Pop quiz: what is one character archetype that appears in almost every Shakespeare play AND Disney movie?
I'll give you a hint by listing some characters: Bottom, Puck, the Iguana in Tangled, Dori in Finding Nemo, the Clown in All's Well That Ends Well, the Carpet in Aladdin. Got it yet?
Second hint: it's not a Disney princess.
The answer is the Clown or the Fool. If you use this archetype in your writing, you could dramatically transform your storytelling. Understanding it will also give you a much deeper understanding of the way story works, as the fool is a ubiquitous presence in both classic and contemporary storytelling.
Photo by Sergio Piquer Costea
The fool is not necessarily a clown or an idiot. They are a general “low” character. Disney makes this easy by making the fool smaller than everyone else. The fool becomes a talking monkey or cricket or meerkat.
In A Midsummer Nights Dream the fool is literally named Bottom and becomes a literal ass in the second act.
However, in non-animated modern stories, the fool might just be a klutz like Ben Stiller in every movie he's in.
General Observations and Examples
The fool is the classic sidekick. The Lone Ranger took this archetype quite literally, naming the hero's sidekick Tonto. However, modern comedies love to employ the fool as the main character. I mentioned Ben Stiller above, but Ashton Kutcher, Adam Sandler, Jim Carey, and, of course, Will Ferrell are a few other examples. Nearly every film they are in, they play the fool.
The fool is usually male. However, there are a few exceptions, for example, Dori in Finding Nemo and Melissa McCarthy's character, Megan, in Bridesmaids (but you'll notice Megan dressed as a man most of that movie).
In medieval plays, they often wore masks. In animated films, they are a mask. Think of the Iguana in Tangled.
The fool also plays several important functions in a storyline.
1. Comic Relief
The fool provides comic relief by crossing cultural norms.
Often they do this by being free to express more of their emotions than is culturally acceptable. For example, Will Ferrell's character Buddy in Elf, can say, “I love you,” to his father in public even though it's not culturally acceptable because he is completely innocent.
2. Characterization
Fools efficiently characterize every character who comes into contact with them. The truest test of character is how you treat those who are beneath you.
The character is a good guy if they treat the fool like a best friend, as Rapunzel treats her little Iguana in Tangled. They're a bad guy if they treat him like a tool for their own ends, as Jafar treats Iago in Aladdin.
Often, a bad guy who is pretending to be good will reveal their true character by mistreating the fool.
3. Conscience
The fool acts as the hero's conscience. I realized this when I remembered Jiminy Cricket in Pinocchio. “Remember, Pinocchio,” says the Wish Upon A Star Lady, “be a good boy, and always let your conscience be your guide.”
Since the fool is already unfashionable, they have the freedom to always speak the truth, even when it is awkward or even dangerous to do so.
However, he also understands it's often his humor that allows him to speak truth. As Oscar Wilde said, “If you want to tell people the truth, make them laugh, otherwise they'll kill you.”
4.An Invitation to Freedom
Last, the fool often acts as an explicit or implicit challenge to experience the kind of innocence and joy we had as children. We are all fools, and we all wear masks. The fool invites us—ironically, since they wear them—to take off our masks and live free. As J. Phillip Newell says in his Shakespeare and the Human Mystery:
The fool is calling us to be truly ourselves and points out the falseness of what we have become. He is not, however, over and against his hearers. Rather he invites them to discover the fool within themselves. In All's Well That Ends Well, when Paroles says that he has found he fool, the Clown replies, ‘Did you find me in yourself, sir?'
What are some of your favorite examples of the fool in literature and film? What foolish characteristics do they reveal?
PRACTICE
Your main character is doing something they shouldn't. Practice using the fool by writing about how they try to get him or her to stop.
Write for fifteen minutes. Post your practice in the comments.
And if you do submit something, be a good critique partner and comment on someone else's practice.
how practical. appreciate this.
Thanks Ruth!
Thanks Ruth!
really love this, Joe. this is where you excel, in my opinion – in your profound analysis of literary elements… like the ass. 😉 (excellent use of “literally” and “ironically” by the way.)
Thanks Jeff. Yes, the ass is literally the most important archetype there is. It’s really ironic. 🙂
hah!
Jack lumbered sleepily across the kitchen floor and toward the blinding fluorescence of the living room. He wanted a snack. He was so hungry that his little stomach seemed to quiver with the thought of sweet graham cracker goodness. It wasn’t his fault he had been sent to his nap without lunch.
It was that pesky Marcus. Marcus, the child who could do no wrong. His every dribble commanded an adoring audience. One would have thought his diaper smelled of sunshine and daisies the way people mimicked his sad, desperate attempts at speaking.
He wanted a snack. Would Mom give him one? Would she tell him the proverbial “in just a minute,” only to forget his request in light of virtual agriculture? He couldn’t risk that kind of neglect.
Jack slowly inched the stepstool towards the snack cupboard. He knew exactly where she kept the goods, feebly hidden behind the dried apricots.
As he climbed up the first step, he heard the quiet shuffle of knees behind him. Marcus stared quietly up at him from the floor.
“You’re too little to understand how this works, Marcus. Don’t look at me like that.” Marcus sat back on his diaper and raised his left eyebrow.
“You’re not the boss of me, Marcus.”
Marcus turned back and headed for the living room.
“Oh sure, go and tattle on me, why don’t you?”
Jack ascended the next step and expertly opened the cupboard door.
“Oh Marcus, you stink! Let’s go change your diaper.”
“Jack, what are you doing?”
Busted.
This is not even starting to be finished and I’ve written for about forty-five minutes. I’m having trouble not making it sound like a fairy tale with a pat ending. Maybe more description and a longer format might help.
It was the end of a long night. She had taken back two filet mignons because they weren’t rare enough and one salmon with dill sauce because the customer had said “This smells fishy”.
The cook was okay with the filets but he blew up over the salmon. He banged pots and pans and talked about how the customers at Le Fromage had more money than sense, and how they spent enough on one meal to pay all his bills for a month. He said lots of other things while he banged pans and threw cooking utensils into the sink, but most of that was not in English and Camille didn’t understand.
To top it off the customer with the fishy salmon didn’t leave much of a tip, and Camille was working station six which meant that her chore for the end of the evening was cleaning the bathrooms. She went to smoke a cigarette in the alley behind Le Fromage before starting on the bathrooms. Her friend a big fat, golden-eyed, black and white cat waited in the alley. He came running when he saw Camille. She slipped him a bit of cheese and told him about her night.
“I hate it. I wish I had stayed in school”.
The cat looked sympathetically at her and then began cleaning his whiskers.
“I know I should try to save up and go back, but I just don’t make enough”.
The cat nudged her arm with his head.
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and win the lottery.”
The cat jumped down and disappeared behind the crates that cabbages had arrived in earlier that morning, like he knew talking about the winning the lottery was nonsensical.
In the ladies room, Camille was almost finished cleaning, was refilling the toilet paper dispenser, when she noticed a wallet on the floor just behind the trash can. It was a big purple wallet, probably a designer piece, she thought. When she picked it up, she felt it’s bulk. It was stuffed with cash and cards, like a ripe pomegranate full of seeds.
She was looking inside to check out the amount of cash when she heard someone at the window. She jumped and looked up to see the cat. It was staring in, it’s eyes showing that luminous green-blue light that come from animals eyes in the dark. He rubbed his face against the window and meowed.
