• How to Write Origin Stories
• Which Origin Stories are Most Plausible? 
• Why “Yet Another Comics Blog” Argues Against Origin Stories
• Why Secret Origins are Usually Awful

1.  They tend to be unnecessarily confusing. On top of everything else you want us to remember about your characters, you now want us to forget what you originally told us about your Luke being an only child.  Including false or otherwise misleading information in a plotline may make the plot convoluted.

2.  The secret doesn’t add enough to the reading experience. Let’s say you want to reveal some “epic” secret about your character.  He’s actually hundreds of years old, or someone’s son, or really a god in disguise.  Is there some compelling reason to hide this information?  If this information were actually interesting, wouldn’t this information interest us even if we knew it upfront?   That would also help resolve the confusion issue.

3.  The “surprise” rarely adds intrigue. Strong mysteries are interesting because we know the question and can follow along as the heroes try to answer it.  “Who is the killer?” is an interesting question.  This is a high-stakes question and it’s on the reader’s mind.  “Who is Luke’s sister?” is not because we get the answer before we know that the question exists.  There’s no anticipation, or even a sense that the question matters. Most secret origins create a “gotcha!” moment that comes out of the blue.

4.  They are typically contrived. It’s pretty convenient that, of all the trillions of people in the galaxy, it happens to be Luke Skywalker that rescues Leia from the Empire.  In your story, it will probably feel just as contrived that of all the millions of potential parents, your hero just happens to be the son of the villain.  (Also, that’s criminally cliche, particularly since Star Wars.  If you’re going down that path, at least make the hero the father?  That would be marginally better).

5.  They frequently lead to continuity errors. When you decide that your main character has a secret origin, it’s hard to anticipate and correct all of the resulting changes.  For example, the original Star Wars movie was marketed as a romance between Luke and Leia.  Uhh, yeah.  That’s pretty creepy.

Here are some of the more common secret origin stories.

1. One character is secretly related to another.
2. One character is pretending to be something else, like a man posing as a woman or possibly an alien posing as a human.
3. The character is far older than he seems.  (“But, if you were at the Battle of Asalukakoala, that would mean you’re thousands of years old!”  More importantly, it would mean that the story is probably neck-deep in cliche).
4. A character is a god posing as a mortal.
5. One character is secretly posing as another.  (This one has the most promise, I think).

The origin is not the interesting story; it’s background information. If the information in the origin is important to the story you’re telling, then you can go back later and fill in for the reader. But don’t start with an issues-long origin…

Think of all the good genre movies you’ve ever seen. How many begin with a long origin sequence? Did Raiders of the Lost Ark start with 45 minutes of young Indiana Jones getting his PhD in archaeology? Did Star Wars begin with the origin of Darth Vader?

I disagree.  A character is usually the most human and relatable during his origin story.  Additionally, for most superheroes they also provide an irreplaceable opportunity to introduce the audience to the character.  For example, an author couldn’t explain who Spiderman is without showing why his uncle died.

Also, Star Wars did not begin with the origin of Darth Vader, but it did explain Luke’s origin at length.  Over the course of three movies we saw a farmboy grow into the savior of the universe.  It worked quite effectively.  I’d also venture that the first Matrix movie benefitted from Neo’s origin story.  If it had started with Neo after he had been released from the Matrix, it would have been horribly confusing.

The author praises Batman but criticizes Spiderman and Superman for spending too much time on origin.  But these are exceptional cases.  Usually, the audience is completely new to the backstory.  If so, then explaining the character’s origin is probably essential to introducing the audience to the world and/or the character.

No. However, if you’re writing a superhero story, that doesn’t matter! Your readers will accept that tropes like radiation can give someone superpowers, so radiation makes for a completely plausible origin story. Except for intense training, it’s not like there’s any better alternative.  (In real life, one drug addict somehow enhanced his sense of smell to canine-like levels, but he only lasted a few weeks.  Also, for obvious reasons, narcotics do not typically work well for superhero origin stories).

Here are some other origin stories that readers have generally come to accept.

1. Cybernetics (Bionic Woman, Cyborg).
2. Genetic engineering (Spiderman).
3. Chemical enhancement (Green Goblin).
4. Powersuits (Ironman, Steel).
5. Ridiculously tough training (Batman, GI Joe).
6. The hero belongs to a tougher-than-human species (Superman, possibly X-Men).
7. Mutations, probably (X-Men, Heroes).
8. Stimulating the visual cortex? (The Matrix).

Typically, plausible origin stories tend to be scientific.  Fortunately, you don’t have to have a strong grasp of scientific research to write a compelling origin story. Generally speaking, modern scientific research in fields like genetics is conducted by large teams of scientists that spend years on each project and have access to large budgets.  If you’re writing a superhero story, your readers will almost always accept that a single supergenius can perform unimaginable feats of science.  Reed Richards is apparently a world-class researcher in every branch of science, and he’s able to instantaneously solve problems that would probably take a real team of scientists decades.

Here are some other (incorrect) assessments of modern science that readers will usually accept.

