If you’ve been writing or reading fiction (particularly fantasy) for a while, you’ve heard of the Hero’s Journey storyline or at least are aware of it (even unconsciously).

Most of the writing books I’ve read that talk about the Hero’s Journey use either Star Wars: A New Hope, The Hobbit, or the Lord of the Rings trilogy for their example. I’ve always done pretty well with Star Wars illustrations, but I’m not that familiar with the plotline of Tolkien’s work. (Until recently, as I’ve begun reading them.)

So today, I’m going to use The LEGO Movie as my illustration.

Please note, I’m talking about the first movie that released in 2014. There will be spoilers. Lots of them. But don’t worry, they’ll be awesome. (It’s a batpun.) 😋

 

If you do a Google search, you can find the basic outline on thousands of sites. I used the outline here for creating this post.

Most sources divide the journey into three parts, the three act structure some writers like to talk about. I’m just going to list the points.

 

Ordinary World

At the beginning of most Hero’s Journey stories, the hero is shown living his normal life.

The LEGO Movie starts in Emmet’s (our hero) ordinary world. We see him following the instructions, going to work, and singing “Everything is Awesome.”

This is his life. Everything is normal. He’s content to stay right where he is. There’s no desire to change.

 

The Call

At this point, the ordinary world is disrupted with a call to adventure. A wizard comes to your door or your uncle buys a pair of used droids.

Emmet is on his way home from work when his instructions blow away. He chases after them. In the process he scares a trespasser on the construction site. He chases after her, but falls into a pit, discovering the “piece of resistance.”

 

The Refusal of the Call

After receiving the Call, the hero usually will refuse to take action. He’d rather stay home and continue living his life as he has been. Why would he disrupt his routine to go on an adventure of all things?

When Emmet wakes up in prison, he realizes the piece of resistance is attached to his back. The trespasser from the construction site comes to rescue him. As they are fleeing, Emmet realizes in order to escape, he’ll have to break the instructions for the first time in his life. He refuses to answer the call.

 

Crossing the Threshold

But by then, it’s too late. They have already crossed the threshold (literally) from Emmet’s ordinary world into the adventure. There’s no going back now.

At this point, the hero is going on the adventure whether he wants to or not. Things have changed too much for him to go back to his ordinary life.

 

Meeting the Mentor

Sometimes, the hero meets the mentor before crossing the threshold or the mentor will issue the call. But in this case, Emmet meets his “mentor,” Vitruvius, after entering the adventure world.

 

Traveling Companions

Heroes always have friends or allies on their quests. While at the beginning, they might not be actual friends (often they’re thrown together), but by the climax, they have some sort of camaraderie. In Emmet’s case, his allies are: Wildstyle, Batman, Benny, Unikitty, and MetalBeard.

Besides helping the hero accomplish his mission, the traveling companions often provide comic relief and are foils for the hero. Foils show the main character’s flaws or virtues by contradiction.

For example, Batman is cool, smart, and everyone loves him. Emmet, on the other hand, is super ordinary, sometimes stupid, and most of the time, someone is mad at him. Batman’s arrogance and popularity act as foils to Emmet’s dull, ordinariness.

 

Tests, Trials, And Obstacles

At this point of the story, the hero and his companions face many difficulties. These challenges can take many forms.

• Being chased by Bad Cop
• Lack of support from the Master Builders
• Destruction of their submarine
• Failure of their plans
• Death of Vitruvius

Note the last point. Many Hero’s Journey stories involve the death of the mentor. In Star Wars: A New Hope, Ben dies. Gandalf “dies” in The Fellowship of the Ring. (“Do you see the quotation marks I’m making with my claw hands?”)

This tragedy forces the hero to make his own decisions and face his fears. Alone.

 

Dark Moment

When the hero must face his fears by himself, he has reached the dark moment. This is his lowest point. He’s ready to give up, to throw it all away. He’s lost his mentor, maybe some of his friends, his entire ordinary world, the villain is about to win, and there’s nothing he can do.

This (and the next section) is my favorite part of the Hero’s Journey. There’s nowhere for him to go but up.

I think Emmet’s Dark Moment comes in the Think Tank as the computer counts down to self-destruct. He’s rubberbanded to a battery, his friends are all going to die, he’s not The Special, and Vitruvius is dead.

