[anchor=I10]THE HEROIC JOURNEY, CHAPTER TWO :
THE CALL OF ADVENTURE[/anchor]
by Atlantic Friend
To quote Frank Herbert’s Dune, a beginning is a very delicate time, and a story that starts off badly usually, even if it has a top-notch plot idea, will never fully recover, making its readers lose interest or at the very least never achieving its full potential. Whatever the style of your story is, it is therefore important to make an impression on the readers early on, so they can pardon a few clichés or weak moments later in the narration. Such an impression is usually best made by intriguing them, as History shows there’s no bound to human curiosity when properly aroused, and this often means giving the readers a good feeling of who the Hero is, and of what his world looks and sounds like. Actually, any story can basically been summed up as “a Hero ventures out of his everyday world and steps into unknown territories where he lives extra-ordinary events and meets extra-ordinary characters”. It is pretty basic, but it fits the bill : we as an audience want to be entertained, and we want to get a glimpse of a larger-than-life adventure. Given this basic prerequisite, it is fitting that, having prepared our Narrative Vessel in the previous articles, we now climb aboard and let it take us to that extraordinary world. For commodity’s sake, I’ll refer to the ordinary world as either the Mundane World or the Mundane Shores, and to the heroic, extraordinary world as the Heroic Territories, or Heroic Shores to keep up with the image of a Narrative Vessel.
THE MUNDANE SHORES : A SHORT OVERVIEW
As we all discovered as tourists, a journey’s emotional value is best defined by the changes we notice between the place we left and the place we travelled to. As a result, if the writer wants his readers to get the same evasion feeling, it is important for him to work on the details of the main character’s Mundane World so the readers can appreciate how different the Heroic Territories truly are. Before writing anything down, it is best for the writer to have a pretty good idea of the general atmosphere of the story, of the type of characters he’ll use, and of what they’ll be when the story begins. Will the story be told by a narrator, or will we see everything through the eyes of a character ? Will there be a prologue ? Will we meet the main characters when they’re much younger ? Will we be precipitated straight into an action scene, or will we be given some time to “stroll” throughout the Mundane World ? Will we see a scene apparently not connected to the rest of the story, but which will keep us wondering about when it’ll start making some sense ? All of these questions must have been answered before we can start setting up the Mundane World props.
The Mundane World itself can be of two types : one that appeals to something the readers know, or at least can relate to, and one that is totally exotic and alien. A familiar place will be easier to set up, and the readers will identify with the characters easily. The exotic place might appeal more to the readers, but will necessitate more work as the writer must keep in mind there are extra-ordinary Heroic Territories to set up as well, later in the story. If the Mundanw World is full of brainy Aliens who can create things by a mere thought process, then, (gasp !) what will the Heroic Territories have to look like to appear even more exciting ? The notion of “exotism” and “familiarity” are subjective though, and can vary depending on the readers’ social or national background. A crime story taking place in Washington won’t be the same as one taking place in, say, Lapland, or one taking place in rural Iran. So it’s always a good idea to give readers hints about the general atmosphere, and to go into more detail for the parts that will need some explanation, whether because they’re technical or because they’re the most exotic. Give some thought to the amount of detail, though. One of the most common mistakes I as a reader find in modern novels is that the author sometimes thinks that what he knows, his readers must be familiar with as well, which leads to confusion and turns every technical scene into some sort of Space Opera with characters talking pseudo-scientese and readers having to accept the technical mumbo-jumbo as so much magical formulas. The second most common mistake is for the writer to think his readers are as sharp as a sack of turnips and that it is okay to lord even basic knowledge unto them. In defence of the writers, both mistakes, while equally annoying, are quite easy to make, and striking a balance isn’t an easy task.
