Because everyone loves a good story
Stage Four: Meeting with the Mentor
Master and apprentice. Jedi and Padawan. Executive chef and sous chef. Store manager and shelf stocker. As you can see, the world is full of Mentors.
So far in our study of Christopher Vogler’s version of the Hero’s Journey, the hero has received a Call to Adventure and has promptly refused the Call. So how is the story supposed to get rolling again? Enter, the Mentor.
Everyone knows about Mentors because most adventures feature at least one. But why, exactly, is that so? Because Mentors play a vital role in the story: they make sure that “the hero gains the supplies, knowledge, and confidence needed to overcome fear and commence the adventure” (117). Many heroes start out feeling a little unsure and unqualified. It’s a Mentor’s job to make sure the hero overcomes these and other obstacles in order to get the hero out the door.
What Makes a Mentor?
So how do they accomplish this? Often, the Mentor will provide the hero with a physical item that helps throughout the story. It could be a book for wisdom, a weapon for protection, a map for direction, or even just a clue to get them searching. But anyone can go around handing out swords and maps; that doesn’t make them a Mentor. The difference is that Mentors will always impart confidence to the hero, convincing him or her that the quest is possible and necessary. As Vogler says, “Even if physical gifts are given, Mentors also strengthen the hero’s mind to face an ordeal with confidence” (121).
Anyone can go around handing out swords and maps; that doesn’t make them a Mentor.
But although everyone is familiar with the Mentor stereotype, that doesn’t mean that every adventure has to include a wonderful fairy godmother or a shaman-like Yoda. Sometimes the Mentor surprises us by deceiving the hero, making mistakes, refusing to let the hero move on, or turning out to be a bust after all. For example, Oz, the great and powerful wizard, is no more than a blundering, bluffing old man behind a curtain. Not much of a Mentor. However, Glinda the good witch provides “aid, advice, and magical equipment” to get the story “unstuck” (124). Now, that’s a Mentor.
Even Mentors Make Mistakes
In some stories, a Mentor with good intentions gives the best advice he can manage, but it still turns out badly in the end. This type of story is a tragedy. No, really; I mean the genre is that of the tragedy. For example, in Shakespeare’s Romeo and Juliet, Friar Lawrence wisely cautions the impulsive Romeo about his newest romantic interest, Juliet. However, the friar ultimately decides to marry the young couple anyway, hoping it will bring peace between the families. He is also responsible for Juliet’s fake death and, indirectly, for the fact that Romeo never got the memo that the death was, indeed, fake. As you know, the warring families did make peace in the end, but only after half of the characters are dead and bleeding on the stage. Ultimately, the friar was right but certainly not in the way he’d planned. Oh well. Romeo wasn’t much of a hero anyway.
Examples from The Hobbit
In Tolkien’s The Hobbit, Bilbo’s Mentor is obviously Gandalf. After their initial meeting in which Bilbo refuses the Call to Adventure, Gandalf continues to mentor him, pushing him away from his familiar way of life and talking about him as though he were a qualified burglar. However, Bilbo remains uncommitted to the Adventure until it’s almost too late. The dwarves have left long before Bilbo wakes up that morning, and he begins to think he’s off the hook. If he’d been more familiar with Gandalf, no doubt he would have known better. Sure enough, just as Bilbo is sitting down to his second breakfast, the wizard arrives, blustering on about the message that the dwarves had left—a message that Bilbo had overlooked. It politely thanks him for his hospitality and expects him to meet them at 11:00—punctually.
“’That leaves you just ten minutes. You will have to run,’ said Gandalf.
“’But—,’ said Bilbo.
“’No time for that either! Off you go!’
“To the end of his days Bilbo could never remember how he found himself outside, without a hat, a walking-stick or any money…running as fast as his furry feet could carry him down the lane” (29-30).
After that final Meeting with the Mentor, Bilbo was off to accomplish the next stage of the Hero’s Journey: Crossing the First Threshold.
Today’s Question: Think of a character who fulfills the role of Mentor. How does he or she provide the “supplies, knowledge, [or] confidence” that the hero needs?
Sources:
Vogler, Christopher. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers, Second Edition. Studio City: Michael Wiese Productions, 1998.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. New York: Ballantine Books, 1937.
Stage Three: Refusal of the Call to Adventure
Let’s imagine that you’re a hero. Now, some people are born heroes, and others have heroism thrust upon them. You’re the second kind of hero.
