relationships – Caroline Ashley

Why do we become attached to fictional characters?

The role of empathy in connecting with characters

I’ve previously written about the role of theory of mind in storytelling. This is our ability to put ourselves in someone else’s shoes, to understand their perspective even when it’s different from our own, and use that understanding to explain and predict their behaviour. Using theory of mind allows us to gain new insight into how other people, or society at large, think and feel.

Another related concept, which also influences our social and emotional connection with a story, is empathy. When we empathise with someone, we recognize and understand their emotions, we feel what they feel, and that ability is used when we read stories as well.

There have been various research studies showing that stories with emotional content, or a need to infer a character’s emotions or intent, leads to the activation of similar brain areas as experienced emotion (AbdulSabar et al, 2014; Berthoz et al, 2002; Ferstl et al, 2014; Gallagher et al, 2000). When we read, watch or listen to a story, this can trigger genuine feelings in us as we read it, which will then strengthen our engagement with the narrative.

A low risk relationship

The result of this emotional response to stories is that we can start to feel a connection to the characters within a narrative. This connection can build into what psychologists call a parasocial relationship. This term was originally coined to describe relationships where one person extends emotional energy and interest in a persona, such as a celebrity or media influencer, who isn’t aware of their existence, but it has been extended over time to include a figure who doesn’t exist, like a book or movie character. Our brains are so inclined to build these social connections that we become invested in the future of someone who can never actually reciprocate.

In some ways though, that lack of reciprocity makes it easier to invest in a connection. When we show that we care for a real person, we expect something in return – whether that be rejection or acceptance. When we enter into a friendship or a relationship, there are regular tests of that connection and a need to work to maintain it. Sometimes friendships drift apart or end badly; we can feel like the effort wasn’t worth it or we can be broken-hearted by the loss.

But when we feel attached to fictional character, none of that matters. There are no real life expectations to meet and we can root for their success with no impact on our day to day lives. If they’re a character in a romance, we can imagine living in their world, without having to move on to the reality of a relationship, where managing the bills and the household chores take precedence over the giddy rush of falling in love. If they’re a character in an adventure story, we can imagine taking risks and facing danger, without ever leaving the safety of our home. The characters will never reject us or judge us and we’re always able to go back to the narrative that we fell in love with. They are safe and predictable in the emotions that they make us feel.

Why do we like certain characters more than others?

Our favourite characters are as unique to us as our own personalities, though the most popular characters often have traits that appeal to a wide range of people. Often the characters we like resonate with something about ourselves or our lives. They might have traits that we value and want to emulate, like the superheroes of the MCU; they might behave or think in the ways we look for in a partner, as with many of the love interests in romance stories. Or, they might be villains that we feel empathy for because we understand their point of view or sympathise with the circumstances that led them to their behaviour, such as with Frankenstein’s monster.

When I first read Terry Pratchett’s Discworld series, I fell a bit in love with Sam Vimes. He was a middle aged guard in the city of Ankh-Morpork, who had become disillusioned by his corrupt home and turned to alcohol to manage his feelings. Over the course of the books, he was inspired to turn things around and work to build a real police force, but he never lost his gruff edge. There was something about the way he wanted to do good and succeeded in his own way that just really appealed to me. No heroics or super powers, just a determination to catch the bad guys and do it by the book.

Another character I’ve always loved is Edward Elric from the Full Metal Alchemist manga series. He and his brother lost their mother and tried to bring her back to life. They failed and instead Ed lost his arm and leg, while his brother lost his whole body. Ed was determined to restore his brother, always looking out for him and never as concerned for his own loss, but he also had a strong moral code and was horrified in their journey at the damage others were willing to do for their own self interest. While his brother was always his priority, Ed was also willing to put himself at risk to help others – ultimately making a big sacrifice in order to save the world and his brother.

I also don’t feel like I can talk about famous characters without bringing up the Harry Potter series, but for the topic at hand, I would argue that Severus Snape is the most memorable character of these books. Some would say that he was poorly written: a cowardly bully who we were supposed to forgive because he helped Harry in the end. Others see him as a misunderstood hero, who sacrificed his reputation for the sake of the greater good. The different view points are what keeps him in our minds – the scenes with him standing out over others as we analyse his behaviour for signs of his underlying intent. This engagement with trying to understand his point of view is what builds our connection with him, even if our conclusion is that we dislike him!

