J.D. Cunegan

What does it mean to be a hero?

At first blush, the answer seems obvious. But it’s not, is it?

Frankly, the older I get, the harder the question becomes. Perhaps that’s why that question is the foundation of just about everything I write. The overarching theme of my work. That’s not to say I have any answers – in fact, it’s my entire lack of answers that feeds the stories as they’re written.

Much of my fiction is a means through which I examine my own futility in creating and fostering a better world, and the nebulous notion of heroism is one offshoot of that.

Take Jill Andersen, the protagonist of my flagship book series. By many societal definitions, she is a hero simply because she served in the United States Army (doing two tours during the War in Iraq), and because she is a homicide cop in her native Baltimore.

America, for better or worse, has made it clear that those who served in the military and who carry law enforcement badges are near automatic heroes (and woe be unto anyone who dares question that). Often, such accolades are thrown around without regard for individual behavior or conduct.

But Jill is also a costumed vigilante. In the eyes of the law she has sworn to uphold, Jill is a criminal. Yet an argument can be made her exploits as Bounty are far more heroic than anything she does with her badge or while representing Uncle Sam (and sometimes, Jill isn’t inclined to disagree with this notion).

In fact, Jill’s concept of heroism is tested from the moment her father – himself once a prominent homicide cop – is convicted of three murders and sentenced to execution. Jill’s idea of what it means to be a hero is at a crossroads every time she confronts misconduct within her own department. Every time she puts on her costume.

Is Jill a hero? If so, why?

Is it her status – as a veteran, as a cop – or is it because of what she does?

Being Bounty is illegal, and yet, one could argue Jill does more substantive good as a superhero than in anything else she does.

In Notna, archaeology professors Jack Corbett and Cassandra Federov are the heroes of the tale. But why? Is Jack a hero because the Gem of Notna, a mystical artifact capable of untold power, deemed him worthy? Or because when faced with the brutal, disgusting human cost of the Underworld’s assault on the Mortal Realm, both he and Cassandra decided enough was enough?

Seraphus, the mad demon in search of the gem so he could break the Underworld’s stalemate with the Divine and annihilate the Mortal Realm, summoned a demon to destroy the United States Capitol, killing several people in the process. Does the fact that Jack and Cassandra thwarted that attack make them heroes, or is it what they did after the fact?

Did the gem choose Jack because it knew what he was capable of? Was he a hero before he had powers? Does being the Chosen One, named in ancient prophecy, make someone a hero, or is it the choices they make and the actions they take when faced with bloodshed and evil?

That’s the beauty of the heroism question: there are so many different angles to take. Near as I can tell, there’s no one right answer.

Take my latest, a thriller titled Summertime, Assassins, and Other Skullduggeries. The protagonist, Summer Rhoades, is an assassin-for-hire. She’s particular about the clientele she’ll take on and what targets she will accept. While I’m sure just about all of us would agree assassins are anything but heroic…the question is muddied a bit when we discover Summer’s victims are actually the scum of the world.

Sex traffickers. Mass murderers. Corrupt politicians. Drug pushers. War mongerers.

Is murder wrong, no matter what? Or are Summer’s deeds heroic because of who she puts in her crosshairs? She rids the planet of those most of us wouldn’t be the least bit sorry to lose. She operates outside the law and, in a sense, plays God in killing these individuals. Her targets are people responsible for atrocious thing, and they are often in such positions of prominence and power that a violent death is likely the only retribution they would ever face.

So, is Summer a hero?

Oxford defines a hero as “a person who is admired or idealized for courage, outstanding achievements, or noble qualities.” But that definition is almost imperfect by its own existence because it’s centered on the opinions of others. As in those who would consider Jill a hero simply because of her military service or her career as a cop. It has less to do with Jill’s actions or character traits and more to do with what others perceive her to be.

Let’s check heroism instead. The Oxford definition: “great bravery.”

That doesn’t feel right, either. One could argue Jill is brave in her actions, particularly as Bounty. The same argument could be made that Jack and Cassandra are heroes because of their bravery. But what about Summer?

Summer murders people, often from afar. That doesn’t seem all that brave.

Again, I don’t have these answers, and I won’t pretend otherwise. I have theories. I have ideas. But that’s all those are, and as a writer, it’s more fun to examine an unknown, to study and pull back the layers on an unanswerable question than to deal with an obvious dichotomy. Black and white do me no good as a writer; it’s the gray areas, the nuances in the cracks, that make the stories.

My books are not meant to definitively state what heroism is. They merely ask the question and take the reader through a thorough, in-depth examination and discussion couched within tales of superpowers and prophecies and monsters. The fantastic and the supernatural are the lenses through which I examine this very much real-world question.

As I’ve said before, the real world doesn’t offer me much control. Fiction, on the other hand, has plenty of control to spare, and it’s in taking that control where I work through these pressing questions and try to make sense of a world and people who are increasingly nonsensical.

Fiction is the weapon I wield against an unjust world I am powerless to change.

So again, I ask: what does it mean to be a hero?

About J.D. Cunegan
J.D. Cunegan is known for his unique writing style, a mixture of murder mystery and superhero epic that introduces the reader to his comic book-inspired storytelling and fast-paced prose. A 2006 graduate of Old Dominion University, Cunegan has an extensive background in journalism, a lengthy career in media relations, and a lifelong love for writing. Cunegan lives in Hampton, Virginia, and next to books and art, his big passion in life in auto racing. When not hunched in front of a keyboard, scratching a pencil over a piece of paper, or with his nose stuck in a book, Cunegan can probably be found at a race track or watching a race on TV.

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