What About The Other Characters In The Hero’s Journey?

I often think about the other characters in stories. The ones who aren’t the key players, heroes, or villains. In fact, I am sometimes so distracted watching the extras in the background of a scene that I have no idea what’s going on with the main action.

As alluring as it is to imagine, life rarely plays out like a hero’s journey: Departure (the call away from ordinary life and into an adventure), Initiation (the quest that requires conquering a challenge and acquiring a reward), and Return (coming back to the ordinary life victorious and transformed).

And while the hero’s journey makes for a compelling and exhilarating story arc, it isn’t always a helpful one to view our lives through. We know reality is much less linear, neat, and resolvable. And yet, we often see it used in the coaching industry for framing goal setting and navigating seasons of change.

Several points arise from this, which we discussed in our Haven Courtyard workshop with Kendra Patterson.

Manufacturing Conflict

One issue with the hero’s journey is that it relies on a central conflict, necessitating the identification of points of separation, competition, and hostility to fight against and overcome. Even when there isn’t one, it encourages us to find something or someone to rail against, including ourselves.

Another issue arises in the way we hold one another. In a hero’s journey, every character has a role, either to help or hinder the protagonist’s progress. In other words, they serve or sabotage the hero’s quest without acknowledging their subjectivity. The world revolves around the central figure, who is only answerable for successfully pursuing their goal, even if doing so harms relationships, duties, and commitments. In the wrong hands, this is a recipe for narcissistic abuse.

Finding Meaning In The Mundane

I often think about the insignificant characters in a story: the people who make it happen, those who get on with daily life during the chase, and the background of the disposable henchman (this scene from Austin Powers is a perfect example).

The hero’s journey focuses on the surface. At the elite level of a story. But what about the others behind the scenes? The organisers, support staff, and teams that make it happen; the camera crew, sound technicians, and engineers; and those who appear briefly but are never mentioned again.

What about them? The ordinary folk. Me. You. Us?

Breathing The Air of The Hero’s Journey

The Hero’s Journey is a ubiquitous framework. It is prevalent in Western storytelling and I believe we can overlook its impact on our self-concept and well-being.

• We see it in marketing. What challenges are you helping your customer overcome as the sage in their hero’s journey?
• We see it in business. What adversity has your comapny conquered to establish its unique origin story?
• We see it in sports. How does the latest success serve as retribution, redemption, or revenge for past events in sports?
• We see it in the arts. What adversity has the singer, artist, or author overcome to be published, displayed, or chosen?

The media is full of these narrative arcs. In fact, it’s almost impossible to find stories without a flavour of hero’s journey. This doesn’t mean they report real life; in contrast, we are often encouraged to bend certain elements of reality to fit this structure, leading to hyperbole, missing details, and even deception.

It runs wild and often unchecked in online wellness, productivity, and multilevel marketing spaces, where people can reap huge rewards by contriving the perfect hero’s journey origin story (and getting others to believe they can follow in their footsteps – for the right price).

Because it can be satisfying to read or watch, we like to apply the hero’s journey in the way we frame our relationship with our pursuits and ambitions. But is this the only way to tell relevant and compelling stories to inspire change?

Focusing On The Others in The Supporting Cast

While researching examples of alternative story structures (in particular, Kishotenketsu) that doesn’t rely on a central conflict, I found a one-star review of Never Let Me Go by Kazuo Ishiguro. It was intended as a damning critique of the novel, which I haven’t yet read (I might do after this though!)

“You know those random stock characters in sci-fi/action movies, the ones who never get names or any lines? They’re always spending their precious few minutes of screen time getting shoved out of the way as the hero hurtles desperately down a hallway, or watching from a safe distance as a climactic fight goes on, or diving out of the way whenever a murderous cyborg smashes through their office window. Have you ever wondered what those people’s lives were like? Have you ever thought to yourself, “Man, this movie’s interesting and all, but I want to know more about that guy who owned the hotel where Sarah Conner hid from the Terminator. I bet he leads a fascinating life.” (Believe me, he doesn’t.) Imagine if someone decided to write a book about this kind of person. The result is Never Let Me Go.”

– Review on Goodreads

When I read that review, I had a different reaction…

• I OFTEN think about those random stock characters without names or lines.
• I DO want to know what happens to those other characters who are shoved out of the way and killed off without a second thought.
• I ABSOLUTELY want to spend some time with the guy who owned the hotel. I’d love to know how he folds the towels, makes the beds, and organises the keys (and tidies up/settles the insurance claim after a battle).

I love reading, watching, and learning about ordinary people and their weird and wonderful lives.

I also enjoy stories about those who didn’t get everything they dreamed of. Those who managed to relinquish the pressure of the hero’s journey and find a universal sense of satisfaction outside of the quest.

These are our stories. Normal, universal, ordinary, mundane, and meaningful.

I am interested in working to find other ways to conceive, frame, and follow our aspirations. The hero’s journey is common in personal development circles—goal setting is almost always positioned in that way. However, when our self-concept and character become wedded to our framing of success and failure concerning external outcomes, this can lead to pain and dissatisfaction.

While the Hero’s Journey offers a compelling form for storytelling and personal growth for certain people, it’s crucial to acknowledge its limitations and potential downsides. For many people, especially highly sensitive people (HSPs), I suspect that freeing ourselves from the hero’s journey narrative can help us navigate our paths with more awareness and flexibility and without the constraints of an idealised story arc.

A Blimp from the Blue: Using The Kishōtenketsu Story Structure as an Antidote to the Hero’s Journey (with Kendra Patterson)

In this 90-minute workshop Kendra and I started to consider how to use the Kishotenketsu story structure to develop a healthier and more balanced relationship with life’s twists and turns. The workshop included short talks, reflective exercises, and group discussion.