 

Epiphany

As the hero is wallowing in his despair, he realizes there is something he can do. But it will require either a great sacrifice or facing his deepest fear.

This is his epiphany. His “Aha” Moment.

Emmet’s epiphany comes right after his dark moment. The countdown is nearing its end. But after Ghost Vitruvius delivers a final message, Emmet is ready. He realizes he can save his friends, that he has the power to be special. He jumps into the endless void in order to detach the battery and prevent the self-destruct.

 

Final Battle

The hero is now ready to defeat the external villain since he has conquered his internal antagonist. If he can face that, he can take on anything.

After Emmet wakes up in the human world and retrieves the piece of resistance, he returns to Bricksburg, ready to defeat President Business. While there is no actual battle, he defeats the villain by using the “power of The Special.” He uses the knowledge he gained in his epiphany (that everyone can be special) to convince President Business to stop using the Kragle.

 

Return to the Ordinary World or to a New World

Now that the quest is done, the hero may return home, to his ordinary life, family, and home, like Bilbo does at the end of The Hobbit. Other times, the hero cannot return or chooses not to. In A New Hope, Luke can’t return to his ordinary world, even if he wanted to. He must live in a new world—the world of the Rebellion.

This part isn’t really covered in The LEGO Movie. It ends with a promise of more adventure. Poor Emmet doesn’t even get to catch his breath!

 

I love the Hero’s Journey. Even thought it’s very common, there are so many stories and twists you can put on it!

 

What About You? 

Can you think of any other stories with the Hero’s Journey plotline? Do you like the Hero’s Journey? Have you ever gone on an adventure?

 

 

Where’s Glendale?

 

 

Every year I could remember, five people were sent invitations to meet the faerie queen. One morning I found mine under my pillow, perfectly folded with a wax rose for a seal.

I clutched it to my chest, my sweaty fingers smearing the elaborate curlicues on the front. “Don’t you see, Mother? I have to go. This is the chance of a lifetime.” I scrunched my bare toes in the damp grass behind our cottage—more like a hovel, if you asked me. “Everyone says that she’ll grant anything ya want. I could wish us away from this…this dump.”

“Shannon! Watch your mouth, your sister is right there.” Mother glanced at my baby sister who was playing with her rag doll in a mud puddle.

Brea continued mumbling in her toddler talk. Noticing we were looking at her, she squealed, showing her adorable gap-tooth smile. She dropped her doll and wrapped her arms around my leg.

I scooped her up with one arm, being very careful to keep the invitation out of her reach. “I could get Brea a pony. Or ya a new spinning wheel instead of that creaky one. Athair has been wanting a new plow horse too.”

“Horsey!” Brea added as if in agreement. She pulled on my tangled mess of red curls.

Mother plunged her hands into the soapy water and rung out a worn apron over a blooming rose bush. “Ya know the stories. No one ever returns.”

“But,” I began, but she cut me off.

“We McCoys don’t get involved in this kind of foolishness. When I received an invitation, I burned it. My sister was not as wise. And where is she now?” Mother held the apron out to me and pointed to the clothesline, signaling the end of the conversation. “Ya are not going to any castle, invitation or not.”

I shoved the invitation into my pocket and flung the apron over the clothesline next to another worn-out frock. It used to be blue. Now it looked gray. Like storm clouds. Brea pulled the apron off the line before I could pin it up and it fell into the mud.

Perhaps my aunt had wished herself far away from this rotten place. Maybe I’d do the same.

Because I was going. No matter what Mother said.

 

That night, after everyone was asleep, I shoved some bread I’d saved from dinner into a knapsack along with my best dress. I was going to meet a queen, after all, so I might as well look presentable, though I couldn’t do much about my freckles.

I tiptoed past the sleeping forms of my parents and stooped to kiss my Brea’s cheek. “I’ll miss you,” I whispered, brushing a coil of red hair from her forehead. Even asleep, she was as beautiful as an angel straight from heaven.

I opened the door just enough to squeeze through, careful to not let it creak. Without looking back, I took off down the beaten path to the faerie castle, my bare feet kicking up little puffs of dust under the starry sky.

