232. About Storytelling: The Unexpected Hero

I love it when heroes don’t start that way.

Some of the most popular heroes in fiction began their journeys as normal people. Luke Skywalker. Bilbo Baggins. Harry Potter. Bruce Wayne. Link from the Legend of Zelda games. The girl from those ridiculous Twilight books. All these characters have something in common: they’re ordinary. At the very least, they seem ordinary. They’re normal people with normal lives who stumble into something extraordinary, and we love them for it.

Why do we like unexpected heroes so much?

Unexpected heroes are relatable

Look at Batman. If he were just a man with a cape and a bunch of gadgets, we might be mildly impressed. The reason we love Batman is because we see the man behind the mask: Bruce Wayne, the child whose parents were murdered, the loner burdened with guilt, the hero determined to make a difference. We can wish we were Batman, but we can’t relate to him—not really. Batman is just a persona. Bruce Wayne is the one to whom we relate: the person whose struggles give depth and meaning to Batman’s adventures.

Heroes are hard for us to understand. Most of us are ordinary people. We can’t relate to good-looking, all-powerful, super-smart adventurers and superheroes. Only when heroes have a human side—or better yet, start out as ordinary people—can we relate to them.

Unexpected heroes inspire us

I find it hard to be inspired by Nelson Mandela, who recently passed away. He was a very great man—so great, in fact, that I can’t imagine how I could ever make one-hundredth as great a difference as he. I find it much easier to be inspired by people I know: my parents, for example, and my grandparents. I look at Nelson Mandela and see unattainable greatness. I look at my grandfather and see a man whose greatness I may someday achieve.

Unexpected heroes begin as ordinary people. When they go on to do amazing things, their example gives us hope that perhaps we can accomplish something worthwhile in our own ordinary lives.

Unexpected heroes are exciting

I don’t like Superman. It’s nothing personal, I just find it hard to get excited about a guy who is practically invincible. He flies, he shoots lasers from his eyes and oh, yeah, he’s nearly invulnerable. With only one weakness, Superman is boring. Batman is another story. He has no superpowers; every one of his strengths could feasibly belong to an ordinary human being. Batman is breakable, which makes him interesting.

When a hero starts off brave or powerful, it’s hard for us to care. We know they’ll win. There’s little excitement, little tension and little interest. When our protagonist is just an ordinary person, however, we wonder whether they’ll succeed. We sympathize with them. We cheer for them. As they grow and mature, we find satisfaction in their progress. At last, when they triumph, we’re overjoyed—because we know they’ve earned it.

O people of the Internet, who is your favorite unexpected hero? Let us know in the comments!

221. About Writ—I Mean, Storytelling

There was a time when this blog featured About Writing posts, which consisted of my rambling advice on how to write fiction. I wrote about stuff like characterization, style, setting and attitude.

After giving it some thought, I’ve decided to discontinue About Writing posts. I’ve covered pretty much every topic I wanted to discuss. Besides, I’m no longer sure I’m really qualified to give advice about writing fiction.

All the same, fiction fascinates me. I’m intrigued by storytelling. I can’t help it. That said, I want to continue discussing (read: rambling about) fiction on this blog. I won’t blather any more in About Writing posts on how to write stories, but I’d like to discuss narrative tricks and techniques in a new feature: About Storytelling posts.

What is Chekhov’s gun? Is objectionable content ever acceptable in fiction? What is retconning? (It sounds highly illegal, whatever it is.) Who cares about symbolism? What about character quirks? And why is Batman clearly the best superhero when he has no superpowers?

These are Burning Questions. We here at TMTF consider it our duty to answer them.

Adventure? Take This with You!

Dangerous to Go Alone

Picture from Spader7 on deviantART.

“It’s dangerous to go alone. Take this.”

These are the famous opening words of The Legend of Zelda, and an age-old motif in mythology, legend, folklore and fantasy. “Going on an adventure? Here, take _____ with you!”

Luke Skywalker got a lightsaber at the start of his journey. Frodo Baggins received a magic ring. The Pevensies (sans Edmund) accepted useful gifts from Father Christmas, and Captain Jack Sparrow was granted a pistol and one shot. Heck, even Perseus got a bunch of neat stuff for his quest from the gods in the old Greek myths.

The hero often seems to get something—a sword, an amulet, a keepsake—at the start of his or her adventure, and whatever it is always turns out to be really useful. A pointless knick-knack is later revealed to be the all-important Map or Key or Talisman of Plot Advancement.

So take my advice. If someone gives you something at the beginning of an adventure, hold on to the darn thing. You’ll be needing it.