How to create a character that readers connect with

There’s no perfect mix of traits that will make a reader feel attached to a character, just like there is no person who can be friends with everyone. Aspects that appeal to one reader may put another off entirely. But there is one thing that’s likely to help: keeping the reader guessing.

The biggest thing that engages a reader is needing to pay attention to details within the narrative. The more the character makes us think, the more we try to make use of theory of mind and empathy. This can be done either through individual scenes or through the narrative itself.

Most writers are aware of the guidance to ‘show, not tell’ and there’s a good reason for this. Being told that character is scared doesn’t tend to elicit emotion on its own, because it doesn’t give us the contextual clues that we use to make sense of emotions, and it doesn’t make us actively engage with what’s happening.

Take this quote from The Big Sleep by Raymond Chandler:

She slammed her glass down so hard that it slopped over on an ivory cushion. She swung her legs to the floor and stood up with her eyes sparking fire and her nostrils wide.

We as readers are forced to picture and interpret the character’s behaviour, activating similar brain areas as if she was in the room with us. This means that we’re more likely to ‘feel’ her anger as we read the book, even though the word anger isn’t used in the text.

The Big Sleep is a crime novel, so the narrative has characters double-crossing each other and revealing secrets, keeping the reader guessing along the way. But mystery within the narrative doesn’t have to be as integral to the story as that. It could be that the character doesn’t show their feelings right away, or they hint at a backstory that’s later revealed in detail. It could be that they go through a journey, developing their confidence or power or changing their perspective on the world, and the reader becomes compelled to see how their journey ends.

The most memorable characters make us work to understand them or connect with them. Their words or actions trigger those brain areas involved in theory of mind or empathy as we try to explain and predict their behaviour. If a character is part of a story arc that arouses our curiosity and they’re written in a way that ‘shows’ us their feelings, then readers are far more likely to connect with them, meaning that they’ll be remembered even after the story is over.

About The Author

Caroline Ashley is a clinical psychologist who works for the NHS in Scotland. She writes monthly articles on her website about the different aspects of psychology that relate to telling stories. She is also a fantasy writer and is currently working on completing her first novel. If Caroline had any spare time around work, writing and raising her two young children, she would spend it playing board games.

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‘They Do Not Know The Earth’ and other things

If you follow me on social media, you’ll have already seen that the Hooghly Review have published one of my stories in their 3rd issue, which was released today. ‘They Do Not Know The Earth‘ is a flash fiction piece about a witch grieving for her lost family and trying to use magic to fill the hole they’ve left.

I’m aware I’ve been pretty quiet of late and I’m planning to attempt to get back on track this month. My writing has still been a priority but I was taking part in a free five day challenge with Writer’s Ink, as well as attending workshops organised as part of ProWritingAid’s Fantasy Writers Week. Both have provided some useful insights into writing longer fiction as well as the publishing and marketing side of the journey, which I’ll hopefully be able to use to my advantage with time!

It can be a bit overwhelming how many things are out there to help you with your writing – writing groups that you can subscribe to; apps for editing; apps for world-building; apps for structuring and planning. Not to mention the people you can pay for various kinds of editing and support in getting your book ready to go to agents. At the moment, I’ve resolved to try and do as much as I can without all that, just plugging away at my writing and editing, while attempting to get better at the whole social media thing and build some followers. Let’s see how it goes!

The next post after this will be for my Storytelling blog, on the topic of Third Person Omniscient Point of View, which I’m hoping to get out to you in the next couple of weeks. After that, we should be back on the usual monthly schedule. Any suggestions for topics to cover in Storytelling are more than welcome, so leave me a message with what you’d like to hear about.

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Take Me Home

My latest publication is out now! Take Me Home is a flash fiction piece about the moments we lose as time passes and that desire to recapture that feeling of being “home”.

It’s been published in the 4th issue of Raw Lit Mag, which has some great stories about some of the hard realities of life and how we deal with them. Big thanks to the editor, Delphine Gauthier-Georgakopoulos, for all her time spent pulling this issue together ❤️

On the related note of moments that we want to hold onto, my son turned five yesterday. We had a small party with friends and family and he seemed to have a wonderful time. He requested a cake themed around a Netflix TV show called Hilda that we’ve been watching together as a family. It’s a lovely show, based on a comic book by Luke Pearson, about a girl who goes off on adventures in a world where magical creatures like elves, trolls, nisse and fairies all exist. Exactly the kind of story I love! I would highly recommend it even if you don’t have children.