“It’s a lot. It might pay for two classes”, she said to the cat. He meowed loudly and continued to star at her with his eerie eyes. He didn’t look like her friend now. He looked like an evil omen, a black cat.
Just tired she thought. He’s only a cat. He must want more cheese. She shut herself in the stall and tried to think about what to do with the wallet. Finally she took the cash out, wiped the wallet off, and put it back behind the toilet.
She got ready to leave and took a bit of cheese out to the alley before walking to the bus stop. She called her friend, but he didn’t come so she left the cheese on the cabbage crates and headed for the bus stop. She fell asleep on the way home and only the kindness of the bus driver who knew where she got off saved her from going all the way to the end of the line.
The next night at work she didn’t see the cat. He was gone and she felt that it had to do with the stolen money.
45 minutes well spent Marianne. I don’t think it’s cheesy (although the cat did have a penchant for cheese, didn’t he). I do think there are a few small sections that are cheesy, but they’re very fixable.
For example the last line, “He was gone and she felt that it had to do with the stolen money.” I like the fact that the cat left, but it would have been better if you didn’t talk about about what she felt and told us about an action she did that showed how she missed him and felt guilty. Like this, “He was gone, gone, she felt, forever. She smoked her cigarette. When she was finished, she reached into her purse and tossed the empty wallet into the dumpster in that cold dark alley that didn’t have a name.” Just spitballing, but do you get what I’m saying?.
I love your creative use of the fool, the conscience who is a cat. I don’t think it seems fairy tail-ish. This line is the best one, “He looked like an evil omen, a black cat.” Thanks Marianne!
Thank you Joe!
I like your cat fool! What a good idea! One thought hit me (and of course it is not my story so this may not make any sense in the greater context of things), but what about the chef tossing out the fishy salmon and the cat coming to chew on it in the alley? Or your MC saving a chunk for the cat? Or maybe this kitty only likes cheese 🙂 .
I think a “friend” cat was a good idea, too. It sounds as if they had been pals for a while. I wonder if the cat looking like a evil omen is a good description though? unless something happens after their friendship ends that warrants the feeling of ill portents.
Anyway, the cat’s reaction to Camille’s dishonesty makes me feel ashamed for Camille. That cat would have been a good friend to have.
I am sort of ashamed for Camille too. I may just finish it and have her return the money and the wallet. Maybe she will get a reward. Thanks for reading and commenting.
NO! I love the fact that she does the wrong thing. Tragedy is always more instructive than comedy.
Perhaps a way to do both would be to have the cat appear in the distance, but not reveal itself, as if it is watching her but not getting too close, waiting for her to do the right thing?
I think I’ve got it now. I’m going to finish it today. I might put it in the contest. But I had another idea too.
I think writers are the best artist for helping each other. Everyday we remind each other create. Commitment to a group like this makes me go forward and I’m sure it helps many others. Joe you are really a gift and I know you must get tired of hearing that and saying thank-you, but the time you spend on this is, I can’t think of a word, just kind, and giving, and happy and all that good stuff. What a great group everyone and especially Joe.
Ha, I’m so glad you’re getting so much out of this group, Marianne. Thank you.
Huh. Reading this, I suddenly realized that one of my characters plays the part of the fool. he performs nearly all of the functions you’ve listed. I must have absorbed a lot through all those Disney movies I watched with my kids 🙂
Nice article!
That’s excellent, Marie! Most of the best art, I’m convinced, is done by intuition.
Fun reading. Marcus told on him without even talking. I like how his stomach quivers with thoughts of graham crackers.
Glad you liked it! Thanks!
Great post, Joe. I hate to say it, but many “fools” in American films drive me NUTS, particularly when they’re thrown in gratuitously. Fools in Shakespeare, thriller novels and foreign films, on the other hand, I dig. (There’s an audience for everything, right?) I also find that writing foolery can help keep the darkness of heavy topics less daunting. My bro says he puts humorous images into his art to “cheer” himself up. 🙂
Yes. Agreed. I can’t watch most films where a “fool” is the hero because I feel so much empathetic shame.
Yeah, the fool certainly lightens up King Lear, makes the whole awful thing into something of a grotesque comedy. Great point.
Your brother’s art is such a great example of the grotesque (which Hugo associated with the fool). It would be an interesting exercise to compare the fool in literature and art.
Ha! Poor Jack.
Very creative, Jen. I love how Jack has an argument with a mute infant, as if his very presence incriminates him.
Also, this is hilarious, “One would have thought his diaper smelled of sunshine and daisies…” and disgusting!
One thing to watch for, the fool and the protagonist at some point have to get along. If they don’t, then the protagonist is actually a villain. As I told Jeremy, whoever the fool likes, the audience likes. And this works vice versa. The fool is the moral center of the story, and at some point in your story, the protagonist has to be on the right side of morality or we won’t like him. Does that make sense?
It was fun to create an imaginary dialogue between my two sons. 🙂
Good point on the villain part. Hadn’t caught that nuance, but it makes sense. Thanks!
That IS fun.
I like to see stories from the point of view of a misunderstood child. You did a good job with Jack.
Thanks, kinelta! Jack is my son, so I was having a little fun writing a voice for him.
Thanks, kinelta! Jack is my son, so I was having a little fun writing a voice for him.
really love this, Joe. this is where you excel, in my opinion – in your profound analysis of literary elements… like the ass. 😉 (excellent use of “literally” and “ironically” by the way.)
Thanks Jeff. Yes, the ass is literally the most important archetype there is. It’s really ironic. 🙂
hah!
Jack lumbered sleepily across the kitchen floor and toward the blinding fluorescence of the living room. He wanted a snack. He was so hungry that his little stomach seemed to quiver with the thought of sweet graham cracker goodness. It wasn’t his fault he had been sent to his nap without lunch.
It was that pesky Marcus. Marcus, the child who could do no wrong. His every dribble commanded an adoring audience. One would have thought his diaper smelled of sunshine and daisies the way people mimicked his sad, desperate attempts at speaking.
He wanted a snack. Would Mom give him one? Would she tell him the proverbial “in just a minute,” only to forget his request in light of virtual agriculture? He couldn’t risk that kind of neglect.
Jack slowly inched the stepstool towards the snack cupboard. He knew exactly where she kept the goods, feebly hidden behind the dried apricots.
As he climbed up the first step, he heard the quiet shuffle of knees behind him. Marcus stared quietly up at him from the floor.
“You’re too little to understand how this works, Marcus. Don’t look at me like that.” Marcus sat back on his diaper and raised his left eyebrow.
“You’re not the boss of me, Marcus.”
Marcus turned back and headed for the living room.
“Oh sure, go and tattle on me, why don’t you?”
Jack ascended the next step and expertly opened the cupboard door.
“Oh Marcus, you stink! Let’s go change your diaper.”
“Jack, what are you doing?”
Busted.
Fun reading. Marcus told on him without even talking. I like how his stomach quivers with thoughts of graham crackers.
Glad you liked it! Thanks!
Ha! Poor Jack.
Very creative, Jen. I love how Jack has an argument with a mute infant, as if his very presence incriminates him.
Also, this is hilarious, “One would have thought his diaper smelled of sunshine and daisies…” and disgusting!
One thing to watch for, the fool and the protagonist at some point have to get along. If they don’t, then the protagonist is actually a villain. As I told Jeremy, whoever the fool likes, the audience likes. And this works vice versa. The fool is the moral center of the story, and at some point in your story, the protagonist has to be on the right side of morality or we won’t like him. Does that make sense?
