The Purification of Storytelling

People have flaws. And your characters should have them too.

I often refer to fiction as “heightened reality.” While journalism, by design, must be as accurate and unbiased as possible to contribute to a healthy, functioning democracy, storytelling requires a sense of drama to engage readers.

In fiction, there’s a promise that what you’re experiencing — whether through watching, reading, or consuming — is not real. As an artist, you have an obligation to fulfill this promise based on the genre you’re working in.

However, as you strive to craft a perfect (or as close to it as possible) story, you encounter several challenges — boulders trying to crush your creative endeavor. These challenges include meeting audience expectations, navigating creative differences within your team, and adhering to project timelines.

One of the most significant challenges is finding a balance between creating authentic characters that reflect real people and still evoking a sense of wonder and excitement in your audience.

Isn’t it ironic how a corporation can disrupt all of this arbitrarily?

To clarify, my critique isn’t directed at any specific corporation; rather, it’s a commentary on the general approach that the new generation of storytellers is compelled to adopt. This is largely influenced by the fact that corporations funding these stories often impose a checklist that may not align with the artist’s vision.

A recent example of this is the departure of the showrunners of the original Nickelodeon cartoon, Avatar: The Last Airbender, from a Netflix live action adaptation set to premiere on February 27th.

Opening the can of worms that is the saga of ATLA’s live action adaptation attempts — from Shyamalan’s 2010 fanfiction, all the way to Netflix’s 2024 series generating equal concern and excitement from the fans — would be a disaster. If you’re interested in learning more about it, visit: ATLA Creators Exit Netflix

I am bringing up this specific example because a series of comments, both from the new crew of Avatar and its actors, were the last nail in the coffin for me after watching and experiencing the rapid decline in the understanding of what a story is in the last ten years.

The first comment that wrinkled my forehead was about the newly-minted version of Sokka in Netflix’ adaptation. He and his fellow screen sister Katara, played by Ms. Kiawentiio, discussed Sokka’s character in an interview with Entertainment Weekly. She said:

“I feel like we also took out the element of how sexist [Sokka] was. I feel like there were a lot of moments in the original show that were iffy.”

The details can be found here.

The second comment that made me lose faith in humanity came from the showrunner himself. Speaking with IGN about how the story was and wasn’t changed, Albert Kim said:

“In the first season of the animated series, he’s kind of going from place to place looking for adventures. He even says, ‘First, we’ve got to go and ride the elephant koi.’ We essentially give him this vision of what’s going to happen and he says, ‘I have to get to the Northern Water Tribe to stop this from happening.’ That gives him much more narrative compulsion going forward, as opposed to, ‘Let’s make a detour and go ride the elephant koi,’ that type of thing.”

The interview can be found here.

If you can hear vague distant screams from afar, that’s me. Anytime someone reads these sentences, I get a Google alert and yell into my freezer with my mouth glued to an ice pack.

Without delving too deeply into why Sokka’s sexism isn’t a product of 2005 but a very conscious narrative choice that outlines his insecurity, providing incentive for the women in his life to rise up and teach him better, or why Aang’s goofiness isn’t a result of Nickelodeon’s “child-friendly” policies but rather an essential aspect of how Aang copes with grief, loss, and the burden of responsibility through escapism, let’s return to the fundamental principles of storytelling and how they operate.

It appears the pandemic wiped our brains, causing us to forget that applying a glossy Disney filter over people’s flaws won’t make them disappear, regardless of how many times you “adapt,” “rewrite,” or “remake” media to be more palatable to modern audiences.

I cannot tell you who these “modern audiences” are because no one I know or work with in the industry wants to watch people be happy all the time, make no errors of judgment, and speak like politically correct marionettes without a heart and a mind.

We all inevitably make a mistake and sometimes say and do dumb things. We cannot tailor stories that do not reflect that reality and then act out a surprised Pikachu face when someone in our lives messes up, as if it wasn’t an absolute inevitability.

Flawed characters, especially those who undergo metamorphosis, give us hope and understanding that people can change. They teach us compassion and demonstrate diversity of thinking. How can we expect to give someone a chance to change if we believe mistakes shouldn’t happen in the first place?

Storytelling is not akin to a dysfunctional marriage where no one ever changes, and we just continue with the Sunday roast because we need to pay off the mortgage.