The result of evenings slaving away making clay figures for my son’s cake 🎂

Under The Skin

I seem to have lots to update all at once this month!

Wicked Shadow Press have published my horror flash fiction story Under the Skin in their latest anthology: Flash of the Dead: Requiem.

My story is now available for you to read for free on my website but if you enjoy it and would like to peruse the 87 other chilling horror works in their anthology, then you can follow the above link to purchase their anthology in epub format. Anthologies such as these survive through people contributing by purchasing when they can and telling other people about the stories they’ve enjoyed, so please do consider supporting them if you’re able to and are interested in the stories inside.

Under the Skin is about domestic abuse, so may not be for everyone. It’s about all the repressed emotions that come from spending your life trying to make yourself fit with someone else’s view of who you should be. These emotions can build beneath the surface and threaten to spill out in ways that we can’t control.

Let me know what you think!

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Telling a story with logos, pathos and ethos

One of the main aims of any story teller is to convince their audience of something, whether that be to immerse them in a magical world, or make a theoretical argument, or to build an emotional connection with the characters. So how do you write a convincing story? What elements need to be there for an audience to buy into the narrative?

More than 2000 years ago, the philosopher Aristotle wrote On Rhetoric: A Theory of Civic Discourse where he laid the foundations for all subsequent ideas about rhetoric and the art of persuasion. Aristotle posited that in order to make a persuasive argument a writer requires three rhetorical appeals:

Logos: making a logical argument. In non-fiction, this would mean that the narrative needs to be evidence based and structured in such a way that it pre-empts any counter argument.

Ethos: being credible and likeable. A writer needs to be seen as someone that the audience can trust and respect, someone whose argument is worth listening to, or someone whose ideals are similar to their own.

Pathos: connecting emotionally with the audience. This is about forming an emotion connection, either by evoking positive emotions for the narrative or negative emotions for the ideas or people who oppose the writer’s argument.

(As an aside to this blog post, this is an example of the power of the rule of three, which I’ve discussed previously. Artistotle breaks quite a few of his rhetorical concepts down to three parts, likely because he understood the power that the rule of three has in helping people to engage with and remember information.)

Aristotle’s ideas have been used to inform written and spoken work throughout the ages. His writings cover far more than just these three elements and are essentially a ‘how to’ guide for making an argument that people will listen to. Being a philosopher and scientist, Aristotle was most concerned with using discourse to communicate theoretical ideas rather than stories, but the basic concept is just as useful for writers wanting to ‘sell’ their fiction to their audience.

One thing that I think is important to note though, is that most writing doesn’t necessarily require all three of these factors to be successful. A not-very-good book by an internationally best-selling writer is likely to still sell a lot of copies regardless. A story that plucks at the heart strings well enough may be forgiven for some factual inaccuracies or internal inconsistencies. And a well-written story with an interesting argument to make may not need to appeal to the audience’s emotions to be remembered.

Logos within Fiction

Logos is all about a story making sense. It doesn’t necessarily have to be completely factually accurate but it the narrative has to flow in a way that readers can wrap their heads around and the rules of the world within the story need to be consistent.

Some stories use logos as the primary focus of the narrative. For example, Fountains of Paradise by Arthur C. Clarke is largely a speculative piece about the feasibility of a space elevator on earth. The characters are fairly two dimensional and forgettable, largely used as a means of progressing his scientific ideas. Another example would be The Martian by Andy Weir, who said in promoting his book that he worked hard to ensure that the novel was as scientifically accurate as possible.

On the other hand, we have the TV series Lost. Those of you who have watched it will remember waiting patiently for explanations for the polar bear that appears in the jungle in Season 1, or what was underneath the hatch, or what the numbers truly meant. Many explanations just led to further questions and by the finale there were several hanging threads that were never tied off. The story was often more about the characters anyway and many fans still felt satisfied by the closure they had by the end. However, plenty of others were disappointed by the lack of cohesive narrative, and the issues with the story have reduced its re-watch value for many fans.

While readers will tend to forgive the odd mistake here and there, or suspend their disbelief for a compelling enough story, it definitely weakens a story and disrupts our immersion if we find ourselves questioning the logic within the narrative.