As I skipped down the path, I imagined all the things I could ask for. Jewels, a castle, love, beauty, oh, so many things. To be entirely honest, I hadn’t really thought about what I wanted. I never dreamed that I, Shannon of Éire, would receive an invitation to meet the faerie queen.

After a while, I decided I would be queen of the whole, entire world. When one is queen, what does wealth or beauty mean to you? You have the whole world at your fingertips. No one will mock you for your freckles or too short skirts. And if they would dare, you could throw them in the dungeon.

Perhaps, when I was queen, Mother would see she was wrong all along. Maybe I’d even invite her to my castle. She’d sob at the foot of my throne. “Oh, Your Majesty, I was ever so wrong. Could you ever find it in your benevolent heart to forgive an old woman?”

Then I’d reply, waving my bejeweled hand, “Yes. You can even have a whole wing of the castle to yourself.”

I tripped over a rut in the road and lost my daydream. Stupid carts and horses. When I was queen, I’d outlaw them.

 

A few hours later, the land began to come alive. Sunbeams lit the hills and the dew glowed on the scarlet roses now lining the road. I must be getting close, for three faeries about the size of my palm in green dresses flew across my path, chattering and twinkling like fallen stars.

The faerie castle came into view as I came to the top of a little rise in the road. The spires reached like fingers to heaven, pointing to the brilliant sunrise. The path to the door was lined with even more dew-kissed roses, the petals reaching for me. I tripped on a root of some sort, but the guards didn’t seem to notice. They let me in without question, not even asking to see my invitation.

This is really happening. My heart thumped so fast I pressed a hand to my chest for fear that it would jump out.

Two young men and two young women clutching invitations already stood in the grand foyer. They stopped whispering when they saw me.

“She has been waiting.” Another guard opened an elaborate door. “Proceed one at a time to make your wish.”

The others went ahead of me in silence. I heard a soft buzzing near my ear. Assuming it was a fly, I swatted. It dodged my hand, then alighted on my shoulder.

“Wish for anything but beauty. Or do not wish at all,” a small faerie whispered in my ear, her musical voice tinged with a warning.

I scoffed and brushed her off. “I shall have no need of beauty when I am queen. I shall have anything I want.”

As she fluttered away, she whispered, “Remember.”

I smirked. Who did this faerie think I was? A foolish girl who only desired good looks and love? Ha, I’d show her, when I was queen.

The guard motioned for me. I walked down a long hall lined with scarlet carpet so deep my bare feet almost disappeared. Mirrors lined one wall, reflecting my frizzy red hair, an extra generous helping of freckles, dull gray eyes, as well as the massive windows opposite, which overlooked a rose garden. I noticed I had forgotten to change into my good dress. Oh well, when I was queen I would have finer gowns than that old rag.

My stomach clenched as I saw the throne. It towered over me at the far end of the hall. Two guards stood at the bottom, dressed immaculately in deep red. Even more roses and vines surrounded the throne, leaves open in a desperate plea.

The woman on the throne was larger than most faeries, even than most men, but I guess when she could grant wishes, she could be as big as she wanted. Her black hair fell in a waterfall down her back and her green eyes glistened like dewy grass in a face so flawless it nearly glowed.

“What is your wish, dearest?” Her voice was smoother than warm honey, but with a tinge of vinegar, barely noticeable, yet still there.

I opened my mouth. “I wish for…” My eyes caught a glimpse of my tangled red hair, sunburned cheeks, scattered freckles, and gangly limbs in a mirror behind her throne. The words died on my tongue.

How ugly. 

The roses seemed to plead for me to run away. I could have sworn they whispered to me.

No, no, no.

I swallowed. What queen ever concerned herself with beauty? I started again. “I wish for…” My mouth wouldn’t form the words running through my mind. Instead, I blurted out, “I wish for beauty.”

“Your wish is granted.” The queen smiled and extended her golden scepter.

I felt a change come over me, starting in my chest and spreading outward like vines.

I looked in the mirror—no freckles, no red hair, no gangly limbs.

Only a rosebush with tiny red buds.

“Guard. Take this new rose to the garden.” She paused to give a cool smile. “She will look quite beautiful there.”

 

 

 

Today I’m going to wrap up this blog series with my own “outlining personality.”