1. Superhero scientists rarely keep good notes.  When the doctor that created Captain America got killed, the formula for the serum was lost forever.  Whoops.  In real life, researchers keep exhaustive notes so that their experiments can be replicated.
2. Superhero scientists rarely fail.  In real life, scientists would test hundreds of variations of a drug, which tends to make the process inordinately laborious and expensive.  But readers will accept that a superscientist tends to get it right almost immediately.
3. A super-scientist can accomplish anything if he’s desperate enough.  Tony Stark built a powersuit in an Afghan cave and Norman Osbourne became the Green Goblin because he was willing to subject himself to premature tests.
4. Even a scientifically gifted high school student can have flashes of scientific brilliance.  See Peter Parker and Virgil Hawkins (Static Shock). My most profound scientific thought in high school was that I could make my paper airplanes more aerodynamic by adding flaps in the back.

1. Give us a reason to care. This does not mean that your character has to be similar to your readers. However, if your character is a prince from Atlantis or an alien emissary, you do have to convince us that we should care about his story. Readers tend to prefer stories that feel relatable.  Although you can probably convince readers to look at a book about Atlantis’ court intrigue, it’s more of a struggle than selling a story about Peter Parker, the guy next door.

One way that you could help readers care about a highly exotic character is by giving him a few distinctly human characteristics. For example, even a savage alien warrior might have an affection for his family that seems positively human. For example, I have a picture for you…

This alligator’s smiling hatchling makes him looks very friendly. You might even forget that he’s a 750-pound predator! Does your character have a highly unusual origin story? In what ways will we relate to him?

Finally, it may help to show the character interacting with a familiar human culture. That will help us compare and contrast the foreign culture to our own and we will probably empathize with an alien struggling to fit in. For example, would an alien know how to use a doorknob? A doorknob’s function is not at all intuitive. I think readers would sympathize with anyone who struggled with something like that.

2. Don’t make your hero a Chosen One– give him a chance to prove himself. Characters generally make their strongest impressions on us as they fight through adversity. But if your character was born into a highly powerful caste or inherits some great power, that robs readers of the chance to see him prove himself. How has your character earned his story? For example, the Green Lanterns recruit someone only after they have proven themselves worthy. Likewise, the Amazons choose Diana to be Wonder Woman not because Diana was born a princess, but because she snuck into the Amazonian trials and won the competition. She became Wonder Woman despite her high birth, not because of it.

If you would like a character who has an unusual birth story, I would recommend making him the victim of chance. Instead of being born a prince, make him born into a low caste. Instead of making him an object of unbridled admiration, like Eragon, may he has to overcome widespread doubt and/or contempt.

3. It may be useful to tie your character’s origin story to the villain’s plot. Ideally, your hero will have some link to the villain. At the most cliché level, the villain killed the hero’s family or received his superpowers in the same accident. (Fortunately, you can create more original links in your story).

Spiderman has an origin story that builds a tight plot. Spiderman gets his superpowers through a scientific accident, like his archrival Norman Osborn. The two also share a personal connection through Osborn’s son and, more importantly, they are moral foils. Peter Parker’s morals center on several ideas: “with great power comes great responsibility” and that revenge is rarely satisfying– his attempt to get back at a wrestling boss gets his uncle killed. In contrast, Osborn believes that power and entitlement come hand in hand, which is why he kills his business competitors. Finally, there’s a strong white-collar vs. blue-collar aspect to the fight, which is especially compelling because the series doesn’t romanticize poverty too much.

One example where the origin story leads to a random, jumbled story is Static Shock. Although he receives his powers in the same accident as his villains, he doesn’t share any other links with them (personal, ethical or otherwise).

4. Is the character’s background too exceptional? For example, instead of being just a soldier, your character is a Navy SEAL. Instead of being just a government functionary, he’s a cabinet secretary! Instead of being a corporate flunkie, he runs the company… he won a Pulitzer…he’s won several Nobel Prizes, etc.

It’s much harder to write a gripping story about Bruce Wayne (the company’s owner) than Peter Parker (an entry-level nobody). No one’s going to get in Bruce’s face like a supervisor would. Additionally, someone who has truly mastered his sphere, like a Navy SEAL or Nobel-winning chemist, will probably be completely self-confident. Real people sometimes doubt themselves, so they can relate to heroes that have some doubts. (However, for a mainstream story, pushing the self-doubt too hard will drive the story into emo wangst territory).

Alternatively, you might want to use a character who has an impressive but low-ranking background. For example, a Wall Street stock-broker or Army sergeant are not especially high in their respective organizations but either would have many useful skills.

5. Give us a chance of a happy ending. If the character’s origin story hinges on an overwhelming tragedy, what’s he fighting for? No matter how many criminals The Punisher executes, it won’t bring back his murdered family. Your ending doesn’t have to be happy, but if readers think that a happy ending isn’t possible, they probably won’t care about the story. Effective tragedies usually generate drama by playing on the readers’ hopes and expectations that the ending will be happy.

If you plan to use a tragic origin story, I’d recommend looking at Spiderman and maybe Spawn. Even though they’ve lost loved ones, these characters still clearly have something to fight for.