Pathos within Fiction

If a writer can emotionally connect with an audience through their writing then they’ll create moments that are remembered long after the story is over. The example that sprang to my mind when writing this is from the movie The Never-ending Story. If you were a child when this movie came out, then you may already be picturing Atreyu desperately trying to rescue his horse Artax from drowning in the Swamp of Sadness only to fail and be left to continue his journey alone. The emotional connection that I felt for Atreyu has stuck with me well into my adulthood, cementing my memory of the movie along with it.

One way to use pathos to good effect, is to establish well-rounded characters that we can empathise with. By exploring their thoughts and feelings, their vulnerabilities and strengths, the audience starts to feel close to them, which leads to the reader feeling happy when life goes their way or upset when it doesn’t. Equally, writers can elicit more complex feelings by exploring different themes or dilemmas that might lead to the character making choices that readers might disagree with, eliciting their ire but still also forming an emotional connection with the story. One example of this is with Severus Snape from JK Rowling’s Harry Potter series. He is largely presented as an unlikeable character, who had fought for the villain Voldemort and was cruel to Harry in his time at Hogwarts. But he was also revealed to have been in love with Harry’s mother and working as a spy for the enemy in the present day. Many readers have been divided over whether his good actions outweigh the bad and whether his love for Harry’s mother and desire for redemption really make up for his behaviour toward Harry throughout the books.

Pathos can also be driven by the events of the story. If the characters are placed in a situation that the audience would find frightening or overwhelming, then the moment itself can trigger similar emotions even if the characters aren’t well developed yet. Horror movies take advantage of the power of pathos in this setting all the time. Often character development is limited but these films will draw on our fears of the events that are happening to the characters in order to keep us emotionally invested in the rest of the story.

Budding writers are told to ‘show, not tell’ in their narratives and pathos benefits the most from this technique. Research has shown that trying to picture a scene in our minds eye triggers activity in the same brain areas as when we are experiencing events ourselves. So the more we are immersed in the sensory experiences or the internal process of a character, the more connected we will feel with what is happening to them.

Ethos in Fiction

For storytelling, there are two ways in which ethos can apply. Firstly, within the story itself. A writer can demonstrate their credibility by writing well. If you start the first page and find spelling errors or clunky dialogue or figurative language that doesn’t seem to work, then you start to question whether their ideas are worth the time. Simply by making sure that their work is well-edited, a writer can demonstrate that are capable of telling a story and the audience is just that bit more likely to continue. All of the different storytelling techniques that writers try to learn, like the use of point of view, or story themes, or characterisation, or sentence structure, all combine to make them seem more credible to a reader.

But there are also factors outside of the book itself to be aware of. If an author is already well established then we trust that their content will be worth reading. We buy the next book in their series not based on any recommendations for that book, but based on our knowledge of the books that the writer has previously produced. This only takes a writer so far of course – if their audience reads the book and decides that its not on par with their previous work, then they’ll be less likely to buy the next story.

The importance of ethos is the reason why many writers are now on social media, posting about themselves and their work. If a reader feels that they know the writer, that they understand the writer’s point of view, then they’re more likely to pay for their work. Even before social media, books always had a blurb about the author, telling us something personal about them: unnecessary for enjoyment of the book, but sometimes those little details help us to decide whether a book is for us or not. I remember thinking that Jim Butcher was someone who might write my kind of fiction because his blurb said that he enjoyed playing tabletop games. I stuck a postcard of Terry Pratchett with rats on his shoulders up on my noticeboard because I loved my pet rats growing up and enjoyed the idea that I might share that love with one of my favourite writers.

Building credibility or likeability as a writer generally takes time. The Harry Potter series didn’t start to get big until it was three books in. Jim Butcher spent time on the convention circuit trying to make contacts in the literary industry before he found representation for his first Dresden Files book. Andy Weirposted his novel in a serialised format on his website and then self published it online but he had already spent years posting a web comic and short fiction on his website, building up the audience he needed to make his novel a success.

How does it all add together?