It was fun to create an imaginary dialogue between my two sons. 🙂
Good point on the villain part. Hadn’t caught that nuance, but it makes sense. Thanks!
That IS fun.
This is not even starting to be finished and I’ve written for about forty-five minutes. I’m having trouble not making it sound like a fairy tale with a pat ending. Maybe more description and a longer format might help.
It was the end of a long night. She had taken back two filet mignons because they weren’t rare enough and one salmon with dill sauce because the customer had said “This smells fishy”.
The cook was okay with the filets but he blew up over the salmon. He banged pots and pans and talked about how the customers at Le Fromage had more money than sense, and how they spent enough on one meal to pay all his bills for a month. He said lots of other things while he banged pans and threw cooking utensils into the sink, but most of that was not in English and Camille didn’t understand.
To top it off the customer with the fishy salmon didn’t leave much of a tip, and Camille was working station six which meant that her chore for the end of the evening was cleaning the bathrooms. She went to smoke a cigarette in the alley behind Le Fromage before starting on the bathrooms. Her friend a big fat, golden-eyed, black and white cat waited in the alley. He came running when he saw Camille. She slipped him a bit of cheese and told him about her night.
“I hate it. I wish I had stayed in school”.
The cat looked sympathetically at her and then began cleaning his whiskers.
“I know I should try to save up and go back, but I just don’t make enough”.
The cat nudged her arm with his head.
“Maybe I’ll get lucky and win the lottery.”
The cat jumped down and disappeared behind the crates that cabbages had arrived in earlier that morning, like he knew talking about the winning the lottery was nonsensical.
In the ladies room, Camille was almost finished cleaning, was refilling the toilet paper dispenser, when she noticed a wallet on the floor just behind the trash can. It was a big purple wallet, probably a designer piece, she thought. When she picked it up, she felt it’s bulk. It was stuffed with cash and cards, like a ripe pomegranate full of seeds.
She was looking inside to check out the amount of cash when she heard someone at the window. She jumped and looked up to see the cat. It was staring in, it’s eyes showing that luminous green-blue light that come from animals eyes in the dark. He rubbed his face against the window and meowed.
“It’s a lot. It might pay for two classes”, she said to the cat. He meowed loudly and continued to star at her with his eerie eyes. He didn’t look like her friend now. He looked like an evil omen, a black cat.
Just tired she thought. He’s only a cat. He must want more cheese. She shut herself in the stall and tried to think about what to do with the wallet. Finally she took the cash out, wiped the wallet off, and put it back behind the toilet.
She got ready to leave and took a bit of cheese out to the alley before walking to the bus stop. She called her friend, but he didn’t come so she left the cheese on the cabbage crates and headed for the bus stop. She fell asleep on the way home and only the kindness of the bus driver who knew where she got off saved her from going all the way to the end of the line.
The next night at work she didn’t see the cat. He was gone and she felt that it had to do with the stolen money.
45 minutes well spent Marianne. I don’t think it’s cheesy (although the cat did have a penchant for cheese, didn’t he). I do think there are a few small sections that are cheesy, but they’re very fixable.
For example the last line, “He was gone and she felt that it had to do with the stolen money.” I like the fact that the cat left, but it would have been better if you didn’t talk about about what she felt and told us about an action she did that showed how she missed him and felt guilty. Like this, “He was gone, gone, she felt, forever. She smoked her cigarette. When she was finished, she reached into her purse and tossed the empty wallet into the dumpster in that cold dark alley that didn’t have a name.” Just spitballing, but do you get what I’m saying?.
I love your creative use of the fool, the conscience who is a cat. I don’t think it seems fairy tail-ish. This line is the best one, “He looked like an evil omen, a black cat.” Thanks Marianne!
Thank you Joe!
I like your cat fool! What a good idea! One thought hit me (and of course it is not my story so this may not make any sense in the greater context of things), but what about the chef tossing out the fishy salmon and the cat coming to chew on it in the alley? Or your MC saving a chunk for the cat? Or maybe this kitty only likes cheese 🙂 .
I think a “friend” cat was a good idea, too. It sounds as if they had been pals for a while. I wonder if the cat looking like a evil omen is a good description though? unless something happens after their friendship ends that warrants the feeling of ill portents.
Anyway, the cat’s reaction to Camille’s dishonesty makes me feel ashamed for Camille. That cat would have been a good friend to have.
I am sort of ashamed for Camille too. I may just finish it and have her return the money and the wallet. Maybe she will get a reward. Thanks for reading and commenting.
NO! I love the fact that she does the wrong thing. Tragedy is always more instructive than comedy.
Perhaps a way to do both would be to have the cat appear in the distance, but not reveal itself, as if it is watching her but not getting too close, waiting for her to do the right thing?
I think I’ve got it now. I’m going to finish it today. I might put it in the contest. But I had another idea too.
I think writers are the best artist for helping each other. Everyday we remind each other create. Commitment to a group like this makes me go forward and I’m sure it helps many others. Joe you are really a gift and I know you must get tired of hearing that and saying thank-you, but the time you spend on this is, I can’t think of a word, just kind, and giving, and happy and all that good stuff. What a great group everyone and especially Joe.
Ha, I’m so glad you’re getting so much out of this group, Marianne. Thank you.
I like how the “fool” can play a 3rd role in a story. He is almost like an innocent bystander who add commentary to what is going and offer the reader a different perspective.
Yeah! One of the roles I didn’t mention is that he is a surrogate for the audience (not that the audience is foolish). We step into his place and can observe, as you say, as a bystander who adds commentary. Generally, whoever the fool likes, we will like.
Yeah! One of the roles I didn’t mention is that he is a surrogate for the audience (not that the audience is foolish). We step into his place and can observe, as you say, as a bystander who adds commentary. Generally, whoever the fool likes, we will like.
Like a chorus in a Greek play, perhaps?
I don’t know much about Greek theater. Tell me more.
Like a chorus in a Greek play, perhaps?
I don’t know much about Greek theater. Tell me more.
My 15 minutes magically turned into 38, so I don’t feel quite right about posting my effort. But I do want to thank you for such a timely and thought-provoking post. I read it this morning and spent the day dwelling on how to apply it to my “sidekick.” I’m quite pleased with the result! Looking forward to reading some of your other responses…
Hi Steph! Kati here, one of the “regulars”. just wanted to let you know, we all bend the “15 minutes” a bit…we see it more as a guideline than a requirement 🙂 myself, i use it as a motivator to just get started (what can it hurt, just a few minutes!) but if it gets me on a roll, hey, i just roll with it!! welcome, and can’t wait for whatever you send our way! happy new year.
I almost always go over. I try but I get carried away. It helps to think for a while about what the story is going to be like first. Then when you start to type or write you have it laid out in your mind.
That’s great, Steph.
Yes, we do all go over. I think that’s a good thing. It means you are writing. I appreciate that you respect our time, but we can always only read a portion of your post. I say post away 🙂
OK, thanks!:
Rex pulled the Evinrude’s cord. The line went briefly taught before snaking its way back into the housing. The motor merely snarled, as though Rex had been nothing more than an annoyance, and settled back to sleep. Rex wanted to do the same; the near midnight sun of early summer on the lake took its toll after a couple weeks of long, hard days.
“What’s the matter, Girlie? Can’t get her started? Now don’t go getting your apron all in a bunch. I’ll take care of it, for you.”