The Mundane World can take many forms : an idyllic small town, a nation at peace, a city where two people are in love, the last bastion of a supernatural race, a bustling and growing firm, all these are Mundane sets where the Hero will live, love, work, play, and enjoy life, possibly wishing he could lead a more adventurous life, or at the contrary hoping this could last forever. But all Mundane Worlds share one major characteristic : they are in crisis. The nature of the crisis can vary a great deal : a foreign army might gather at its borders, the small town might be plunged into the horrors of economic recession and social decay, the supernatural race can de a dying one, war or crime can claim the life of the Hero’s love interest, corruption might reveal the firm’s darker side and sinister deals. The inhabitants of the Mundane World can be aware that something is rotten in their kingdom, or they can be taken entirely by surprise, the important thing is that the crisis will define the story’s plot, and therefore the Hero’s Journey. He’ll fight for his country, he’ll want to bring back social order or natural harmony, he’ll want to avenge his loved one or to get back his honour amongst his peers. The crisis defines the plot, the plot defines the story. It is therefore crucial that the readers know what is at stake, and can empathize with the Hero’s plight. My personal advice would be not to rise the stakes too high, or at the very least not to have everything depends on the Hero. Baring truly exceptional circumstances, nothing ever depends upon just one man – which means the hero will have to win supporters amongst his peers or the strangers he’ll meet, and that we’ll get new characters to like, hate or root for.
RECEIVING THE CALL OF ADVENTURE
As we saw, the Mundane World seems at peace, but the seeds of change have been sowed, bringing (or revealing) the crisis that is about to engulf the Hero’s everyday world. The moment these forces touch the Hero, the moment where he/she commits to the story is the Call of Adventure. In many stories, the Call takes the form of a message, or a messenger, bringing news that will shatter the hero’s vision of the world and set him in motion. In some complex stories, with multiple plots, the Hero will actually receive more than one such Call, each taking the story into a new direction.
Bear in mind that the nature of the Call will vary according to the nature of the Hero himself. Let’s take an example : the Pacific War, clearly an event that had great consequences and plunged a country that was turned inward into a war which changed everything for that nation, from its status to its view of the world, and that had enormous impact on every individual who took part to the conflict, however modestly. Depending on who your Hero will be, the Call will have to be different : The President of the United States will receive news that the country’s positions in the Pacific are under siege, the politician will ponder the wisdom of the defence policy of the past decade, the field officer will see its leave cancelled and be told to go back to his unit immediately, the modest sailor will learn that one of his buddies has been killed in the attack, the businessman in the Philippines will have to try to escape Japanese occupation, and the unconcerned Filipino will have to choose between resistance and collaboration. The key thing is that no two Heroes will share the exact same ideals, the exact same concerns, the exact same fears, and the writer should make it sure the Call fits the character : the Hero whose loved one is killed will hate and seek revenge, the Heroin who stumbles upon solid evidence that the company she devoted her life to is helping the Nazis build a super-weapon will have to ponder if material comfort excuses everything, etc. Quite often, there will be references to the Call before the Hero gets it : some character will hope his son will never have to go to war, a politician will say that Splendid Isolationism will last forever, or the Hero will refuse to pay heed to the first signs that his world is about to get shattered. We as readers will often recognize these first signs for what they are, omens that the Mundane World is about to end, but the subtler the signs, the better. Having a politician say “Bah, what could the Japanese do to us, they’re thousands of miles away !” on September, 1941 is not very subtle if you want to use Pearl Harbour as the Call. Having a businessman saying that the exports of truck spare parts to Japanese Zaibatsus have never been so profitable will be more easily overlooked, but when the time comes, the readers will also realize it was a sign of war preparations.
The Hero’s motivation or lack thereof is also a powerful narrative tool to set the story in motion. Maybe the corporate Hero, after years if passively accepting his world’s inadequacies, suddenly decides after some minor but significant event to try to heal the Mundane World. In other stories, particularly those whose main character belongs to the category of Reluctant Heroes, there might be no portentous event to set the Hero in motion. While he’d like nothing better than being left alone, the Hero will be dragged into it because of a character he’ll meet. A spy will hide some secret document in the Hero’s luggage, triggering his arrest, his subsequent escape and his becoming a fugitive. Or the Hero will meet a character he/she will fall in love with, and whose connections to the events that are taking place will set the Hero on a collision course with the dark forces that are either running or threatening the Mundane World. Reluctant Heroes usually offer more opportunities to portray how difficult it is for them to answer the Call, as we see the Mundane World through “objective” eyes. Idealistic Heroes, on the contrary, will see everything as either all good or all bad and that will somehow weaken the force of the Call by making the answer something more of a done deal.