If you’ve missed the earlier posts, you can read them here:

Pantser

Planner

 

Now I’m certainly no planner, but I’m not a complete pantser. I’m what is known as a plantser—one who grows plants. 🌵🌱🌷

Actually, that’s not the technical definition of a plantser. (Though I have an affinity for growing and killing 🥀plants.) I’m not even sure there is an official definition.

So I shall give you one.

A plantser is someone who both outlines and writes by the seat of their pants.

Plantsers seem like a paradox, don’t they?

But it’s entirely possible to do both. I’m living proof!

 

How I Plan

I’ve tried to do formal outlines. I’ve tried The One Year Adventure Novel.

Something about detailed outlines drives me crazy. It takes the fun out of writing for me.

I’m more of a “let me scribble a bunch of important stuff on a legal pad, then forget about it” kind of outliner. At the very most, I might even write out a few bullet points.

My mom had me try to outline Checkmate, which was good in some ways (it showed me that I do have a bit of a planner in me and that I had way too many traps 😅), but after I finished it, I totally disregarded it.

The majority of outlining that I do I call “head-writing.” That basically means I write the scene in my head before I write it out on paper.

Partially because I get all my good ideas while washing dishes or taking a shower and water + paper = not good. Partially because I think it’s really fun.

It’s like watching a movie in your head on repeat until you know it by heart. I’ll go over the idea until I have little details worked out (such as how someone is standing, the location of the knife, the layout of the building, etc.). That way, when I actually have a good sized chunk of time to write, I can get a lot of words out. Mostly because I’m really excited about the scene that’s been living in my head, but also because I have somewhere to start instead of staring at that evil blinking cursor.

 

How I Pants

I love pantsing!

When a little plot bunny comes sneaking around, I’m more than happy to follow it down winding trails. Most of the time, it ends up better than I had planned. Other times, I have to do more re-writing because it changed a bunch of stuff.

For example, one of my main characters (My personal favorite. Shh, don’t tell him.) was simply supposed to be a “spear-carrier”—in other words, an extra. Just there to fight the bad guys and probably die like side characters always do. Then one day (while doing dishes), it occurred to me, “What if I give this guy a POV? And what if he has this backstory?” The rest is history. He promptly took over the last half of Draft 1 and 2.

One thing I’ve learned with my little bit of writing experience is “trust your gut.” If you think it’s awkward it probably is. So if you think you should follow a plot bunny, you should.

 

So, now you know about all about planners, pantsers, and plantsers.

It’s important for every writer to understand their writing process. No one way is better than another. There are also differing degrees of each process—some outline every scene, others only do bullet points.

Your process might not fit the patterns we’ve talked about over the last three weeks.

 

Your Turn!

What’s your writing process? Are you a planner? A pantser? Do you have houseplants?

Where’s Glendale?

 

If you went back to the summer of 2017, you’d find a teenage girl who had just finished reading Do Hard Things and This Changes Everything. Naturally, as a good bookworm will do, she found the website that got both books started: TheRebulution (now known as TheReb).

As she browsed the site over several days, she came across a post announcing the opening of a program for young writers—The Young Writer’s Workshop. As the young woman had been mildly interested in writing for a while now, she studied the articles, watched the videos, and perused the site for new updates. When it finally opened for registration, she begged her parents to let her join.

Her mother told her that if they were going to pay for this program, the teen would have to put forth some effort and show a greater interest in writing. So the girl got a notebook and started writing right then.

After seeing her daughter’s excitement, the mother convinced the father to sign the teen up.

You should have seen the girl’s face when she heard the news. She was ecstatic and spent the rest of the day on the computer making new friends and becoming more interested in writing.

Not too long after joining the YWW, she started writing her first novel.

As you probably guessed, the young woman is me. 😊😋

Today I wanted to tell you more about The Young Writer’s Workshop (YWW), affectionately known by its members as “YDubs.” It was founded by Brett Harris and Jaquelle Crowe (the authors of Do Hard Things and This Changes Everything, respectively).

The Christian-based writing program has two parts: content library and community.

 

Content Library

There is a wealth of information in the library, all aimed at young writers. Most of them are recordings, so you can listen to them whenever you want. (They also have transcripts for those who prefer reading.) I love listening to them while I crochet.