Rex looked up to see the lanky form of Mags silhouetted in the sunrise, headed down the boardwalk toward the dock.
Rex was wearing an old plaid overshirt against the early chill of morning. With a laugh, he rolled up the sleeves, ready for a fight. “Who’re you calling a girl, Maggie May?”
“That’s Magnusson to you, young man.” Mags hopped into the boat and tweaked Rex’s ear. “And if you’re thinking about getting smart about it, remember it’s Mags, Mags like a .357 Magnum.” He dropped Rex’s earlobe and took aim across the lake with an imaginary revolver.
Rex firmly lowered Mags’ shooting arm, guiding it instead to the pull cord on the motor. It was much too early in the day to lose his best man to the shellshock. “Put down the gun and show me how to start a boat.”
He watched with relief as a mighty rip of the cord jerked both Mags and the motor back to present. The Evinrude roared and settled quickly into a contented purr.
“Thanks, man. Now get outta here. I’m headed up to the feldspar mine to see if Hector knows anything about Doc’s missing prospector,” Rex said.
Mags scrambled out of the boat and onto the dock. He looked down at Rex, a glint in his eye. “You think you can start the Rudy up all on your own on the way home?”
Rex grabbed his leg. “I said get lost, eh? Before I pitch you into the lake.”
Mags laughed, wrenched his ankle free, and headed toward shore. Rex started to untie the dock rope when he noticed that Mags had stopped just before stepping onto the land.
“Trying to come up with one last jab at me before you go, eh?” Rex said.
But when Mags turned to face him, he was no longer grinning. “I’m heading back up to the lodge. I’ll send RJ down to join you.”
“Naw. He’s sleeping. Don’t wake him up. I’ll be back before lunch.”
“A boy should be with his dad right now. We still don’t know who hooked that girl in there.” Mags squinted across the water as though he expected the murderous fiend to appear like a mirage on the waves.
No chance, Rex thought. The bugger certainly hadn’t stuck around. He threw the throttle into reverse and backed away from the dock. He had no doubt that he was leaving his son in good hands.
“You’re on launch duty all morning, and Doc’s around somewhere. RJ will be just fine.”
That was good like reading the beginning of a murder mystery but I can’t figure out who the fool is. I’m glad you mailed it. It didn’t take long to read at all. I’m also amazed that you can write that much in even 38 minutes. Thanks!
The scene actually happens toward the middle of my WIP, which is, indeed, a mystery. Mags is the “fool.” Though I tried to drop a few clues about him, I was concerned that it would not be apparent in this snippet as you are missing half a book’s worth of character building. Thanks for wading through it, though! 🙂
I got it from the first read, its cool hehe. Mags is like a fool who is actually smart but is being foolish because that his attitude hehe I’m not good in english tho
Yeah, didn’t really catch the fool part in this excerpt, but the characters felt really well-developed and mature. Loved the imaginary gun imagery, as it showed a lot about their characters.
My 15 minutes magically turned into 38, so I don’t feel quite right about posting my effort. But I do want to thank you for such a timely and thought-provoking post. I read it this morning and spent the day dwelling on how to apply it to my “sidekick.” I’m quite pleased with the result! Looking forward to reading some of your other responses…
I almost always go over. I try but I get carried away. It helps to think for a while about what the story is going to be like first. Then when you start to type or write you have it laid out in your mind.
That’s great, Steph.
Yes, we do all go over. I think that’s a good thing. It means you are writing. I appreciate that you respect our time, but we can always only read a portion of your post. I say post away 🙂
OK, thanks!:
Rex pulled the Evinrude’s cord. The line went briefly taught before snaking its way back into the housing. The motor merely snarled, as though Rex had been nothing more than an annoyance, and settled back to sleep. Rex wanted to do the same; the near midnight sun of early summer on the lake took its toll after a couple weeks of long, hard days.
“What’s the matter, Girlie? Can’t get her started? Now don’t go getting your apron all in a bunch. I’ll take care of it, for you.”
Rex looked up to see the lanky form of Mags silhouetted in the sunrise, headed down the boardwalk toward the dock.
Rex was wearing an old plaid overshirt against the early chill of morning. With a laugh, he rolled up the sleeves, ready for a fight. “Who’re you calling a girl, Maggie May?”
“That’s Magnusson to you, young man.” Mags hopped into the boat and tweaked Rex’s ear. “And if you’re thinking about getting smart about it, remember it’s Mags, Mags like a .357 Magnum.” He dropped Rex’s earlobe and took aim across the lake with an imaginary revolver.
Rex firmly lowered Mags’ shooting arm, guiding it instead to the pull cord on the motor. It was much too early in the day to lose his best man to the shellshock. “Put down the gun and show me how to start a boat.”
He watched with relief as a mighty rip of the cord jerked both Mags and the motor back to present. The Evinrude roared and settled quickly into a contented purr.
“Thanks, man. Now get outta here. I’m headed up to the feldspar mine to see if Hector knows anything about Doc’s missing prospector,” Rex said.
Mags scrambled out of the boat and onto the dock. He looked down at Rex, a glint in his eye. “You think you can start the Rudy up all on your own on the way home?”
Rex grabbed his leg. “I said get lost, eh? Before I pitch you into the lake.”
Mags laughed, wrenched his ankle free, and headed toward shore. Rex started to untie the dock rope when he noticed that Mags had stopped just before stepping onto the land.
“Trying to come up with one last jab at me before you go, eh?” Rex said.
But when Mags turned to face him, he was no longer grinning. “I’m heading back up to the lodge. I’ll send RJ down to join you.”
“Naw. He’s sleeping. Don’t wake him up. I’ll be back before lunch.”
“A boy should be with his dad right now. We still don’t know who hooked that girl in there.” Mags squinted across the water as though he expected the murderous fiend to appear like a mirage on the waves.
No chance, Rex thought. The bugger certainly hadn’t stuck around. He threw the throttle into reverse and backed away from the dock. He had no doubt that he was leaving his son in good hands.
“You’re on launch duty all morning, and Doc’s around somewhere. RJ will be just fine.”
That was good like reading the beginning of a murder mystery but I can’t figure out who the fool is. I’m glad you mailed it. It didn’t take long to read at all. I’m also amazed that you can write that much in even 38 minutes. Thanks!
Yeah, didn’t really catch the fool part in this excerpt, but the characters felt really well-developed and mature. Loved the imaginary gun imagery, as it showed a lot about their characters.
(I admit that I wasn’t timing myself…I’m afraid of waking the baby if I set the kitchen timer. I was doing this on the sly. :))
Sy was rifling through his co-worker’s desk drawer. At first he had scanned the surface of the desk, hoping to find what he was looking for there, not really wanting to have to go through any of his drawers and filing cabinets. The problem was, was that he didn’t know what it was specifically he was looking for. He had the idea that he would know it if he found it.
The desk was neat and meticulous. There wasn’t even a photograph, but then again, a cleaner like either Sy or Desmond wouldn’t have a significant other in their life that they wanted to remember. It was a against the rules. Desmond by all appearances was a ruler follower. Sy knew that he himself was a rule breaker, although he pretended that he followed the rules in his daytime life. No. There was nothing on the desk.
The office door was closed. People on this floor usually didn’t come into the office that Desmond and Sy shared without some kind of warning or an appointment. The only person that could come and go through that door without warning was Desmond, and Sy was pretty sure that Desmond was across town on one of his cleaning assignments. They weren’t usually in the office on the same day, but that wasn’t always a hard and fast rule.
