who doesn't care one way or another about stopping the hero on his quest. He's just a part of a difficult landscape. Or he can even be an ally. He may be trying to stop the hero for his own good, thinking he's being helpful. Luke's Uncle Owen thought he was protecting Luke by keeping him on the farm where his evil father wouldn't find him (and where Luke stood a smaller chance of taking after his father). The Threshold Guardian can turn into an ally once the hero has passed the test. Often, the Mentor also serves as Threshold Guardian, and if the hero proves worthy, then the Mentor takes him under his wing. We often meet sidekicks and allies first as Threshold Guardians, as with Han Solo. Think of The Princess Bride, where Inigo and Fezzig both initially try to stop Westley on his quest, but then they later all join forces. In a lot of the Robin Hood legends, Robin first meets Little John when John won't let him cross a bridge, and they fight, but then they end up becoming friends.

You can still see this kind of archetype in non-quest stories, though it's a little less obvious than an armed guard shouting "None shall pass." The Threshold Guardian can be anyone in the hero or heroine's life who resists their attempts to make changes. In real life, whenever any of us try to make positive changes in our lives, there's often someone trying to tell us we don't need to lose weight, don't need to look for a new job, don't need to go back to school, don't need to get more serious about that relationship. On the surface, that sounds like someone who accepts us the way we are, which is a positive, but that also can keep us from taking needed steps toward improvement. These are people who are threatened by change, and us changing will end up changing their lives or keep them from having an excuse not to change.

And that brings us to the psychological aspect of the Threshold Guardian. The Threshold Guardian represents our internal demons, all the things inside ourselves that are holding us back and keeping us from being the heroes of our own lives. They keep us from reaching our true potential.

With that in mind, you can use this character to demonstrate the hero's weaknesses early in the story (so you can show instead of tell). The Threshold Guardian can be a manifestation of the main weakness that is likely to hinder the hero on his journey. If his weakness is greed, then the Threshold Guardian may demand some kind of payment or may appeal to the hero's greed as a way of trying to turn him off the path, for example. The Threshold Guardian may also be a minor reflection of what the hero will face in the main villain. Seeing the hero pass that early test is a sign that he might eventually have what it takes to face the Big Bad.

In myth, the hero often has to, in a sense, become the Threshold Guardian in order to pass -- using deceit, disguise or magic. The hero may dress up as something like the Guardian in order to be allowed through as an ally. The hero may absorb the energy of the Threshold Guardian as a way of becoming stronger. That can be literal, if, say, the hero gets a magical item from the Guardian or takes his power, or more metaphorical, if the Guardian becomes an ally and a sidekick or mentor and adds his strength to the quest.

In a reluctant hero story, the hero himself may be his own Threshold Guardian, where he's the one resisting all the forces that try to make him change and he has to be almost forced into taking action. Then, this archetype is literally the hero's internal neuroses.

As with all the archetypes, you can't stop here in character development. This needs to be a real character with at least a hint of goal and motivation, even if his role in the story is small. You want to avoid that plywood cut-out pop-up.

Next time: The Herald. And if you enjoy my characterization discussion, I've got an article on the subject in the current issue of The Writer magazine, now available in stores (most likely at places like Borders and Barnes & Noble).

Archetypes: The Mentor

I read somewhere that the reason people often get sick after stressful or tiring situations isn't so much the stress itself, but rather the body's reaction to the sudden absence of stress in the aftermath, when all the stress-related chemicals suddenly go away, and that leaves the body vulnerable. If that's the case, then I guess I'm doing things right this week, as I don't have time to collapse. Yesterday was errands day, today I had to go to the library (books due), plus I have a couple of deadlines and I'm a guest at a book club meeting tonight. Tomorrow, ballet class starts again and I have yet another deadline. This weekend I may reach total collapse after a gradual stress ramping down, so maybe I'll be safe from the post-WorldCon crud. The B&N next to the grocery store was having a big DVD sale, so that the specific ones I really wanted were all less than $10, which means I have viewing material for my weekend retreat, and now I have books, so I'm set.

As for the every-other-week writing post, I'm still working my way through the archetypes in the hero's journey. Last time, when talking about the hero, I mentioned that it can be difficult to deal with that archetype because there isn't really a character type associated with it. With the mentor, there are actual traits and duties, so the archetype has a slightly stronger character. The danger is that it's way too easy to slide into stereotype. When someone mentions the mentor, what comes to mind is the wise older man with a white beard -- Merlin, Gandalf, Obi-Wan Kenobi, Dumbledore. Joseph Campbell even refers to the type as the "Wise Old Man" or the "Wise Old Woman." The standard job of the mentor is to train the hero or give him some advice, get him started on his journey and then die or otherwise disappear from the scene, since the hero does need to lose the training wheels and find out if he's really learned his lessons without his tutor by his side.

