“The spirit of the woods—the Bwca. I saw him once, when I was a child . . . He can look like whatever
he wants to. But his true form is a sharp-eared thing, a hairy thing, a little like an old man
and a little like a child, with a snout of a nose and paws for hands.
If he likes you, he’ll help you. If he doesn’t like you, he’ll make your life a misery.”
“The Bwca” is Daniel Morden’s telling of a Welsh folktale. Like the mythical hobs or brownies,
the Bwca will gladly do chores while humans sleep if rewarded with food—or, in this story, milk.
Folktales like this can ignite our imaginations and reveal facets of human nature.
Fairy tales, fables, legends,
and myths are related categorizations that fall under the folklore umbrella.
Generally speaking, folktales are stories passed down through a culture by word of mouth
that aren’t attributed to a single author. They often revolve around superstitions, fantastical
situations, and life lessons that feature humans rather than animals as the main characters.
Folktales create new ways of interpreting the world around us.
In any story, writers design challenges that force their characters to confront their worst fears and
insecurities. In folktales, those fears manifest as creatures that exist in the physical world.
In the words of fantasy author and folklorist Terri Windling:
“Why are so many of us enspelled by myths and folk stories in this modern age? Why do we
continue to tell the same old tales, over and over again? I think it’s because these stories are not
just fantasy. They’re about real life. We’ve all encountered wicked wolves, found fairy godmothers,
and faced trial by fire. We’ve all set off into unknown woods at one point in life or another.
We’ve all had to learn to tell friend from foe and to be kind to crones by the side of the road.”
Folktales give us the emotional distance to examine the questions that haunt us most.
What does it mean to be honorable? How do we govern our own flaws?
“The Bwca” opens with two farmers struggling to make a living, and their crops are dying—but
then the Bwca who lives in the woods comes out to help them. They leave a bowl of milk at the edge
of the trees, and they find that their housework has been finished, and their crops are thriving.
But one day, when their new maid fails to leave out the bowl of milk, the Bwca sabotages
everything. It’s a story about the dangers of taking the forces of nature for granted—a
message to be kind and generous, or the Bwca will ruin your life. I encourage you to listen
to Daniel Morden’s wonderful telling of the tale, which I’ve linked in the video description.
My esteemed narrator—and cowriter of this video—is
Joe Webb the Storyteller, a writer and YouTuber from Wales.
Here, we’ll share one way of thinking about stories using four elements common in folktales:
• A virtue • A character flaw
(based on the lack of that virtue) • The host of the challenge
• The challenge itself (which tests that virtue)
Joe has written and performed a number of original folktales over on his channel,
which we used as inspiration for this video. Take it away, Joe.
Let’s briefly define these terms in the context of this writing exercise. Virtues are qualities
or behaviors that someone must possess to be considered a “good person.” Morality is,
of course, highly subjective. Still, if a character behaves in a productive way—like
planning ahead or protecting the weak—that leads to better outcomes for individuals and society.
Common virtues include self-discipline,
endurance, and intuition. Robin Hood of English folklore, for example,
steals from feudal lords to give back the unfair taxes they collected from the poor. He’s depicted
as a heroic outlaw acting on behalf of the common folk, carrying out the virtue of justice.
Figure out which virtue is most closely related to your character’s flaw.
Say that my character doesn’t have prudence—they’re reckless.
What actions do they take that demonstrate that recklessness?
As an example, let’s say a boy walks through a forest at night, despite warnings of creatures
lurking in the dark. He thinks he’s invincible and that nothing bad will ever happen to him.
Now, we need someone who will come into the boy’s life as a consequence of him not being prudent.
This is the host of the challenge—typically an unusual person or fantastical creature. While
walking through the dark forest, the boy falls into a hole and encounters a gnome who tells him,
“This is a maze of underground tunnels. You’ll only escape if
you are careful about which turns you take. Many things lurk in the dark.”
In folktales, the host is neither good nor evil. They’re intelligent-yet-wild creatures—they’ll
nip at your hand if you’re bad, and they’ll behave if you’re good to them. They’re powerful, chaotic,
and unpredictable, like nature itself. That sense of mystery helps pull the audience in
and makes them want to know what will happen next.
The challenge is the choice or actions the character is forced to make because of the host.
More importantly, this challenge will test if the character has that virtue. If they succeed,
they’ll truly know what it means to be virtuous. If they fail, that tribulation
also tells the reader something about the virtue in question.
If the boy is prudent in choosing his path, he’ll escape the labyrinth
unscathed. But if he’s reckless and impulsive, he’ll be lost forever.
In “The Bwca,” the entire story stems from the Bwca
being the host of a challenge, the force that makes the characters—and
therefore the reader—examine how their own actions affect the world around them.
We can look at the movie The Green Knight as a case study.
In this retelling of the fourteenth-century poem Sir Gawain and the Green Knight, Gawain is an
incredibly unvirtuous man and not yet worthy of knighthood. Throughout the film, Gawain’s
chivalric virtues are tested by various hosts and their challenges. (Minor spoilers ahead!)
The first challenge is the catalyst for all the conflict that follows. It features the titular
host of the story—the Green Knight, who asks that whoever strikes him meet him at the Green Chapel
one year and Yuletide hence and let the Green Knight strike them as the challenger struck
him. Gawain, in his desire to prove himself a knight, lops off the Green Knight’s head.
He has promised to allow the Green Knight to do the same in return or else prove himself a coward.
A year later, on his journey to the Green Chapel, Gawain confronts other tests of his virtue.
His generosity is tested when he encounters a beggar and only gives him one coin.
