After dwelling in a period of uncertainty about what to write next, I recently plunged into developing an idea for a new novel. As always, the idea is filled with possible landmines and diversions that could sink the entire project and, as I’ve been trying to navigate a meaningful path, I’ve given a lot of thought to the entire process of story development.

There was a time in my life when I studied and wrote screenplays, and I only recently stopped teaching screenwriting. In creating a viable idea for the screen the emphasis—at least in the world of mainstream Hollywood filmmaking—is on a single character with a strong desire and an equally strong will to act on that desire. The character follows a path based on a template laid out by Joseph Campbell (whose work was originally drawn from the work of Carl Jung, and was later codified more specifically for the screen by Chris Vogler). The template follows 3-act story structure and details specific stages along the way, beginning with the hero’s call to adventure in the first act, a major crisis or ‘ordeal’ occurring at the end of the second act, and ending with the hero returning to his world transformed in some way. This is a story structure we see in numerous Hollywood movies, most notably action-adventure stories, but also in quieter films. Certainly there are many examples of wonderful movies that do not follow this pattern—the films of Jim Jarmusch immediately come to mind—but there are far more movies that conform to it.

In the halls of academic fiction-writing MFA programs, story structure is rarely addressed head-on. The word ‘plot’ is regarded as an unseemly word, though plenty of attention is paid to character. However, in fiction classes and workshops outside of academia, The Hero’s Journey is often taught.

I have tried a few times to use this template to develop novel ideas. After all, stories are stories, right? But thinking of a novel in terms of The Hero’s Journey has not worked for me at all, and I am only just now beginning to understand why.

A story originates in my mind from a context which has given rise to it. A geographical place, a social milieu, economic circumstances, family and work environments. These are the elements of our lives that, along with innate personality, are the wellsprings from which we behave and react. Without a consideration of context, I cannot begin to imagine a character with a motivating desire. Aren’t desires, to a large degree, determined by the circumstances of our birth? Think of how many children of doctors decide to become doctors because that is what they know.

I think of writing from context as a matriarchal approach to developing stories, one in which the community norms and values and pressures play as much of a role in human behavior as do inner desires. (This, by the way, is not entirely absent in Campbell’s archetype, but it is not the starting point.) Women have traditionally been the nurturers of the domestic and community ties; it has been the women in most cultures who encourage people to stay together and cooperate. It is natural therefore, for me, as a woman and a storyteller, to envision the social context of a story before I can begin to generate a character who is experiencing problems and conflicts within that context.

I suspect this is not exclusive to my gender. I imagine many male writers of literary fiction approach story development as I do. But it is also true that The Hero’s Journey is a paradigm derived from patriarchal western culture, in which the burning desires of individual men are considered to be the primary drivers of history and culture.

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