There are episodes on how to overcome writer’s block, start a blog, world-build, dealing with comparison, self-publishing, and so much more!

But my favorite section of the library are the author interviews. You get to hear about the writing journeys of successful authors like:

• Andrew Peterson
• Tessa Emily Hall
• Tamera Alexander
• Chuck Black
• Kara Swanson
• Jaye L. Knight

And many more!

 

The Community

By far, my favorite part of the YWW is the community. I’ve been part of a few other online writing communities, but they all pale in comparison to this one. (I might be biased, because YWW was my first one. :P)

I’ve made several close friendships and even found writing mentors here. Everyone is very welcoming and kind.

Here are some of the things that the community offers:

• Support for young writers. You can ask for advice on anything from characters to graphic designs to how to run a giveaway. There’s even a space where you can directly ask the instructors a question!
• A safe place to role-play as your characters. The YWW even has a “holiday” every month for role-playing. While I haven’t done it much myself, it’s really fun and a great way to make friends and develop your characters! (In fact, I met one of my closest friends during my first role-play!)
• Critiques and Accountability. You can join a critique group and/or an accountability group and learn how to improve your writing and/or how to get things done!
• Word Sprints. I love word sprinting. You might know it as a word war or focus sprint. All you do is set a time with another writer (usually around 30 minutes or so) and then work as hard as you can on writing, schoolwork, or whatever else needs done. Having someone to keep me accountable for even just half an hour really helps me get things done.
• There are writers here in all stages of their publishing journey. We have successful traditionally published authors and successful self-published authors as well as newbies who are just learning the craft. We have masterful bloggers and beginners (like me!).

No matter what you’re looking for, you can probably find it in The Young Writer’s Workshop.

I found encouragement when I wanted to give up. I found friendships where I wasn’t expecting them. I found a community of people just like me—young, with stories flowing through their veins. I found new authors to read and love. I found out that writing isn’t silly.

I learned my dreams could come true.

 

Brett and Jaquelle only open registration twice a year—once in winter, once in summer. This winter’s registration is only open February 1-10. I hope to see you there!

https://www.theyoungwriter.com/

You can download some free videos by Brett and Jaquelle here.

And the free “The Young Writer’s Guidebook” here.

If you have any questions about the YWW or registration, feel free to contact me or comment below and I’ll get back to you!

 

 

This post is my honest opinion and thoughts. The instructors of the YWW did not participate in the writing of this post in any way.

 

 

Where’s Glendale?

Comparison is a deadly game in the writing sphere. I know this, because I’ve played it.

I have writing friends who are way ahead of me in their journeys. They’ve been writing since they could talk and I only started 1.5 years ago. They have hundreds of blog followers, published books, agents, and finished drafts. They get to go to huge conferences and rub shoulders with my favorite authors.

And I get jealous.

I’d just like to sit down and write a whole novel perfectly, ship it off to an agent, and get a massive book contract tomorrow. I want to have 5,000 email subscribers right now and have so many fan emails that I can’t keep up with them all. I want success now. I want to see fruit and benefits of my writing right now.

I’ve cried over my writing, thinking it will never be good enough. There have been days I can’t stop writing because it seems so perfect and the next day it looks like trash. Some days I’ll dance around the house I’m so happy because of a tiny achievement and the next day I’ll be staring at the blinking cursor.

I’d like to join the writing “elite” and have all the beginning writers looking up to me. I want to see my books in Barnes and Noble.

But the truth is, I’m not that great.

I might never be.

And that’s okay.

Every writer, every person, is on a different journey. My life, whether the personal side or the writing side, is not going to look like Jaye L. Knight’s. It won’t look like my friend Carly’s journey.

And I don’t care.

There’s a reason I’m right here, right now. God put me here for a purpose—to glorify Him. He’s given me the family and friends that I have for a reason.

Whether I become a famous author or not, I know that God knows what He’s doing. His thoughts are higher than my thoughts and His ways than my ways. (Isaiah 55:8-9)

But I can’t just sit around, waiting for something to happen. Bestsellers aren’t written in a day. (Sometimes not even in a year. 😉)

Writing, just like anything in life, takes time and effort to perfect.