In stories, characters need to experience an arc — they start in one place and end up making a 180-degree flip. If they don’t, you have to make a point of it and explain why exactly that character cannot be helped, cannot change, or cannot evolve.

If you’re an aspiring writer and have no idea where to start with your characters, this basic outline should help you create the most badass, compelling fiction. After all, Joseph Campbell and Christopher Booker must have known what they were doing.

If you’re an advanced writer, I’d love to invite you to read it too. After all, a little rehash cannot hurt anyone, especially after those abominable comments from supposedly professional writers that profoundly misunderstood the original ATLA cartoon. (Urgh.)

Maybe you will find something new and different in the way it is presented.

Let’s get into it: These are the seven fundamental plot arcs to choose for your characters.

Overcoming the monster

The main character must stop the person or force threatening them. Example: Dracula by Bram Stoker

• Real life parallel/metaphor to draw from: Addiction, standing up to a bully, paying off a debt, beating an illness
• Important conflicts to include: Man vs. Man/Man vs. Self/Man vs. Nature
• Genres best used for this type of plot: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Horror, Literary Fiction

From a psychoanalytic standpoint, the monster symbolizes a manifestation of the protagonist’s internal or external fears, desires, or unresolved conflicts.

The confrontation with the monster then becomes a metaphorical journey of self-discovery and personal growth, where the protagonist must grapple with their own inner demons in order to emerge triumphant.

It’s important to note that in these types of narratives, the hero is often portrayed as infallible, a pure-hearted angel, which can lead to the creation of an archetype known as the Mary Sue. This character never loses, never gets their butt kicked, never ponders their mistakes, and never learns.

To avoid this type of characterization, the safest route is to create a hero who is overconfident and enters their first battle self-assured. Ensure your hero loses their first battle and hits a new low halfway through the story. You need to evoke an emotional response from your audience to make them feel sorry for the hero.

Rags to riches

The main character begins poor, comes into money (and/or fame, power, and love), loses it, and becomes a better person because of it. Example: Great Expectations by Charles Dickens

• Real life parallel/metaphor to draw from: social mobility, ethos of meritocracy, systemic barriers, discrimination, structural inequality
• Important conflicts to include: Man vs. The Man/Man vs Society
• Genres best used for this type of plot: Historical Fiction, Romance, Adventure

Historically, the “rags to riches” narrative has been intertwined with the American Dream, the idealized belief that anyone, regardless of their background, can achieve prosperity and success through hard work and determination.

Immigrant stories, in particular, often embody this narrative, as individuals and families come to a new country seeking better opportunities and strive to build a better life for themselves and future generations.

The crucial aspect to watch out for is avoiding falling into the pit of stereotypes. To surprise and delight, take a page out of Oscar Wilde’s “The Picture of Dorian Gray”.

Instead of making the main character a hero, Wilde plays with Dorian’s journey, turning his rags-to-riches story into one of greed. This offers a nuanced commentary on classism, human nature, and the value of love versus money.

The hero should become a better person by the end, but the audiences do not necessarily expect that if you set up the main character as an antihero/villain.

The Quest

The main character takes an epic journey to find something, someone, or some place, running into obstacles on the way. Example: The Lord of the Rings by J.R.R. Tolkien

• Real life parallel/metaphor to draw from: personal growth and self-discovery
• Important conflicts to include: Man vs. Man/Man vs. Institutions
• Genres best used for this type of plot: Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Mystery

From a structuralist perspective, the quest narrative adheres to a discernible pattern of plot progression, often delineated by Joseph Campbell’s monomyth or “hero’s journey” framework. These stories are so well-liked and recognized for its simple (not simplistic!) and easy to follow story.

With this one, oldie but a goodie is the way to go — stick to Campbell’s classic hero journey — call to adventure — refusal of the call — meeting the mentor — crossing the threshold to another life — tests, allies, enemies — approach to the inmost cave — ordeal — reward — road back — resurrection — return with the elixir.

If you’d like to play with the hero a little, draw a board of his entire personality, and make him complex by incorporating his shadow (his worst self) into the narrative. For example, Luke Skywalker is the primary example of a hero’s journey, and yet, he doesn’t get the girl; in fact, his love interest turns out to be his sister.

He doesn’t defeat the evil with a sword but with the power of love, and he is saved instead of being the direct savior himself. There is a lot you can do to subvert your readers’ expectations.