Sy drummed his fingers on his own desk, watching the door, trying to decide what he was going to do. The parrot in the cage behind him let out a sharp squawk that startled Sy in his dishonest thoughts. He cursed the bird under his breath.
“Awk. Awk,” the bird continued, oblivious to Sy’s deprecations. With the bird’s noise interrupting his reservations, he went over to Desmond’s desk, and pulled open the top drawer, the rollers silent and smooth. “Desmond’s pens! Desmond’s pens,” the bird shrieked when Sy stuck a hand inside to lift a sheaf of papers and nose around. Sy stared at the bird, and the beady eye glared back at him. “Desmond’s pen, “ the bird repeated, not looking away. Sy fancied that the bird’s black eye saw all, and it might just inform Desmond of what he, Sy, was doing. The parrot still fixated him with a black stare. “Desmond,” it muttered, ruffling its feathers as if agitated. Sy closed the desk drawer and returned to the work on his own. If Sy wanted to find out what his co-worker knew about him, he would have to look elsewhere, at least as long as this little alarm was in residence.
I like the parrot as a fool. The black stare kind of reminds me of “The Raven”. It makes me wonder what he was looking for. Thanks!
Thank you, Marianne. I’m kind of curious what he might find, too. But now that there is a parrot to contend with, it should be interesting.
I can’t help but smiling at the end of each of these practices. Having a fool in your story just lightens the mood. Here you have a professional “cleaner,” which, while I’m not all up on my street terms, I believe is a pretty sinister occupation, betraying or seeing if he’s been betrayed by his coworker, and yet it’s made genuinely funny by a silly bird in a cage. Great job, Kinelta!
I’ll say the same thing I said to Jen, though. If you want us to like the character, the fool and the character have to get along. They will usually have a falling out or a rift, as they do in Marianne’s story. A good example of this is Aladdin where at some point, Aladdin alienates the carpet and Abu, both “fools.” Maybe you don’t want us to like Sy though.
This storyline sounds interesting though. Is it part of a longer work?
Sy is a character that cropped up in a practice session a few weeks ago and I haven’t heard of him since, although I was curious about his profession. And here he was this time. At least I know something of his line of work now, so there might be more forthcoming. Thank you.
I can’t help but wonder how many words this parrot knows and how deep his capacity for communication with humans runs. Lots of potential in that choice of critter!
(I admit that I wasn’t timing myself…I’m afraid of waking the baby if I set the kitchen timer. I was doing this on the sly. :))
Sy was rifling through his co-worker’s desk drawer. At first he had scanned the surface of the desk, hoping to find what he was looking for there, not really wanting to have to go through any of his drawers and filing cabinets. The problem was, was that he didn’t know what it was specifically he was looking for. He had the idea that he would know it if he found it.
The desk was neat and meticulous. There wasn’t even a photograph, but then again, a cleaner like either Sy or Desmond wouldn’t have a significant other in their life that they wanted to remember. It was a against the rules. Desmond by all appearances was a ruler follower. Sy knew that he himself was a rule breaker, although he pretended that he followed the rules in his daytime life. No. There was nothing on the desk.
The office door was closed. People on this floor usually didn’t come into the office that Desmond and Sy shared without some kind of warning or an appointment. The only person that could come and go through that door without warning was Desmond, and Sy was pretty sure that Desmond was across town on one of his cleaning assignments. They weren’t usually in the office on the same day, but that wasn’t always a hard and fast rule.
Sy drummed his fingers on his own desk, watching the door, trying to decide what he was going to do. The parrot in the cage behind him let out a sharp squawk that startled Sy in his dishonest thoughts. He cursed the bird under his breath.
“Awk. Awk,” the bird continued, oblivious to Sy’s deprecations. With the bird’s noise interrupting his reservations, he went over to Desmond’s desk, and pulled open the top drawer, the rollers silent and smooth. “Desmond’s pens! Desmond’s pens,” the bird shrieked when Sy stuck a hand inside to lift a sheaf of papers and nose around. Sy stared at the bird, and the beady eye glared back at him. “Desmond’s pen, “ the bird repeated, not looking away. Sy fancied that the bird’s black eye saw all, and it might just inform Desmond of what he, Sy, was doing. The parrot still fixated him with a black stare. “Desmond,” it muttered, ruffling its feathers as if agitated. Sy closed the desk drawer and returned to the work on his own. If Sy wanted to find out what his co-worker knew about him, he would have to look elsewhere, at least as long as this little alarm was in residence.
I like the parrot as a fool. The black stare kind of reminds me of “The Raven”. It makes me wonder what he was looking for. Thanks!
Thank you, Marianne. I’m kind of curious what he might find, too. But now that there is a parrot to contend with, it should be interesting.
I can’t help but smiling at the end of each of these practices. Having a fool in your story just lightens the mood. Here you have a professional “cleaner,” which, while I’m not all up on my street terms, I believe is a pretty sinister occupation, betraying or seeing if he’s been betrayed by his coworker, and yet it’s made genuinely funny by a silly bird in a cage. Great job, Kinelta!
I’ll say the same thing I said to Jen, though. If you want us to like the character, the fool and the character have to get along. They will usually have a falling out or a rift, as they do in Marianne’s story. A good example of this is Aladdin where at some point, Aladdin alienates the carpet and Abu, both “fools.” Maybe you don’t want us to like Sy though.
This storyline sounds interesting though. Is it part of a longer work?
Sy is a character that cropped up in a practice session a few weeks ago and I haven’t heard of him since, although I was curious about his profession. And here he was this time. At least I know something of his line of work now, so there might be more forthcoming. Thank you.
I can’t help but wonder how many words this parrot knows and how deep his capacity for communication with humans runs. Lots of potential in that choice of critter!
I just came across your blog in December, and I’m loving it so far. This is a fantastic post! And not even for writing reasons, but because of what it reveals about life. By the end of the post I was thinking about all the “reality” TV we have now. The airwaves are filled with fools! Although I’m not sure that most of these new tv fools fit with in the archetype you describe. I think there’s definitely different types of fools. An innocent and/or humble fool is endearing. A prideful fool is sickening. Unfortunately, the latter make up most of what’s on the boob tube these days.
One of my favorite fools has been Kramer on Seinfeld. He had an unfettered innocence that allowed him to be free – like the episode where he stops wearing underwear. Classic!
Oh, and I just thought of Joey and Phoebe on Friends. Both were endearing fools, which is pretty amazing, when you consider that Joey was a womanizing sex-addict!
Great examples, Shon. You’re right about reality TV. There are so many of them, and yes, some of them might be foolish but not fools. There is the Jester / Mocker archetype as well, which is the counterpart to the fool, and may be where some of those fit.
Yep, Kramer, Phoebe, and Joey are all great examples.
Thanks Shon!
“The fool is the classic sidekick.”
It’s funny you should post this. I just renamed my blog “SpiritualSidekick.com” last week. I think I have always played the sidekick. In childhood friendships, I was usually the guy who was friends with more “popular” guys, yet I was not considered popular in my own right. In my vocation, as Minister of Music, I have always been the sidekick to the Sr. Pastor. I think my personality and humor feeds that persona. I struggle with people taking me serious at times because I’ve spent so much energy trying to get them to laugh. I think I need to soak and simmer in this realization for awhile and see where it takes me. Thanks!