So you’re living your life, minding your own business and trying to get from day to day just like the next guy. Your life isn’t perfect, but you have your routine and you’re managing to cope very nicely, thankyouverymuch. Sure, there are problems with the world, with your family, and maybe even with your own personality, although why that’s anyone else’s business is, quite frankly, beyond you. But for the most part, things are fine.
Suddenly you’re presented with a massive choice, an opportunity to make a change not just for yourself but for the world as you know it. It will be drastic, and you will never be the same when (or if) you return. Do you jump on the opportunity without hesitation? Or are you a little hesitant to commit to this mysterious and formidable quest? Most likely, the latter.
The Third Stage
Given that the second stage of the Hero’s Journey is the Call to Adventure, would you care to guess the third stage? You’ve got it—the Refusal of the Call. If you surmised that based on the normal, human reaction to a Call, then you’re a smarty pants. If you guessed that because you read my earlier article where I listed all 12 stages…you’re still a smarty pants, but you kind of cheated too.
Regardless, the Refusal of the Call is a common initial reaction for many heroes from myths to stories to films. “Refusal may be a subtle moment, perhaps just a word or two of hesitation between receiving and accepting a Call,” writes Vogler. “Refusal may be a single stop near the beginning of the journey, or it may be encountered at every step of the way, depending on the nature of the hero” (114).
But doesn’t the refusal make the hero less heroic? I don’t think so. In fact, Vogler says that “this doubt is more interesting than knowing that the hero will rise to every occasion. Such questions create emotional suspense for the audience, who watch the hero’s progress with uncertainty hanging in the back of their minds” (112).
Refusals Come in Different Shapes
Besides, the refusal doesn’t have to be an all-out tantrum. It may be just a brief moment of reluctance, like Jasmine’s slight hesitation before answering Aladdin’s “Do you trust me?” by jumping out a window with him. It could be an internal battle culminating in a difficult decision, like Frodo’s decision to take the ring to Mordor. And sometimes the hero just needs a little more motivation before he will accept the Call. Take, for example, Luke Skywalker in “A New Hope.” He isn’t ready simply to drop his boring but familiar life on Tatooine and follow Obi-Wan, all willy-nilly, into some intergalactic struggle. But when he returns home and finds nothing but the charred remains of his…er, former life, it flips a switch in him. He is suddenly ready to accept the Call to Adventure.
Examples from The Hobbit
In our hero Bilbo Baggins, we find a strong hesitation to join in on the foolhardy expedition proposed by Gandalf and the dwarves. He flat out refuses Gandalf’s original Call by saying, “’Sorry! I don’t want any adventures, thank you. Not today. Good morning!’” (6). The next day, however, the dwarves enter his home, eat his food, and pitch their proposition that Bilbo be the burglar on their adventure “’from which some of us, or perhaps all of us… may never return,’” Thorin adds (17). Bilbo’s Refusal of the Call is more emphatic this time. “At may never return he began to feel a shriek coming up inside, and very soon it burst out like the whistle of an engine coming out of a tunnel.” He collapses on the rug, “shaking like a jelly that was melting,” and later proceeds to sleep through their departure (17).
However, it would have been a short book indeed if Bilbo had stayed home with his warm fire, his arm chair, and his multitude of adequate handkerchiefs. This is why he soon entered the next stage of the Hero’s Journey, which is Meeting with the Mentor.
Today’s Question: Can you think of a hero who initially refuses the Call to Adventure? What is his or her reason for the refusal?
Sources:
Vogler, Christopher. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers, Second Edition. Studio City: Michael Wiese Productions, 1998.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. New York: Ballantine Books, 1937.
Think Spring: A Small Tribute to the Season
If you were to pay tribute to one facet of spring, what would it be?
I’ve lived for years in both Michigan and South Texas, and I can tell you that spring is a season of hope, wonder, and delight no matter where you’re from.
I know, I know; if you live in the frozen tundra called the North, spring feels like the proverbial carrot dangled in front of the horse—the weary, frozen, hopeless horse, you’d probably like to add. You’re told that if you just keep plodding along week after week, you’ll eventually get to sink your teeth into that most delectable of seasons. You rather doubt it, yet on you plod. Really, what choice do you have? Besides, you tell yourself, there was that one day last week, that 60-degree nibble that tasted of the coming thaw…but that was the day before the four-inch snow dump. The horse rolls its eyes, gives up hope, and plops its rump in the nearest snowbank.