A pianist doesn’t just sit down and write a concerto. They practice, they make mistakes, they start small.

Sure, they might wish they could write music that moves people to tears. They might compare their compositions to their favorite musicians.

But in order to succeed in anything, we must be patient. We must work.

The first time we walk onto the stage, we aren’t going to be phenomenal. We’re going to make mistakes, sometimes really embarrassing ones.

And there will always be someone better than us. A better writer, a better singer, a better dancer, a better plumber.

If we say, “I’ll never be as good of a writer as so-and-so,” we will never succeed. That’s a sure path to discouragement. If you keep comparing yourself to anyone but who you were yesterday, you’ll probably just give up.

But here’s the thing, God didn’t make you to be Jaquelle Crowe, Aleigha C. Israel, Nadine Brandes, or Brett Harris. He made you to bring Him glory by being who you are in Christ.

And that’s the best calling in life.

 

I owe a debt to the wonderful students and instructors on the Young Writer’s Workshop as well as my writing mentors, Aleigha C. Israel and Audrey Caylin, for always picking me up and pointing me to Christ I want to throw in the towel. Thank you. ❤

 

 

Where’s Glendale?

When you sit down to write, who do you write for? Who is your audience?

This post is written for you, my blog audience. My novel is written for YA fantasy readers.

But when we sit down to write, how do we decide who to write for?

For example, when I sit down to write Checkmate, I could write for my friend who likes dragons or my brother who loves Lord of the Rings.

But I can’t please everyone who might read my book. And sometimes I just want to write what I want. Is that okay?

Who should we write for?

 

God

This should be no surprise, but I’m afraid it has become a clichéd answer in Christian circles.

Everything we do should ultimately be to bring God glory. (1 Cor. 10:31) That includes our writing—blogging, fan fiction, poetry, etc.

But how do we know if our writing is pleasing to God?

Well, are you obeying Him with your writing? Are you secretly writing something you know your parents wouldn’t approve of? Are you writing to bring yourself the praise and honor? Are you writing something that bothers your conscience just because it’s popular?

Jaquelle Crowe, author of This Changes Everything: How the Gospel Transforms the Teen Years, once defined glorifying God this way: “I believe it means to make God look good. He is worthy and great, and if I use my life to make that known, I am glorifying Him. We can do that through what we post on social media, what food we eat, what job we get, and what we write.”

What we write and how we write it reflects on our confession of faith. If unbelievers stumble across our writing and find out that we use just as much language as the next guy and glorify sin like everyone else, God is dishonored.

Titus 2 speaks about how Christians should act. In verse 5, Paul tells us we should live in a God-honoring way, “so that the word of God will not be dishonored.”

 

Yourself

I can see your shocked expression.

Yes, the second person you should write for is yourself.

Seriously.

Because if you don’t enjoy what you are writing, then no one else will.

“But,” you might say, “Jerry Jenkins says ‘Always think reader first.’ And lots of other writers say the same kind of thing. But you’re saying to write for yourself before readers, isn’t that selfish?”

I once heard a piece of advice from Douglas Bond: “Write out of your own self-need.”

Your best writing is when you are writing what you need—not what you think others want.

Don’t be afraid to write something that’s out of “style” or everyone says is cliché.

Write what you want. Maybe you’ll be the only one who reads it, maybe it will never get past a circle of close friends, but if you enjoyed writing it, you succeeded.

 

Your Readers

And now we get to readers. They make up the largest part of your audience.

We could talk a lot about readers. But I just want to leave you with one point.

You can’t please everyone.

Your favorite book might be your brother’s nightmare. My favorite blog might have you moaning in agony.

Your story might be your best friend’s dream novel, but be epically boring to your mom.

And that’s okay.

Everyone has different tastes. And just because someone (no matter how mean they were in their comments) didn’t like your writing, that doesn’t mean your story is bad.

Just like some people love coffee and others absolutely loath even the smell. No one group of people is wrong.

So, when you are writing, aim to please God above all else. Then write something you enjoy. Finally, write for your readers, but remember that your words are not for everyone.

 

Your Turn!

Did my second point surprise you? Have you read anything by Jaquelle Crowe?

 

Where’s Glendale?