But there really is more to it than that. Dramatically, the mentor archetype serves a number of functions. The mentor is a teacher to the hero, helping him gain the skills he needs to prevail on his journey. He may be a gift giver, passing on the items the hero needs, such as swords, magical armor, the secret password, etc. The mentor may serve as the hero's conscience, providing moral training along with the more worldly training (Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio). The mentor can be a source of motivation for the hero, prodding him on when he's ready to quit. And, in some stories, the mentor can even provide sexual initiation (think Susan Sarandon's character in Bull Durham).

Psychologically, the mentor represents the hero's higher self, the idea of the god within -- the very best part of the person. In other words, the mentor is what the hero can grow up to be if he follows the right path and prevails in his journey. Since the mentor often dies or goes away, the hero might be on the path to taking his place and taking on the mentor role for a new hero at the end of the story. In the Star Wars saga, Luke Skywalker could very well grow up to be like Obi-Wan Kenobi if he trains to be a Jedi Knight and learns to overcome his rash and impulsive tendencies. We saw in the first of the prequels that Obi-Wan himself was once a Jedi in training who could be rash and impulsive and who had to step up and continue his own mentor's work after his mentor was killed.

Thinking in these terms is a good way to avoid the usual stereotypes. Your mentor may have been the hero of his own story at some point and may have gone on his own heroic journey. What was that like and how did it shape him? How will it affect the way he deals with his hero in this story? You don't necessarily want to dump all that into your book, since this is, after all, your hero's story, but knowing that will help you create a real character, even if he is an older man with a white beard.

Or there are twists on the usual role of the mentor. The mentor can be a dark or fake mentor who leads the hero down the wrong path -- but still teaches valuable lessons, as the hero has to learn to discern whom to listen to. The mentor himself may still be on a journey, so he's not quite as prepared for his role and still has some learning to do (like Obi-Wan in the Star Wars prequels, who isn't quite ready to take on the training of someone like Anakin). Comic mentors show up a lot in romantic comedies. These are the best buddies (often siblings) of the hero and heroine who give advice on their love lives that may or may not be good advice, and their interference may almost keep the couple apart but may also help bring the couple together.

Some non-white-bearded-older-man mentors I can think of include:
Glinda the Good Witch in The Wizard of Oz
The little Amish boy in Witness who teaches Harrison Ford's character about life among the Amish
Kyle Reese in The Terminator, who teaches Sarah Connor about life in the future, how to be a soldier, and sets her on the right path
Jack in Titanic, who teaches Rose how to live. There's also the element of sexual initiation, and the pan across her photographs at the end shows that, in a sense, she did become like him.
The fairy godmother in fairy tales
The Sigourney Weaver character in Working Girl might be considered a dark mentor, as she's working against and undermining the heroine, but the heroine is able to achieve what she does by learning from her and using her tools (her wardrobe and her Rolodex).
Inara in the television series Firefly essentially has the "crone" role in the cast, even though she's young and beautiful, as she offers advice and wisdom to the crew (in the movie Serenity, though, Shepherd Book is in a much more traditional mentor role, complete with white beard).
John Casey (the Adam Baldwin character) in the TV series Chuck seems to be a mentor figure for Chuck, reluctantly teaching him about being a secret agent.
Carrie Fisher's character is a comic mentor for Sally in When Harry Met Sally, as at first she shows what not to do in her ongoing pursuit of married men, but then when she gets into a good relationship she's more able to offer good advice and provide a role model for Sally.

Archetypes: The Hero

Now we're back to the discussion of archetypes from the hero's journey, after a brief foray into the world of Good to Great.

We'll start with the hero, and by hero I mean protagonist, either male or female. This is the central character of the story, the one on the journey who has a transformation arc of some kind. I'm not necessarily using the term in the sense that it usually comes up in the romance genre, where it means the male half of the couple, though sometimes that hero is the hero of the story. Clear as mud?

In a sense, the hero is the least-defined of the archetypes. The others all have a hint of a personality attached to them, in addition to their story role, but the hero is something of a blank slate. He has to be universal enough that readers can identify with his struggles, but he also has to be specific enough to justify telling his story. Out of all the stories about all the heroes in all the world, why tell this one? The danger with the universality of the hero archetype is that he can turn out to be the least interesting character in the story. When I do characterization workshops and talk about archetypes, I use the cast of Star Wars as an example because they fit so perfectly, and Luke Skywalker, our hero, is the perfect example of that blank slate hero. There is something universal about him. Who hasn't chafed at the boundaries and restrictions of home and dreamed of something bigger and more exciting? But poor Luke is possibly the least interesting character in the film, possibly because he's all universal without much specific.