Congratulations on the new name. I love it.
Wow way to take it to such a deep level. Sidekicks are important. You have to have them. I guess the question you’re asking yourself is, are YOU supposed to be the sidekick or is it a crutch?
A crutch? Hmm…
I just came across your blog in December, and I’m loving it so far. This is a fantastic post! And not even for writing reasons, but because of what it reveals about life. By the end of the post I was thinking about all the “reality” TV we have now. The airwaves are filled with fools! Although I’m not sure that most of these new tv fools fit with in the archetype you describe. I think there’s definitely different types of fools. An innocent and/or humble fool is endearing. A prideful fool is sickening. Unfortunately, the latter make up most of what’s on the boob tube these days.
One of my favorite fools has been Kramer on Seinfeld. He had an unfettered innocence that allowed him to be free – like the episode where he stops wearing underwear. Classic!
Oh, and I just thought of Joey and Phoebe on Friends. Both were endearing fools, which is pretty amazing, when you consider that Joey was a womanizing sex-addict!
Great examples, Shon. You’re right about reality TV. There are so many of them, and yes, some of them might be foolish but not fools. There is the Jester / Mocker archetype as well, which is the counterpart to the fool, and may be where some of those fit.
Yep, Kramer, Phoebe, and Joey are all great examples.
Thanks Shon!
“The fool is the classic sidekick.”
It’s funny you should post this. I just renamed my blog “SpiritualSidekick.com” last week. I think I have always played the sidekick. In childhood friendships, I was usually the guy who was friends with more “popular” guys, yet I was not considered popular in my own right. In my vocation, as Minister of Music, I have always been the sidekick to the Sr. Pastor. I think my personality and humor feeds that persona. I struggle with people taking me serious at times because I’ve spent so much energy trying to get them to laugh. I think I need to soak and simmer in this realization for awhile and see where it takes me. Thanks!
Congratulations on the new name. I love it.
Wow way to take it to such a deep level. Sidekicks are important. You have to have them. I guess the question you’re asking yourself is, are YOU supposed to be the sidekick or is it a crutch?
A crutch? Hmm…
+100 internet points for blogging about Shakespeare. *grin*
Hamlet even plays what you could call the “fool” for a while, to get to the bottom of the mystery and to make fun of every other person onstage without repercussions.
Great point, Laura.
I would love to blog more about Shakespeare, but since college, I haven’t had the opportunity to read much of his stuff. You should write a guest post about him 🙂
+100 internet points for blogging about Shakespeare. *grin*
Hamlet even plays what you could call the “fool” for a while, to get to the bottom of the mystery and to make fun of every other person onstage without repercussions.
Great post, Joe. I hate to say it, but many “fools” in American films drive me NUTS, particularly when they’re thrown in gratuitously. Fools in Shakespeare, thriller novels and foreign films, on the other hand, I dig. (There’s an audience for everything, right?) I also find that writing foolery can help keep the darkness of heavy topics less daunting. My bro says he puts humorous images into his art to “cheer” himself up. 🙂
Yes. Agreed. I can’t watch most films where a “fool” is the hero because I feel so much empathetic shame.
Yeah, the fool certainly lightens up King Lear, makes the whole awful thing into something of a grotesque comedy. Great point.
Your brother’s art is such a great example of the grotesque (which Hugo associated with the fool). It would be an interesting exercise to compare the fool in literature and art.
Joe, this is such good stuff. When I get further down the road, I might be able to participate. You all are over this novice’s head at this time. 🙂
Hi Michael, I am one of the “frequent flyers” here, and I like to get to know the new faces. I just checked out your blog…and I must say, you are NO novice! I just read your latest post, and your “festivus” post. Both have a wonderful voice, so warm and confident and familiar. I say, post away here at The Write Practice! You’ll be able to teach us all a thing or two 🙂 Happy New Year!
Thank you for your kind words, Kati. I do feel over my head when I read so many blogs, and in particular, one’s like Joe’s that go into the structure of writing. I have no training, other than basic composition and I just write what seems to make sense in my head. I love to learn, though, and I want to get better, so that I write correctly. Thanks for listening and reading.
i get overwhelmed with classic literature (perhaps we both missed something in high school! — i read only one during my 4 years, The Old Man and the Sea) so i feel like i have a lot to learn when i compare myself to literary thinkers here and elsewhere in my life. but i have read hundreds of business and leadership books. i noticed in your “guidance counselor” post that you have succeeded in business and the air force. perhaps these are the influences that have helped you create such a clear, non-rambling yet entertaining storytelling voice. i’ll have to meet up with you in your space from time to time and be an encouragement to you there! as well as anytime you take the plunge here. joe (and everyone else) is positive first, honest second. a nice combination for growth, i’d say 🙂
What’s really sad is when your protagonist discovers he is the clown.
Very true. The fool often experiences a lot of shame. That’s why I can’t watch most movies where the protagonist is the fool. It’s too painful.
Hi Michael, I am one of the “frequent flyers” here, and I like to get to know the new faces. I just checked out your blog…and I must say, you are NO novice! I just read your latest post, and your “festivus” post. Both have a wonderful voice, so warm and confident and familiar. I say, post away here at The Write Practice! You’ll be able to teach us all a thing or two 🙂 Happy New Year!
Thank you for your kind words, Kati. I do feel over my head when I read so many blogs, and in particular, one’s like Joe’s that go into the structure of writing. I have no training, other than basic composition and I just write what seems to make sense in my head. I love to learn, though, and I want to get better, so that I write correctly. Thanks for listening and reading.
Thanks Michael. But I agree with Kati. You’re no novice. Besides it’s just practice.
Anyway, thanks for stopping by 🙂
Thanks Michael. But I agree with Kati. You’re no novice. Besides it’s just practice.
Anyway, thanks for stopping by 🙂
Touchstone and Feste are my favorite Shakespearean fools – both play the perceptive fool, but Touchstone is much more ‘in’ the story than Feste, who resides more on the outside observing the action. However, both can ‘speak truth to power’ as it were, and love word play.
Glad you mentioned these Tristan. While I’ve read As You Like It, I’ve never seen it, so I didn’t feel comfortable mentioning him. And I actually haven’t read Twelfth Night or seen it at all. Yes, I love the fool for their ability to be the conscience of the powerful.
Touchstone and Feste are my favorite Shakespearean fools – both play the perceptive fool, but Touchstone is much more ‘in’ the story than Feste, who resides more on the outside observing the action. However, both can ‘speak truth to power’ as it were, and love word play.
Glad you mentioned these Tristan. While I’ve read As You Like It, I’ve never seen it, so I didn’t feel comfortable mentioning him. And I actually haven’t read Twelfth Night or seen it at all. Yes, I love the fool for their ability to be the conscience of the powerful.
Huh. Reading this, I suddenly realized that one of my characters plays the part of the fool. he performs nearly all of the functions you’ve listed. I must have absorbed a lot through all those Disney movies I watched with my kids 🙂
Nice article!
What’s really sad is when your protagonist discovers he is the clown.
Baldrick in Black Adder.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in Hamlet.
Baldrick in Black Adder.
Rosencrantz and Guildenstern in Hamlet.
Used to be the wife.was the clown in sktcoms. (Edith Bunker, Ted Knight’s wife.) These days the husband gets the Honor’s.
Working on my autobiography and realized this is a case of the protagonist being the clown.