But you know you still love spring.
If you’re from the deep south, you may have blinked and missed spring entirely. I remember one February day several years ago; I stepped outside my Texas apartment and realized suddenly that it was spring! The sun, the smells, the air itself told me so. I was giddy with excitement. So long, sweaters! Spring has sprung! But by noon that day it was already summer, and I needed some sun screen. The mild temperatures seemed to last all of four hours that year, but they were sweet indeed. You southerners may be able to relate.
But you know you still love spring.
See, no matter where you’re from or how dissatisfied you are with the current state of your state, you just can’t help loving this freshest of all seasons.
Here are a few things I’ve fallen in love with again this spring:
*The sight of red-breasted robins eyeballing the ground for worms, even though it’s still snowing
*Little shoots of green peeking through the dirt where you didn’t even know flowers were planted
*Ducks waddling through puddles and quacking like raspy old women who’ve smoked three packs a day since kindergarten
*The smell of fresh, damp earth just starting to warm up in the sunshine
*Canada geese bobbing their heads at you and honking like the squeak of a straw through a plastic lid
I could list many more things I love, but by the time I finished, it would be summer. The Modern American poet e.e. cummings also celebrated his joyful, childlike exuberance about the season in a poem that we call “in Just-”
The poem goes on in much the same fashion for two-ish more stanzas (if you can call the stanzas), but you get the picture. Cummings is excited about spring. I mention his poem to say this: you can’t possibly have stranger and less-relatable aspects of spring to share, so don’t feel shy.
Go ahead—what do you love about spring?
Stage Two: The Call to Adventure
In our last installment of the Hero’s Journey, we looked at the importance of establishing the Ordinary World of the hero. This glimpse into a day in the life of our hero is vital to our understanding of who she is and where she comes from. But every adventure eventually has to move into the world of adventure or else it won’t be much of an…adventure, if you know what I mean. Ergo, the Call to Adventure.
What the Call Looks Like
But what does this Call look like? Well, it can come in many forms: receiving a message or news, a sudden political or personal turn of events, an inner longing to follow someone or find something, one small incident that becomes the last straw, or even the hero’s decision that he has finally had enough of the status quo.
Sometimes the call isn’t the gaining of new information but the loss of something important. “The Call could be the kidnapping of a loved one or the loss of anything precious, such as health, security, or love,” says Vogler (103). The movie “Taken” is an obvious example of a Call to Adventure in the form of a loss because the man’s daughter is, well…taken. However, I am not prepared to comment on the movie itself at this time, your honor.
Look, the Call to Adventure could be as simple as someone literally just calling the hero to join in the adventure. I shall refer once again to Luke Skywalker. (I may do that from time to time because, one, I adore the original trilogy, and two, George Lucas used Joseph Campbell’s stages of the Hero’s Journey as a reference for the plot of Star Wars: Episode IV, “A New Hope.” In fact, Lucas referred to Campbell as “my Yoda.” This is a true saying and worthy of all acceptance. Skeptical? Read the article for yourself. I don’t mind.)
George Lucas referred to Joseph Campbell as “my Yoda.” For real.
Anyway, I digressed from my example. I was merely going to point out that in “A New Hope,” the Call to Adventure was just that: Obi Wan calls Luke from his boring farm life on Tatooine into the adventurous world of the Rebellion. And, five movies and a billion fans later, I’m sure that Luke is glad he accepted.
Examples from The Hobbit
To cite another example that I love, The Hobbit gives a delightful, two-part Call to Adventure. The first call is from Gandalf, and it’s just as direct as Obi-Wan’s. Gandalf says to Bilbo, “’I am looking for someone to share in an adventure that I am arranging, and it’s very difficult to find anyone.’
“’I should think so—in these parts! We are plain quiet folk and have no use for adventures. Nasty disturbing uncomfortable things! Make you late for dinner! I can’t think what anybody sees in them,’ said our Mr Baggins…” (4).
But while Bilbo ducks out of that Call, he gets a renewed Call to Adventure when his house suddenly fills with thirteen unknown dwarves who are under the impression (thanks to a certain grey-cloaked wizard) that Bilbo would be a decent burglar on their quest.
Now, for many heroes, this Call to Adventure is sure to come as a shock. Therefore, most heroes—even the good ones—are likely to meet this Call to Adventure with the next stage in the Hero’s Journey: the Refusal of the Call.