To go back to Aristotle, he believed that the most important element of these three concepts was logos, driven as he was by his attempts to convey rational, scientific argument in his work. When it comes to fiction, all three can play an important role in the success of a story. For a narrative to stand the test of time, any good writer will have considered how they are using each of these elements to contribute to the narrative that they want to sell to their audience. This doesn’t necessarily mean giving equal weight to each concept though – as already noted, Arthur C. Clarke wasn’t always very good with pathos but his stories carried scientific ideas that stood the test of time; and The Never-ending Story is remembered more for the emotional impact of the events on the characters. In terms of ethos, some writers work to sell themselves as much as they do their books, building connections with their fans, while others prefer not to be under the public eye, relying on the quality of their writing to establish their credibility. Each approach may build an audience, though it will likely be composed of different groups of people, drawn to the type of story that most appeals to them. The most important part for a writer is to consider their work and who they want their audience to be, so that they can use these three elements to help make their story a success.

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About the Author

Caroline Ashley is a clinical psychologist who works for the NHS in Scotland. She loves fantasy in all forms and is fascinated by the ways in which the fantasical can speak to our everyday lives.

Trickster stories and why we need them

In my previous blog post The feral child archetype: stories and themes in real life and fiction, I introduced the concept of character archetypes that keep arising across different societies. Carl Jung believed that these archetypes represented elements of our psyche, coming to life within the stories that we tell each other.

Because archetypes are found in so many stories, everyone holds certain expectations about how these characters will behave when they are used in fiction. Writers can use these expectations as a tool to strengthen a narrative by using archetypes that speak to the themes that the writer is trying to convey. However, if they’re used poorly, a writer can risk their story simply sounding clichéd and derivative.

This blog post is about my favourite character archetype: The Trickster. They are the black sheep of the family; the jester in the court; the cause of the landslide falling down toward the village below. They are characters who are often morally ambiguous. If your life was made better by the trickster’s behaviour, was that intentional or just a by-product of them achieving their own goals? In folklore, tricksters aren’t the kind of gods that you welcome into your village, because you never know what chaos will follow them. You’re as likely to see your house burned to the ground as you are to see any benefit of their presence.

What is the trickster archetype?

The concept of the trickster is so endemic across society that Carl Jung listed the character as one of the archetypes that live within our collective unconscious. Jung’s Trickster is said to represent the irrational and chaotic elements of our personality. His role is to bring these elements to the surface. In doing so, he highlights the inconsistencies and humour in the lives we live.

Within folklore and mythology, the trickster character is a study in contrasts. Tricksters are rogues and thieves but they are also lovable scoundrels who bring a sense of playfulness and joy to a story. They are cunning and duplicitous but they are also often outsmarted and punished. They straddle the boundary between right and wrong, stability and chaos, and it depends on the story which side of the boundary they will fall.

Tricksters also speak to the absurdity of life. We live in a world where life inevitably leads to death; where pain and suffering are as endemic as happiness and laughter. Within stories the trickster often speaks to the unfairness of the world, but he laughs about it along the way, softening the underlying message of our lack of control over an uncaring universe.

Tricksters from myth and fiction

Tricksters can be found across the world, some more well known than others.

Loki – if you’re a fan of the MCU then you’ll already be familiar with Loki, the Norse god of mischief. Loki could change his shape and his sex. He was sometimes known to work with the gods and at other times he worked against them, the definition of disorder within Norse mythology. He frequently uses his cunning to solve problems for the gods, though on several occasions he had caused the problem in the first place. He becomes increasingly antagonistic toward the gods, eventually being bound and tortured until Ragnarok, when he would escape and contribute to their defeat and the rebirth of the world.

Maui – A Polynesian folk hero who was brought into mainstream awareness when he featured in Moana. Maui’s stories were told across most of Polynesia: he was known for bringing fire to humankind; pulling the islands from the ocean with his hook; and slowing down the movement of the sun. Maui’s stories frequently have him outwitting the gods to change the world for the betterment of humankind.

Anansi – the spider trickster of West African myth, Anansi is a crafty trickster who can fool humans, animals and gods alike, generally for the purpose of making his life easier and others’ lives more difficult. Legends say he helped give humankind the sun, moon and rain, as well as writing and agriculture.

Coyote – across Native American myth, several animals have trickster stories associated with them, including Raven, Bluejay, and Rabbit, but the most well known is Coyote. Not all Coyote stories agree with each other, but they all speak about a similar character. Coyote is known for such things as impatiently tossing the stars into the sky to form the milky way and making death permanent because he believed there wasn’t enough food for everyone to live forever.

Eris – the Greek goddess of discord. She is most well-known for starting a fight between the other goddesses after she wasn’t invited to a wedding, which ultimately led to the Trojan war.