Working on my autobiography and realized this is a case of the protagonist being the clown.
I’m thinking about the first card in the Major Arcana of the Tarot which is numbered zero and named the “Fool.” He is youthful innocence stepping into the unknown without judgement or wisdom. He is all new beginnings because he takes his bag of tricks over the edge (he is pictured stepping off a precipice) and sacrifices his past. He represents the only attitude that makes real learning possible.
Interesting, Marti. I know nothing about Tarot, but I love that image of stepping off the precipice of the present, as if only the fool can be fully immersed into the tragic beauty of the moment.
Thanks, Joe, for a reminder about this oft overlooked character. The Fool is too often taken at face value and dismissed. However, we need that small voice to keep us in touch with the reality of the situation in a way that won’t feel preachy. Thanks again.
I’m thinking about the first card in the Major Arcana of the Tarot which is numbered zero and named the “Fool.” He is youthful innocence stepping into the unknown without judgement or wisdom. He is all new beginnings because he takes his bag of tricks over the edge (he is pictured stepping off a precipice) and sacrifices his past. He represents the only attitude that makes real learning possible.
Interesting, Marti. I know nothing about Tarot, but I love that image of stepping off the precipice of the present, as if only the fool can be fully immersed into the tragic beauty of the moment.
Thanks, Joe, for a reminder about this oft overlooked character. The Fool is too often taken at face value and dismissed. However, we need that small voice to keep us in touch with the reality of the situation in a way that won’t feel preachy. Thanks again.
papagieno in Die Zauberflote.
In The Avengers, Tony Stark has a bit of the Fool in him. It’s interesting, because he’s respected for his abilities and knowledge, but there are times that the other characters almost forget it because of his antics.
Stark is close to a fool among others, it’s true. Not so much unintelligent of course, but a horizontal, unstructured thinker who doesn’t chain his impulses (in ANY way!) and thus comes up with brilliance along with whopper mistakes. His humor (which RDJ plays to perfection) is an excellent cover, again not the classic fool but causing folks to MISTAKE him for one- and in their underestimation of him,they reveal their true character just as Joe pointed out.
What a most-excellent post, a great deal to think about here. In the Lands of Hope,there are a few fools… but they are too powerful for me to write about effectively yet.
He’s the smart one, but he has all his little quirks.
In this lesson, I am reminded of Jane Austen’s Pride and Prejudice”s Charles Bingley. He was led so easily by others, but in the end, his love for Jane, and Mr. Darcy’s encouragement to pursue it, influences Mr. Darcy to admit his feelings for Elizabeth and to put aside his own pride.
There is no iguana in Tangled. He’s a chameleon.
And Ron is the fool. I think.
“We’re here already?” Dusty vaults out of the car like a hyper-energetic lemur. Which she was. The hyper-energetic part, not the lemur part. She puts her hands on her hips, hovering in the air. “Huh. From what he said I assumed Hill, the town, was on an actual hill, like the geographical feature.”
Conan leans out of the car window, letting the clean wind blow some of the musty air from the car. “That’s because we aren’t there yet, Dusty.”
“Who am I kidding?” Dusty groans. “How far do we get before I drop dead, that’s a good question.”
“Dusty, you’re an angel, you can’t drop dead,” Conan rolls his eyes and shoots a look at Aoife, as if asking, How long until we drop dead from all her yammering?
“Who says?” She collapses, prostrate on the car seat. “Hours and hours and hours of driving and driving and driving on the most boring highway in existence surrounded by land that’s all Kansas-flat!”
Conan rolls down the windows as the rusty pickup trundles down the road. “How can it be Kansas-flat if we’re in Oklahoma?” He demands, trying to hold in a smile.
“Whatever,” came from the back seat. “Same thing.”
Aoife gave him a look. “How can the entrance to Hell be in Hill, Oklahoma? The town that doesn’t exist on any maps?” She countered on Dusty’s behalf.
“Because we’re all going to die from boredom here even before we make it to the entrance!” Dusty complains loudly. “And if we do manage to make it we’re never going to get out alive. Hell-o America!” She yells, at the forte of her crescendo, like one of the announcers on the news. “Hell is where dead people go!”
“And Hell is where we’re going.” Christopher says bluntly, “Come with us or not, we’re going anyway, right Aoife?”
Dusty sticks her head close to his, her blonde curls escaping from her ponytail. “I swear you’re going to be the death of me, literally and figuratively. I’m going to jump in front of the car and then you’re going to have to run me over before you get to that damned pit.”
Aoife snorts. “Can’t you just cool it? I don’t know, like call the angel of road trips or Yahtzee or whatever? Hell isn’t that bad.”
“Well, it won’t make a difference to you because you’d two be dead and I’d be suffering torture for all eternity,” Dusty says, accompanied with a dramatic sigh. “Now excuse me, I’m going to go and play Pokemon with myself for the fifty-third time.”
Conan rolls his eyes. “If that makes you shut up,” He calls.
A few blissful minutes of silence pass faster than he’d thought possible.
“Hey!” Dusty cries from the back seat. “Stop it! I’m cheating! Again!”
Conan grates the car to a standstill, to rest his weary head against the steering wheel.
Then Dusty’s out of the door again, hands on her hips, hovering.
“We’re here already? I though Hill, the town-“
In Disney movies, the fool characters are recognizable- but they’re all so different which I find fascinating! In ‘The Hunchback of Notre Dame’, Clopin dressed like a jester and told stories with his puppets, but he had a dark side and tried to harm Quasimodo and Phoebus. In ‘Lion King’, the three hyenas start out as comic relief sidekicks to Scar- but they turn on him in a horrific way in the end. In ‘Beauty and the Beast’, LeFou (French for The Fool) is Gaston’s adoring, naive servant who thinks he’s his friend, and puts up with the abuse because if he wasn’t at Gaston’s side, he’d probably be ostracized like ‘crazy’ Maurice was. He preferred being treated like a punching bag than to lose his spot in Gaston’s social circle. And in ‘Princess and the Frog’ there is a sympathetic and heroic fool- little Ray the firefly. He dies sacrificially, still believing a star in the sky is his dream girl- a lady lightning bug.
I’m not sure a fool as you described it would quite fit into my own, somewhat dark story.
Could a fool be interpreted as someone who has no filter and just kinda drops truth bombs like it’s the Battle of Britain? Or maybe someone who’s a foreigner to the setting and makes amusing, yet endearing mistakes as they try to understand the locals better?
This is an interesting discussion and even more interesting blog. I might also point out that the fool is and has always been in Irish, Welsh, German, French, Spanish and Italian literature and oral tradition long before there were Anglo-Saxons in Britain. I might point out that the fool can also represent fortune as often though he be common/low, he knows his roots but chooses to spread new ones, something considered rather noble and daring to many. The fool is often ridiculed by the staunch traditionalists he is surrounded by, loved by those who are truly wise even if he does annoy them, and admired by those too afraid to really be themselves. Often, wily talespinners twist this to make a point about those who everyone has looked up to, either through respect, fear or envy, to show that perhaps they aren’t the ones to be looked up to. The fool is also found in such things as the Ramayana, Bible/Torah and other religious or determined presently to be spiritual writings. Why? The fool is a perfect icon for what really being and living life to live it is all about, in my opinion. They make us wince, desire even to shun them, yet they end the day on a high note we all desire to arrive at. It isn’t because of fearlessness. They fear the consequences when they face them, they just aren’t aware of consequences until then. It’s because they have their mind fixated on something nobody else believes is attainable if they even know it exists. We are all the fool to spread our Icarusian wings seeking to reach the brightness of whatever star we fix our eyes upon whether unseen by others, believed unreachable by most and the way paved to by the broken remains of those who lost momentum, lost their way or looked down and we do it with a great big grin on our faces as if none of that exists.