Today’s Question: Think of the Call to Adventure in a book, movie, or story that you know. How is the call presented to the hero?
Sources:
Vogler, Christopher. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers, Second Edition. Studio City: Michael Wiese Productions, 1998.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. New York: Ballantine Books, 1937.
the cup: a poem for Good Friday
the cup—
as deep as time, yet pre-creation filled
with anger, blood-thick, brimming,
breaking holy heart with plans for man—
cup-fillers—and for One, the Son,
who could not add a drop but did not stop
His dust-designing, Spirit-breathing,
choice-allowing plan to rescue
man.
the Man of Sorrows, Rescuer, foreplanned
Cup-Drinker, staggered by the thought of
fellowship lost with Father—brief eternity—
yearns for mercy, any other way to save
merciless murderers, friendless fiends who
scream for blood on wooden beams.
“Father, let this wrath-cup pass,
yet not My will…” the answer, only
silence.
willing, ready, joy-pursuing,
mercy-laden Lamb, Messiah, stands
and grasps with piercéd hands
the cup of wrath
alone.
then drinking down unmellowed fury,
staggering, certain, undeserving Sacrifice
sufficing holy plan’s demand by
quaffing final dregs and drops, ‘til
righteous wrath is satisfied with
“it is finished!”
my bitter drink exchanged for pain and blood.
His bloody death exchanged for mercy, free and full.
the Father’s mercy calls me, bids me daily look
inside the wrath-cup Christ took, drank, and drained—
forever
empty.
Stage One: The Ordinary World
Luke Skywalker does farm chores for his Uncle Owen on Tatooine. The Pevensie children begin their Narnian adventure in the quiet old house of Professor Kirke. Harry Potter starts out in a cookie cutter house on Privet Drive.
That is to say, every adventure begins in an Ordinary World.
The Importance of the Ordinary
In Christopher Vogler’s book The Writer’s Journey, the first stage of The Hero’s Journey is that of the Ordinary World. “The Special World of the story is only special if we can see it in contrast to a mundane world of everyday affairs from which the hero issues forth,” says Vogler (85). But does that mean it has to be ordinary in our sense of the word? No way. What’s ordinary to Luke Skywalker is certainly not ordinary to us, unless you happen to work on a desolate moisture farm on a two-sun planet. The whole point of the Ordinary World is to show us what reality is like for our hero—just a day in the life, if you will.
Sounds pretty simple, right? But don’t be deceived. The audience may see just a day in the life, but a good writer has much more going on underneath. Since the beginning of a story is the first thing an audience encounters, it’s important to start off right and make it count. That’s why, when it’s done well, the Ordinary World can prepare the audience for the whole rest of the story.
Fitting a Lot into the Ordinary
For example, a good Ordinary World scene will accomplish all kinds of things, like introducing us to the hero, providing a contrast for the Special World, foreshadowing upcoming action, showing us what’s missing in the hero or in the world, and even introducing the theme of the whole story.
Zow! Pulling off a good Ordinary World scene is more pressure than the first day of junior high! But there are still plenty of stories that accomplish all that and more.
In my opinion, two of the most important questions to answer in the Ordinary World are “Who is the hero?” and “What is at stake?” We want to meet our hero, see her reactions, find out what makes her tick. And we want to know what’s wrong in the hero’s world. Is he lacking something? Is his world in danger? “Scripts often fail because the stakes simply aren’t high enough. A story in which the hero will only be slightly embarrassed or inconvenienced if he fails is likely to get the ‘So what?’ reaction from readers” (94). And that, my friends, is not the reaction any writer is going for.
In my opinion, two of the most important questions to answer in the Ordinary World are “Who is the hero?” and “What is at stake?”
Examples from The Hobbit
So, as promised, I’m going to find all 12 stages of The Hero’s Journey in Tolkien’s The Hobbit. Thankfully, this one is easy to find; everyone knows that the Ordinary World of Bilbo Baggins is the Shire. When the story opens, we see Bilbo just chillaxing, standing next to the freshly-painted door of his cozy little hobbit hole. He’s smoking his long, wooden pipe and feeling comfortable and happy. His meals are regular (and frequent), his days are unhurried, and his life is his own. What could possibly go wrong in this sunny little corner of the Shire?
Oh, what indeed?
