Last weekend I attended a fabulous writing retreat with presentations by Debra Dixon. Friday night we covered the Big Black Moment, Saturday morning we discussed GMC (goal, motivation & conflict) and after lunch we covered The Hero’s Journey, which breaks down the structure inherent in stories that stand the test of time. Star Wars, Pretty Woman, and The Wizard of Oz are amazingly similar if you’re familiar with the twelve stages, or steps, of THJ. (Insert your own joke here about writing and other 12-step programs.)

One of the light bulb moments for me came during a discussion of Raiders of the Lost Ark, and how the hero Indiana Jones is actually a failure.

Indy, a failure? Oh Harrison, say it ain’t so.

As we discussed it in more detail I realized that yes indeed, Indy is a failure … and it’s a good thing. All good action-adventure heroes, in fact, are failures.

Consider: At the start of Raiders, Indiana loses the golden idol to his arch rival, Belloq. When Marion is kidnapped, Indy’s plan to retrieve the Ark and rescue Marion goes horribly awry. He finds the Ark only to lose it almost immediately to Belloq. His bluff to destroy the Ark (an attempt to rescue Marion, again) is called. He gets captured. And at the end of the adventure the government winds up with the relic he went through so much to get.

A failure from beginning to end. And audiences love him.

Why? Harrison Ford aside, how your hero fails is as important as how he succeeds, and Indy failed spectacularly. Each failure then creates an opportunity for greater heroism.

It’s often taught that the answer to a story question is either yes (boring), no (better), or no and furthermore …. (best). No, Indy does not rescue Marion, and furthermore he’s trapped in a dark pit with her and a million snakes. We know from the opening sequence that Indy hates snakes. The man unfazed by poison dart-blowing Hovitos is afraid of reptiles, and gets thrown into a pit of them. He must face his worst fear.

Does he freak out or cower? No, he acts in spite of his fear, and orchestrates an impressive escape that requires brains and bravery – more exciting than if he’d been able to rescue Marion simply by untying her as he’d first planned. Audiences sympathize with him in his travails, and cheer when he perseveres and finally succeeds against such great odds.

On the flip side, consider Mariner of Waterworld. Kevin Costner’s character starts out great, being quick-witted and outsmarting the bad guys. He succeeds impressively. But when he fails – the plot hinges on him losing his boat and the boy with the tattoo – it’s because he was doing some unnecessary sight-seeing underwater, and when he surfaces the bad guys get the drop on him. Dumb. We tend not to sympathize with stupidity.

Indy’s failures never came about because he was dumb or careless. He succeeds after his failures so well, in fact, 27 years after he first appeared in theaters audiences will get to reunite with Indy when his fourth adventure, Indiana Jones and the Kingdom of the Crystal Skull, opens on May 22nd. Sequels for Waterworld? Don’t think so.

Now I need to get back to my current manuscript and figure some even more impressive ways for my hero to fail.