ANSWERING THE CALL OF ADVENTURE
The Call of Adventure, more often than not, will not be received well by the Hero, be that because of its nature (like the death of a loved one), because the Hero doesn’t trust the Messenger (like the Hobbits are first wary of Aragorn in Bree), or because the Message is delivered at an inconvenient time where the Hero has things to do and live in the Mundane World (the old cliché of the preoccupying news that reach the Hero at his wedding or at the height of some celebration). Another reason for the Hero to refuse to Call is when he balks at being given no choice. The Messenger turns up and tells him he must follow him, he has to embark on the quest, giving the Hero (and the readers) a chance to realize what he’s going to miss in the Mundane World. The Call should very rarely be joyfully accepted by the Hero – although it may be by some of his companions. As a moment of change, it is necessarily traumatic and unsettling, and it should force the Hero to think hard about the consequences of climbing aboard the Narrative Vessel to set sail to the uncharted Heroic Shores.
Temporization
The Hero’s first reaction will often to temporize. He won’t believe the dramatic news, or he will leave the responsibility to act to other forces. Regardless of the method, the Hero will for some time bury his head in the sand and refuse to acknowledge the grave perils that are threatening the Mundane World. The nature of the Hero’s internal conflict can vary. It may be moral, if for example the Hero is being asked to take up arms against a cause he once defended, or is led to realize his former friends need be opposed or put in jail. It may be of a more material nature : the Hero is asked to leave his loved ones, or to put his social position in danger. It may also be brought by the actions of other characters, who will try to demonstrate to the Hero the foolishness of such adventures. It could also be that the Hero gets two Calls at the same time, and will have to ponder which one is the most important (usually favoring the one which is most convenient or closest to his preoccupations, and which ultimately prove to be the less vital of the two). The classic pattern is usually that the Hero will for a moment listen to this sage advice or to his inner fears until another incident happens. Another character, often close to the Hero (like the one who tried to keep the Hero in the Mundane World) will be affected by the very forces the Messenger was warning the hero about, and that event will spell the end of the temporization and hand-wringing phase.
Acceptance
Some Heroes will never temporize once they get the Call of Adventure, and jump on board of the Narrative vessel within minutes. In simple stories, and notably in kids’ tales, the Hero will always jump at the chance of an adventure : he’ll be the knight errant actively looking for some quest to accomplish, the noble prince or the lumberjack who just happens to be in the neighbourhood when Little Red Hood gets eaten by the big bad wolf, or when Snow-White gets poisoned. In more adult stories, this kind of Hero usually gets a background to justify his readiness to accept adventure : it might be because it’s his job (secret agents and policemen for example), because he is given no better choice (a la Dirty Dozen), or because his life in the Mundane World has been shattered and he seeks either revenge or salvation. “Instant” Heroes in adult stories are often more complex characters than their adventurous mind can lead us to believe, and will often have a dark or unbalanced side that will explain their drifting from one quest to another, when their willingness isn’t explained by a good dose of naïveté about life in the Heroic Shores.
ENCOUNTERS OF THE FIRST KIND : GATEKEEPERS AND MENTORS
The Heroes will often meet characters who, either by giving their advice or by setting an example, will warn them against embarking or encourage them. The wealthy lawyer will be a reminder to his young colleague that he could make it big if he doesn’t rock the boat. The half-crazed officer will be a reminder of the punishment that awaits for the Hero if he does disobey and leave the Mundane Shores. The salty old sailor will help the Hero understand the Heroic Shores are dangerous but can be survived, the suffering kid will be a reminder that something is rotten in the kingdom of the Mundane Shores, which needs be fixed. These characters are usually the first Archetypes encountered as we step onto the main deck of the Narrative Vessel, and are either Gatekeepers or Mentors.
Gatekeepers
These characters(as well as those who’ll try to talk the more reluctant Heroes out of their adventurous ideas) represent the Hero’s (and by extension, our own) inner fears. Like the sirens of mythology, they’ll try to lure the Hero out of his path, using cajoling or threats. As such, they are Gatekeepers – guardians of a secret gate that will allow the Hero to leave the Mundane Shores to the Heroic Territories. His overcoming them is the first step of the Hero’s adventure, and should be a key moment in the narration so we understand what the Hero accepts to leave behind him as he embarks on his dangerous journey.