Psychologically, the hero represents the Freudian ego, the part of the psyche that's about separation from the tribe (or from the mother), and the hero's journey is often one of separation, as he has to leave the safe and familiar to take on the quest. Internally, the hero's journey is about the search for wholeness, and integrating all the aspects of his self into a healthy whole. To a large extent, all the other characters (and all the other archetypes they represent) are reflections of aspects of the hero's character, and as he interacts with them, he learns from them so that he can accept and integrate that part of himself into his overall personality. Usually, the big climax of the story is a test of whether he's been able to do that. He can only succeed if he has developed that sense of wholeness.

There are a lot of different kinds of heroes. From a big picture perspective, they can be classified as:
The Superman -- the one with special skills, powers or talents that makes him greater from the start than the average guy
The Everyman -- the average guy plunged into extraordinary circumstances
The Underdog -- the guy with the deck stacked against him who has to survive in extraordinary circumstances

But I think the distinctions get blurry, as the Underdog and the Everyman often turn out to be Supermen once they discover their power. Back to our buddy Luke, he seemed like an Everyman or even an Underdog, but turned out to have Jedi powers. You especially see that in science fiction and fantasy stories.

How do you keep your hero interesting? For one thing, you can't rely on the fact that he is the hero and assume that automatically makes him of interest. Even if he's a Superman, he needs to seem like a real person who has flaws, needs, fears and quirks. He should also be the most active person in your story, the one who changes the most and whose actions and decisions bring about the most change in others or in the situation. If you find your supporting characters taking over the story, you may need to work more on your hero. Find the traits in the supporting characters that are so compelling, and then find the reflection of that in the hero and develop it further.

The hero archetype is also associated with sacrifice, being willing to give up something of value -- up to and including his own life -- for the greater good. That means we need to understand what he values and why for that sacrifice to have any meaning.

I think some of the best examples of how to write a hero come from the Pixar animated movies. They seem to have a talent for taking very unlikely things and investing them with a soul and a personality so that you feel for them and understand exactly what they want out of life. The hero of their first short film was a desk lamp that was utterly sympathetic. If they can make a hero out of a desk lamp, the rest of us should be able to make good heroes out of human beings. (You can see a clip or find a link to download from iTunes here if you've never seen this adorable film.)

Archetypes (Revisited)

I felt like I didn't accomplish anything yesterday because I was so groggy, but I hit everything on my admittedly light to-do list. I didn't do much in the way of writing, but I did take care of a few nagging businessy things. I have a few other things that must be done today, and then maybe I'll get some writing work done. Meanwhile, I've discovered that there may not be a way to avoid a preschool story time at the library. I adjusted my time today and still got there when the place was full of rugrats. On the up side, the coffee shop lady was in the lobby passing out samples of frozen raspberry lemonade, and I may have a new minor addiction. Looks like I'll be getting back into the habit of doing my brainstorming and plotting in the library coffee shop.

It was around this time last year that I started doing those posts about archetypes, and I think it may be time to revisit the subject for my "official" writing posts.

It seems that everyone who talks about archetypes means something slightly different or has a different system for classifying them. Ultimately, it boils down to something similar, which is that these are recognized character types that can serve as a shortcut of sorts in the communication between author and reader. As an audience, we're consumers of stories, so we generally know how things work, and we recognize the roles that pop up in story after story. That creates something of a shared language between author and audience, and if there's something universal and recognizable in a character through the use of an archetype, then that allows us to take that much of the character as an understood given, so the author can then dedicate more energy and time to the aspects that are unique to the character.

This is not the same thing as a stereotype. I like to think of the difference as internal vs. external. An archetype functions as the core of a character, as the universal pattern of energy that character brings to the story. Then other aspects of the character can be layered on top of that. A stereotype is a hollow shell, with only the recognizable external attributes of a character type and nothing beneath that. For instance, the Mentor is a common archetype, and we often see this type represented in stories as an older man with a white beard -- think Gandalf, Merlin, Dumbledore and Obi-Wan Kenobi (in the original Star Wars movies -- structurally, he's the hero in the prequels). If all you do to create a mentor character is throw in an older man with a white beard who points the hero in the right direction, you've used a stereotype. But if you're really thinking of the role of the mentor archetype, you'll be aware of the mentor as a representation of the hero's higher self, and your mentor may or may not be an older man with a white beard. If he is, he'll be a more interesting older man with a white beard.

For the purposes of this discussion, I'm going to go with the archetypes that come out of Joseph Campbell's work on mythology, as translated for modern storytellers by Christopher Vogler in The Writer's Journey. These archetypes are about story functions as well as a psychological energy. That then ties back to Jungian psychology. It's a very basic way of looking at characters, and then there are other, more specific archetype classifications that other writers have come up with.

Over the rest of the summer, I'll take these functional archetypes one by one and see if I can make sense out of them.