His courtesy is challenged when a ghostly woman asks him to retrieve her head from a lake,
yet he rudely asks what he’ll gain in return. He fails the test of chastity
when he gives in to the wiles of the lady at the castle.
The host of the challenge embodies that inner conflict for the protagonist.
For Gawain, that’s the conflict of “Am I virtuous enough to be a knight?”
The host also serves as the catalyst for the external conflict the protagonist faces.
In The Green Knight, Gawain struggles against bandits as a result of his lack of generosity.
After he succumbs to the lady’s sexual advances, he flees the castle in shame
but runs into the lord of the house—the lady’s husband—and has to cover up his own misdeeds.
While it may be obvious to the audience of the folktale that specific virtues are being tested,
it is rarely clear to the protagonist. In that way, folktales are about understanding
and contextualizing the trials and tribulations of everyday life—an answer to that old question,
“Why is this happening to me?” By casting it as a test of virtue,
we are more prepared to face such trials, and it offers the hope of some reward.
When we confront our flaws, we are challenged to either overcome them or let them destroy us.
You can use this framework as a way to better convey your protagonist’s internal conflict
on the page through their behaviors and reactions to external challenges.
It all ties back to why we tell stories in the first place: they allow us to explore
how to handle life’s obstacles and wrestle with questions that have no easy answers.
As a writing exercise, try to craft a story or folktale using these four elements.
They can also be framed as questions.
The virtue: What positive quality do you want to explore?
This could include what it means to “fight for the welfare of all” or to “speak the truth.”
The character flaw: What negative personality trait or bad habit does the protagonist possess?
A virtue can even become a flaw when taken to the extreme,
like a person who tells the truth in every situation, even when it hurts people.
The host of the challenge: Who is the catalyst of the conflict? In folktales, this is often
a magical being, like the Bwca or the tree-like creature in the movie version of The Green Knight.
The challenge itself: What striking visual does the challenge create?
Consider the setting and items involved, like the Bwca and the bowl of milk, with the
destruction of the crops. For Gawain, it’s the Green Chapel and the Green Knight’s giant axe.
Think of the challenge as the story’s external conflict, while the character’s flaw is the
internal conflict. The host creates external obstacles that put the character’s internal
flaws on display. This structure isn’t about conveying a specific moral lesson,
but rather a way to demonstrate character growth and narrow the story’s scope.
When deciding how the story ends, reflect on whether it’s more interesting for the character
to succeed or fail. The film version of The Green Knight features an ambiguous ending that
can be interpreted either way, with both readings providing equally thought-provoking conclusions.
You can apply this approach to longer works as well.
A contemporary horror novel that embodies these four elements is The Only Good Indians
by Stephen Graham Jones. Four flawed men—who lack the virtues of honor and respect—find
their past mistakes creeping up behind them. Years ago, a hunting incident left them feeling uneasy
and weighed down with guilt. I can’t say much more without spoiling the story, but the host of the
challenge takes the form of a mysterious creature seeking revenge for their crimes. The challenge
itself is one of survival in this literary slasher with all the ambience of a folktale.
I asked Joe to tell us a folktale of his own. Sit with me awhile and listen.
Once, there was an ugly one and a beautiful one.
Every day, the beautiful one told the ugly one she was beautiful. She would say,
“Dear sister, you look sweet like an apple.”
But the ugly one would always say, “Well,
those are just one’s words. You know you are too beautiful and I am just ugly and rotten.”
One wishful day, the ugly one flung two golden coins into a well beneath the sweet apple tree,
and well, she made a wish on that one wishful day. “I wish I had my sister's golden hair.
I wish for the pale youth of her ripe skin. I wish for her glistening
eyes that are as blue as the blue sea can be.”
To her surprise, rippling in the water, a face appeared.
“What would one ugly one do to be as beautiful as you wish to be?”
The ugly one grinned and said, “Well, I will do anything.”
“As you wish.
Cut off two golden locks of your sister’s golden hair and bring it to me.”
When she returned, she held two locks of golden hair.
“Now, bring me a pale drop of blood from someone who is good.”
When she returned, she held a blood-soaked rag.
“Now, go to your sister while she sleeps and bring me her eyes.”
That night, she returned. She held up her hands. She unraveled her fingers.
She held in her hand her sister’s blue eyes.
“Before you return home,” the well said, “you must pick an apple from the sweet apple tree.”
Off the tree, she plucked the sweetest looking apple.
The face in the well said, “Sweet like a rose. Place it next to my well and return
home. When you wake up tomorrow, you will have exactly what you wished for.”
Well, the next morning, she opened her eyes. They were her sister’s eyes. She touched her face.
Her skin was soft and pale. She noticed the weight of the golden locks of hair down her back.
She beamed. “Finally, I am beautiful.”
She went outside. In front of her, she saw a passerby. She smiled, but he looked away.
She grinned at another, but he would not glance at her either.
No one would look her in the eyes, so she returned to the well.
“Am I not beautiful?”
The face in the well said, “You are . . . like that apple”
“I’m like an apple?” she said.
“Like the one that you picked the day before today.”
There, next to the well, was that beautiful apple that she picked the day before today.
“Pick it up,” said the face in the well. “Eat it.”
Like the ugly one, it appeared as sweet as any other apple—but like the ugly one,
when she bit into it, hidden beneath a layer of sweet, that one apple was rotten to the core.
Now go write a story of your own, and check out Joe Webb’s channel for
more storytelling tips and original stories. You’ll be happy you did.
What are your favorite folktales? Tell me what virtues they explore, if any,
in the comments. Whatever you do, keep writing.