These Gatekeepers in the narration can take several forms, but are usually either close friends or avowed enemies. In the story they’ll represent the Hero’s doubts, fears, temptations and duties. In the temptation department, you will have the Hero’ love interest, who wants to settle down with him and uses her seduction to talk him out of any faraway adventure. The Hero’s conflicting duties can be represented by a family who wants the Hero to stay and take care of them instead of risking his life for complete strangers and some “higher” cause. Fear can be represented by a loving mother wanting to keep the Hero at home, safely out of harm’s way, or by a failed adventurer who’ll tell gruesome stories about the perils and bitter rewards of an adventurous life. These two characters represent, after all, two constants in human psyche : the desire to become a cared-for child again, and our instinctive fear of pain. Gatekeepers representing the Hero’s doubts are perhaps the more interesting and the less clichés of all, as they deal with more complex motivations. They can be the easy-going friend who enjoys just the kind of carefree live the Hero might be longing for, or the experienced colleague or war-weary superior who represents our natural cynicism and mistrust of clean-cut schemes. While duty, fear and temptation are more of an eternal and largely unchanged nature, doubt varies greatly depending on the Hero’s background and motivations.
While their methods may vary, all of these characters have one goal, nipping the adventure in the bud, and one narrative function, to be defeated by the Hero’s resolve in a conveniently dramatic way. As the Hero purposefully turns his back on them – and on the peaceful routine of the Mundane Shores – he’s now ready to meet the second denizen of the Narrative Vessel : the Mentor.
Mentors
Now that we’ve met the characters who were trying to derail the story, it’s time to meet the enablers and facilitators. Under their watchful gaze, and basking in their wisdom, the young and inexperienced Hero will gain valuable knowledge about the Heroic Territories, shedding away some of their preconceived ideas and rising to the first challenges. Allies, teachers, and guides, these characters are called Mentors, and you’ll find them in nearly every story. They are Arthur’s Merlin, Luke’s Obi-Wan, Frodo’s Gandalf, and McLeod’s Ramirez, demanding tutors who will shape up the Hero and make sure he doesn’t get offed by the first henchman. Just as the Gatekeepers represent our inner frailties, the Mentors represent our highest aspirations, what and who we strive to become.
The Mentor is usually best represented with an older, wiser version of the Hero. Come to think of it, it might not be a coincidence that in so many American movies this role is played by a British actor, as one could say Great Britain is – or at least has been – America’s Mentor. More seriously, he soldier’s mentor will most often be a wizened NCO, the young acolyte will generally be guided by an elder priest, the low-life thief will meet a gang boss, and the rebel girl will meet a sharp-tongued matron with a heart of gold and many stories to tell. In narration, the moment the Hero meets the Mentor, and the moment they click in together, accepting the teacher-pupil relationship, is a motherlode of dramatic opportunities. From the benevolent father-like figure to the love-hate relationship, the humbling of the Hero – and of the Mentor – is something that can be played upon page after page, chapter after chapter, reel after reel. The deeper it gets, the more intense it will get when the Hero finally outsmarts his teacher, or when the Mentor finally succumbs to the Villain’s treacherous schemes.
The Mentor being an older version of the Hero, it is important to give its character a lot of consideration in the story. Mentors, like Heroes, can suffer a deadly case of cliché-itis, as it is all too easy to make them the all-knowing, grey-robed wizard of a child’s tale. Mentors have their own life, their own psyche, and should therefore have their own agenda. They are not the Hero’s “wisdom-for-hire”, stepping up whenever the hero is stumped, and stepping down immediately after they have delivered that crucial piece of information. Conversely, the Hero is not supposed to be happy playing “Little Grasshopper” all day long. The Mentor might be dishonest, the hero might be an ingrate, the two of them might become enemies at some point of the story over some deep conflict of interests. As always the writer will have to be inventive and to strike a balance in the way he portrays them.
Let’s suppose my story is set in WW2 Germany. My Hero is an Allied intelligence officer, his Mentor is an old-guard German General. Their agendas might coincide for a while, and each of them might even benefit from their association with the other as long as the goal is getting Germany rid of the Nazis. But will their interest always coincide ? Will the German officer agree that Allied bombings on the Reich’s cities are a necessary evil if that means bringing the Reich down ? Will the Allied intelligence officer want to favour the rise of a non-Nazi, but still powerful Germany ? As the two men conspire to bring Hitler down, we can all feel there is going to be a point in the story where they will be sworn enemies, each of them knowing too much for the other’s comfort, and each of them wanting to advance his own agenda over the other one’s dead body if need be.
*******
Now that we have seen Mentors and Gatekeepers in action, and that the main character has truly become the Hero, it’s time to see how the story’s first serious obstacles will be overcome. That will be the topic of the next article.
Atlantic Friend is the author of Crossfires, a French AAR for HOI2 Doomsday