The fact that his world is so perfect is a hint at what’s at stake for him: an adventure would most certainly change Bilbo’s routine, his personality, and his life. But we have to meet the dwarves before we can discover that the stakes are even higher. And at that point, The Hobbit will progress from the Ordinary World to the next stage: the Call to Adventure!
Today’s Question: Think of the Ordinary World of a book, movie, or story you know. How does it do a good job of introducing the hero?
Sources:
Vogler, Christopher. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers, Second Edition. Studio City: Michael Wiese Productions, 1998.
Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. New York: Ballantine Books, 1937.
What is The Writer’s Journey?
At last! We get to talk about Story!* Together, we get to examine the threads that, when woven together, form some of the most memorable and awe-inspiring stories that we know. I really want this to be an interactive series, so each post will end with a question. I can’t wait to hear from you! This is exciting stuff, folks!
And yet I know what some of you are thinking right now: “I’m not a published writer. This series will not interest or benefit me in the least.” Au contraire, mon ami. You will indeed enjoy this series if you can answer any of the following questions in the affirmative:
Are you even remotely interested in writing?
Do you enjoy reading when you have the time?
Do you love to watch a good movie?
Have you ever gotten hooked on watching a show?
Have you ever felt betrayed when a movie, book, or show turned from interesting to boring, unbelievable, manipulative, or confusing?
Are you still reading this article?
If you answered, “Yes!” to any of those questions, then this is a series that you’ll really enjoy. Just trust me and give it a shot.
The Writer’s Journey
So! Down to business. What is this book that I’m going to be discussing, and what’s it about? The book is Christopher Vogler’s The Writer’s Journey.
“But hey! You told me this wasn’t just for writers!”
Pipe down over there. I’m getting to that part.
Anyway, this book is heavily influenced by an older book by Joseph Campbell called The Hero with a Thousand Faces. Campbell’s book organized and discussed the various components that are common to all great stories throughout history. He created what is called “The Hero’s Journey,” an organization of plot points and motifs that show up in myths, epics, the subconscious, and stories. It was a very important, ground-breaking book. I didn’t like it very much.**
So Vogler read this book by Campbell, was changed by it forever, and then wrote The Writer’s Journey as a modern version of those same concepts. Basically, if you’re only going to read one of those books, make it The Writer’s Journey, especially if you’re not sure you really love literary theory, archetypes, and the monomyth.
Tolkien’s The Hobbit
Wait! Don’t go! I promise not to say things like “archetype” and “monomyth” in the same sentence again for a long time. Instead, let’s talk about The Hobbit. In this series, I plan to look at the 12 stages of The Hero’s Journey and then apply them to the plot of Tolkien’s delectable little book, The Hobbit. Notice that I had to differentiate from Peter Jackson’s movie version of The Hobbit. They are unrelated except that they both have a Bilbo, a dragon, and a ring. If you haven’t read the book but you’ve seen the movies, that’s ok! You’ll know enough to track along with me. Just plan to be a little surprised now and then by how the real story goes. (Spoiler alert: as hot as that elf chick is, she’s not even in the book.)***
In conclusion, I hope to give you helpful summaries, personal opinions, and relatable examples. And in return, I really do hope you’ll give me feedback. Let me know what you find useful, controversial, irrelevant, or intriguing. Ask me questions! Share your opinion! Pass this on to a friend who might enjoy it too! And don’t forget to answer the question at the end of each post.
So, as a teaser, I’ll leave you with the mere titles of the 12 stages of The Hero’s Journey, and next time we’ll look at the first stage together. I can’t wait!
The 12 Stages of the Hero’s Journey
Ordinary World
Call to Adventure
Refusal of the Call
Meeting with the Mentor
Crossing the First Threshold
Tests, Allies, and Enemies
Approach to the Inmost Cave
The Ordeal
Reward/Seizing the Sword
The Road Back
Resurrection
Return with the Elixir
Let the journey begin!
Your question: Think of one story (book, movie, show, myth, whatever) that you’ve really enjoyed. What is it, and what do you like about it?
Ready for more? Check out Stage One: The Ordinary World now!
Sources:
- Vogler, Christopher. The Writer’s Journey: Mythic Structure for Writers, Second Edition. Studio City: Michael Wiese Productions, 1998.
- Tolkien, J.R.R. The Hobbit. New York: Ballantine Books, 1937.
If you’re not sick of me yet, you can check out the asterisk footnote section below! Read More
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