Matilda – a child-friendly trickster story of a clever girl with special powers who uses her cunning to play pranks on the abusive adults around her. Their crimes are found out and she ends up living a happy life with her teacher.

Jack Sparrow – in Pirates of the Caribbean, Jack Sparrow takes on the role of a trickster. He is a cunning character who cares only for his own self interest. He helps others when it benefits his goals and he always seems to escape any significant consequences for his actions.

Deadpool – the fourth-wall breaking anti-hero of the Marvel Universe, Deadpool often sits on the edge of good versus bad, his actions generally driven by his own impulsive urges rather than any long term plan. He has a regenerative healing factor so he throws himself into danger, with little need to care about the consequences. Deadpool often speaks to the audience in his stories, cracking jokes and making fun of the narrative as well as the wider comic universe.

The features of a trickster

There are certain features that tend to define tricksters across the world:

Their motives are ambiguous or fickle

Often they make impulsive choices based on their own needs and wants, and it’s never clear how much they intend to help or hinder those around them. In African myth, Anansi decided that he wanted to become wise, so he gathered a bit of wisdom from everyone in the village, storing it in a gourd. He tried to climb a tree to hide his wisdom with the gourd on his belt. When his son saw Anansi struggling, he suggested wearing it on his back. Anansi realised that even with all that wisdom, his son was still wiser than him, so he cast the contents of the gourd away, thus spreading wisdom all across the world.

They play tricks

Tricksters are cunning and devious. Their stories often involve them manipulating those around them, sometimes to meet their own needs, sometimes to make fun of their victims and knock them down a peg or two. Esu, an African god, once intervened when two farmers promised never to argue. He wore a hat which was black on one side and white on another and after causing the farmers to argue over the colour, then turns it inside out and tells them it’s red. There is a Coyote story where he goes to the Frog People, who hold control of all the water. Coyote doesn’t like this, so he asks for a drink, which they allow, but while his head is under the water he makes a hole in the dam, allowing the other animals to drink freely and creating all the rivers and waterfalls.

They are masters of disguise

Some tricksters, like Loki, are shape-shifters who change form to trick those around them. Others, like Coyote, might use disguises to hide who they are.

Messenger and antagonist of the gods

Tricksters often have a close connection with the gods but whether they help or hinder them very much depends on the trickster’s mood during that particular story. Take Loki, for example, in one story he cuts off the goddess Sif’s golden hair as a prank but when he is caught, he travels to the dwarves and lavishes them in praise and false promises so that they will produce a cap of golden hair to replace it.

Their actions disrupt the status quo

Often after a trickster story, something about the situation they were in has fundamentally changed, like fire being stolen from the gods by Maui, Prometheus or Coyote; or wisdom being shared with humanity by Anansi. There is a story in Norse mythology where Loki causes the death of Baldur, a god of light and purity, known for his kindness and wisdom. There was a prophecy about Baldur’s death and his mother tried to avoid it by making every entity vow not to harm him. She didn’t ask mistletoe though, and when Loki heard this he tricked Baldur’s brother into firing a mistletoe arrow and killing Balder. Baldur’s death, the death of light and truth, is the first step towards Ragnarok, where the world will be destroyed, to rise again renewed and cleansed.

What are the themes in trickster stories?

Even the smallest among us can change the world

One example of trickster stories being used to inspire comes from Anansi. With the rise of the slave trade, Anansi became a symbol of slave resistance – the representation of a strategy to turn the tides on powerful oppressors. Anansi’s stories were also a connection to their African heritage and a means of retaining their identity. By telling stories about a character who could shape the world despite not being powerful, slaves were able to hold on to a small piece of their agency in a time when their slavers sought to take it from them.

Those in charge aren’t always right

Trickster stories tell us that conforming to society’s rules isn’t always the best thing to do. By breaking the rules and challenging authority, sometimes we can create a better world to live in.

You don’t have to conform to be happy

tricksters throughout the world stand out from the crowd in various ways. They change shape; they’re promiscuous; they’re impulsive; they don’t think about the consequences of their actions. And yet, they are generally happy characters. They are content in who they are and find power in being different, often actually looking down on those who do try to conform to the rules and boundaries that the trickster is often breaking.