Voyage and Return

The main character visits a new world and returns home with a new perspective. Example: Alice in Wonderland by Lewis Carroll

• Real life parallel/metaphor to draw from: educational experiences, travel abroad, cultural study
• Important conflicts to include: Man vs. Man
• Genres best used for this type of plot: Bildungsroman (Coming-of-Age), Fantasy, Sci-Fi, Horror

The voyage archetype represents a metaphorical journey of exploration, discovery, and personal growth, wherein the protagonist faces obstacles and undergoes transformation before returning home, changed by their experiences.

If you’re not in the mood to write a whimsical adventure about a girl from Kansas but still want to utilize the Voyage archetype, look no further than “Our Share of Night” by Mariana Enriquez.

While “Our Share of Night” may not fit the traditional mold of a voyage narrative, with a character embarking on a deliberate journey with a specific goal or destination, it does portray a kind of journey experienced by the protagonist, Juan, and his son Gaspar.

Juan’s journey may not strictly adhere to the conventions of a traditional voyage narrative, but it shares similarities with the archetype in its exploration of themes such as discovery, transformation, and the protagonist’s confrontation with the unknown.

The narrative structure of “Our Share of Night” may be more episodic or fragmented compared to a typical voyage narrative, but it still captures the essence of a journey undertaken by the protagonist. However, be cautious of the endings.

In this archetype, readers typically expect a strictly happy ending and the hero’s safe return home.

Comedy

The main character experiences an escalating sequence of confusing but comedic events, which are ultimately resolved into a happy ending. Example: A Midsummer Night’s Dream by Shakespeare

• Real life parallel/metaphor to draw from: absurdity, folly, triumph of the human spirit
• Important conflicts to include: Man vs. Man
• Genres best used for this type of plot: Bildungsroman (Coming-of-Age), Rom-Com, Farce, Satire

Comedy narratives often reflect and comment upon social norms, values, and conventions, providing a lens through which audiences can explore and critique societal dynamics.

If you are dealing with a serious story and you want to shed a light on a traditionally taboo topics, using satire might be the way to go.

Humor acts as the metaphorical spoonful of sugar that makes the medicine go down, particularly when you aim to write about subjects that traditionally prompt people to turn their heads away out of ignorance, discomfort, or feeling called out and embarrassed.

Tragedy

The main character has a flaw or makes a mistake that results in their downfall. Example: Romeo and Juliet by Shakespeare

• Real life parallel/metaphor to draw from: morality, mortality, fate, hubris
• Important conflicts to include: Man vs. Man
• Genres best used for this type of plot: Historical fiction, Tragicomedy, Modern tragedy

From an existentialist perspective, tragedy delves into themes of human existence, freedom, and the search for meaning in a world devoid of inherent purpose or morality.

In this narrative, there is often contemplation on the reason for our existence, which typically culminates in a nihilistic conclusion that life sucks, people suck, and perhaps the best option is to cease existing. This archetype, most notably seen in the era of Russian Romanticism, features a lot of mulling over existential questions.

A key aspect to stick to in this archetype is the presence of a tortured hero or star-crossed lovers who meet a tragic end, often due to miscommunication or fated adversity.

Rebirth

The main character experiences an event that makes them a better person. Example: A Christmas Carol by Charles Dickens

• Real life parallel/metaphor to draw from: personal growth, renewal, salvation, redemption
• Important conflicts to include: Man vs. Man
• Genres best used for this type of plot: Bildungsroman (Coming-of-Age), Transformational Fiction, Fantasy

Whether through mythic traditions, psychological insights, or narrative storytelling, rebirth narratives offer profound insights into the human experience and the journey of self-discovery.

In these narratives, the hero is often an antihero who begins in a troubled state, serving as their own worst enemy and resisting the call to goodness, which usually comes from those closest to them.

The key here is to remember that the antihero is responsible for their own transformation.

While there may be elements, often magical or mythical, that give them a nudge, it is crucial to ensure that their transformation comes from within. Once you start down the path of “I can fix him,” it becomes a slippery slope from there.

That’s it for today, folks! Remember to have fun with your characters, challenge yourself to write the most awful person on the planet and make them likable to your audience. Write, edit, rinse, repeat.

And don’t hesitate to seek help from your community if things aren’t jiving anymore.

Good luck!