In my writing, the fool archetype wears a different kind of mask, that of an idealist paving new roads through thin air, so to speak. Not ignorant or the past nor blind to the present, simply bold enough to stride forward into certain destruction optimistically certain of success where it either failed miserably before or was never attempted due to extreme risk. The fool is a risk taker who doesn’t take himself too seriously. A hero strides into battle certain of victory because he knows he can achieve success; the fool strides into battle with nothing more than hope and a stupid grin. The province of the fool is the future, riding balls to the wall into the unknown without a moment’s thought to his own demise.
The Fool is a symbolism that is synonymous with anyone who shows naivety or no understanding of a concept. Why not change the concept a little bit for your particular genre? My book has a guy who is heartbroken after being rejected (it’s his first love) and makes a point of saying “I know how to treat her right” and “I know how to be truly romantic” etc etc. The Fool archetype in his story would be his best friend, who has no commitment to women and is mostly a one-night stand type of guy. But he constantly gives advice to the MC and makes him realize that he truly knows nothing about relationships at all. A bit confusing of a premise, I know, but I’m saying that the best friend seemingly knows nothing about relationships, romance or commitment (like how the Fool supposedly knows nothing) whilst the MC thinks he knows everything about it (like the ‘confident’ protagonist archetype who thinks he is aware of everything). Does anyone understand what I’m going on about? :/
I just hit him with all my might because I am so angry. He falls down to the floor, glaring at me. He wipes the blood of his face and attempts to stand up but he slides back down. He might have hit the floor wrong. I might have hit him too hard, what was I doing I asked myself.
“Raymond!!” It was James, my bestfriend, seeing as he was holding a trash can he is on cleaning duty. He gently puts them down and run towards me. “What are you doing?” Looking back and forth towards me and Bryan who is now screeching in pain.
“I don’t know! I blacked out!” shivering while looking at Bryan and then I remember what he did to me. “It’s him, its his fault, he made me do it!!” blaming Bryan because Ive had enough of his nagging already.
James went over to Bryan, who is holding his ankle, seems like it got twisted. James looks at me, his usual jollyness can’t be seen. “What?” I asked.
“This is so not you, Ray.” James sounds sad, this is a first. He is talking to Bryan about his ankle. I can’t hear them my thoughts are too loud. How can it not be me? I punched him because his mean. James knows this, he jokes about him a lot. Then why is he sad, I’ve done nothing wrong, It was him!
He put his arms around his shoulder and lifts him up. “Are you gonna help?” he asked still a different James. I stood there as if I did not hear him.
“Its his fault anyway” I murmured.
He glanced at me and then he slowly walks away. Suddenly, I felt a fire going through my body and over my head. I am mad again.
“I just don’t understand why are you siding with him? Am I not your bestfriend? It was his fault? You know it right?” I shouted at him making him stop.
“I’m not siding with him, you know it too. We told each other to defeat bad with good, right?” He glance again but now he is smiling. “We should always keep peace and order, protect the children, woman, old and injured! Isn’t that what we are, Scouts?”
I suddenly hear a faint giggling and then a laughter, it was Bryan. “That is one hell of a dedication, bro” he continues laughing and James joining in.
I realised what James just told me, he is right. I should have not hurt Bryan, he did not hurt me. I was annoyed but doesn’t mean I should have punched him. Bryan was just teasing me at the wrong time.
I walked over to them. “I’m sorry” I said to Bryan , and also to James. I felt a hand ruffling my hair. “It’s alright, bro. My bad” Bryan said and then he laughed again.
“Let me help you” I said taking Bryan’s other arm to my shoulder.
—- have I depicted it well?? Comments please hehehe…><
My face is burning from the humiliation. This stupid drunkard has the nerve to say such things about me, and my family. Why, I should throttle him, I should, punch him, I should KILL him-
“Brother! Calm down, he’s drunk, I’m sure he doesn’t mean it. Please, let’s finish up and go home.” I snap back to my senses as my not-so-little-little-brother tries to calm me down. Looking at the idiot who is GRINNING at my obvious anger, I glance back at my little brother again. He has tears running down his face from the barrage of insults that were thrown his way. My fury flares up and I spin around to punch the moronic drunk but I still my hand as my brother sniffles quietly. Clenching my fists tightly, I spit out, “Don’t ever, talk to us AGAIN.” Then I follow my brother, fuming silently because I couldn’t do anything to that bastard, anything. As we steadily head toward ‘our’ alley, my brother whispers, “Thanks for listening to me Big Brother.” And I smile just a bit for the first time since the sun went down.
“You’re welcome lil’ bro.”
This post was great. It was an educational insight on what The Fool is that I never knew before. The Fool is the most important character archetype for showing other characters true nature, but I fail to see how The Fool is the be all and end all of character archetypes. But maybe I’m misunderstanding what ‘The Most Important Character Archetype’ means to Joe. It would have been prudent to include an explanation for that in the article because it sure confused me. Still love the post though.
This is a tricky exercise, but it made me look at character’s in a way I haven’t before, delving down deeper into their relationships with one another. And it kind of lends itself to dialogue, which I’m taking a chance with here. Also it seems really difficult to right humorously without going over the top. I think maybe the situation needs to be more developed to lend the right amount of situational irony. . . ? Anyway, here’s my shot at it. . .
I’m going to ask her to marry me.
Oh. That’s a smart move. After she’s taken it all she’ll leave you flat, you fool. What are you thinking?
She’ll change. I know she will. She just needs a good man who’ll care for her and give her what she needs.
And that’d be you, eh? Mr. Stability himself. Mr. I’m going to be an artist and save the world. What do you think will happen to that idea once she’s got you in her claws. Like a mouse in a trap. Don’t do this, man. Can’t you see she’s playing you?
I don’t care. I’ve never felt this way about anyone before.
You mean your dick has never felt this way before. Wise up man. Start thinking with your head and not your hormones. Whore moans. That’s a good one.
Yeah. Funny guy. You’re just jealous. Your miserable with your life and you want me to be just as unhappy as you.
You’re wrong there, buddy. I may be miserable, but being miserable alone is far better than being in miserable company that you can’t escape from. Remember Sartre – Hell is other people. And you are headed straight for it.
How can you say that? You know her almost as well as I do. She’s never done anything against you. Why do you begrudge her and me a little happiness.
Real happiness does not come with a gold ring, my friend. It comes from freedom and fulfillment of dreams. And you are getting ready to flush yours right down the marriage toilet. I’m telling you, humans are not meant for monogamy. It’s an artificial construct meant to keep us in our cages. What you need is to take a nice trip up to the mountains. Get high. Talk to the sky and the mountains. What you don’t need is to get married.
You don’t think two people can be happy together? Build something real out of their lives and love for each other.
I didn’t say that. I just don’t think they can do it through marriage. Once you put on that ring, it’s all going to change. You’ll change. She’ll change. Her mother will certainly change. I thought you said you couldn’t stand her family. You think they’re going to just fade from the picture? Think twice about that one. If she doesn’t make you miserable, Mama Godzilla certainly will.