Life Isn’t All Archetypes, Just Most of It

Recently, a man had the audacity to tell me that “not everyone is an archetype.” By saying this, he earned himself a place as The Bastard. You read that right, one of the eight characters of comedy, as detailed in the brilliant book by Scott Sedita. And guess what? Everyone fits somewhere, because everyone is mentally challenged to some extent.

For instance, my current screenwriting tutor, a man who told me I couldn’t write a story about a doctor being a villain because doctors are bound by the Hippocratic Oath, falls neatly into The Dumb One category. My previous screenwriting tutor, a woman who forbade me from writing a fictional story based on the title of a news article, claiming Warner Brothers might sue me for “the idea” because they might already be in production for a movie inspired by that title, belongs squarely in The Neurotic category. She could be joined there by the headmaster of the school, who, during my admission interview, became so frustrated with my ability to respond cleverly to all of her questions (thanks to my improv background) that she abruptly stopped me mid-sentence to demand, “Why should I care?” This was her last-ditch attempt to prove she still held all the answers and that I, apparently, had much to learn from her. Nonetheless, I apparently did not have much to learn from one of my classmates, a Lovable Loser to whom I was supposed to give feedback. This man-baby from Canada spent the entire three-hour session compulsively eating Chicken McNuggets, which he kept dipping in ketchup, and presented a story that revolved around a Manizer fleeing his rich parents to settle in a provincial town under a fake identity, where he has sex with a girl who co-owns a record store with her sick uncle, whose business is on the brink of bankruptcy. And in case you were wondering whether this could be autobiographical, I can assure you it is not. His nails have a strange shade of brown, as if he had been digging in the dirt beforehand, he carries a Quechua hiking backpack despite the fact that the closest he has ever come to hiking was probably in Far Cry 5, and he possesses all the sexual appeal of a blobfish.

My mother, who convinced me not to ambush these people after school to make them pay for their ignorance because I could lose my visa, fits perfectly into The Logical Smart One archetype.

And me? Well, I’m currently developing an entire scene for one of my characters who’s participating in a crab race, so I’d define myself as The One Living in Their Own Universe. Then again, I might also qualify as The Materialistic One, considering how much pride I take in displaying all the physical awards I’ve won over the years for my screenplays, scripts that have earned accolades in some of the biggest screenwriting competitions in the world. And since I’m so adept at recognizing my own worth, maybe I’m also a little bit of The Logical Smart One.

So maybe life isn’t all archetypes… but let’s face it, if you’re disagreeing with me right now, you’re just The Contrarian. Case closed.