There is a cost to challenging authority

Trickster stories also warn us of the consequences of being the one who challenges the status quo. Even when tricksters succeed at their goal, they can be ostracised or punished for their actions by the gods, animals or people they have tricked. Maui dies trying to achieve immortality; Loki is tortured until Ragnarok; Prometheus is cursed to have his liver perpetually eaten by an eagle. There is a freedom to acting on your impulses, to doing as you please and having no respect for authority, but it also makes you an outsider. People generally don’t like change and they may not thank the person who causes it.

Are tricksters still relevant today?

Here in the 21st century, there is still a need for someone who helps us to find our voice within the crowd. In the public sphere, there are debates over transgender rights and we question what it truly means to be a man or a woman – or whether the distinction is even necessary. This is something that trickster stories have been touching on for centuries. Many tricksters are male but they are often shown to be comfortable in female form (Loki, in fact, while generally presented as male, is also a mother to the eight-legged horse Sleipnir). This crossing of the boundary between male and female showed that societal expectations for men and women were as subject to challenge by the trickster as any other boundary and no more static than any other aspect of society. In this modern world where gender definitions and expectations are increasingly varied, perhaps a trickster, who has no concern for gender or for societal expectations of sexuality, is the kind of character who might speak most strongly to those trying to work out how they slot into society.

The same might be true for neurodiversity. We are more aware of neurodiversity than ever before and diagnoses of ADHD and ASD are at an all time high, but what those labels mean in terms of who we are and how we fit in the world is still unclear for a lot of people. The tricksters can be impulsive, hyperactive, unconcerned with social niceties, more concerned with their own agenda than anyone else’s and often live on the edge of society. They are the odd ones out and they don’t care, because they are comfortable with who they are. Characters who show us how to be confident may lead the way in helping us find confidence for ourselves.

Linking back to Jung’s theories, there are parts of the trickster archetype in all of us. The trickster inside demands that we rail against discrimination; that we challenge those in authority to accept our differences and to move with the times; that we give into our impulses and just do as we please. But the trickster also knows what it costs to take on that role and that society at large will not always accept difference – it takes a level of bravery, and sometimes foolishness too, to not care what others think.

In the end, we write stories about tricksters to help us to reconcile those two sides of the coin – characteristics of the trickster are necessary to prevent our society from stagnating, but they are also to be feared, because who knows what the consequences of those actions might be?

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About the author

Caroline Ashley is a clinical psychologist who works for the NHS in Scotland. She loves fantasy in all forms and is fascinated by the ways in which the fantasical can speak to our everyday lives.

Defender of the forest

Just a short post to say that Roi Fai n é ant Press have published a flash fiction story that I wrote called Defender of the Forest. It’s a story about growing up and moving on from the games of our childhood but still holding on to the stories that we told.

I originally wrote ‘Defender of the Forest’ for a submission call by Space Cat Press on the theme of ‘Into the Forest’. It wasn’t accepted but I edited it afterwards and tried elsewhere. Many thanks to Roi Fainéant Press for publishing the new improved version 😊

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My latest story – Granny Beatson

Spillwords are showcasing my latest story, Granny Beatson, in the featured section of their website 😊 This is the third time they’ve published one of my stories and I’m very grateful to them for their support!

This story was originally written for Globe Soup’s Open short story competition last year and received an honourable mention. One of the reasons that I enjoy the Globe Soup community is that they do take the time to recognise the top 10% who enter their contests, as it gives you that little bit of feedback that you’re on the right track and your writing might be worth sharing. I did subsequently enter this story into another contest, where it didn’t place, but that’s the joy of writing! 🤣

Granny Beatson is the story of a girl and her grandmother and how their relationship changes as she grows up and her grandmother grows older. Because it’s me, there’s also a little dash of fantasy, with a ritual to the fae that binds them over time.

It was a difficult story to write because while it wasn’t autobiographical, it did bring up memories about my relationship with my nana and how it changed as I grew from a child to a teenager and she became less able. She passed away when I was still a teenager and I do look back and wish sometimes that we could have had a relationship when I was older, wiser, and less caught up in growing up and moving away from my roots. We certainly weren’t as close in my teenage years but I do fondly remember my childhood visits and sleepovers at her house.

I hope you enjoy reading my story and maybe that it inspires you to reflect on your own childhood and your relationship with your grandparents.

Over the next few weeks I’ll be working hard to finish my entries to Globe Soup’s Genre Smash and I’m also hoping to pull something together for the Commonwealth Short Story Prize.